Hagen Kopp, No one is illegal – Hanau
Hard-won Corridors 
— the Power of 
People on the Move
2015 in Botovo – Spielfeld – Šid
The following stories from the Balkan Route in autumn and winter 2015 are part of a 
more comprehensive ‘collective memories’ project, in which the author tries to retell expe-
riences mainly from struggles for freedom of movement. The names of the mentioned 
persons are fictitious, but the stories with their places, dates, and encounters were 
experienced exactly as they were told. As fragments of the summer of migration, these 
stories may help us to understand this extraordinary period better. During this period, 
the freedom of movement posed a greater challenge to the EU border regime than at 
any other time in the last few decades.
They asked for a room overlooking the train station. There was one available, 
so they paid in cash in advance. It was at the one-star Hotel Cubura. It was located 
in the small Serbian town of Šid, a few kilometres from the Croatian border. It 
was a cold day just before Christmas, and it was already dark outside. Milena and 
Max kept their jackets and woolly hats on when they opened the window. They 
wanted to see and hear what was going on at the train station. More than ten 
buses had just arrived. The car park was too small for such a large crowd. Howe-
ver, it took less than an hour for all the passengers to disembark, pass through 
a checkpoint, and board the waiting train. The same thing happened twice more 
in the next two hours. Then the train left. First, it would go to Slavonski Brod 
in Croatia, and then, via Slovenia, on to the Austrian border. The next stage of 
the journey north was still largely open in December 2015. This was possible for 
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Hagen Kopp, No one is illegal – Hanau | Hard-won Corridors — the Power of People on the Move
people who could prove that they came from Syria, Iraq, or Afghanistan, or who 
could convincingly claim to do so.
As the departing train pulled away, Max was reminded of the incredible scenes 
he had witnessed in autumn. At a station in a Croatian village. It was 26 Sep-
tember 2015, and shortly after 10 pm. in Botovo, close to the Hungarian border. 
Max would never forget it. After the train rolled in, a surreal nighttime scene 
unfolded. Women, children, men, and people of all ages poured out of every 
door. They were helping each other. There were even two people in wheelchairs. 
Most families had only a minimal amount of luggage. Some were wrapped in 
blankets. Around 1,600 people left the wagons. They moved quickly and deci- 
sively, following the groups ahead of them rather than the barely understanda-
ble announcements over the loudspeakers.
The local police, fire brigade, and Red Cross were on site, still somewhat sur-
prised by what was happening. At the same time, however, they already seemed 
somewhat experienced. As a friendly firefighter explained to Max, “This is al- 
ready the eleventh train. It started three days ago.” The Botovo transit would 
continue for several weeks. It was an extension of the hard-won corridor. Over 
80 more trains would follow. Around 180,000 people, accompanied by Croatian 
police, first walked one kilometre to the green border with Hungary. They wou-
ld then board trains provided by the Hungarian government, which would take 
them to Austria. From there, they would travel on to Germany and Scandinavia.
Help with mass flight across a green border. Organised between countries. 
In the age of Frontex. The movement of hundreds of thousands of people was 
unstoppable at this stage. Where they were blocked, immediate mass protests 
ensued, and new routes were found. The authorities and border police were 
overwhelmed and helpless, focusing only on channelling the flow of people some- 
how. The aim was to avoid losing control completely. Max has always seen him-
self as a possibilities thinker. Almost anything is possible. But even he could not 
have imagined Botovo in his wildest dreams...
‘Amazing’ was the word on everyone's lips. Max had ended up in a convoy of 
cars with a mixed group of supporters at the Croatian–Hungarian border. They 
were mainly activists from Slovenia, Italy, and Germany who had responded to 
the call from Ljubljana for an ‘Open Border Caravan’. In the evening, they lined 
up dozens of boxes of food, drinks, and clothes on the side of the road next to the 
train station. These were donations that they had purchased in supermarkets 
or collected at the Rog social centre in the Slovenian capital. A plenary meeting 
took place there at midday. All available information about current flight routes 
was gathered and discussed, along with ways in which support could be pro-
vided. Many were willing to help people, even across closed borders. But that 
was no longer necessary, as they witnessed firsthand late that evening in Botovo. 
