The Obscure Swedish Diplomat Who Gave Us “Particular Social Group”

by Jason Dzubow

Odds are, you’ve never heard of Sture Petrén. But if you are a refugee who has escaped persecution on account of female genital mutilation, domestic violence or sexual orientation, you may owe him your life.

If you've received asylum based on PSG, you should send your thank yous to Sture Petrén.
If you’ve received asylum based on PSG, you should send your thank yous to Sture Petrén.

Sture Petrén—full name: Bror Arvid Sture Petrén—was born in Stockholm, Sweden on October 3, 1908. He studied law and philosophy at Lund University, and then served in various law courts in his home country from 1933 to 1943, when he was appointed as an appellate judge. In 1949, he was recruited by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where he served as the Director of the Legal Department for the next 15 years. More significantly from the point of view of history, Judge Petrén was appointed to the Swedish delegation to the United Nations General Assembly, where he served from 1948-61. He went on to other prestigious posts domestically and internationally. He was a member–and eventually President–of the European Commission of Human Rights, he was a member of the International Court of Justice, and he served as a judge on the European Court of Human Rights. In 1972, Judge Petrén was knighted by the Swedish king. He died in Geneva on December 13, 1976.

For all his accomplishments, it seems that Judge Petrén’s most notable achievement is probably one that he himself did not think much about at the time: In November 1951, he added the phrase “particular social group” to Articles 1 and 33 of the United Nations Refugee Convention. 

In the fall of 1951, the Conference of Plenipotentiaries on the Status of Refugees and Stateless Persons held a series of meetings to hash out the Convention on the Status of Refugees. The original Convention listed four protected categories: race, religion, nationality, and political opinion. The Swedish delegation, led by the good Judge, introduced an amendment to Article 1 adding the phrase “particular social group” or PSG. Judge Petrén offered little in the way of explanation for the addition. In the transcript from November 26, he says only that the other protected categories suggest the inclusion of a “reference to persons who might be persecuted owing to their membership of a particular social group.” “Such cases existed,” said the Judge, “and it would be as well to mention them explicitly.” Without further discussion, the amendment was adopted that same day. Fourteen members voted in favor of the amendment, none opposed, and eight abstained (though history apparently does not record how each country voted).

A week later, Judge Petrén introduced the same amendment to Article 33 (non-refoulment), so it would be in conformity with Article 1 (modern-day U.S. immigration law derives the asylum/refugee definition from Article 1 of the Convention; the Withholding of Removal definition comes from Article 33). 

So does the origin of the phrase PSG shed any light on the term’s meaning today? What—if anything—can we learn from the historic record?

First, it seems that Judge Petrén’s addition to the Convention was based on the draft of a planned law in Sweden called the National Alien Act, which went into effect in 1954. The National Alien Act was, in turn, based on the existing Swedish practice of protecting aliens who were members of a PSG, though Swedish law from the 1950s apparently does not define PSG. To the extent that the modern-day Swedish Alien Act is instructive, it seems clear that sexual orientation and gender were not consider particular social groups. The modern law offers protection to people in a PSG, homosexuals, and people who face persecution on account of gender. As one commentator observed, it would be superfluous to separately list PSG, sexual orientation, and gender, if sexual orientation and gender were considered PSGs. 

I could not find a copy of the old Swedish law (upon which the Convention definition of PSG was purportedly based), but it would be very surprising—even for a forward-thinking country like Sweden—if the 1950s law separately protected people based on gender and (especially) sexual orientation. My guess is that the Swedish law listed PSG as a protected category, but left the term undefined. Of course, this does not mean that PSG was meant to encompass sexual minorities and women under Swedish law or under the Convention definition. The Dead White Men who created the Convention may have been progressive for their time (though there are arguments that they were not), but it seems more than unlikely that the idea of specifically protecting gays and women was even on their radar. At least I could find no evidence in the historic record to support such a notion.

