Since 2006, refugees from all corners of the world have been arriving in Dunkirk. From this French coastal town, they hope to make the illegal crossing to England, in search of a better life. France has pursued an increasingly strict immigration policy in recent years. Yet, there are still around a thousand refugees in this coastal town. Jed Tinsley (31), co-founder of the NGO Mobile Refugee Support, has been helping refugees here every day for ten years now: “We try to bring humanity back into an inhumane situation.”

Dunkirk lies more than 300 kilometres from Utrecht, just across the border from Belgium and France. In 2015, largely because of the war in Syria, the number of refugees in the coastal town grew to more than 2,500. In cooperation with Médecins Sans Frontières, the municipality then built La Linière, a camp of wooden barracks with minimal facilities. In the years that followed, the number of refugees fluctuated between 1,000 and 2,000, depending on what was happening on the world stage. Every war or famine produced a new wave of refugees.

In April 2017, a small fire broke out in the camp, after which the authorities decided to close it abruptly. Médecins Sans Frontières and other aid organisations withdrew. No alternative was offered, and a large number of refugees were forced to scatter into the woods around Dunkirk. Since then, the French government has followed a ‘zéro point de fixation’ policy: an active deterrence policy designed to attract as few refugees as possible, in the hope that the problem will resolve itself. That has not been the case. Men, women and children arrive in Dunkirk every day, and there are still between 400 and more than 1,000 refugees living in the camp. In summer — when it is safer to travel — many families, women and children arrive. At those times, the camp can swell to as many as 2,000 residents.

In 2025, more than 40,000 refugees made the crossing to England. Not just from Dunkirk, but along the entire adjoining coastline, which is roughly 150 kilometres wide and, in its entirety, is difficult to police. The illegal crossing is dangerous. The people smugglers are unreliable, the boats are often too small and in poor condition, and in bad weather the risk of capsizing is genuinely too high. Still, people take the chance. Because many have nowhere else to go, the crossing is their last resort. In recent years, hundreds of passengers have died at sea. “The French and British authorities should guarantee a safe crossing for these refugees, or offer them a dignified alternative,” says Jed Tinsley (31), co-founder of Mobile Refugee Support (MRS). “That’s the only humane approach.”

Tinsley is from Liverpool. He recounts how, as an idealistic 21-year-old, he came to France to volunteer at the refugee camp in Calais — three-quarters of an hour’s drive from Dunkirk. It was shortly after La Linière had formally been shut down. A great deal of aid was mobilised for families, women and children. Young men were structurally left to fend for themselves. Together with a few friends, Tinsley decided to take action and make sure these men, too, would at least get a tent, a sleeping bag and something to eat. That was the beginning of Mobile Refugee Support.

Ten years on, La Linière and MRS are still needed. Every morning, Tinsley and the volunteers begin their day at the Warehouse, where all the supplies are stored and preparations are made for the afternoon trip to the camp. Today, as it happens, Team Help People drives onto the site with a large truck. This aid organisation from Capelle aan de IJssel has been supporting the refugees in Dunkirk for many years. Every few months they come to MRS to bring supplies and food. This time they’ve brought two hundred tents and sleeping bags left behind at Defqon, the dance festival in Biddinghuizen.

Many festival-goers buy a ticket that includes a tent and sleeping bag. Most of these are left behind on the site after the festival and are usually destroyed — as at many other festivals. Some NGO’s have permission to collect the tents and sleeping bags left behind afterwards and donate them to NGO’s such as MRS. “Defqon was cancelled this year because of the heatwave, so everything is in good condition,” says a Team Help People spokesperson. “The only thing was, we weren’t allowed onto the site until late, and by then everything had already gotten soaking wet from the rain, so some of it still needs to dry out.”

Tinsley and the volunteers drive onto the site. Hands are shaken, coffee is handed round, and the not-even-that-wet, bright red sleeping bags — practically brand new — are hung out on the washing line. One moment, festival-goers are lying in these sleeping bags; a few days later, they belong to the refugees. Two worlds, separated by a thin dividing line. They probably have no idea of each other’s existence.