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“The power of refugee movements—how governments are forced to act as 
smugglers”—was the headline that Max would use the next day to circulate a 
short report on the transnational mailing lists.
Three months had passed since then, but Max still had vivid memories of what 
had happened. It was the craziest episode of a long summer of migration, which 
was still ongoing even at the end of December. They could see Šid and follow the 
middle section of the Balkan route. Milena and he had spent the last few days 
in Belgrade. They wanted to get a firsthand impression of the embattled bor-
ders at the end of the year. While there, they met Marko, a friend of theirs who 
had been living in Budapest for several years and who, in mid-September, had 
started the ‘Moving Europe’ project with them and other activists. “Getting in 
direct contact with the communities, and passing on information about support 
along the route”—this is something that Milena and Max have been doing for 
the past few years. They had been learning by doing ever since they helped set 
up the ‘Welcome to Europe’ (w2eu) network in 2009 after the ‘No Border Camp’ 
in Lesbos. ‘Counselling in transit—advice on the route’ was Milena's particular 
strength. She found it easy to strike up conversations with people, in English 
and French. She could quickly gain their trust, or at least their interest. They 
handed out lots of green business cards advertising w2eu.info. The website pro-
vided information and contacts for almost every European country of transit 
and destination in four languages. For several months, a special 'live feed' was 
set up to provide regular updates about changes to the corridor online. At the 
same time, a minibus carrying the 'Moving Europe' team was travelling along 
the route. Experienced friends had decided without hesitation to take time off 
from October onwards to spend the following weeks travelling along the route. 
Milena and Max replaced them for the days between Christmas and New Year.
In Belgrade, a central park served as a meeting place for refugees, who, for the 
first time during these months, appeared as 'normal travellers'. They were no 
longer hidden away on secret paths, constantly fearing police checks and pos- 
sible internment. Instead, they moved openly, searching for the fastest route 
and cheapest ticket to the north. There was still money to be made from refugees. 
However, the market for professional smugglers—who had all too often been used 
as an excuse to criminalise and seal off the European border regime—had col- 
lapsed in the face of de facto open borders. Once again, it became clear that with- 
out border controls, there would be no illegal routes. In other words, without 
Frontex, there would be no smugglers. And there would be no deaths by land, at 
least. In August, 71 people suffocated in a truck. They were on their way to Ger-
many, but this incident occurred in Austria. They were hidden and abandoned in 
an airtight refrigerated container. This horror was over for the time being. For a 
few months, the deadly violence at the border in the Balkans lost some of its terror.
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Hagen Kopp, No one is illegal – Hanau | Hard-won Corridors — the Power of People on the Move
Milena and Max had found posters with a map showing the route from Greece 
to Scandinavia on walls near Belgrade Park. The posters also featured a business 
card with the website address of ‘w2eu’. The ‘guide’ was spreading well. But there 
were hardly any refugees moving through the area these days. Most transit tra-
vellers were now using buses that ran directly from Preševo, on the southern 
border with Macedonia, to Šid, on the northern border with Croatia. They were 
leaving Belgrade to the east, so to speak. The Serbian authorities wanted to avoid 
their capital being used as a permanent stopover. They therefore set up a col-
lection point for buses near the town of Adaševci, at a motorway car park around 
10 kilometres from the Croatian border.
Milena and Max spent several hours at this rest area. It was clear that a remark- 
able infrastructure had been set up here in a very short time. Both authoriti-
es and volunteers ran it. Soup and tea were served, and a medical station had 
been set up. There was also an internet point with mobile phone charging stati-
ons and a clothing distribution point, especially for families and children. Large 
tents equipped with fan heaters, camp beds, and blankets were set up to enable 
people to spend the night. There was a calm and friendly atmosphere at this 
transit point, which was created spontaneously. The buses arrived one by one to 
take a break here. Some rested for only an hour, while others stayed for a whole 
day or night. Then, when a convoy of at least ten buses was ready to depart, they 
set off northwards, escorted by a police car. They were heading for the train sta-
tion in Šid.