A second question is what Judge Petrén understood the term PSG to mean. I am not sure whether his understanding is relevant to anything other than historical curiosity, but it seems almost certain that he had no intention of dramatically (or even modestly) expanding the protected categories. Rather, PSG was meant as a safety net to catch people who did not easily fit into the other categories–people like aristocrats and linguistic minorities, to name a few. Indeed, Judge Petrén’s comments indicate a realist, as well as an idealist. After noting that Sweden was a country of asylum in the past, he states, “but the fact must be taken into account that its capacity for absorbing large numbers [of refugees] was limited and that, particularly in the present serious state of world affairs [post-WWII], considerations of national security must play a certain part.” This does not necessarily sound like someone who wanted to greatly expand the classes of people covered by the refugee definition.

To a large degree, of course, all this is academic. The goings-on in 1951 are a long way from our reality today. Perhaps an Originalist—like a Justice Scalia—might parse Judge Petrén’s words and look back to post-War Swedish law to suss out some meaning that informs our definition of PSG today. However, given that the Convention and mid-20th Century Swedish law are pretty removed from current U.S. asylum law, the Originalist inquiry seems like a stretch.

Moreover, laws and norms change over time. The vagaries of the past are fodder for debate today. To me, such debates are healthy and—hopefully—lead us in the direction of Justice. Although Judge Petrén probably had no intention of altering the refugee definition so dramatically, he certainly planted the seed that led to protection for many thousands of people. Intended or not, that is his extraordinary legacy.  

Special thanks to Ali and Behnam for their help with this article. 

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Towards a New Definition of “Refugee”

by Jason Dzubow

There are, in effect, two definitions of “refugee.” There is the legal definition from the 1951 Refugee Convention (codified in U.S. law at INA § 101(a)(42)), and then there is the lay person’s definition.

The legal definition of refugee includes:

any person who is outside any country of such person’s nationality… and who is unable or unwilling to return to… that country because of persecution or a well-founded fear of persecution on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion

The lay person’s definition is much broader and includes basically anyone who has been forced to flee from their home due to war or an environmental or man-made disaster. Many people who have been displaced by conflict or catastrophe are refugees under the lay definition, but not under the legal definition.

Refugees or "refugees"?
Refugees or “refugees”?

The mass movement of people–especially young people–escaping violence and poverty in Central America has gotten me thinking about these definitions. As our country struggles to respond to the influx, I wonder whether we need a new definition of “refugee.”

Under current U.S. law, if a person is physically present in the country and meets the legal definition of refugee, he will receive asylum. This is quite a nice benefit to receive. People who get asylum are able to remain here permanently. They can eventually become residents and later citizens. They can travel, work, and attend school. They can sponsor certain family members to join them in the United States. They are sometimes eligible for government assistance. These generous benefits are a “pull” factor because they encourage refugees to seek asylum here (as opposed to staying put or seeking asylum somewhere else). The benefits also create an incentive for people to file fraudulent asylum claims.  

To guard against fraud, we have created an elaborate bureaucracy to evaluate the veracity of asylum claims. We have Asylum Officers, Immigration Judges, the Board of Immigration Appeals, the various DHS Chief Counsels’ offices (basically, the prosecutors in Immigration Court), the Forensic Document Lab, and an extensive system of security background checks. All this costs money and takes time. But I can imagine an alternative to this system.

We could simply categorize as a “refugee” anyone who says that they are afraid to return home. In other words, if someone requests asylum in the United States, they would automatically be granted asylum. This sounds like a stupid plan, you say? Everyone and their brother would seek asylum here, including terrorists and criminals. Worse, it would put asylum lawyers out of business. Maybe so, but indulge me for a moment.

There are some obvious benefits to this idea. For one thing, it would completely eliminate the bureaucracy associated with adjudicating asylum applications. Second, we would never mistakenly return a legitimate refugee to her country. Third, people who do not meet the legal definition of refugee, but who fear return for some other reason, could find refuge in the U.S.

