Police guard migrants in Calais in June 2017. Photo: Getty
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Missing Efrem: the human story of our government's failure to care for child refugees

As campaigners challenge the government in court over the Dubs amendment, how one young man was let down by a system which was supposed to help him. 

On a muddy path on the edge of the Calais "Jungle" refugee camp, children, adolescents and young men jostled, acutely conscious the rest of their lives could be changed by this one moment. “Put up your hand if you’re under 18,” a harried-looking blonde woman in a yellow hi-vis vest was shouting. All the hands shot skywards. 

“Put your hands down again, you’re not all minors,” she sighed with exasperation.

It was October 2016, the week before the Jungle’s demolition, and its thousands of residents were confused and frantic. They had fled bombs, torture, hunger or crushing poverty; crossed oceans, borders and barbed-wire fences; survived detention by militias, beatings and teargassing - some while still children. 

For those who didn't speak French, this felt like a last desperate chance to get to the UK – to families or friends they had grown up with; a society they had heard such positive reports of. Minors were being separated into those who could be brought to the UK under Dublin Regulations - which allow for family reunification - and those who might qualify under the Dubs Amendment, proposed by former refugee Lord (Alf) Dubs to cater for the most vulnerable refugee children. The rest would be sent to reception centres across France.

Standing at the edge of the scrum, watching calmly, was 17-year-old Efrem. It was four months until he’d go missing, but his disappearance would be a direct consequence of what happened that day.

His story highlights the vulnerability of young refugees, the lack of any oversight and the black hole they can easily fall into.

By his shoulder was Denay, a 12-year-old who smiled shyly. “The priority is the children,” Efrem said, glancing down at his friend, even though legally he was a child too.

Over the next few months, after I returned to London, Efrem phoned me regularly. In the weeks after the Jungle’s closure, authorities moved him to a reception centre near Marseilles, where he mournfully explained there was no schooling and nothing to do. Young refugees were told they’d get interviews with British authorities who would evaluate their cases. Along with many of the 1,600 others, this was the only reason Efrem had agreed to go. 

The teenager would chat to me for long periods of time, asking me about my job and my family. He was bored and restless.

“Hey Efrem, sorry I missed your call! I’m in Iraq for work. Are you ok?” I texted him on December 10, 2016.

“Wawww good sally u lost. will u comeback soon,” he responded, before asking me to visit him in France.

Soon afterwards Efrem was told his application to come to the UK had been refused. Dozens of others were given the same news with no explanation, lawyers said. For young people with their lives on hold it was incomprehensible and devastating.

Early on Christmas Eve morning my phone rang again. It was Efrem, asking for the number for a smuggler. He had left the reception centre with a group of other teenagers and jumped a train back to Calais. There, he was sleeping rough during the day, making more bids for England by night.

The next time he called was New Year’s Eve. It was so cold, he said. He didn’t know how he could survive it.

I sent him the number of a local good Samaritan in Calais who had offered to provide food and shelter.

“Ok sally thanxxxx lol i appriciate u,” he replied.

The last time we spoke was late February. He was still sleeping outdoors, still hoping to get to England, but suspected he might be in France for a while yet. He asked me to come and visit.

After March 1, Efrem stopped logging into his Whatsapp or Viber accounts, and his phone went straight to voicemail.

Tracking a missing minor is difficult. As with much of the response to refugees in Europe, the most vital efforts are being made by volunteers with limited authority or resources. 

The French do not take missing children reports for migrants, Michael McHugh from the Refugee Youth Service told me - partly because France is considered a transit country. "Child protection services in Europe are not really geared up for people on the move,” he said.

McHugh also spoke of the many reasons a teenager could go out of contact - they could have been trafficked, injured, or have made it across to England and cut all contact. Some young people are in a lot of debt to smugglers from the cost of the journey to Europe, and may be forced to work to repay it, or they might have gone into hiding to avoid doing so.

Others have their phones - their only lifeline - confiscated by the police, something McHugh said is becoming more and more common. One refugee told me his phone was thrown in a river by Greek authorities, while another 15-year-old said French security smashed his screen. Sometimes teenagers are killed after being hit by cars or trucks while trying to board them. In summer 2015, I attended the funeral of a 17-year-old Eritrean who fell down a hole while attempting to evade the Calais police in the dead of night. In January last year I witnessed the raw grief at a memorial for a 15-year-old Afghan boy called Masud who suffocated to death in a lorry. 

