Assem*, 37, is waiting for the right opportunity to cross to Europe. He’s Syrian, and he and his family have been living in Tunisia since 2017. He was happy when he found out that Bashar al-Assad, Syria’s president from 2000 to 2024, had fled. But he doesn’t want to return.
“I lost my house and my family,” Assem said. “I have no reason to return to Syria. There’s nothing for me there but regret and pain. Even if I wanted to return, it’s not safe to do so.”
Yet Assem doesn’t see Tunisia as a long-term solution either. He’s found safety there, but not opportunity. “No one is bombing us here. But safe doesn’t mean it’s easy,” said Assem. “Life is hard, for Tunisian people too. There are no secure job opportunities, and prices are getting higher. I want to reach Europe to give my children a better future.”
Now, safety is also evaporating. Authorities, driven by a domestic anti-migrant agenda, have stepped up efforts to force refugees and migrants out in recent months. This has combined with a lucrative migration partnership with the EU, which means additional efforts are also being made to keep people away from Europe’s borders. Both leaving and staying is becoming more dangerous.
In March, hundreds of people were intercepted at sea by Tunisian forces, and reportedly abandoned in the desert on the border to Algeria and Libya. In April, officials burned down an informal refugee camp and dismantled several others around the port city of Sfax. They displaced around 10,000 people, some of whom were then forcibly deported. Most were from Sudan and sub-Saharan Africa.
While Syrians have generally avoided the worst of these violent anti-migrant policies, many in Tunisia live in precarity and extreme poverty. openDemocracy asked two such families what al-Assad’s fall meant for their future. One said they would continue to build their new home where they were, but remained concerned about their long-term stability. The other said they didn’t want to stay in Tunisia, but wouldn’t be heading back to Syria either. For both families, the treacherous sea crossing to Europe seemed more promising than returning home.
They are not alone. Data provided by SOS Méditerranée, a European civil organisation rescuing people at sea, shows that Syrians are continuing to travel north from North Africa. For the first three months of 2025, 69 out of 435 people rescued by their ship, Ocean Viking, were Syrians. This makes them the third biggest nationality group to be rescued in the central Mediterranean, after survivors from Bangladesh and Pakistan.
A hostile environment for migrants
Tunisia hosts around 10,000 registered refugees, over 2,000 of whom are Syrian. In addition, UN estimates suggest there are tens of thousands of unregistered people living in informal camps across the country. Registered refugees get some support from UNHCR, but new applications were suspended in June last year at the request of the government.
Many Syrians still receive financial support from UNHCR, while people from Sudan and sub-Saharan Africa have seen their support cut. This unofficial policy was confirmed to openDemocracy by a UNHCR representative (who wished to remain anonymous as they weren’t permitted to publicly comment).
In 2023, President Kais Saied claimed that sub-Saharan migrants were entering the country as part of a conspiracy to “change the demographic makeup” of the country. The comments incited a wave of mob violence against Black migrants across Tunisia. The same year, the EU promised €105m in funding to Tunisia for border management.
A 2024 investigation by Lighthouse Reports revealed that the National Guard had rounded tens of thousands of Black people up and “dumped” them in the desert and remote areas, reportedly to prevent them from reaching Europe.
What is happening in Tunisia is a process of abuse against migrants
Syrians have generally not been threatened by deportation orders, or subject to racist attacks and discrimination in the same way that people from Sudan and sub-Saharan Africa have. Even so, life in Tunisia can be “hellish” for migrants of all nationalities, said Khaled Tabbabi, a sociologist and activist with the Tunisian Forum for Economic and Social Rights.
Tabbabi described living conditions as “catastrophic”, and said the lack of medical care, basic services, obstacles to asylum, and discrimination during procedures, all add up to a picture of “non-reception” for people seeking protection in Tunisia, including Syrians.
“Syrian migrants do not appear to have any intention of remaining in Tunisia, especially given the local economic, social, and political crisis,” Tabbabi said. “What is happening in Tunisia is a process of abuse against migrants.”
Escaping war, then poverty
Assem fled Syria with his wife and baby daughter after their home in Aleppo was bombed by Russian and Syrian forces in 2016. Everyone else in his family was killed in the siege.
“I saw the city wiped to dust,” he said. “We had to wait months to escape. We lived with little to no water, no electricity and no food supplies. Just before Aleppo fell to the regime, we managed to get out.”
A smuggler helped them get to Beirut. From there, they took a flight with other Syrians to Benghazi in Libya. Assem said they were abandoned by the smuggler and suffered abuse at the airport, but managed to get to Tripoli, Libya’s capital. Assem found work in restaurants and on construction sites, but their daughter had no access to schooling. Between that, threats from militias, and the constant fear of deportation, they had little sense of safety. They decided to cross to Tunisia in 2023.
Melissa Pawson
Assem said his family and other Syrians were treated harshly at the border, but conditions were still better than in Libya. “Officers gave us food and water, and allowed us to register for asylum with the UN,” he said. They moved to Siliana, a farming town in north central Tunisia, where locals helped Assem find work on farms and construction sites.
