Collective caring in and against urban crises

Episode 1: Living, Caring, and Surviving in the Neighborhoods of Athens

Mantha Katsikana & Matina Kapsali

Mantha/Matina

01:18

Welcome to Collective Caring In and Against Urban Crisis, a podcast that explores how people live, care and organize together in the heart of Athens, Greece. We are Mantha Katsikana, a researcher at York University and Matina Kapsali, a researcher at the University of Manchester. This series is part of a collaborative research project funded by the University of Manchester. It brings together activists, scholars and members of grassroots communities to reflect on what collective care means in times of crisis, precarity, and transformation.

02:07

The recent pandemic has revealed the catastrophic impacts of decades of austerity policies all over the world, as well as the significance of the social and physical grassroots infrastructures, solidarity networks and collective practices that make life possible both in the long term and to emergencies amid successive capitalist crises. In cities like Athens, where overlapping crises, economic austerity, political instability, the erosion of the welfare state, intensified border regimes and police violence intersect, the neoliberalization of urban governance has severely constrained democratic participation, particularly for communities at the margins of urban development visions. 

In this first episode, we walk through the neighborhoods of Kypseli, Kolonos, Sepolia, and Agios Panteleimonas — areas that have long been at the forefront of anti-austerity, anti-racist, and feminist mobilizations but also facing the impact of the post-pandemic inflation, a housing crisis and a social state under significant strain. These neighborhoods have often been labeled as “problematic” or “in need of renewal,” but what we find on the ground is something very different: networks of care, solidarity, and resistance that make life possible under immense pressure. 

03:57

But how did we get here? Let's rewind. After the 80s, as Athens grew to be a metropolis, the living conditions in its central downtown neighborhoods gradually deteriorated. The poor air quality, aging housing stock, lack of infrastructure and green spaces led to those who were financially well-off to move towards the suburbs, leaving the inner city neighborhoods to working class populations, immigrants, refugees, students creating new social geographies of Athens. The 2004 Olympic Games not only led to the construction of infrastructure that transformed everyday life in the city, but also introduced the discourse and vision of Athens as a European, an internationally competitive city that would later dominate urban planning and governance agendas. With the onset of the fiscal crisis in 2007, the distance between urban governance and downtown neighborhoods in extreme precarity started growing, with their residents framed as the cause of urban degradation within both political and planning discourses. Alexandra Linardou, urban planner and researcher, explains:

Alexandra Linardou

05:23

[Greek]

In 2013, a research was carried out at the Department of Urban Planning and Regional Development. What's interesting about this study is that it strongly proposes certain solutions to various urban issues, mainly related to policing, while at the same time highlighting the presence of illegal immigrants as a major source of problems. In the study, these immigrants are explicitly described as contributing to the crime in the city. There are also references to visual pollution, graffiti, and the need to control demonstrations. Overall, this study essentially identifies and targets a group of so-called undesirable citizens and activities. 

At the same time, with the implementation of austerity policies in 2010, Salary and pension cuts, the deregulation of labour privatisation and the shrinking of public and welfare budgets led many urban poor residents to participate in grassroots and solidarity alternatives that have been diffused to the level of the neighbourhood, post 2008. The visibility of such grassroots initiatives and their spaces within the heart of the tourist city disrupted tourist and commercial activity in the downtown core, leading to the further targeting of activists and vulnerable groups. The urban poor, immigrants, refugees, anarchists, protesters, the homeless, sex workers and drug users became those from whom Greek society, the Greek family and their financial recovery had to be protected from. Turning towards grassroots solidarity, many became active members of collectives, assemblies, squats, and street mobilizations. Later on, the Covid 19 pandemic revealed the impact of a decade of austerity, with a health care system being enabled to cover the needs of Athens residents, but also the extent of social inequalities. And headed up a critical violence within Greek society. Within the post pandemic inflation and its impact on the everyday lives of those residing in the downtown neighborhoods, the work of care has been primarily undertaken by women and feminized subjects through emotional and material labor that keeps everyday life going, interpersonally and collectively. 

Dora and Dimitra have had their own different life stories unfolding in downtown Athens. Both teachers in the downtown public schools and active in neighborhood and citywide solidarity networks paint for us through sharing their experiences. The image of downtown Athens as a complex place of neglect, but also resilience and belonging, with the work of care holding communities together.

