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One of the Vietnamese smuggling gangs who offered our undercover reporter a place on a small boat to the UK.
The Vietnamese smuggler emerged, briefly and hesitantly, from the shadows of a ruined forest near the northern coast of France.
“Stay away from others. Come over here quickly,” he said, pointing down a disused railway line towards a member of our team, who had spent weeks posing as a potential customer.
Moments later, the smuggler – a tall figure with shiny blond hair – turned abruptly, like a startled fox, and disappeared down a narrow path in the woods.
Earlier this year, Vietnam emerged – abruptly – as the biggest source of new migrants seeking to illegally cross the English Channel to the UK on small boats. Arrivals increased from 1,306 over the whole of 2023 to 2,248 in the first half of 2024.
Our investigation – including interviews with Vietnamese smugglers and clients, French police, prosecutors and charities – reveals how Vietnamese migrants are paying double the usual rate for an 'elite' small-boat smuggling experience , faster and simpler. As the death toll in the English Channel hits a record high this year, there are indications the region could also be safer.
As part of our work to penetrate Vietnamese operations, we encountered an experienced smuggler who operates in the UK and falsifies documents for migrants seeking to reach Europe. Separately, our undercover reporter – posing as a Vietnamese migrant – arranged, via phone and text message, to meet a gang of smugglers operating in the woods near Dunkirk to understand how the process works.
“A small boat service costs £2,600. Payment must be made after your arrival in the UK,” replied the smuggler, who called himself Bac. We have heard similar figures from other sources. We think Bac could be a senior leader of a UK-based gang and the boss of Tony, the blond man in the woods.
He had given us instructions on the journey from Europe to the UK, explaining how many migrants first flew from Vietnam to Hungary – where we understand it is currently relatively easy for them to get obtain a legitimate work visa, often obtained using fake documents. Bac explained that the migrants then went to Paris and then to Dunkirk.
“Tony can pick you up at the (Dunkirk) station,” he offered in a later text.
Vietnamese migrants are widely seen as vulnerable to networks of trafficking groups. These groups may seek to trap them into debt and force them to repay these debts by working on cannabis farms or other businesses in the UK.
It is clear from several recent visits to camps around Dunkirk and Calais that Vietnamese gangs and their clients operate separately from other groups.
“They stay alone and are much more discreet than the others. We see them very little,” says Claire Millot, a volunteer with Salam, an NGO that supports migrants in Dunkirk.
Camps on the French coast, where migrants gather before attempting the crossing to the United Kingdom
A volunteer from another charity told us he recently spotted around 30 Vietnamese buying life jackets at a Dunkirk branch of the sports equipment chain Decathlon.
In addition to keeping their distance, the streamlined service offered by Vietnamese gangs significantly reduces waiting times in the camps. Many migrants from Africa and the Middle East spend weeks, even months, in difficult conditions on the French coast. Some do not have enough money to pay for a place on a small boat and try to make a living working for smuggling gangs. Many are intercepted on the beaches by the French police and have to make several attempts before successfully crossing the Channel.
On a recent visit, we saw dozens of weary families – from Iraq, Iran, Syria, Eritrea and elsewhere – gathering in the drizzle in a muddy area where humanitarian groups are providing daily meals and medical assistance. A group of children were playing Connect 4 on a picnic table, while a man sought treatment for an injured arm. Several parents told us they had heard of a four-month-old Kurdish boy who had drowned the night before after the boat he was traveling in capsized during an attempt to cross the English Channel. None of them said that death would discourage them from making their own attempt.
There were no Vietnamese in sight. It seems clear that Vietnamese smugglers tend to bring their clients to the camps in northern France when the weather already looks promising and a crossing is imminent.
Watch: Our undercover reporter meets the Vietnamese smuggler
We first encountered a new influx of Vietnamese migrants at the start of the year, stumbling upon one of their camps near Dunkirk. It seemed noticeably more neat and organized than other migrant camps, with matching tents pitched in straight lines and a group preparing a mouth-watering, elaborate meal of fried garlic, onions and Vietnamese spices.
