Sixteen square metres of humanity

Last week, I stood in Athens together with colleagues from Advocacy, Communication and Strategic Litigation. Not to meet online from a distance, but to truly meet in person. We came together for an exchange of knowledge with European partners from Hungary, Spain, Croatia, Germany, and our host country, Greece.

We spoke about big questions. How can we use our legal expertise strategically to respond to serious violations of refugee rights, such as the illegal pushbacks at Europe’s borders? How can we prepare for the introduction of the EU Migration Pact in 2026? And just as importantly: how can we strengthen one another?

International solidarity is more than a principle; it is a practice. By sharing knowledge, supporting each other, and building capacity, we are shaping a strong front of organisations standing shoulder to shoulder. Not as scattered voices, but as one united call for a Europe that respects the rights of refugees.

The challenge lies not only in laws and policies, but also in how we bring people along with us. That is where our shared strength and responsibility truly lie.

I think of the woman from the Ministry who guided us through the camp. She showed us a container where children stay in the reception centre. She also took us to the small courtyard where volunteers organise sports activities, and offices where psychological support is offered to people who have already endured a long and often traumatic journey before arriving here. We spoke about laws that solve little yet make life for people on the move even harder and our work more complicated. 'It’s our task to find space for humanity within rigid laws,' she said. 'I do this job because every day I can look for that space and help someone.'

I also think of Leith, whom I met during our visit to the Greek Council for Refugees.

Leith, who speaks fluent Greek.
Leith, who has worked for years at a Greek aid organisation.
Leith, who contributes to the society he now calls home.

But I also think of Leith, who lost his residence permit two years ago without explanation, without reason, and without anyone able to tell him why. His life has been on hold ever since. His hope has turned into fear. He cannot return to Syria. As a member of a minority, he would never be safe there.

Fortunately, he is now receiving legal support from our colleagues at the Greek Council for Refugees. Thanks to them, there is hope once again. With luck, Leith will soon be able to move on with his life – a life that should never have been paused for so long.

I look again at the small patch of green created by the camp’s guards. They, too, are surely trying to bring a touch of humanity and something positive to this place of high walls, fences, and control. I can imagine their sense of helplessness. I make a promise to myself: to keep searching for that space for humanity from within my own position and to encourage all those working in the Dutch ministries, the Immigration and Naturalisation Service, the COA and municipalities to do the same.

Because all those small gestures of humanity do make a difference.
Sixteen square metres of humanity; that is where it begins.