Dimitra

08:57

[Greek]

09:07

Our neighborhood, here in Patissia and Kypseli, feels abandoned and dirty — completely forgotten. We’re at the very bottom of the list; no one really cares. Only certain areas, the ones that have been “upgraded,” seem to matter — where there are new shops and people with money. But there’s something about this neighborhood that I truly love. It’s the diversity. People from everywhere — with their shops, homes, families — living side by side. They’re not just surviving; they’re living, really living, together with others who are different from them. That’s what makes it beautiful to me.

Mantha/Matina

Dora’s image of the city mixes frustration with affection — an acknowledgment of decay, but also of coexistence and care in diversity. Yet behind this coexistence lies another reality: a deep lack of state support, especially in social welfare, public health, and education.

Dimitra 

10:24

[Greek]

There are definitely far too many gaps. Too many shortcomings. And this has really come to light recently, for example, with the case of the 12 year old girl. It showed how lacking we are in areas like psychological support, welfare, social care, financial help, and everything else that someone in such a situation may need someone in a state of real vulnerability. And in this case, we're talking about a child experience. There's practically nothing in place for children. And in this particular case, the municipality didn't respond at all. They did absolutely nothing. So yes, that's a huge, huge problem. The lack of social welfare and financial support for people in need. I remember mentioning this before about the social clinic and the social mental health center that used to exist. It was actually the Workers Club of Patissia that took the initiative because the municipality hadn't provided anything. It was set up to support people psychologically and in other ways too, with access to psychiatrist medication and care for people struggling with addiction and other similar issues. That it was an incredibly important effort and it really made a difference. But now it's gone. We know that these kinds of structures are being shut down or left to barely function. That's another major loss.

12:23

And just the other day, for instance, I was at the municipal library. It's reopened now, and next to it there is a social grocery. I mean, what can we even say about that? Should social groceries even have to exist in the first place? Of course not. But still as a form of support, it's something, even if it's minimal, we see endless lines of people waiting outside. This isn't how you solve the problems, but still it shows the level of need that's out there. And of course, since we're talking about the neighborhood, there's absolutely no support or care for green spaces either. Take Drakopoulou Park, for example. A few local residents are trying to maintain it, but again, there are efforts to take it away from the community and exploit the park. The park at Kiprou and Patission is completely abandoned. There is no one looking after the greenery, no permanent staff, no maintenance and that's another serious shortcoming. It's such a vital issue for people's quality of life. Having a well-kept green and open space.

Dora

13:49

[Greek]

Right now, we, teachers, are facing a lot of challenges in education. We are asking for solidarity and support from the people's assemblies. And we do get it. Because let's not forget, the parents of our students are people who live in the same neighborhood, and many of them are active in those assemblies. They support us. They show up to protests and actions, and we in turn take part in their assemblies for all these issues that come up in our community.

Mantha/Matina

14:35

From caring for structures to everyday survival, Dora and Dimitra describe a city centre where the state has withdrawn and where residents must rely on each other to meet basic needs. Yet in the midst of neglect, something unexpected flourishes a sense of belonging, built through shared struggle and everyday acts of solidarity. Much of this work -organizing, mediating, caring- falls on women, as feminist scholars like Sarah Marie Hall remind us, the labor of responding to crisis is deeply gendered. Women, migrants and working class people hold together the everyday life that history tries to destroy. Often unpaid, unrecognized but vital.

Mantha/Matina

15:37

As Dora and Dimitra describe the challenges of everyday life extend far beyond the visible neglect of the streets. They reach deep into institutions -schools, hospitals and local services- where care should exist, but too often does not.

Dora 

15:56

[Greek] The Municipality doesn’t take any action — they just don’t. The only thing the principals ever tell us is: there’s no money. And essentially… that’s it. The only thing the Municipality provides is the physical infrastructure. It has nothing to do with hiring staff or anything like that. In reality… nothing exists. Every year it gets worse and worse.