“They are very organized and united and stay together in the camps. It's something. When they arrive at the coast, we know that a crossing will take place very quickly. These are most likely people who have more money than others,” explains Mathilde Potel, head of the French police responsible for the fight against illegal immigration in the region.
The Vietnamese do not themselves control the small boat crossings, which are largely supervised by a handful of Iraqi Kurdish gangs. Instead, they negotiate access and schedules.
“The Vietnamese are not allowed to touch this part of the process (the crossing). We just hand over clients (to the Kurdish gangs),” says another Vietnamese smuggler, whom we call Thanh, who currently lives in the UK. He tells us the extra money guarantees priority access to small boats for their Vietnamese customers.
While the relative costs are clear, the question of safety is murkier. It is a fact – and perhaps telling – that in the first nine months of 2024, not a single Vietnamese was among the dozens of migrants confirmed to have died while trying to cross the Channel. But in October, a Vietnamese migrant died in an incident, in what has now become the deadliest year on record for small boat crossings.
It is possible that by paying extra, the Vietnamese could access less crowded boats, which are therefore less likely to sink. But we couldn't confirm it.
What seems clearer is that Vietnamese smugglers are reluctant to send their clients on boats in bad weather. Bac's texts to our undercover reporter included specific suggestions regarding the journey to the camp and the best day to arrive.
“Operating a small boat service is weather dependent. You need small waves. And it has to be safe… We had good weather at the start of the week and a lot of boats left… It would be nice if you could be here (in Dunkirk) tomorrow. I’m planning a (cross-Channel) move Thursday morning,” Bac texted.
Sitting outside their tents in two separate camps in the woods near Dunkirk earlier this month, two young men told us almost identical stories about the events that led them to leave Vietnam to seek a new life. How they had borrowed money to start small businesses in Vietnam, how those businesses had failed and how they had then borrowed more money from relatives and loan sharks, to pay the smugglers and get them to the UK.
“Life in Vietnam is difficult. I couldn't find a real job. I tried to open a store, but failed. I couldn't repay the loan, so I have to find a way to make money. I know it's illegal but I have no other choice. I owe (the Vietnamese equivalent of) £50,000. I sold my house, but it wasn’t enough to pay off the debt,” said Tu, 26, as he bent down to pet a kitten passing by.
Two chickens came out from behind another tent. A mirror hanging from a nearby tree. Power outlets were available under a separate awning for charging phones.
Vietnamese migrants we spoke to told us they hoped to repay their debts by working in the UK.
The second migrant, aged 27, described how he reached Europe via China, sometimes on foot or by truck.
“My friends in the UK told me that life is much better there and that I can find a way to make money,” said the man, who did not wish to give his name.
Are these people victims of human trafficking? It's not clear. All the Vietnamese migrants we spoke with said they were in debt. If they had ended up working for smuggling gangs in the UK to pay for their journey and repay their debts, they would indeed have been trafficked.
We had sought to lure the blond Vietnamese smuggler, Tony, out of a nearby forest and into more neutral territory, where his gang – possibly armed, as other gangs certainly are – could pose less of a threat to us. We intended to confront him about his involvement in a lucrative and often deadly criminal industry. But Tony remained cautious about leaving his own “territory” and grew impatient and angry when our colleague, still posing as a potential migrant, refused to follow him into the forest.
“Why are you standing here? Follow this path. Move quickly! Now,” Tony ordered.
There was a brief pause. The song of birds echoed in the clearing.
“What an idiot… Do you just want to stand there and get arrested by the police? » asked the smuggler with increasing exasperation.
Then he turned and retreated into the woods.
If our colleague had been a real migrant, she probably would have followed Tony. Other sources told us that once in the camps, migrants were not allowed to leave unless they paid hundreds of dollars to smugglers.
Vietnamese gangs may promise a fast and safe “elite” route to the UK, but the reality is much darker: a criminal industry, backed by threats, involving life-threatening risks and no guarantee of success.
Additional reporting by Kathy Long and Léa Guedj
