Get all your news in one place.
100’s of premium titles.
One app.
Start reading
The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
World
Katy Fallon

Smugglers or saviours? Poland’s divided stance on aiding refugees

Anna, 44, and Maria, 14, a mother and daughter, who provide shelter for refugees, Belarus/Poland border
Anna, 44, and her daughter Maria, 14, outside the house near the Poland-Belarus border where they provide shelter for refugees. Photograph: Anna Liminowicz/The Guardian

Weronika Klemba had just dropped off a group of fellow volunteers at the forest near the border between Poland and Belarus when she was pulled over by police. The 21-year-old student did not want to reveal she was there to offer help to some of the hundreds of people who have been living in the woods, because “I didn’t want them to get the information of where the refugees are,” she says. “I knew they were in a bad condition, and I didn’t want them to get pushed back to Belarus.”

Klemba, a volunteer with the Club of Catholic Intelligentsia at its aid point near the border, says she was then arrested and told she was a “suspicious person”. The first thing her parents knew of her arrest was when police entered their flat in Warsaw the next morning to search for Klemba’s computer. Klemba was held at the police station for 48 hours before she was released and charged with organising an illegal border crossing.

Last year, the Belarusian president, Alexander Lukashenko, started to organise the movement of asylum seekers from the Middle East to the Polish border. As a result, thousands of people have attempted to cross into Poland, and have met an increasingly hostile and sometimes violent response. Many end up seeking refuge in nearby forests and setting up camp there.

Weronika Klemba
Weronika Klemba, who is facing eight years in prison for helping refugees at Poland’s border with Belarus. Photograph: Anna Liminowicz/The Guardian

Just last month Klemba raised more than 60,000 zloty (£10,700) to help Ukrainian refugees fleeing war. But now she is facing eight years in prison for her efforts to help different refugees at the Belarusian border.

“People were super proud of me saying congratulations, then when I’m going to the other border it’s like I’m a criminal in the eyes of the people who have power.” Klemba makes no such distinction: “Everyone should get help if they are in a bad situation no matter their nationality. I think it’s obvious.”

Mariusz Kurnyta
Mariusz Kurnyta after a court appearance for refusing to pay a fine for being in the exclusion zone, helping refugees. Photograph: Anna Liminowicz/The Guardian

As Poland has welcomed about 2.5 million refugees from Ukraine since the Russian invasion, there remains a 3km exclusion zone on its border with Belarus that aid workers are forbidden to enter. Polish authorities say that the Belarusian government is organising a “hybrid operation”, sending “illegal immigrants” to the Polish border who are being pushed back.

A new wall spanning almost half the length of the Belarusian border is being built and volunteers on the ground, many of whom have also been helping at the Ukrainian border, say their work is becoming increasingly criminalised at the Belarusian frontier. Volunteers say the authorities are taking a harsher line and people who previously may have received a small fine for helping refugees are now facing criminal charges.

Klemba is one of a growing number charged with “organising an illegal border crossing”. On 22 March, four people were held for three days and charged after being arrested for trying to provide aid to a family with young children in the forest.

A couple of hundred people gathered in Warsaw with banners in support of refugees and the volunteers helping them at the Belarus border.
A small protest in Warsaw on Thursday night in support of those at the Belarusian border. Photograph: Anna Liminowicz/The Guardian

It is for this reason that Anna*, 44, and her 14-year-old daughter Maria*, do not want their faces or location shared. They live in a scenic birch forest near the border, and scores of refugees have found sanctuary in their home in recent months. Anna says she knows that letting exhausted refugees stay under her roof carries an increased risk: “I still think I’m doing nothing wrong but I’m aware that I can be put in jail.” The situation has become increasingly hostile she says. “Now they are putting criminal charges, earlier it was civil charges, it’s changed a lot. I think the situation is more dramatic and complicated because we are doing exactly the same thing they are doing on the Ukrainian border, but they are treating us as smugglers or criminals.”

A woman holds a sign saying ‘refugees welcome’.
Supporters at Thursday’s protest. Photograph: Anna Liminowicz/The Guardian

Many of the people helping refugees conceal their faces or names because of an increase in criminalisation of what they’re doing. Outside the courthouse in Bialystok, one of the biggest cities near the Belarusian border and often the centre of these criminal proceedings, activists hold signs in support of a volunteer, Mila, who is one of the four people accused of organising an illegal border crossing.

On Thursday evening in central Warsaw, a couple of hundred people, including families with young children, gathered to protest the increasing criminalisation of aid at the Belarusian border. People carried signs in support of refugees at the border and one man, who only wanted to be identified by his first name, Teodor, carried a flag with a WhatsApp location pin on it, to symbolise the location pins desperate asylum seekers send to volunteers when they have crossed over and are stuck in the woods and need help.

Some of those recently arrested, including Klemba, spoke about their experiences at the border. “I will not be intimidated,” Klemba told the crowd, “our help is needed.”

Aleksandra Chrzanowska from the Association for Legal Intervention and one of those in attendance said it was important people had come out to protest. “A lot of ordinary people helping at the Ukrainian border are treated as heroes but at the Belarusian border if you want to help there you are treated as a criminal, that is why we are here today, because people are accused of smuggling whilst saving lives.”

In a nearby cafe local resident Mariusz Kurnyta, 45, remains undeterred. Kurnyta has also come from court, where he appeared for refusing to pay a fine for being in the exclusion zone where he had gone to help a family with a newborn baby. “The zone is illegal,” he says. “The fines are harassment of activists – you need to help anyone regardless of the colour of their skin or nationality.” Kurnyta insists he will not pay even though refusing will mean a heavier penalty.

Marta Górczyńska, a lawyer from the Helsinki Foundation for Human Rights who has been working at the Ukrainian and Belarusian borders in recent weeks, says the distinction between the two frontiers is clear. “The main difference is that we can work very openly at the Ukrainian border, while at the Belarusian border, we have to be very careful about revealing our presence since we’re not welcomed; and we are criminalised for what we’re doing.”

* Names have been changed

Sign up for a different view with our Global Dispatch newsletter – a roundup of our top stories from around the world, recommended reads, and thoughts from our team on key development and human rights issues, delivered to your inbox every two weeks:

Sign up to read this article
Read news from 100’s of titles, curated specifically for you.
Already a member? Sign in here
Related Stories
Top stories on inkl right now
One subscription that gives you access to news from hundreds of sites
Already a member? Sign in here
Our Picks
Fourteen days free
Download the app
One app. One membership.
100+ trusted global sources.