Open and Shut

The uncertain fate of Malta’s migrant population

GIACOMO SINI AND FRANCESCO M BASSANO

At the dive bar in front of the screening centre for migrants in Marsa, a town in southeastern Malta, time passes by slowly. To kill time, one plays dominoes or billiards, or tries to catch a glimpse of the open sea beyond the rusty ships docked at the harbour. Everything here, whether the languages people speak or the spicy scent of the meat on the grill or the warm and dry wind, is reminiscent of Africa. Yet, Malta plays its role as a southern portal to Fortress Europe.

Thousands of refugees have made their way to this island nation over the years and found themselves confined here, awaiting a tenuous future. Their exact number is unknown even to humanitarian organisations that support asylum-seekers. Among these organisations, one of the most active is Kopin, a local NGO that seeks to promote a “sustainable reception” and a meeting point between locals and migrants, through education and training projects.

William Grech, Kopin’s executive director, and Dominik Kalweit, Grech’s deputy, explained to us, when we met in June 2019, that anyone who arrives illegally in Malta is taken to the screening centre. They remain there for a maximum of 15 days, during which they are identified, registered and assessed for health and psychological care. Before 2015, all illegal migrants would be automatically detained, but an overhaul of the immigration policy that year changed this. However, migrants without identification documents, or with outdated visas, can still be detained indefinitely.

Most migrants are housed in “open centres,” of which there are five on the island, and given a minimum income, without being guaranteed food or other services. They are allowed to leave these overcrowded open centres for school or work, but if they decide to move out, they are rarely allowed back in.