Frances Grahl

The former Jungle camp outside Calais. Futuro Berg/Instagram. Used with permission, all rights reserved. A scrap of wasteland on the edge of a forest. The grass is sparse; litter is strewn among the mud and puddles. An electricity pylon punctures the low grey cloud. Hundreds of men in hoods and hats gather around the stark metal structure, huddling for warmth. The layers of shirts, jumpers, coats, and scarves do little to keep out the cold. The wind is sharp, biting. Today they are in luck.

Sleeping on the streets of Paris. NurPhoto/SIPA USA/PA Images. All rights reserved. As part of the European Union’s crackdown on irregular entry and smuggling of migrants and refugees, laws criminalising actions that facilitate the irregular entry, movement, or stay of foreigners have been enforced against those providing humanitarian assistance.

After the US president Donald Trump signed the first executive order banning entry of people from seven majority-Muslim countries, the resistance that emerged was powerful, with lawyers providing pro-bono services and activists and ordinary individuals protesting at airports. Amidst those standing up against the blatant bigotry of this ban, one particularly remarkable connection took place.