Learning from the other side of the world

My driver/interpreter cheerfully announced that it was only 36 degrees - a good day to visit a refugee camp at Akcakale in Eastern Turkey. It is not unusual for the temperatures to hit 45 degrees in this area.

For the last 20 years, I have been representing asylum seekers as they grope their way through the Australian legal system. More recently as a volunteer migration agent\lawyer at the Refugee and Immigration Legal Service in Brisbane I have been sharing the emotion of the many Syrian Australians I have been advising as they seek ways to facilitate the passage of family and friends to safe countries.

I am about to see how Turkey deals with war on its borders and the flood of refugees that results. I can compare it to my own country which, since 1992, has mandatory detention and continues to skirt international protection obligations by introducing various forms of outsourcing and off-shoring as we deal with our comparative trickle of asylum seekers.

It is 11 September 2012. (Who cannot attach some kind of gravitas and expectation to that day each time it reoccurs.) I am in Sanliurfa, a city of about 1.5 million in the south east of Turkey. The Syrian border is just 45 kms away.

With the support of the Refugee Council of Australia and guidance provided by the UNHCR and the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs, I had sought permission from the Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs to visit the refugee camp at Akcakale. It was not forthcoming. Trying not to feel less worthy than Angelina Jolie, who was on an authorised visit to another camp far to the west, near Aleppo, I rationalise my rejection by reference to the Kurdish separatist activity that takes place and raises security concerns in this part of Turkey.

In the time I am in Sanliurfa, the terrorism trial of 40 Kurdish journalists commences in Istanbul; a suspected Kurdish suicide bomber is shot dead not too far from the city limits and Kurdish separatists and military kill each other in a spate of attacks. A couple of weeks previous a car bomb killed 10 in the neighbouring town of Gaziantep.

The troubles both within and across the border are impacting on a tourism industry that had finally begun to flourish after years of Kurdish separatist resistance. The tourism operators to whom I speak seek my word on Trip Advisor to reassure visitors to come back. Turkey is clearly dealing with a delicate and difficult set of circumstances.

I decide to take my chances. I am driven by a desire to witness how this country is dealing with its refugee issue, and a deep respect of people whom I had found to gentle and tolerant in a previous visit to Syria. Now they are engulfed in the cruellest of civil wars.

As we set out, we visit the cave where Abraham spent seven years in contemplation. It is a tiny cave. I descend many steps underground and squeeze myself between the traditional and devout women in prayer. Ironically, they are Kurds.

We drove out of Sanliurfa past crumpled men riding on wooden carts pulled by donkeys – poverty is never far away in this part of Turkey. My driver regales me with thousands of years of local history. Turkey emerges as the crucible of western civilisation from his words.

After about three quarters of an hour, we reached the small border town of Akcakale. The town is on flat and arid plains and looks dusty.

I catch sight of a line of mini-buses waiting to convey arriving refugees to the nearby camp. We are at the border. Immediately we are mobbed by children pressing us to buy water or give them money. I cannot ignore their urgent demands driven by need. The sun beats down unbearably.

I see a mix of people. There are both Turks and Syrians. A group of very poor Syrian farming families sit dazed in the shade of a one story building adjacent to the border post. The building is burned out. Its windows shattered.

I see clumps of well-dressed, middle class Syrians talking together. One walks past me and says in English: 'Syria is gone'. The words display equal amounts of anger and distress. Desperation abounds.

The border gate itself operates calmly. There is no discernible military presence on either side. Cars are being steadily processed in both directions although more are entering Turkey than leaving. It feels like an 'open border'. Entry to Syria occurs for a range of reasons – to check on property, join the fighting, take supplies to fighters, gather people to take them out. A steady stream continue to leave Syria to escape the fighting.

The night before two Syrian doctors and a lawyer pulled into my tiny hotel. News reports suggest that many Syrian professionals do what they can from Turkey, for example, by taking care of wounded Syrian rebel fighters brought back into Turkey.

We take our leave of the border and drive a few kilometres back towards Sanliurfa to the Akcakale refugee camp. It is immediately adjacent to the main road, clearly signed, complete with Turkish flags fluttering in the hot winds. It displays the high wire fences and razor wire with which I am familiar from visiting Australian immigration detention facilities. There are new arc lights at regular intervals to ensure lighting and security at night. There are no trees for shade.

I negotiate entry into the outer perimeter which provides temporary accommodation for military personnel. 300 metres away is the gate which leads to the tents that house 10,000 Syrian refugees.

The uniformed military guards are friendly. They find the camp manager for me. He also exudes friendliness. He patiently answers my many questions.

As we speak, refugees pass by us in both directions on foot, and in cars and motorbikes. Each entry and exit is checked by the guards before outer gate is opened. An ambulance emerges from the tent area, on its way to one of several hospitals that service urgent medical cases from the camp.

The camp manager tells me that the camp is currently housing 10,000 but that planning is underway to extend it to 50,000. Turkey, officially, hosts about 83,000 Syrian refugees but that number is expected to rise. The unofficial number is estimated to be far higher. These numbers truly make Australia's "refugee problem" seem like a trickle.

I observe the refugees being treated with genuine dignity. The camp manager describes the schooling offered in camp (including English classes). He describes activities such as football, the provision of medical services, clothing, food, water, sanitation and other necessary basics. He points out that every effort is made to allow life to go on as normally as possible - woman are giving birth in hospitals, weddings are being held. Despite this, the camp is not a pleasant place. At least the refugees are free to leave at any time.

I cannot but reflect on my contrasting experiences working within Australian detention centres and with the attitudes of some Australians whose voices seem to be heard inordinately in our discussion of asylum seeker issues. Perhaps, it is the distance that makes us different. Many Syrians are living with Turkish relatives. Families straddle the border. They are indeed 'brothers and sisters'.

All Syrians flowing across the border are being granted automatic temporary protection by Turkey. If they have a passport they can be issued with visitor visa and live in the community in designated provinces away from the border. This edict is new, announced while I was in Sanilurfa. It has caused a lot of upset in the refugee community as many have taken on leases or are with relatives. Those who cannot move are to go to the camps.

It would seem that Turkish authorities are concerned that some Syrian rebel fighters and Syrian Kurds living in the community close to border areas, are cooperating with comrades in Syria, Iran, Iraq to mount attacks. The complexity of issues that apply to this war cannot be underestimated. Only last week Syrian rebels overran the border post I visited, forcing many Akcakale residents to flee stray bullets.

Australia's recent announcement that it will re-settle 1,000 Syrian refugees is very welcome. Developed nations must respond and acknowledge the huge load that Turkey is carrying as a country of first asylum. My driver and many other Turks are extremely proud of how their country has risen to the challenge of this enormous flood of humanitarian need. I cannot help but agree. It is laudable that Turkey continues to negotiate a host of complex issues of far reaching geo-political significance, and yet continues to provide a safe haven for so many.

At the same time, we have chosen to spend close to $1 billion to send a few thousand asylum seekers to isolated tent camps on Nauru and Manus Island. I shake my head until it hurts.