Milena and Max first encountered Syrian and Afghan families in Adaševci. 
The people were exhausted, but not desperate. They had crossed the Aegean Sea 
by boat and had been travelling almost non-stop since then. Sometimes by bus, 
sometimes by train, and rarely on foot. They were all in contact with relatives 
and friends who had either travelled the route before them or walked endless 
distances. These people encouraged them to persevere. They gave them hope, 
assuring them that they would arrive in a few days. As soon as people found 
out that Milena and Max were from Germany, their interest grew noticeably. 
They asked about the cities with the best prospects. Milena replied as always: 
‘Go where you have good friends and relatives. The most important thing is to 
have a good team with whom you can assert your right to stay.’ She handed them 
the w2eu-business card with the contact and support addresses of many cities 
across Europe.
Milena and Max finally met a group of young men. Judging by their appear- 
ance and English, Milena guessed that they were Somali. And that was precisely 
their problem. From mid-November onwards, open transit to the 'SIA' countries 
was restricted, most likely at the instigation of the Slovenian government but 
with Austrian spin doctors pulling the strings in the background: Syria, Iraq, 
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and Afghanistan. Over 90% of people travelling on the route were affected. 
However, refugees and migrants from other countries were now being denied 
passage. They were turned away at the newly set-up checkpoints and detained. 
They were forced to apply for asylum in local camps.
The group of people who were supposedly Somali eventually discussed their 
chances of getting through the checkpoints as black Syrians with Milena and 
Max openly. They couldn't tell them how strict the controls in Šid were, but 
they did encourage them to try. And with a bit of luck, they might even get 
through without being checked. There were still many security gaps, and the 
guards at the checkpoints did not always conduct thorough checks. The media 
was still predominantly pro-refugee, and the authorities did not dare attack the 
refugee movements head-on for good reason. Instead, the usual ‘divide and 
rule’ tactic was employed. They created the ‘SIA’ construct to exclude 
smaller communities initially. Then, step by step, they tried to close the door on 
the larger groups.
When Milena and Max arrived in Šid in the late afternoon, they went straight 
to the checkpoint at the station entrance. They wanted to see how strictly the 
new rule was being enforced. They asked the security guards why and whether 
people were being singled out. They argued that it was absurd to turn away the 
few black refugees, considering the civil war in Somalia and the dictatorship in 
Eritrea. They pointed out that these people weren't planning to settle there; 
they wanted to move on to Germany or Scandinavia, where they would be wel-
comed. Milena and Max introduced themselves as refugee advisers from Ger-
many. It sounded almost official. However, it was difficult to determine wheth-
er this had made an impression and possibly contributed to unsettling the 
security guards. It was worth a try. It was more likely, however, that pres-sure 
from above was increasing, and that the checkpoints had to demonstrate that 
they had filtered out at least a certain number of transit travellers every day.
Milena and Max continued to watch the arriving buses from the window of 
their hotel in Šid. The small-town railway station, usually completely deserted, 
had been transformed into a lively transit station on a hard-won corridor. This 
would have been completely unthinkable at the beginning of the year. Milena 
and Max pondered the autonomy of migration. They shared their memories 
and assessments of the turbulent last few months. They agreed that the 
struggles had developed new dynamics over the course of the year. They 
acknowledged that refugees and migrants had asserted their right to freedom 
of movement in a new way.
Did it all start in January 2015? At the same time as Syriza's election victory in 
Greece? The practice of pushbacks at the militarised land border with Turkey 
continued unabated under the new government. However, illegal refoulements 
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Hagen Kopp, No one is illegal – Hanau | Hard-won Corridors — the Power of People on the Move
at sea, off the Aegean islands, were gradually phased out. Milena and Max expe-
rienced this first-hand through their work with Alarm Phone. When the project 
began in October 2014, there were no feasible options for the hotline to inter- 
vene in the Aegean Sea. Forwarding of an emergency call would have played into 
the hands of the Greek coastguard, who would have used force to push the boat 
away. This changed in February 2015, and by the second half of the year, Alarm 
Phone had established a genuine working relationship with the rescue coor- 
dination centre in Piraeus. From late summer onwards, there was hardly a night 
without an emergency call, and during this period, the Greek coastguard finally 
did its job. It rescued people. The GPS positions passed on by Alarm Phone were 
generally taken seriously and acted upon accordingly.
