The Invisible Wall of #Lampedusa: Landscaping Europe’s Outer Frontier
Two people are standing by a beaten-up Toyota on an arid, scrub-covered hilltop in the middle of nowhere. They are looking at the valley, keeping a safe distance from the edge. They have to make sure they are not visible from down there, to avoid any trouble. From where they stand, they can see only the roofs of the buildings at the bottom of the valley, some red and white prefabs making their way out of the green vegetation. Getting closer to the edge, they can probably see people walking between the buildings, hanging clothes out to dry on their fences, maybe playing football or talking outside. We’ve all seen these scenes on TV. But they can’t get any closer, otherwise the soldiers might confiscate their cameras. Instead, they will just take nice pictures of the valley, the prickly pears and the scattered agaves lining the hillsides. Even of the sea, in the background.
#séparation #division #murs #frontières #in/visibilité #ségrégation #migrations #asile #réfugiés #camps #paysage #CPSA #Centro_di_Primo_Soccorso_e_Accoglienza #Porta_d’Europa #monument #port #Molo_Favaloro
Et la conclusion:
Broadly speaking, Lampedusa serves as evidence of the complexity of the spatial implications of political borders, when they do not translate into physical barriers. The narrative around migration that currently permeates Europe has not necessitated a physical wall in Lampedusa, but it has taken the form of a network of artefacts, whose collective purpose is to produce the spectacle of a border.