Security and humanitarianism, control and care: they seem dichotomous, oxymoronic, and unable to operate in the same spaces. Yet, at border points of Europe (namely the Greek Aegean islands), this is exactly what happens: care and control combine in the management of migration, the management of human beings in what William Walters describes as “humanitarian borders”. But, so what? What does this actually mean? What does it mean for the lives of asylum-seekers and refugees on the ground? Well, it has a lot to do with gender. 

Since the European Union-Turkey Deal of 2016, the Greek Aegean islands have become closed centres of containment under the EU’s “hotspot approach” to managing migration. This has meant that thousands of people remain trapped in overcrowded, unsanitary camps that breed tension and violence. Such control of individuals has also been partially managed by humanitarians on the islands offering services based on compassion and care. However, the combination of the two at these humanitarian border sites does not treat all human beings in the same way. Some individuals are seen as more worthy of “care,” some more destined for “control”.  

FEMINISED VULNERABILITY AND MASCULINISED THREAT

“Vulnerability”—it is almost a buzzword in the aid world, and yet it can be life-changing. As Daniel Howden and Metin Kodalak point out, refugeehood is a "vulnerability contest". In a world where assistance is sadly not available to all, it is those deemed most vulnerable who have access to safer spaces, services beyond basic survival, and who are eventually the first in line for resettlement schemes away from these prison-like hotspot islands of containment and forced immobility. But how do we judge vulnerability? In EU asylum procedure, vulnerable people are defined as minors, unaccompanied minors, disabled people, elderly people, pregnant women, single parents with minor children, victims of human trafficking, persons with serious illnesses, persons with mental disorders and persons who have been subjected to torture, rape or other serious forms of psychological, physical or sexual violence, such as victims of female genital mutilation.

In general discourse, however, and in NGO projects, the concept of vulnerability is far more ambiguous. 

In many of the organisations at these hotspot points of Greece, it appears that women and children are those assumed as inherently vulnerable and therefore able to access a range of services and spaces away from camps. Men are left either ignored or, as the opposite of vulnerable, perpetrators—assumed to be threatening and requiring control. The Risk Analysis Reports of the European Border Agency, Frontex, present unexplained quotes regularly presenting “women and children” together as “vulnerable groups” or vulnerable persons “easily exploited by smugglers and traffickers”. This is juxtaposed against “clandestine” men and out of context images of men of colour having their papers checked or being interviewed under “smuggling” headline sections. Here, the male face becomes the archetype of illegality. Take a flick through NGO websites, notice the images they use and the criteria for their projects. How many are of women? Do you even notice men?

Women are so often portrayed as a category synonymous with innocent civilians or victims, their innocence often assumed as inherent to their nature according to R.C. Carpenter in a 2005 article “‘Women, Children and Other Vulnerable Groups’: Gender, Strategic Frames and the Protection of Civilians as a Transnational Issue”. This innocence, as anthropologist Liisa Malkki draws attention to in her article “Speechless Emissaries: Refugees, Humanitarianism, and Dehistoricization,” fits nicely with the Western imagination of the powerless refugee worthy of assistance.

Such a perception, and the grouping of women with children, is problematic. Prominent feminist academic and writer Cynthia Enloe first noted this grouping of “womenandchildren” and argues such categorisation is “essentialising” and infantilising in a 1991 essay titled “‘Womenandchildren’ Propaganda Tools of Patriarchy”. This grouping sees women through motherhood or in a child-like manner and ignores any female independence and agency. Women’s experiences are depoliticised and, in the process, underlying gendered power relations and inequalities are overlooked.

By contrast, the presentation of men, particularly in the cases of Frontex reports, points to a gendered image of the male migrant as a securitised subject, not the face of assistance. There are little gender-specific services available for men at the Greek hotspots, and they are generally held on the islands for longer than women. According to data from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), between April 2016 and March 2020, of the 2,140 individuals returned from Greece to Turkey, an overwhelming 91% were male.

The general absence of men in NGO campaigns and websites, and their representation in Frontex reports, demonstrates how organisations, donors, and the general public may perceive refugee and asylum-seeking men. Language and the use of images are strongly linked to ideology and society; they reflect the way individuals interpret the world and shape the way they act. Heather Johnson, in a 2011 article titled “Click to Donate: visual images, constructing victims and imagining the female refugee,” makes the point that “how we imagine particular categories of people determines how we engage with them”.

It is fair to assume that the ways in which men have been displayed across these organisations also translates into individuals’ actions towards them. This can be largely seen through the example of donor support. Donors can significantly influence the services available to refugees and asylum-seekers, with many donations fixed to specific developments. If men are perceived to be a threat, or are simply not thought of as requiring support, a gap may be left where their gender-specific needs are unsupported. This is despite research coming to light noting the prominence of male-targeted torture and sexual violence in conflict settings.

GENDERED STRUCTURAL VIOLENCE AT HOTSPOTS

I am by no means implying that women’s needs are somehow not great enough for assistance, rather that we should take a critical view of the concept of vulnerability and its centrality to assistance in the refugee world. Of course, women face very specific vulnerabilities in many camp settings across these hotspot islands, as outlined by human rights reports. Yet, this is not something inherent to the female condition. This is something far greater, something structural, something preventable. This is a form of gendered structural violence that may reinforce assumed gendered norms and perspectives of women as vulnerable subjects. 

The concept of structural violence was first discussed by Johan Galtung in his 1969 article “Violence, Peace, and Peace Research” to extend understandings of violence and acknowledge it as being present when “human beings are effectively prevented from realising their potentialities”—not only by individual humans but also by structures and institutions. Galtung gives particular importance to the factor of avoidability. This can be seen in hotspot facilities in Greece where conditions of the camps create specific vulnerabilities, particularly for women and girls. For example, missing locks and doors on toilets and shelters, poor lighting, and unsegregated and significantly distanced toilet and bathing facilities all increase vulnerability. With political will, these risks are all avoidable.

 WHERE NOW?

Women’s vulnerability is consistently spoken of without providing the political action necessary to reduce or eliminate them. Surely, we should be working to change the structures in place that make women more vulnerable in these spaces, rather than just seeking unsustainable temporary aid and respite from it.

We need to shift away from institutionalised, sweeping, and gendered generalisations that categorise and homogenise individuals into groups designated as “vulnerable” and “invulnerable” (or “threatening”). A more comprehensive understanding of what being vulnerable means in any given context, and a definition of who and why they are vulnerable seems necessary. It may allow for more appropriate distribution of, and access to, opportunities. Alongside this, we need a greater understanding and awareness of structurally-induced vulnerabilities to allow for more targeted, politically-focused assistance. It is fighting this structural power of the humanitarian border that is necessary; acting within it is merely perpetuating vulnerabilities and gender essentialisms. This is necessary for systemic, long-lasting change and assistance that would fit the true needs of individual refugees and asylum-seekers at humanitarian borders across the world.

Ellie is a recent SOAS, University of London graduate with an MSc in Migration, Mobility and Development. She has spent time working closely with refugees in Greece, and continues to advocate for refugee rights, wellbeing and their access to safe spaces in the UK.

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