On Lampedusa, locals are front-row first responders to migrant crisis
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Alessandro Clemente Contributor
| Lampedusa, Italy
Dubbed “Europe’s door,” Lampedusa is a secluded Italian island closer to Africa than to the European continent. This geographical peculiarity puts the tourist destination at the heart of a deadly migrant saga and a complex humanitarian crisis.
More than 150,000 migrants – about a sixth of them children – arrived in Italy by sea this year, mostly by way of Lampedusa. That marks a 60% increase from 2022. But islanders feel abandoned by European and Italian politicians, who have struggled to manage irregular migration effectively while maintaining humanitarian standards.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onDespite seeing their lives and livelihoods regularly unsettled by Europe’s struggle with unauthorized migration, residents of the island of Lampedusa maintain a desire to help those crossing the Mediterranean.
That has left Lampedusans themselves as both first responders and primary witnesses to this crisis. Their story, often overshadowed by the broader geopolitical drama, is an intimate narrative of resilience, hospitality, and inevitable weariness.
When thousands of migrants arrived in September within just a few days, “people opened their homes to strangers, offering them meals,” says Francesca Saccomandi, a social worker for Mediterranean Hope, an association dedicated to assisting migrants. “It was truly astounding to witness.”
But more than 2,500 died attempting the crossing this year, according to the United Nations. “Witnessing deaths at sea, even in 2023, is profoundly distressing and utterly unacceptable,” says Giuseppe Fragapane, a Lampedusan musician. “We can’t go on like this.”
Tucked away inside PortoM, a small performance center on the rugged southern coastline of Lampedusa, sits an exhibition of migrant relics that tell a tale of hope and despair.
The items range from life vests and lost boots to cookware and discarded toys, all once used by those journeying across the Mediterranean Sea to Europe. Giacomo Sferlazzo, PortoM’s founder and a passionate keeper of Sicilian cultural heritage, assembled and displays them to encourage visitors to reflect on migrants’ lack of safe, legal access to the European Union.
“Solutions to the migrant crisis do exist, but this is not in the EU’s political interests,” he says. “We should open regular channels for entry.”
Why We Wrote This
A story focused onDespite seeing their lives and livelihoods regularly unsettled by Europe’s struggle with unauthorized migration, residents of the island of Lampedusa maintain a desire to help those crossing the Mediterranean.
Dubbed “Europe’s door,” Lampedusa is a secluded Italian island closer to Africa than to the European continent. This geographical peculiarity puts the tourist destination at the heart of a deadly migrant saga and a complex humanitarian crisis.
More than 150,000 migrants – about a sixth of them children – arrived in Italy by sea this year, mostly by way of Lampedusa. That marks a 60% increase from 2022. But islanders feel abandoned by European and Italian politicians, who have struggled to manage irregular migration effectively while maintaining humanitarian standards.
That has left Lampedusans themselves as both first responders and primary witnesses to this crisis. Their story, often overshadowed by the broader geopolitical drama, is an intimate narrative of resilience, hospitality, and inevitable weariness.
A compassionate island
Many who have never set foot on Lampedusa imagine it as a place utterly overwhelmed due to its inability to manage thousands of arriving migrants.
Part of that is because of an Oct. 3, 2013, tragedy that killed more than 350 African migrants off Lampedusa’s shores, linking the island with one of the Mediterranean’s worst shipwrecks. And in 2015, Lampedusa became an EU “hot spot” reception center: a highly militarized facility designated for the identification, processing, and first-aid support of migrants. Upon arrival, individuals are categorized based on their needs and nationalities, which then determines their subsequent placement in various centers in mainland Italy.
And the hot spot gets a lot of use when the migrant influx intensifies in clement weather. It gets media attention too, such as in September, when thousands of migrants – more than the island’s population of 6,000 – arrived within just a few days, overwhelming the reception center and bringing nervous reminders of the 2013 tragedy.
For Italians on the mainland, the ongoing pressure has inspired a rightward political swing, which culminated in an anti-immigration coalition winning parliamentary elections in 2022. During her campaign, Giorgia Meloni promised to halt unauthorized immigration via a “naval blockade,” something she has reiterated many times since becoming prime minister, though she has yet to put it into action.
But despite Lampedusa’s connection to migration crises and tragedies, the presence of migrants goes largely unseen by tourists wandering the quaint alleys of the island. Rather, it’s armored police vehicles or members of the Italian military that they are more likely to encounter.
That’s worrying to Lampedusans. “The primary concern for us is that the island will be entirely transformed into a prison or a military base,” says Mr. Sferlazzo.
And the government’s plans to stop immigration don’t engender much local support, either.
“Deterrents of this kind don’t halt the flow,” says Francesca Saccomandi, a social worker for Mediterranean Hope, an association dedicated to assisting migrants. “The focus on reducing the flow often abstracts individuals from their humanity, treating them as mere numbers or situations rather than recognizing them as people with inherent rights.”
Her association, which is affiliated with the Union of Italian Evangelical Churches, provided provisions to the thousands of migrants who arrived in the fall. Local people of all political inclinations – even those who may hold prejudiced or negative views of migrants – leaped to action when confronted with the immediate need.
“People opened their homes to strangers, offering them meals,” she recalls. “Restaurants shut their doors only to distribute food unconditionally, and supermarkets supplied pallets and vans filled with water and essential goods. We were genuinely heartened by this response. It was truly astounding to witness.”
But Ms. Saccomandi thinks the problems in the fall were a failure of the hot spot system, not a sign of an overwhelming problem. “Consider this: If the island can accommodate 60,000 tourists in a month, why can’t we expedite the transfer and relocation of migrants? Why can’t they be flown out?” she asks. “The answer lies in the lack of political will to view the situation from a different perspective. It’s not merely a logistical issue.”
Rising frustrations
The locals’ empathy with migrants is manifested in their willing assistance in times of crisis. But there is also a growing sense of frustration – so far directed at authorities and media, rather than at the migrants – about what the situation is doing to island livelihoods.
Over the summer, a group of young locals harassed an Italian TV crew covering migrant arrivals in Lampedusa. The group accused the journalists of negatively impacting tourism and contributing to the island’s “militarization” through their reporting.
“Between May and June, because all the political parties and journalists were screaming at each other about the increase in migrant arrivals, we recorded a 40% drop in reservations,” says Ezio Bellocchi, a hotel owner in the center of the island. “And it is only a perceived fear, not real, because the tourists never come across the migrants.”
And fishers, who often come to the rescue of migrant ships in distress, are particularly enraged with the handling of the crisis. Sunken migrant ships transform the once-clear seascapes into treacherous minefields that can damage their equipment.
“When patrol boats rescue migrants and hasten to port, they often leave the boats adrift,” explains Piero Billeci, president of the Lampedusa Shipowners’ Association. “They sink to the seabed, and our nets get stuck so often, putting our life in peril.”
Above all, Lampedusans demand one thing: a stop to deaths in the Mediterranean. More than 2,500 died attempting the crossing this year, according to the United Nations. “Witnessing deaths at sea, even in 2023, is profoundly distressing and utterly unacceptable,” says Giuseppe Fragapane, a musician who used to work at the hot spot. “We can’t go on like this.”