There are also some obvious drawbacks. First, if everyone who asked for asylum got it, very likely the number of asylum seekers would increase. Second, terrorists and criminals might exploit the asylum system to enter the United States. Third, we would lose the ability to control who and how many people come to our country.

But what if we could reduce the drawbacks and keep the benefits?

The main question is how to deal with the likely increased demand under this new system? The easiest way to reduce the “pull” of asylum would be to reduce the benefits of asylum. Basic economic theory suggests that if it is easier to obtain asylum, more people will come here, but if the benefits are reduced, less people will come here. So in order to offset the increased number of asylum seekers caused by reducing the barriers to asylum, we would need a corresponding reduction in benefits. How much of a reduction will provide this balance, I don’t know. But let’s say we reduce the benefits to the bare minimum: People who come here for asylum will be placed in a refugee camp indefinitely, they will receive only the supplies they need to survive, and they can leave only to return to their home country or to resettle in a third country. This is more-or-less the situation for Syrian and Iraqi refugees in places like Jordan and Turkey. My guess is that if this regime were strictly enforced, the overall effect would be to reduce the number of people seeking asylum in the U.S. In other words, the ease of obtaining asylum would be more than offset by the lack of benefits. If this is correct, it means we could offer something more than the bare minimum benefits without causing a major increase in the number of people seeking asylum here. The difficult question is how to find the equilibrium.

Another important drawback to my system is that it might attract criminals and terrorists. Of course if these people were confined to refugee camps, their ability to harm us would be quite limited.

Finally, my system might cause us to lose control of our border, since anyone claiming asylum would get it. But again, if the asylum seekers were confined to camps, and then resettled by the UN to third countries or to the United States, we might actually end up with a better controlled border since we could admit as many or as few people for resettlement as we choose.

Depending on the number of people arriving at our borders, it may be impossible to offer them the full range of benefits and due process protections that we have previously given to asylum seekers. But I don’t think we’re there yet–although there has been an increase in the number of asylum seekers arriving in the U.S., the numbers are still nothing close to what countries like Jordan and Turkey have been experiencing. However, if we continue seeing large numbers of people arriving in the U.S. to seek asylum, we may need to start considering alternatives to our current system.

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Can a Human Rights Lawyer Be Pro-Israel?

by Jason Dzubow

If you talk to people working in the human rights field, many will tell you that they view their work as an expression of their political and moral beliefs. More often than not, those beliefs are grounded in religious faith.

Dare to dream...
Dare to dream…

That is true for me. I am Jewish and I am an asylum lawyer. I view my work as an expression of my Jewish values. These values are derived not just from our sacred texts–which encourage discussion, debate, and self reflection–but also from our experience as a people who lived in exile and faced centuries of persecution. For me, Jewish values include respecting the life and dignity of all people, trying to understand “the other,” trying to understand myself, and sympathizing with the powerless. All this is a good fit with asylum law where I represent foreign people who face harm or death from governments or terrorist groups. But how do these values align with support for Israel?

There was a time when I felt that my values were largely consistent with supporting Israel. After all, it is a small country, created by refugees and surrounded by enemies. But more recently, it has become harder for me to be “pro-Israel,” as that term is generally understood. It’s not that I don’t support Israel and believe it should exist as a Jewish state. I do. But I have found that in recent years, it has become increasingly difficult to reconcile the values that guide my life and career with being “pro-Israel.” There are several reasons for this.

For one, it is difficult to accept the dishonesty of the pro-Israel side. Of course, this is not a problem confined to supporters of Israel. If anything, I see more dishonesty from opponents of Israel. But since I am Jewish and concerned about the behavior of my side, it is difficult to square my Jewish values with the pro-Israel propaganda that I daily see in the news. An example of this is how Israel’s supporters consistently put forth a narrative that exonerates Israel for any blame in the current conflict. It is true that Hamas initiated the recent fighting, but that is hardly the beginning of the story. Israel seems always to have an excuse for failing to make concessions or reign in settlers. As a result, moderate Palestinians are undermined (since they cannot show progress to their constituents) and extremists are empowered. A more honest evaluation would include self criticism–what have Israel and its supporters done wrong? How have their actions contributed to the cycle of violence? How have Israeli policies encouraged Jewish extremism? This type of analysis, I have never heard from the pro-Israel camp.