Tinsley has a presence that brings Freddie Mercury to mind — but with a Liverpool accent. He gives an extensive tour of the enormous Warehouse. “Look, this is our sorting pile,” he says, pointing to a large heap of items. “Everything gets sorted every day and stored in a fixed spot, so we can find it again immediately when we need it. In the ten years I’ve been doing this, I’ve learned to think ahead and structure the help we provide. We’re fairly well stocked at the moment, but because the police carry out raids almost every week, confiscating or destroying tents, sleeping bags, phones and other belongings, we constantly have to resupply. Especially in winter, when it gets bitterly cold here, that’s a matter of life and death.”

He doesn’t let the inhumanity of the situation discourage him. “This has been going on for years, which shows that the government’s deterrence policy isn’t working. Of course it isn’t — because someone is fleeing something. They’re not being drawn somewhere. There are no opportunistic fortune-seekers here, only people who were forced to leave their country because of war, hunger or poverty. Nobody leaves their country for fun and risks their life in a small boat at sea. The French government has spent millions in recent years on constant raids. If they’d spent that money on building a proper reception centre instead, the situation here would look a lot better.”

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights states that everyone has the right to food, water, clothing, housing and medical care (Human Right 25). The French authorities recently had two water points installed on the site, after losing a legal case brought by an NGO. There are also around fifty portable toilets on site. Destroying tents and belongings continues unabated, even though it violates both the law and human rights. “Sometimes I see police officers genuinely enjoying it,” says Tinsley. “They’ll grab someone’s phone, throw it on the ground and stamp on it, right in front of the owner’s eyes. I really don’t understand that.”

How does he keep going? “I focus on what’s needed here and now,” he says calmly. “That’s mainly shelter, food, water and humanity. At MRS we run a laundry service, so residents can hold on to the few clothes that are still their own. That has huge emotional value — it’s often the only thing they have left from home. We go to the camp every day and note down what’s needed, so we can bring it the next day. We’re not a soup kitchen. We try to get to know everyone, remember their names, and respect their personal wishes. That lets them feel human, despite having lost everything and facing an uncertain future.”

That afternoon, we drive to the camp in a bus full of supplies, right along a main road. From a distance, tents appear everywhere, hidden among the trees. “They spread out, so that during a raid the police can’t destroy everything as easily,” Tinsley explains. The central site is a large, bare stretch of sand with portable toilets, a few stalls and a great many people. “Wednesdays are always busy,” says Tinsley, “because that’s when other NGO’s are here too, like Médecins du Monde (MdM) and Care4Calais.”

As soon as we’ve parked the bus of supplies, several lines form. Five volunteers — from England, the US, Japan, Italy and Spain, who joined MRS through Workaway — hand out sleeping bags, tents, shoes, clothing and toiletries. The hundreds of people at the camp — mostly men and children, since most women stay by the tent — currently come mainly from West Africa, Kurdistan, Iran, Afghanistan and Syria. Tinsley shakes the hand of everyone who approaches him, with his other hand on their shoulder, as though greeting an old friend. He speaks fluent Kurdish. “Yeah, I picked that up here,” he says. “People appreciate that.”

The atmosphere is easy-going, though an underlying fear is palpable. Tinsley talks to a man who is here with his wife and two daughters, the youngest just three months old. They don’t yet dare make the crossing, but the family is struggling with the nights in the sweltering tent, which they have to leave open. That brings the risk of rats getting in. He and his wife take turns sleeping because of it. Despite everything, he’s optimistic about the future. He believes it will work out in a few months.

Tinsley makes his own crossings in a very different way. “I go back to Liverpool now and then to visit my family,” he says. “Sometimes I’m walking down the street and someone comes up to me who was in the camp years earlier. ‘I made it!’ he’ll say, or something like it, and thank me for what we did for him back then. The solution to this inhumane situation is a change of heart in people. I don’t expect that to happen at the top, but I do hope it happens elsewhere. There’s so much we can do together.”

Website: https://www.mobilerefugeesupport.org/

Sanne Burger
sanneburger.com