Part of my job is to try to inform the CPT community about the context in which we work. I’m often the bearer of bad news. This week felt tough; the carousel of images from Gaza was almost beyond words (though Viet Tanh Nguyen tries his best). Each turn prompted the question: have I really just seen that?
Then, unexpectedly, some good news came. Three young Afghan men, children when they were accused along with three others – the Moria 6 – of burning down Moria refugee camp in Lesvos, were acquitted of all charges at Mytilene Juvenile Court. Going through my old files, I found a photograph of the moment they were arrested. I don’t know who took it, so can’t publish it, but I’ll try to describe it.
The six – just teenagers – were picked out from a kilometer stretch of blockaded road, where 13,000 homeless migrants were barricaded for 11 days after the camp burned. The picture was shot from above, probably from the scrubland where the press tried to access the scene after police turned them back. This photograph likely wasn’t meant to be taken.
A blue police mini-van is centre-shot. Around it, people have made shoddy but surprisingly sophisticated makeshift structures, fabric stretched over wooden poles. It looks like a shanty town, permanently temporary. On one side of the van, police in biohazard suits cordon off the scene from those living there – mothers, fathers, and their kids – who have all stopped to watch. On the other side, riot police stand guard. These two flanks represent twin racist fears: contagion (and its concomitant, forced abandonment) and public disorder.
In the center, plainclothes officers bundle two kids into a van. One officer has his hand – gloved – around the back of one kid’s neck. The boy is hunched in discomfort. I know that gesture: my uncles used to grab me around the back of the neck, greeting me with a strength that made me feel not quite powerless (it was, after all, a gesture of love), but awkward and small. Here, the gesture isn’t balanced by affection. The boy is being made to comply.
Five years later, they are all free. Over the years, their case became synonymous with injustice. The courts, the press, the political class, twisted the six – alongside their own logic – to fit the shape of their racial fantasies, extracting revenge for the Moria years. The courts are where we make our monsters. Their acquittal tacitly acknowledges this.
A friend accompanied them to court. As she waited outside for news, she met another young Afghan man – just 20, a shipwreck survivor who lost his wife and child. It’s becoming clear the Greek Coast Guard sank his boat. He’s now being blamed for their deaths, part of the cover-up.
As one nightmare ends, another begins. The carousel turns again. But with each turn we learn better how to prepare for the next.