Also, I have great difficulty accepting the alliance of pro-Israel Jews with Neo-Conservatives and Christian Zionists. I find the Neo-Conservative’s view on the use of force to be immoral and anti-Jewish, not to mention cynical, short-sighted, and ineffective. Exhibit No. 1 in that regard is our war in Iraq. As for the Christian Zionists–people like John Hagee of Christians United for Israel–their purported love of Israel seems a thinly veiled proxy for hating Muslims. If there ever came a time when Israel was actually able to make peace with the Arabs, the Christian Zionists would be opposed: Peace with Muslims is not compatible with their world view. The values of Neo-Conservatives and Christian Zionists are profoundly contrary to my own. And while I understand that the enemy of my enemy is sometimes my friend, for me, certain alliances are beyond the pale. 

I also have trouble with the knee-jerk defensiveness of the pro-Israel camp, which is eager to label any expression of anti-Zionism as Antisemitism. Sometimes anti-Zionism is Antisemitism, and sometimes it is not. But there is a flip side to that coin: For many years, Jews have made the State of Israel an integral part of our religion. Synagogues have Israeli flags and signs supporting Israel, we celebrate Israeli Independence Day, we send our young people to Israel to study, we raise money for Israel. In other words, we have made Judaism and Zionism synonymous. In that case, it is hard to fault our enemies for confusing the two concepts. Frankly, I think our attachment to Israel is a good thing. What I oppose is the assumption that all criticism of Israel is made in bad faith, which allows us to avoid the difficult task of self examination.

Linked to the issue of defensiveness is the on-going effort by Israel supporters to stifle speech that they view as anti-Israel. They threaten funding sources, ban (or attempt to ban) disfavored speakers from Jewish events, label leftist Jewish groups “traitors,” and they rejected the dovish J Street’s attempt to join the Presidents Conference, an umbrella organization of Jewish-American agencies. If the pro-Israel camp sought to counter the ideas they find offensive, that would be one thing. But instead, they seek to eliminate those ideas. I am a believer in free speech and in the (very Jewish) idea of debating issues. To me, these efforts to squelch speech and avoid engagement on difficult issues is offensive.

Finally, I do not appreciate the effort of Israel supporters to deflect attention from Gaza by comparing it to the much more deadly situations in Syria or Iraq. While I think it is legitimate to ask non-Jews and non-Palestinians why they are more concerned about Gaza than Syria, I do not think that question is appropriate for Jews (or–obviously–Palestinians). As Jews, we should be concerned about the behavior of other Jews. We should question Israel’s policies that we disagree with. The fact that others are behaving worse than us does not seem a valid justification for our own actions.

I remember an incident from when I lived in Israel–way back in 1990. I was visiting the Jewish settlers in Hebron, a large Arab town in the West Bank. We went to the Tomb of the Patriarchs, which is considered the burial place of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It is a holy place for Jews and Muslims. We were in the Jewish section when the settlers started singing “Jerusalem! Jerusalem!” and dancing. They danced into the Muslim part and interrupted a dozen old Muslim men who were praying. At the moment, I felt I had to choose sides–with the settlers or with the Muslims. I am sorry to say that I chose to dance and sing with my fellow Jews. The old Muslim men stopped their prayers and watched us quietly, humiliated.

I still believe that there is a choice to make, but it is not a choice between Jews and Muslims or Israelis and Palestinians. It is a choice between right and wrong. I am pro-Israel in that I believe Israel should exist as a Jewish democratic state and that it has the right to defend itself from terrorists’ missiles and tunnels. But if “pro-Israel” means persecuting, humiliating, and de-humanizing Palestinians, refusing to make concessions for peace, demonizing opponents, stifling speech, and making alliances with morally bankrupt groups, you can count me out.