Dora 

16:43

[Greek]

The truth is, we’ve been lucky in one way: we haven’t experienced strong racist behavior among the children. We have, and continue to have, a really beautiful environment. It’s like a bouquet — children from all over the world, from every background, with all kinds of challenges. Some have physical disabilities, some have autism. And yet, the school functions really well. There’s care, understanding, and acceptance. I remember a parent of a child with autism — she was Greek — telling me: “I’m so happy when I pick up my son from school, because no one makes fun of him. He’s accepted.” Even on days when he’s upset, when he cries and can’t manage his emotions, the other children go to him, hug him, and comfort him. And beyond that, in everyday life, they include him in friendships, they love and accept him. That really impressed me — the parent herself understood it, accepted it, and communicated her gratitude to us. It was very touching, truly.

Dora 

18:33

[Greek] 

But outside of these positive experiences, there is no hope. No care, no attention. In fact, it’s gotten worse. Because our schools in the city center have very high percentages of refugees and migrants, there should be teachers sent to staff specialized classes to help these children at least with language skills, so they can follow lessons alongside their regular classes.

Dora  

19:15

[Greek] 

I belong to a school where the principal at the time — he even mentioned it in an interview — was a person we shared the same union affiliation with. He never even considered the possibility of discrimination. But other schools, pretending their classes were full, would refuse to register certain children. Imagine a parent being told: “The class is full — I can’t enroll your child.” That’s why so many refugee and migrant children ended up at our school. I remember, years later, meeting a colleague from another school. She was shocked and said: “Can you believe it? So many parents are coming this year, and we’re missing scarves!” I asked her what she meant. She explained that girls who wore headscarves weren’t accepted in other schools, so they ended up coming to ours. It’s unbelievable — in the center of Athens, in neighborhoods full of Syrian and Afghan families, that such a basic need was ignored.

Some schools would even face pressure from local parents’ associations, forcing principals not to accept refugee children. These things happened. Fortunately, I never had to face that personally — we never excluded anyone in our school. Of course, there are some colleagues who will talk about “old Athens” — the days when classrooms were chaotic, when children would throw things and shout. Those older teachers, who have lived in the city center for decades, understand that the situation is difficult. I can empathize to some degree with what they experienced, though I never condone it. This isn’t about people being racist while we’re humanitarian — it’s not that simple. It’s more about a conservative mindset, a difficulty in adapting to new circumstances. But it doesn’t contradict the work we do — as teachers, and as humans, we act with care and responsibility.

Mantha/Matina

20:06

Through their experiences, Dora and Dimitra reveal how education becomes both a site of exclusion and of hope. In classrooms where the state retreats, teachers and students build small communities of care — practices that resist austerity, racism, and indifference.

Dimitra 

22:50

[Greek] 

I keep thinking about why solidarity seems to grow here, in these neighborhoods, and not everywhere. Maybe it’s because life here has always been hard — people face similar struggles, financial and personal, and that brings them closer. My parents used to tell me, “We may be poor, but we’re still privileged compared to others — and that means we have a duty to care”. So you share what you have. You don’t close yourself off. That’s how trust is built — slowly, through years of living side by side. The man who looks after the building courtyard — he’s from Afghanistan. The woman downstairs brings us food during Ramadan; we do the same for her family during Easter. It’s everyday gestures like that — small, consistent — that create a feeling of belonging. Not everyone does it, but those who do, know: it takes time, openness, and patience to build this kind of neighborhood care.

Mantha/Matina

23:07

Solidarity here isn't abstract. It's lived, practiced, and shared through food, through mutual care, through years of being neighbors in the absence of formal welfare, these gestures become the real infrastructure that sustains life. The right to the city is often imagined as something abstract, for all citizens equal, but in reality, everyday acts of care, especially by women and feminized subjects, shape urban life. Their routines of survival, support and quiet resistance are what truly make a city livable and just.

Mantha/Matina

25:16

What emerges from these stories is not only a critique of neglect and austerity, but a celebration of care. Amid crisis, displacement, and inequality, residents of Athens’ center are crafting new forms of collective care — ones that don’t wait for permission, funding, or validation. They remind us that care is political. That living together — with all our differences — can itself be an act of resistance.

This episode was produced as part of the research project Collective Caring in and Against Urban Crises. Thanks to Dora and Dimitra for sharing their voices and experiences. In our next episode, we’ll explore how local assemblies and feminist collectives sustain this everyday politics of care across Athens.