In early 2016 alone, Europol estimated that at least 10,000 unaccompanied minors had disappeared while travelling through Europe, sparking fears they were being targeted by organised criminal gangs.

When a minor goes missing in Calais and someone notices (not always guaranteed), McHugh or another volunteer or charity worker will report it to CTAC – the UK’s Child Trafficking Advice Centre, run by the NSPCC in partnership with the Home Office and other agencies.

When I told him what had happened, McHugh also offered to print out a photo of Efrem and put it up around Calais and nearby Dunkirk, asking anyone who knew him to get in touch.

“Every child has the right to have an adult looking after them,” he replied when I expressed hesitation. 

“It’s the pensioners, the anarchists, the Calais old age pensioners, the activists, the journalists that care about these children. We are all these kids have.”

Nine months after the Jungle camp was closed, there are again hundreds of teenagers sleeping rough around Calais, according to Annie Gavrilescu at charity Help Refugees. Research done by the Refugee Rights Data Project in April found 97 per cent of them had experienced police violence, and 95 per cent have no access to legal advice. Some 92 per cent had been woken and moved on by police while trying to snatch a few hours of sleep.

It’s hard to get figures on how many minors have left French reception centres since October, because the centres themselves don’t always report the disappearances, Gavrilescu said. Instead of classifying minors as “missing,” they are classified as “unaccounted for”. No one’s responsible for these children, she noted.

This week, the UK High Court will hear a legal challenge brought by Help Refugees. Campaigners argue that the government didn’t bring over enough unaccompanied refugee children under the Dubs Amendment and didn’t properly consult with local authorities who were willing to offer more places to minors. They are also pushing the government to commit to offering sanctuary to the remaining 280 refugee children it promised places to under the Dubs amendment. So far, only 200 minors have been moved to the UK of a pledged 480, all of whom came from the Calais camp.

***

For Efrem, legal routes weren’t enough. Nearly two months after he went off the radar, he called me.

He had made it to the UK - “Birmingham! In a hotel!” - and had been there for the last month. Someone had taken his phone but he had it back again, Efrem said. He came in under the Channel crammed into the back of a truck, hedged in with a group of others.

Now he was waiting again - for his asylum interview. “I’m very happy,” he laughed.

Photo: Getty
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What's happened to the German left?

For a fourth successive election, the left seems to be failing to challenge the status quo.

When Germany goes to the polls this weekend, Angela Merkel is expected to win a fourth term in office. Merkel has maintained her commanding lead in the polls on 37 per cent, while her closest competitor, the Social Democratic Party (SPD) has been relegated to, at best, a possible coalition partner. 

The expectation that the status quo will continue has left commentators and politicians of all stripes asking: what has happened to the German left?

Lagging behind in the polls, with just 20 per cent of the country's voting intention, Martin Schulz’s SPD has slumped to its lowest level this year only days before the vote, according to the latest poll by Infratest dimap for ARD television.  

Even the prospect of a left-wing alternative to a Merkel-led coalition appears to have become unpalatable to the electorate. An alliance between the SPD, die Grünen (the Greens) and the socialist party die Linke (the Left) would not reach the threshold needed to form a government.

One explanation for the German left's lack of impact is the success Merkel has had in stifling her opposition by moving closer to the centre ground. Over the last four years, she has ruled a grand coalition known as GroKo (Große Koalition) with the centre-left SPD, leaving many of its voters believing their party was no longer any different to the chancellor's conservative Christian Democratic Union (CDU).

Rolf Henning, 34, has been a member of the SPD since 2004. Campaigning in Pankow, a diverse area of eastern Berlin which has traditionally voted on the left, he told the New Statesman that although the coalition had enabled the SPD to push its social agenda, the party did not receive any credit for it.  

“It is now hard to motivate people to vote for the SPD because people think it will not make any difference. If we were to enter a coalition again with Merkel and the CDU then our support base will drain even further,” he said.  

Another grand coalition between the CDU and the SPD is very much on the cards, as Merkel is unlikely to win an outright majority. But while the arrangement has seemingly worked out well for the chancellor, its benefits for the SPD seem rather less certain.