Further changes in the region led to a steady increase in refugee movements. 
On the Greek side, the brutal detention regime was eased. However, the decisive 
push factor came from the other side of the coast, where several million Syri-
an refugees in Turkey and Lebanon were experiencing permanent undersupply 
and an increasing deprivation of rights. Their hopes of an end to the war and a 
return to Syria had been dashed once and for all. Even families who had initially 
tried to build a new life in the diaspora nearby had given up, seeking a better 
life for themselves and, above all, for their children's future by continuing their 
journey to north-western Europe.
From spring 2015 onwards, the first large groups of refugees started gathering 
at the border with Macedonia. They intended to cross the border together and 
make their way north along the railway line. On foot. They marched for days and 
nights on end. In April, a serious accident occurred when a group was hit by a 
train. Fourteen people lost their lives. Against this backdrop of tragedy, and fol-
lowing skilful lobbying by local NGOs, the Macedonian parliament passed a law 
in June 2015 introducing a transit visa. This document was valid for 72 hours, 
allowing people to travel through the country on public transport during this 
period.
An increased number of people began using this route until the Macedonian 
government declared a state of emergency in August. The government sealed 
off the border with military forces and used tear gas and flashbang grenades  
against families with children. However, faced with the growing number of  
arrivals and the refugees’ determination, the soldiers were forced to surrender 
just a few days later. They either could not or would not shoot at the refugees, 
and there was no fence yet. More people were making their way through Serbia 
to the Hungarian border, reaching Budapest via the contested route. At the be-
ginning of September, the struggle on the Balkan route reached a critical point.
At the end of August, Marko, a friend from Budapest, reported daily on the 
situation at Keleti station. Hundreds of people were sleeping there, while thou-
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sands more were gathering to continue their journey by train. “There will either 
be brutal mass arrests or an uprising here soon,” he wrote shortly before the 
‘March of Hope’, which was called for by mainly Syrian refugees, began on 3 
September. They marched on foot along roads and motorways towards Austria 
and Germany. Thousands took part, demonstrating great determination. There 
was a great deal of media interest, and the reporting was largely favourable 
towards the protesters, whose actions forced the governments of Hungary, 
Austria and Germany to act. On 4 September, a historic success was achieved 
when the Hungarian government sent buses to take people to the Austrian bor-
der. With the approval of the German government, a decisive breakthrough had 
been achieved, and the EU border regime was on the back foot.
Max was in Tunisia at the beginning of September. He was on one of Alarm 
Phone's contact and networking trips, visiting the families of people who had 
disappeared at sea, as well as young activists organising on the other side of the 
Mediterranean. From Tunis, he followed the latest news from the Balkan route 
with disbelief. No one had expected such a turn of events in the struggle for free- 
dom of movement. Not even the positive mood in the cities in Germany, where 
people arrived by bus and train. The first train reached Munich on 5 September, 
followed by arrivals in an increasing number of cities. On 17 September, Milena, 
Max, and some friends from Hanau (near Frankfurt) welcomed the first refu- 
gees at the station. Over the next few days, they met people who had travelled 
from Izmir to Hanau in just seven days. Unbelievable.
When Max heard about the call for an ‘Open Border Caravan’ in Slovenia at 
the end of September. He spontaneously decided to go there. ‘Moving Europe’ 
was still in the preparatory stages, and unfortunately, no one from Max's Hanau 
group was available at such short notice. So, he went alone, but he had known 
the Slovenian group for many years through transnational networking. The 
last time they had met was at a Blockupy mobilisation in Frankfurt. He had also 
arranged to meet friends from Italy at Rog, a social centre in Ljubljana. Together, 
they had an impressive experience in Botovo. This inspired Max to plan another 
long weekend in the Balkans for the end of October.
