Even after receiving refugee status in Greece, daily life remains full of obstacles. The latest report by Refugee Support Aegean (RSA) and PRO ASYL confirms what many of us have already experienced: recognition on paper does not mean real protection or stability.
As someone who has lived in Greece for several years and gone through the system myself, I know these struggles first-hand. I’ve waited months just to get basic documents reissued — and I’m not alone. The system meant to help us live with dignity often does the opposite. And now, the 2025 RSA report clearly shows how broken the process remains.
Paperwork Delays Leave Many in Limbo
The report highlights what many refugees already know too well: it takes far too long to get your residence permit, and renewing it is even worse. Possession of key documents, such as a residence permit (ADET), social security number (AMKA), or tax number (AFM), is required for basic services in Greece. However, the process of obtaining or renewing these documents is described as overly complex and plagued by long delays. Personally, I had to wait more than 3 months just to get a response after submitting my renewal request, and after that, more than 10 mounts to receive the ID. During that time, I had no valid document (one paper that shows I’m waiting to receive my ID) and couldn’t do anything official, not even access basic services.
Others I know have gone even longer without documents. The system doesn’t inform you when your papers are ready. You have to check a list every week on the Asylum Service’s website and hope your number appears. If you miss it, you have to start again. Even with a lawyer’s help, there’s often no reply to emails or calls.
Greece has granted asylum to over 140,000 people in the past five years, with more than 40,000 positive decisions in 2024 alone. However, the infrastructure to support integration has not kept pace. In 2024, interpretation services in camps were withdrawn, medical staff remained limited, and the financial allowance for asylum seekers was completely suspended.
The report also reveals that responsibility for refugee documentation is split between multiple ministries. Coordination is poor, and different authorities often give conflicting explanations for delays. For example, while the Asylum Service blames staffing shortages and complex background checks, the Hellenic Police say they face no delays on their end.
Refugees returned to Greece from other EU countries also receive no support upon arrival. Many do not even get information on how to access services, and some are left homeless immediately after landing.
High Education, No Job
What makes things even harder is the complete lack of support for getting work. I have a university degree and several years of professional experience, yet I’ve spent most of my time here unemployed. Without documents, I couldn’t open a bank account, sign a work contract, or even register for job-seeking platforms. Even after getting my ADET, finding work as a refugee is almost impossible — employers hesitate, bureaucracy is heavy, and discrimination is real.
The RSA report mentions the end of the HELIOS housing programme, which used to provide some help with rent. Its replacement, HELIOS+, hasn’t started yet, and even when it does, it will only reach a tiny fraction of those who need it — just around 1,000 people a year, even though there are over 76,000 newly recognised refugees from the last two years alone.
The list on the left shows the number of people who have been granted asylum. Most of them have to wait a long time to receive their documents. The residence permit is valid for three years, but in practice, one year is often lost due to long delays, during which none of their rights—including access to health insurance, even if paid for—can be used.
One of the most painful things about the Greek system is how quickly you’re left on your own. After receiving asylum, you’re expected to leave your accommodation in a camp within 30 days. Financial support stops immediately. No one helps you find a home or work. If you don’t already have support from friends or NGOs, you could end up sleeping rough — even after being granted protection. Several people I’ve met, including returnees from Germany and Scandinavia, were sent back to Greece with no explanation, no help, and no place to go.
It’s true that Greece’s economic situation hasn’t made things easy for anyone looking for a job. But for refugees, the barriers go far beyond the general crisis. Even when there are job openings, we face a different kind of wall—one made up of language barriers, lack of recognition of our skills, and the constant uncertainty around our legal documents.
Language is one of the first and most obvious obstacles. Without knowing Greek—at least at a basic level—it’s hard to do much more than manual labour. Even in hospitality or construction, employers often prefer someone who can follow instructions in Greek, or who already understands how things work here. Language classes exist, but they’re often underfunded, overbooked, or completely inaccessible if you’re living far from city centres.
Then there’s the question of experience. Many of us arrive in Greece with years of work behind us—in teaching, law, IT, journalism, engineering. But none of it is recognised here. Employers usually don’t accept foreign qualifications or work experience unless it’s backed by formal documents, translations, stamps—things that are either impossible to get or cost more than we can afford. So even the most experienced people are forced to start from scratch, taking whatever low-paid jobs they can find, often under the table.
And perhaps the biggest issue: documents. Without a valid residence permit, you simply can’t sign a legal work contract. Even those of us who have refugee status are sometimes left without papers for months because of bureaucratic delays. And during that time, you’re not allowed to work officially. You can’t register for unemployment support. You can’t even access training programs or job centres. It’s like you’re legal, but invisible.
It is also a fact that many refugees suffer from a lack of formal education or professional experience. This is a serious limitation that likely affects the majority. But what remains in the face of this reality is a social system that offers no meaningful plan for empowerment. There are no accessible vocational programmes, no inclusive job training, and no long-term strategies to help people build skills or gain independence. Instead, people are left to survive on their own, often stuck in informal work or total unemployment. Without structural support, even those who want to improve their situation are blocked at every turn.
From Victim to Criminal: Emmanuel’s Story
As if bureaucratic neglect weren’t enough, some of us are now being criminalised for fleeing war. Emmanuel A., a 19-year-old Sudanese refugee, is facing a life sentence. His crime? Handing out food and helping refuel the boat that brought him and others across the Mediterranean.
He lost his father and brother in the war in Sudan. He was just trying to survive and support his mother, still alone in Egypt. But under Greek law, anyone who takes any role on a boat carrying undocumented migrants—steering, handing out water, helping with fuel—can be charged as a smuggler.
Emmanuel has been locked in Avlona Youth Prison since October. His trial is set for April 7th in Chania, Crete. He’s one of nearly 40 teenagers, all Sudanese, who’ve been detained and charged with smuggling—young men who should be studying or working, now facing sentences longer than their entire lives.
According to international law—specifically the UN Anti-Smuggling Protocol—states should not prosecute refugees simply for being smuggled. And yet, that’s exactly what’s happening. Instead of protecting young people fleeing war, Greece is criminalising them. Six of these boys have already been sentenced to life in prison after trials that lasted less than ten minutes.
A System Designed to Fail?
Officially, the Greek state says refugees are entitled to equal treatment. But in reality, accessing even basic rights like healthcare, housing, or education requires a long list of documents — each one depending on the others. Without an AMKA (social security number), you can’t get healthcare. But you need an ADET and a job contract to get AMKA. It’s a closed loop.
While grassroots support, donations, and local solidarity efforts have been essential for survival, they cannot replace what is ultimately a political responsibility. The asylum system, as it stands, is not designed to support integration—it is designed to manage containment. Without serious reforms that address empowerment, access to stable employment, and equal participation in society, refugees are locked in a cycle of marginalisation.
Evidence shows that even those who have lived in Greece for several years—who have worked in multiple jobs, learned the language, and tried to build a life—often remain in exactly the same precarious conditions as when they first arrived. Temporary housing, underpaid work, no social safety net, and constant stress over renewing documents. This is not integration. It is survival on the edge of legality.
RSA and PRO ASYL’s 2025 report puts numbers and legal references to what so many of us already know and live with every day. What’s missing is political will. What we need is not more bureaucracy, but real support: functioning services, simple procedures, and a system that recognises that being granted asylum is just the beginning — not the end — of the journey.
Until then, we remain in limbo: legal on paper, but invisible in practice.
What you think?