Calais migration crisis grows as migrants press toward Britain

Calais, France — a migration crisis is intensifying as thousands of men converge on the northern port city, just 21 miles across the Channel from Britain, with a single destination in mind: the United Kingdom.

Officials and charities describe a scene of makeshift camps, charity tents, and long lines for meals and showers, as the year-to-date figure of roughly 32,000 people crossing the English Channel unlawfully climbs. Calais has become a firmly established stepping stone on the route to Britain, with multitudes of destitute men from across the world gathered in the city, living rough in woodland camps, charity tents on the quay in front of the Gothic town hall, and along the various shanty settlements dotted around the area.

Migrants come from Eritrea, Ethiopia, Iraq, Iran, Pakistan, Libya and other countries, and most are men. The vast majority are seeking passage on traffickers’ boats to the United Kingdom, with many saying England is their last chance. Authorities say the port has not seen crowds like these in years, and relief and aid networks are stretched thin as people arrive daily.

Charities and volunteers deliver meals and water to those living rough in wooded areas and in tents along the quay. White vans with British and French registration criss-cross the city delivering aid, and volunteers have set up temporary feeding stations and collection points for clothing and basic supplies. In addition to material aid, the Red Cross has opened emergency pop-up medical clinics to treat illnesses such as diphtheria and tuberculosis, while the Catholic Church has opened shower blocks in shelters to accommodate crowds.

Notices in languages ranging from Arabic to Somali and Dari adorn street signs, offering guidance on basic services, how to access human rights counsel, and where to find restrooms and winter aid. Large water barrels donated by volunteers line promenades and public spaces so migrants can wash their clothes and keep clean in the crowded environment.

Calais is a battleground in a broader European dispute over migration policy. On one side are charitable groups who argue that every exiled person has a right to seek safety and a home, while on the other side are police and municipal authorities tasked with dismantling camps and enforcing rules. In a recent morning operation, riot police in full gear moved through a woodland settlement attempting to clear it, an intervention observed by charity workers who appeared distressed by the scene. Police arrived in at least 17 vans and dispersed about 50 Eritrean and Ethiopian migrants who had set up the makeshift settlement; the migrants scattered and appeared to regroup nearby.

The city’s geography underscores the ongoing challenge: razor-wired fences line some back yards in surrounding suburbs, and migrants move between forests and residential streets in search of shelter and a potential crossing point. Residents and travelers have reported migrants approaching vehicles, sometimes asking for money or assistance, highlighting the fragility of daily life under these conditions.

The current surge echoes a cycle that began years ago. Calais’s Jungle, a sprawling camp near the port, was cleared in 2017 under orders from Paris, with the aim of dispersing migrants to other parts of France. The area’s long-term transformation into a migrant corridor reflects both continued attempts to reach Britain and Europe’s struggle to harmonize asylum policies with humanitarian concerns.

Across Europe, governments have tightened controls and reduced benefits and housing provisions for new arrivals. Germany, Italy, Denmark and Sweden have pursued harsher measures over the past year, prompting some migrants to pursue alternative routes toward the United Kingdom. British and European officials report growing demand at intended destinations in the UK, including London, as many migrants express a preference for safety and opportunity there.

Some migrants trace their journeys to recent arrivals in southern Europe. A number have come up from Italy, where officials have acknowledged a surge in arrivals by boat from North Africa. A Tunisian-born Eritrean described how he moved through multiple countries in search of a path to the UK, noting that some countries have become less welcoming as conditions change. Other migrants have cited experiences in Sweden or Denmark that influenced their decision to push onward toward Britain, despite uncertainties and risks.

Among those in Calais is Nour, a 25-year-old Iranian who said he was recently living in Bulgaria before deciding to head northwest. He described a common sentiment among his peers: all of them want to sail to England, and nearly all said they had no real alternative once Europe’s policy landscape hardened. The group Nour spoke with included migrants from Iraq, Iran, Libya, Pakistan and Palestine, all trying to survive on aid provided by charities and to keep hope alive for a new life in Britain.

The scenes in Calais reflect a difficult reality for migrants in Europe: a mix of urgent humanitarian need and political pushback, amid a shifting landscape of border controls and asylum rules. Aid groups warn that the winter ahead could worsen living conditions for those living outdoors, potentially elevating health risks without sustained support. Community organizations stress the need for consistent, humane responses that balance border security with the rights and safety of people seeking asylum.

As European governments continue to debate policy and funding, Calais stands as a stark indicator of the human cost behind migration statistics and political rhetoric. For the migrants gathered on the city’s streets and in its camps, the next few weeks could determine whether their paths toward the United Kingdom stay open or close, and how many will be left to endure the winter in a port city that has become a focal point of a continent-wide crisis.