This time, Miro, a young friend of his, joined him. Their first stop was their 
friends' place in Rog, Ljubljana. They received the latest information on the situ-
ation at the Slovenian–Croatian border here. Following the complete closure of 
Hungary, this area had become a newly contested zone. Max and Miro travelled 
through Rigonce, Brežice and Dobova. These small towns, situated on the border 
between Croatia and Slovenia, served as flashpoints in the corridor for only a 
few days or weeks. Heavily armed military personnel and border police guarded 
the improvised emergency shelters, where, at first glance, hundreds of people 
appeared to be interned. Locked behind fences and subject to strict access con-
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Hagen Kopp, No one is illegal – Hanau | Hard-won Corridors — the Power of People on the Move
trols. However, the authorities understood that holding transit travellers in one 
place for too long would immediately spark protests. Barriers were overrun, and 
on one occasion, even tents were set on fire. Journalists and activists were every- 
where, documenting the violent police attacks and spreading the news through 
the media. That's why everything was constantly in motion. First came the long 
marches, then the convoys of buses and finally the trains. At Dobova train sta-
tion, Max and Miro successfully accessed the supposedly cordoned-off tracks. 
They handed out ‘Welcome to Europe’ business cards to departing wagons, and 
the photos they took reflected the travellers' relief and pride at having made it 
through another stage of their journey.
Max and Miro gathered a wide range of impressions and information, but 
it wasn't easy to get an overview. Miro spent a day helping in the Noborder 
kitchen, which had been set up on a farm along the route. They then distributed 
warm soup in huge pots. Max tried to find out more by talking to journalists. But 
what exactly? Because there was obviously no concept or plan. The authorities 
improvised and reacted. They kept people together in large groups to prevent 
complete loss of control. However, they couldn't stop them.
Max and Miro experienced this first-hand on their return journey from Šen-
tilj to Spielfeld, the border crossing between Slovenia and Austria. This is where 
buses and trains travelling from Brežice and Dobova stopped. The Austrian mili-
tary attempted to block people with makeshift fences, gates, and police cordons, 
or at least to detain them for hours while carrying out individual checks. From 
a hill, Max and Miro were able to observe and record on video how this led to 
life-threatening situations. Families, and children in particular, were at risk of 
being crushed against the fences by the crowd pushing forward. On several oc-
casions, the force of the crowd moved aside gates and literally overran police 
cordons. Despite the use of loudspeakers and Arabic translators, the announce-
ments made by the authorities were unsuccessful. These were scenes of a contes- 
ted border that the refugees had literally broken through.
At the end of the year, Max took his third and southernmost tour of the Balkan 
borders, this time to Serbia. However, Milena and he were due to travel several 
times between Idomeni and Thessaloniki in northern Greece in the coming 
months. All the corridors were closed again in March 2016. This was after the 
border regime regained control through the construction of high fences and the 
use of massive violence, which led to further divisions. Right-wingers and racists 
emerged from their hiding places, expressing their pent-up anger. However, 
the foreseeable backlash would not be able to turn back history. In a short time, 
hundreds of thousands had crossed the borders. They would settle in the com-
munities of their destinations and bolster them. Thus, however long it might 
take, they would prepare the next breakthroughs.
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Even without this probabilistic assessment, however, no one could take away 
the impressions that Milena and Max had of their journey between Belgrade 
and Šid. They felt that these events marked the end of a historic year in the fight 
against the EU border regime. At least for their short lives. Max thought back to 
1997 and the foundation of the No One Is Illegal network, which they had joined 
to support migrant autonomy at a time when it was under threat. Over the past 
few years, Milena and he had contributed to setting up and expanding adequate 
infrastructure for freedom of movement, particularly within the transnational 
networks Welcome to Europe and Alarm Phone. They were both aware of the limi- 
tations of their daily efforts. However, after 2015, they were more determined 
than ever to continue fighting against borders.
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Hagen Kopp, No one is illegal – Hanau | Hard-won Corridors — the Power of People on the Move
 
Idomeni, 2016. Photo: Nidžara Ahmetašević
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