A recent paper by Neil Graffin, a Lecturer in International Law at the Open University, explores the emotional impact of working as an asylum lawyer. As you might expect, the study found that those of us who represent asylum seekers suffer from burnout and emotional stress. As a “protective mechanism,” we tend to detach ourselves from our clients, and we sometimes become “cynical or disbelieving of client narratives.” More surprising, perhaps, the author found that this “complex reaction” had both positive and negative effects in terms of case outcomes. The paper concludes that “more should be done to protect practitioners working in this area of law,” since “we cannot discharge our duties to asylum claimants, without protecting those who deliver assistance in protecting their rights.”
In researching his paper, Professor Graffin spoke to nine asylum advocates in England and one in the Republic of Ireland. The interviewees had a wide range of experience in the field, from one year to 30 years. Some worked for private firms; others for non-profits.
As we all know, we Yanks tend to be a lot tougher than the wilting flowers in England. Even so, Professor Graffin’s findings largely track with my own experience and that of my colleagues on this side of the pond. So as far as I can tell, the emotional impact of representing asylum seekers is essentially the same for lawyers in the U.S. and for our more fragile British cousins.
It seems to me that Professor Graffin’s findings can be divided into two broad categories: Effects on lawyers caused by dealing with individual clients, and effects caused by “the system.”

At the individual level, dealing with traumatized asylum applicants is often “emotionally demanding” and “can have a negative emotional impact on practitioners, manifesting in self-reported burnout and emotional stress.” It can also lead practitioners to develop a cynical or disbelieving attitude towards some clients.
This type of skepticism does not necessarily have a negative effect on case outcomes, however. On the contrary, some study participants observed that “having a cynical or disbelieving attitude could make them better practitioners” because it helped them get “into the minds of the ‘suspicious decision-maker’” and “to spot issues of concern in their claimant’s narratives.” From my own perspective, a healthy skepticism towards our clients’ claims is crucial. We need to imagine how our clients’ stories will be received by government decision-makers and anticipate weaknesses in their cases.
Study participants also spoke about the issue of secondary trauma, which comes from “dealing with individuals on a daily basis who have experienced gross and traumatic violations of their human rights.” One common defensive mechanism for practitioners was to distance ourselves from our clients. Too much distance leads to depersonalization, but too little can lead to burnout. The key is balance: We should aim to be “sympathetic but detached.”

In my own practice, I often deal with people who have been traumatized. Some have been physically harmed or threated. Others have lost loved ones. Still others are suffering due to separation from family members. While I am sympathetic to my clients, I don’t believe that the main emotional impact I face relates to these micro-level issues. For me, at least, the bigger stress-inducer is the system itself: Too many cases, not enough time, too much bureaucracy, too little control. Professor Graffin also discusses these and other macro-level issues.
One big issue for me, and for the participants in Professor Graffin’s study, is volume. “Heavy caseloads… were cited as a particular concern amongst participants.” This was an issue for non-profits, which are under increasing pressure to do more with less, and for private practitioners like me, who aim to serve the asylum-seeker community and make a living in the process. “On the one hand, while having a smaller amount of cases was described as economically unviable, having too large a caseload created unmanageable pressure on the firm.”
Another issue involves unfavorable changes to the law. Both Britain and the U.S. (and many other countries) are experiencing an anti-refugee moment. Changes in the law have made it more difficult for us to help our clients. Referencing the “constant downgrading of rights,” one long-term practitioner in Professor Graffin’s study notes that for her, it is “easier to cope with [extremely traumatized clients] than the overall feeling that [she] was being disabled as a lawyer.” I agree. Lawyers are trained to learn the law and help our clients navigate the system. But lately, in the U.S., the government has been throwing up nonsensical bureaucratic barriers that make our jobs more difficult. These barriers are not legal barriers, but rather procedural hurdles. So an application that previously took, say, two hours to complete, now takes three hours. To me, this is a deliberate and arbitrary attempt to reduce immigration by making “the system” harder. I have been reluctant to pass on the costs of the additional work to my clients, as I feel that this would almost make me complicit in the government’s scheme. The problem, however, is that this leads to increased stress for my office mates and me.

Another job of a lawyer is to explain how the system works. If you file a claim for asylum, for example, there should be a predictable series of events that follows. Now-a-days, there is much less predictability in the system. This is in large part due to these same bureaucratic barriers. It is also due to the general dysfunctionality of the system. The end result, though, is that we lawyers have less power to influence outcomes than we should, and this also increases stress levels.
A final issue discussed in Professor Graffin’s paper is the effect of the over-all hostile environment towards asylum seekers. A number of the participants discussed how “negativity towards asylum claimants within some sections of society had an impact on them.” In an ideal world, human rights would be non-partisan. But of course, our world is far from ideal. The rhetoric in the United States and Great Britain is frequently cruel, and quite often untrue. While I can understand why such an environment can be demoralizing for asylum practitioners, I do not think it affects me that way. If anything, it has energized me to work harder for my clients. It is also one of the reasons we held the Refugee Ball back in 2017.
Finally, I of course agree with Professor Graffin’s recommendation that we provide more support for asylum practitioners, “including training and education in secondary trauma and burnout, as well as the potential for structural re-design to support individuals who hear traumatic narratives on a regular basis.” But the unfortunate fact is that most practitioners—including me—do not have time for additional training, and our current government is not about to take action to make our lives any easier. For now, we just have to keep on keepin’ on.
A few last points that were not directly mentioned in the paper: For me, an important coping mechanism is to have a sense of humor (maybe gallows humor) about the whole system. It is not always easy, but it gets me through the day. It is also nice to know that we asylum lawyers are not alone, and that all of us in the system are struggling with similar issues. So send your good vibes, and we will keep moving forward together.