This week, the four-part documentary “Gates of Europe” aired on the Dutch public broadcaster NPO and will soon be available on ARTE. It presents itself as an objective investigation into the work of the European Border and Coast Guard Agency: Frontex.
It is not.
Having participated in the making of this documentary, Front-LEX, Refugees in Libya, and Aegean Boat Report denounce it as a manipulative production that seeks to whitewash Frontex’s crimes and absolve the agency of its responsibilities.
One of the co-directors, Els van Driel, presented us with a project whose intentions and approach differed significantly from the final production.
Suspenseful music, striking archival footage, a façade of impartiality, emotional testimonies, and beautiful cinematography are not enough to establish the truth. What ultimately shapes a narrative is the way a story is framed, constructed, and edited.
In that specific case, it is a carefully crafted public relations narrative.
This was the first time Frontex opened its doors to a film crew. There is no doubt, and it was even quietly acknowledged, that every scene involving Frontex management was carefully anticipated and choreographed, resulting in a production that bears little resemblance to the agency’s reality.
The documentary opens with Hans Leijtens, Executive Director of Frontex, cycling to the agency’s headquarters in Warsaw. Seated in one of the conference rooms of the brand-new building, he lays out the narrative Frontex seeks to project throughout the documentary: “People make mistakes, and perhaps sometimes people might have the wrong intentions, but we have to face that and show our colleagues, the world, the migrants, that we can be trusted. And for that, you need radical transparency, especially from us, because we have nothing to hide.”
If there is one word worth remembering, it is « show ». That is exactly what the audience is given throughout the four episodes, directed by no one less than Frontex itself.
A press officer explains how his work has affected the relationships between his wife and her friends. A spokesperson sheds what appears to be staged tears while standing in front of an empty boat in Lampedusa, saying, “Sorry, it hits me every time.” Hans Leijtens is shown petting dogs. Repeatedly, we hear lines such as, “We do what we can,” or, “There is a limit to what we can do.”
What is striking is that the filmmaker allows these performances to unfold without challenge, despite the fact that we provided substantive legal and practical arguments to challenge them. These arguments, however, were cut off and did not make it into the final cut. Placing performative empathy above real accountability and well-designed appearance above the simple reality. With that the filmmaker gives Frontex a stage and legitimacy that it does not deserve. For those who have spent years challenging Frontex impunity and fighting for accountability this portrayal feels like a slap in the face.
As a matter of facts, Frontex is a highly funded, EU agency with rapidly expanding resources that enables, facilitates, and conceals crimes against humanity. That is not an opinion.
This documentary is only one element of the agency’s new communication strategy: an effort to rehabilitate its public image and convince audiences that Frontex has fundamentally changed since the departure of its former Executive Director, Fabrice Leggeri, and that it is now committed to accountability and transparency. Rest assured. It is not.
The production is undeniably well crafted, and it will likely persuade dozens of thousands of viewers as well as a large part of the European parliament.
Surely not us.