“The political strength of the left is an illusion," says Gero Neugebauer, a political analyst and a former senior researcher at the Freie Universität Berlin, "The SPD did a good job in the coalition to push issues of social policy and family policies, but Ms Merkel took the credit for a lot of it. People saw the car and the chauffer rather than paying attention to the engine."

In 2015, under pressure from the SPD, the Merkel administration introduced a minimum wage in Germany, a benchmark for many in the party which yet did little to gloss over the SPD’s image. On the contrary, Merkel’s election campaign sought to win over disillusioned SPD voters.

According to Neugebauer, the left-wing parties have failed to work together to form a real alternative coalition to the Merkel administration. He warns that Germany’s left-wing camp has become “an illusion” with “virtual power”.

For a short-lived moment the election of Martin Schulz, the former president of the EU Parliament, to head the SPD, brought hope to the idea of a left-wing coalition. 

Stefan Liebich, a member of parliament for die Linke representing the Pankow district, says the SPD initially rose in the polls because people thought there could be an alternative coalition to Merkel. "But then the SPD made a lot of mistakes and they were wrongly told they would lose support if they worked with us," he adds.

"Now nobody believes a left-wing coalition could ever happen because the SPD is so low in the polls.” 

Before Schulz took over the SPD, few believed that after four years in the coalition government the party had a good chance in the upcoming election. “But Schulz arrived and said ‘I will be chancellor’ and it was like a phoenix rising from the ashes,” says Neugebauer.

Schulz revived the social-democratic tradition and spoke about social justice, but the delay of his election programme left many wondering whether he would be able to walk the walk – and his popularity started to fall.

“Compared to Merkel, he became less credible and less trustworthy,” says Neugebauer.  

The SPD are, of course, not the only left-wing party running. Back in Pankow, Caroline, a lawyer and a long-time SPD voter said she was considering voting for the more left-wing die Linke because she did not want to give her ballot to Schulz.

“There is something about him, he is not straightforward and he is too much like the CDU," she continues. "As the head of the EU Parliament, Schulz was good but I don’t think he has what it takes to tackle issues in Germany."

For Ulrike Queissner, also a Pankow resident, the SPD’s lurch to the centre convinced her to vote for die Linke: “The SPD has become mainstream and part of the establishment. It has become too close to the CDU and has no strong position anymore.”

Stable at about 8 per cent in the polls, die Linke is still trailing the extreme-right Alternative fur Deutschland (AfD), which is anticipated to win between 8 and 11 per cent of votes. This means it would enter the German parliament, the Bundestag, for the first time, becoming its third biggest party.

At the core of die Linke’s manifesto is the redistribution of wealth, a peaceful foreign policy and measures to stamp out the remaining social rift between east and west Germany.  

The party strives to challenge Merkel’s feel-good slogans by putting the spotlight on the discrepancies between rich and poor, and east and west.

 “When we look around to Portugal, Spain, Italy, and maybe even to the UK, we seem happy," says Liebich. "We don’t have an exit [from the EU] debate or a high unemployment rate. And yet, there is a part of Germany that sees that things are not going so well."

And for some of die Linke’s eastern electorate, immigration is at the top of the list of grievances, putting pressure on a party which has always defended an open door-policy – something Liebich acknowledges.

“In Berlin a majority of voters say they are open to people who need help, but in the eastern states, where we have a high unemployment rate and a lot of people who are not used to living with people of other cultures, there is a lot of anger."

That will add to concerns that large numbers of silent AfD supporters could create a surprise in the traditionally left-wing area of east Germany, where the far-right party is capitalising on the anti-immigration sentiment. The left seems to be squeezed between Merkel’s move to the centre ground and the AfD’s growing populist threat.

For Neugebauer the prospect of AfD members in parliament should force left-wing parties to sharpen their political lines, and form a consensus bloc against the rising extreme-right. The silver lining lies in the hope that all three left-wing parties – die Linke, die Grünen and die SPD – find themselves together in the opposition.

“Then, there would be an opportunity to start a conversation about what the parties have in common and start working together," he says. "It would be a chance for the German left to find itself again and create a vision for co-operation.” 

And yet, commentators still anticipate that at least some part of the left will end up working with Merkel, either through a grand coalition with the SPD or a three-way “Jamaica coalition”, with the pro-business FDP and the Greens. For the German left the time for cooperation, and a shot at taking charge of Germany's future, may still be some years away.