Initially, Assem’s wife, 30, went begging in the street to gather the money they needed to rent a house. She now stays at home to look after their three small children, and Assem works in a Syrian restaurant. They’ve settled somewhat, but still live hand to mouth.
“I would only consider returning to Syria if it was guaranteed to be safe, and if there were economic opportunities,” said Assem. “Our house is rubble. I’d need to build it from scratch.”
With almost 70% of Syria’s population living in poverty, a protracted humanitarian crisis, airstrikes across the country, and a new transitional government struggling to manage outbursts of sectarian violence whilst consolidating its control, none of those guarantees are coming soon.
I know others who’ve returned. But I don’t trust this new government
Instead of looking back, Assem hopes to cross to Europe alone. From there he plans to apply for family reunification so his wife and children can join him. He has cousins in Norway, but says he’d like to settle in Germany. Assem’s plans aren’t set in stone yet – he’s afraid of making the wrong deal with smugglers, and so is biding his time.
Finding safety in Tunisia
Hana*, 45, has already experienced the horrors of a Mediterranean crossing once before. Speaking to openDemocracy from Tunisia, she described how she and her family attempted to cross from Lebanon to Malta in 2013.
“After 11 days at sea, the Libyan coast guard found us. They were pointing their guns at us and shouting to stop the engine,” she recalled. “Then they dragged us out into the middle of nowhere. We were found by the Tunisian coast guard two days later.”
Hana is from al-Ghouta, an area on the outskirts of Damascus that was subject to a deadly chemical attack by the Syrian regime in 2013. Over 1,000 people were killed, many in their sleep. “There were bodies everywhere,” said Hana. “That’s when we decided to leave.”
She now lives with her husband and two teenage daughters in a house with another family in Siliana. The children go to a vocational school, and the family receives some financial aid from UNHCR. Her husband, 53, works collecting plastic bottles and selling them to other Tunisian waste collectors.
“People helped us a lot here,” said Hana. “Every Friday people collect money for us and other Syrian families.”
Hana said she dreams of returning to Syria, to see her family and to find out if her house is still standing. “But I also have strong feelings towards Tunisia now,” she said. “This is the first place where me and my family have felt safe again. For the moment we will stay. We don’t feel like strangers anymore.”
As long as militias are still around [in Syria], we won’t feel safe
She’s also not convinced that her home country is stable enough. “Syrians have long waited for the regime to fall,” she said. “I know others who’ve returned. But I don’t trust this new government, and I can’t ignore the religious intellectual background of the new president.”
Keeping her family safe is the most important thing for Hana, and she’s afraid of the dangers of another sea crossing. “But who knows, maybe the chance of travelling to Europe might come,” she said.
No safe pathways
Lucille Guenier, communications manager at SOS Méditerranée, said that, while most people are aware of the dangers of crossing the Mediterranean, many of them see “no other option”.
Guenier described meeting several Syrians onboard the organisation’s rescue ship between December and February, all of whom had left Syria before al-Assad fell. Many of them reported being aware that asylum procedures had been suspended by several European states. However, they decided to attempt the crossing anyway.
“Many had been living in dire conditions in Lebanon or Syria, with no hope for a future there,” she said. “Most were very young, many of them women.”
One survivor on board reported being detained and tortured in Libyan prisons. He had unsuccessfully tried to cross to Europe six times, but was intercepted by the Libyan coast guard and had to pay for his release each time. He was rescued by the humanitarian ship on his seventh attempt.
The central Mediterranean is one of the deadliest migration routes in the world, but “remains the only option for many people seeking safety,” said Guenier. “European States do not carry out and rarely coordinate search and rescue operations in this vast stretch of sea, leaving civil society to fill the deadly void.”
The Libyan coastguard – who Hana says abandoned their boat at sea in 2013 – has received millions of euros in funding from the EU since 2015. European support for Libyan and Tunisian border forces only “exacerbates the suffering,” said Guenier. Both border guards have repeatedly been accused of systematic human rights violations against migrants, while also failing to end deadly boat crossings. Rather, Guenier stressed that “a comprehensive search and rescue system, in line with maritime law,” is urgently needed to prevent further loss of life at Europe’s doorstep.
It has long been established by experts that ‘deterrence’ measures like these do nothing to completely halt migration – especially when factors like war, poverty and instability are present. For Assem, crossing to Europe still seems far more like a risk worth taking than returning home.
“As long as militias are still around [in Syria], we won’t feel safe,” he said. “Aleppo was one of the most destroyed places, for so many people there is nothing to go back to. Just instability and a lot of questions about the future.”
*Only first names were given for security reasons.
Explore the series so far
- Asylum still frozen in Greece despite fresh bloodshed in SyriaGiorgos Christides
- Syrian women and children return to rebuild, leaving husbands behindMelissa Pawson and Mahmoud Abo Rass
- As Tunisia tries to force returns, Syrians set sights on EuropeSiraaj Al Mughamir, Leon Spring and Melissa Pawson
