Remembering Moria: Five Years On

Five years ago, on 8 September 2020, fire broke out and gazed through the Moria camp on Lesvos. Within hours, more than 13,000 people were displaced, with thousands being forced to sleep on the roadsides. The police even blocked the way to Mytelene , preventing people from leaving the area. The camp’s destruction was not an unforeseeable tragedy, but the result of years of deliberate policies of deterrence, containment, and neglect. Five years later, the scars of Moria are still visible - not only in the landscape, but with the Moria 6 - who were wrongly blamed for the fire and only cleared of all charges this May,highlighting the injustice they faced, while inadequate facilities, and harsh living conditions on Lesvos remain largely unchanged five years later.

Moria, established in 2013 as part of the EU “hotspot” approach, was designed for 3,000 people but at its peak held close to 20,000. Thousands were pushed into surrounding olive groves, cutting down trees to survive, creating what became known as the “Moria jungle”. Médecins Sans Frontières called Moria “the worst refugee camp on earth”. The conditions that existed were far from livable and safe and they were manufactured and sustained through political choices and policies.

Between 2013 and 2020, at least 247 fires were recorded in the camp, nearly half in the first nine months of 2020 alone. Overcrowding, unsafe electricity, flammable shelters, and recurring outbreaks made fire a constant risk. By September 2020, disaster was not just possible; it was unavoidable.The night of the fire, instead of prioritising safety, authorities responded with repression. As flames spread, police used tear gas against people trying to leave Moria. Within days, six Afghan youths were arrested and accused of arson. Even before investigations had concluded, the then Minister of Migration declared that “the arsonists of Moria have been detained”.

The “Moria 6” trials that followed have been widely described as a parody of justice. Five were convicted on the basis of a single written testimony from another camp resident, reportedly a rival, who never appeared in court and whose claims were contradicted by official fire service reports and satellite evidence. Forensic Architecture have shown through extensive investigation that the spread of the fire was consistent with electrical failures, unsafe infrastructure, and strong winds, not deliberate arson. Journalists and observers were excluded from the first trial under COVID-19 restrictions, raising serious concerns about the lack of transparency and public oversight. Two of the six were recognized as minors from the start and given reduced sentences of four years, later released. The other four were initially tried as adults, but three were later reclassified as juveniles and acquitted in the latest ruling. The Mytilene juvenile court ruled that there was no proof linking them to the blaze, overturning earlier convictions that had sentenced them to ten years in prison. Their lawyer argued the case relied solely on a single witness without supporting evidence, and criticized the lengthy pre-trial detention of his clients in adult prisons.

It is clear that the prosecutions following the Moria fire were less about searching and uncovering the truth and more about scapegoating and criminalizing people on the move, instead of confronting structural failures of a system that perpetuated suffering and unsafety. Rather than holding the systems accountable, six young people were blamed. Their prosecution diverted attention from the continuous mismanagement, deliberate deterrence policies, and inadequate living conditions that created the conditions for the fire. Closed trials, limited transparency, and restricted access for journalists further reinforced that justice was being performed for show, leaving affected individuals and communities without recourse or acknowledgment of systemic failures.

After the fire, thousands of people were moved into the “temporary” Kara Tepe camp, which was transformed into a closed camp with enhanced controls in 2022, restricting movement and activities. The Closed Controlled Access Centre (C.A.C.C.) in Kara Tepe stands tall and a constant reminder that the “No more Morias” promise that was given was just an empty one. Instead, the CACC is a constant reminder of Europe’s and Greece’s policies that perpetuate unsustainable facilities and endanger the health and well-being of people on the move at every level. Plans to advance closed and remote facilities continue, the Vastria CACC is the new step in the European mIgration policy model, entrenched in deterrence and isolation as it will be situated in a remote, forested site on Lesvos, far from towns and services and heavily surveilled. The mantra has always been to keep people in degrading conditions, far from towns, solidarity networks and visibility.

Moria burning was a clear example of what the European border regime is: overcrowding, unsafety from its design and a constant continuation of violence. Its destruction could have grabbed international attention to end such policies, instead it seems it was nothing but a stepping stone in order to find “better” ways to contain people and dehumanize them further.

Remembering Moria five years on should be a chance to reflect and reevaluate how we show solidarity and how we will choose to act now, when policies are becoming stricter and the rhetoric harsher. We must recognise that the suffering was systemic and deliberate and not accept this model of exclusion as inevitable, while demanding accountability from those who built and are still maintaining it. Standing with those that endured/survived Moria and every other camp or closed center in greek islands or the mainland means insisting on a different future, where dignity, justice and freedom of movement are not sacrificed in the name of deterrence.

Words by Aggelina Charenia

Collective AidSeptember 22, 2025