EU immigration policy is contributing to Sahara migrant deaths

Between 1998 and 2012, more than 16,000 people are known to have died attempting to migrate to the European Union.

The BBC has published the moving account of a 14-year-old girl from Niger who lost her mother and sisters while travelling through the desert to Algeria in search of a better life. Her family were among at least 87 migrants who died on their journey through the Sahara after their drivers abandoned them without food or water.

Earlier this month there were two separate reported incidents of boats sinking in the Mediterranean Sea, killing over 300 people who had been hoping to travel to Europe. A report released earlier this year by the UN Special Rapporteur on the human rights of migrants, François Crépeau, found that between 1998 and 2012, more than 16,000 people are known to have died attempting to migrate to the European Union. Who knows how many bodies have never been found.

But despite this, European governments seem more concerned with keeping African migrants off their soil than trying to prevent their deaths, which often go unnoticed and unreported, in the seas between North Africa and Europe, in the Sahara desert, or in brutal detention centres across North Africa.

According to Crépeau’s report, the EU’s policies fail to adequately protect the lives of migrants attempting the sea crossing to Europe. The EU’s joint project to protect manage the region’s borders has seen its budget steadily mount, from €19.2 million in 2006, to nearly €42 million in 2007, topping €87 million by 2010. But EU migration projects primarily view migration as a security, rather than a human rights, issue. Although new legislation specifies that EU patrol boats in the Mediterranean should “give priority” to the special needs of persons in distress at sea, including migrants, Crépeau writes that he “regrets that the proposal does not, however, lay down any procedures, guidelines, or systems for ensuring that rescue at sea is implemented effectively as a paramount objective.” In other words, the EU isn’t taking enough practical steps to ensure that saving lives is a priority. Crépeau also reports that the criminalisation of migration means that private vehicles are reluctant to rescue migrants drowning at sea, as they fear personal repercussions.

On top of this, the EU is “externalising border control” by encouraging, funding and promoting the detention of migrants in North Africa and other non-EU  countries  to ensure that migrants are prevented from entering EU territory. However, in countries like Libya, where the EU has recently launched a new project to strengthen national border controls, migrants are often detained in holding centres where they are tortured or subject to other inhumane and degrading treatment. According to this Amnesty report, at least 5000 migrants are currently being held in inadequate Libyan government-run “holding centres” with many more being held by militia groups. But because from EU policymakers’ perspectives keeping migrants detained in North Africa is more convenient than processing immigration cases on home soil, they are not putting sufficient pressure on countries like Libya to reform their treatment of migrants.

The emphasis on criminalising migration, rather than recognising the human rights of all migrants and the special rights of asylum seekers and refugees, also drives migration further underground, reinforcing smuggling rings and making migrants more vulnerable to exploitation, and ultimately death. Trafficking or smuggling migrants is a criminal offence, but irregular migration itself is not.

The 14-year-old girl who buried her mother and sisters in the desert this week wasn’t just failed by the drivers who abandoned her to the Sahara. She was failed by the international community too.

An Israeli soldier stands guard near a Sudanese refugee who was trying to illegally cross the border with Egypt into southern Israel. Photo:Getty.

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war