Welcome to the New Jungle,” says a migrant in stilted

No one should live like this an hour from London': Inside the 'New Jungle' camp at Dunkirk; says a migrant in stilted English to the visitors arriving at the depressingly bleak refugee camp crammed on to a patch of mud-swamped wasteland in France that is now home to around 3,000 people seeking to reach Britain.

Behind him, other would-be asylum seekers stand outside flimsy tents and ramshackle structures made from tarpaulins and plastic sheeting. Piles of rubbish lie close by, while festering pools of water and mud emit unsavoury smells. 

This is Dunkirk, the French port made famous by the Second World War evacuation of British troops, but now the site of insanitary squalor that further stains the reputation of Europe, already tarnished by the fate of migrants in Greece and the Balkans.

The list of problems here is endless. Lavatories and washing facilities are lacking. 

The presence of vermin is reported. Clothes have to be jettisoned once dirty because there is nowhere to clean or dry them. 

The often sodden tented accommodation is inadequate for the winter, making daily existence uncomfortable and cold. 

 Most of the migrants are young men, but there are also women and children some unaccompanied who face the additional risk of sexual or other physical abuse.

A British doctor, Natalie Roberts, working in Dunkirk for the charity Medicines Sans Frontiers, says the dire conditions pose a major health threat too. 

The humanitarian conditions here are some of the worst I’ve seen and I have worked just about everywhere,” she says, listing countries such as Yemen, Ethiopia, Syria and the Central African Republic.

We are seeing respiratory conditions, skin diseases, scabies and traumatic injuries. It is pretty shocking.

Her description is valid. Conditions in Dunkirk are abysmal. Those in the original “Jungle” at nearby Calais — where an estimated 6,000 migrants still live — are slightly better because volunteers, mostly British, have built wooden shelters and, as at Dunkirk, provide clothing, food and other items.

It is clear, however, that the situation in both camps is deeply unsatisfactory. 

Evident, too, is that the reasons attracting the aspiring Britons who come from countries ranging from Iraq, Syria and Iran to Afghanistan, Eritrea, Ethiopia and Kuwait  are varied and more subtle than the often cited explanation of benefits. One is the impact of previous decades of large-scale migration to Britain. 

Many in Dunkirk, and Calais, are trying to reunite with family or friends who have already successfully gained entry to Britain.

Another lure is the UK’s reputation for protecting human rights and a perception that asylum claims are more likely to succeed in Britain than other European countries. 

The treatment of migrants is seen as better in Britain, too. 

The attraction of being able to speak English and other less obvious factors such as Kuwaiti mistreatment of its stateless Bidun residents and the recent anti-Kurdish crackdown in Turkey are also responsible for driving some in Calais and Dunkirk to seek refugee status in Britain.

What is not clear, however, is how many of those in the two camps have a genuine need for shelter from war or persecution. Economic migration seems a factor in at least some cases.

One Kurdish Iraqi, 38-year-old engineer Fuad, says he fled with his wife Hero after being targeted in an Islamic State ambush because of his job at an oil and gas company in Kirkuk and wants to come to Britain which he has visited three times before.

 He says he did not seek sanctuary in the large areas of Kurdish Iraq which remain under the protection of its Peshmerga army because there are “no equal opportunities” there and “if you don’t support one of the political parties or spy for them, there are no opportunities

He also rejects staying in France, where he was detained by police for 22 days after first arriving in Paris, adding:  “Even if you cut off all my fingers and toes I wouldn’t apply for asylum in France.

 In Britain, by contrast, he believes “everyone is smiling” and friendly. Another Iraqi Kurd, Aso Ababakir, 20, left Irbil, the capital of “Kurdistan” three months ago after seeing a TV report, apparently erroneous, stating “that Isis was near Irbil”.

 He says he “saw people running to other cities” and crossed into Turkey and then Serbia, before hearing “that police decided to give people the chance to reach Germany” and travelling there. 

He recognises that Germany and France could offer a safe haven, but wants to come to Britain — despite his home city of Irbil remaining safe — because he has “an uncle and aunt in England”.

Also hoping to move to Britain is a female Afghan teacher who has brought her four children to Calais after selling her home in Kabul to pay traffickers.

 She says that Taliban supporters had found out, after many years of marriage, that her husband was of a different religion and that this made her vulnerable to attack, even though the Afghan capital is government controlled.

She says her reason for aiming to reach Britain is that her brother and nephew are here, but that she has heard nothing since applying for family reunification under asylum rules accepted by the Home Office under the EU’s Dublin convention on refugees.

Escaping religious persecution is the motive, too, for Eritrean sisters Rita and Meron Josef attempting to reach Britain.

 They say their Protestant faith made them targets of the repressive authorities in Eritrea and, after paying traffickers to reach Europe from Libya, have been in Calais for five months unsuccessfully trying to cross the Channel.

Another Eritrean, 20-year-old Finmon Danny, mimes the actions of a gun firing and shows scars on his stomach and arm, which he says were caused by bullets, when asked why he left Africa. “The government in Eritrea is a problem for everyone,” he says.

Towering rail and roadside fences, police patrols and the use of tear gas and water cannon to prevent migrants hiding in lorries or trains in Calais have led to the rapid expansion of the camp at Dunkirk, as some seek an easier way across the Channel.

Walid Khaly, 21, from northern Syria, who left Turkey after two years because of the Turkish government’s recent crackdown on its internal Kurdish opponents, says that “human rights are better in the UK” and that “you get residence more easily”.  

He wants to bring his parents, three sisters and brother, all still in Syria, and smiles when asked if, after earlier failures, he will continue trying to find a lorry to hide in. “Of course, I never give up,” he says.