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Another Death in Benghazi

by Jason Dzubow

On June 25, lawyer and human rights activist Salwa Bughaigis was murdered in her home in Benghazi, Libya. Her death is a tragedy for her family and her country, but it also hits home for me for a few reasons.

Salwa Bughaigis
Salwa Bughaigis

Ms. Bughaigis is being remembered for her service on the National Transition Counsel (she resigned because male leaders marginalized the few women on the Counsel), her work for democracy and women’s rights, and her early opposition to the Qaddafi regime. Less well known outside of Libya is her work on behalf of political prisoners (at a time when Qaddafi was hanging dissidents in the street) and her efforts–ultimately unsuccessful–to organize a Libyan national lawyers’ association. At the time of her death, she was trying to help reconcile Libya’s disparate factions and help the country transition to democracy.

Due to death threats in the months leading up to her death, Ms. Bughaigis had sent her children to live abroad and she and her husband had been spending most of their time outside of Libya. She returned with her husband to vote in the election and was murdered shortly after she voted. Her husband Essam al-Ghariani was apparently kidnapped at the same time, and he is still missing.

There are a few reasons that Ms. Bughaigis’s death resonates with me.

One reason is that it reminds me how good we’ve got it here. There is obviously a big difference between being a human rights’ lawyer in post-Qaddafi Libya and an asylum lawyer in the U.S., and though my clients and the people I interact with in government often drive me crazy, no one is trying to kill me. While there are certainly problems with the U.S. asylum system (especially these days), in many ways it is actually quite good, so I am generally working within the system, not trying to create a new system, as was Ms. Bughaigis. In short, I’ve had it a lot easier than Ms. Bughaigis, and her death reminds me that I should appreciate what we have in the United States–a relatively functional system that aspires to justice and that is designed to protect vulnerable people from harm. 

Ms. Bughaigis herself is similar to some of my clients. In fact, almost at the same time that Jihadist militants broke into Ms. Bughaigis’s home to kill her, I was sitting in an asylum office with my client, a woman attorney from Afghanistan who fears harm because of her work representing female victims of domestic abuse, forced marriage, and honor crimes. Other clients have included women who organized and operated girls’ schools and NGOs in Afghanistan, a female judge from Ethiopia, and women’s rights activists from the Democratic Republic of Congo, Eritrea, and Iran. Like Ms. Bughaigis, these women put themselves at risk to improve conditions for women and girls in their countries. I am thankful that our asylum system recognizes and protects such people.

Also, Ms. Bughaigis’s example demonstrates why asylum seekers should not always be penalized for returning to their home countries. Currently, if an asylee returns to her country, she can lose her asylum status in the U.S. After the Boston Marathon bombing, many politicians called for even greater restrictions on asylees returning to their home countries (because the accused bombers–who had asylum status in the United States–returned to their country before the bombing). The fact is, many people who are working for change in dangerous countries need asylum, but they also need to return sometimes to continue their political missions. Ms. Bughaigis’s case is axiomatic: She and her family left Libya due to death threats, but she returned to encourage others to participate in an election. The fact that she was brave enough and devoted enough to return does not negate the fact that she needed a safe haven outside of Libya.

Finally–and here I must admit to speculating–I can’t help but think that if Ms. Bughaigis had a chance to do it over again, she would do it the same way. She obviously believed so strongly in the future of Libya that she was willing to risk everything. She dreamed a beautiful dream, and she died in pursuit of that dream. This seems to me the definition of a life well lived. May she rest in peace.

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The Way We Mourn Is Part of the Problem

by Jason Dzubow

The Jewish community around the world has recently been in mourning for the loss of three young Jewish men, kidnapped and murdered in the West Bank. Their bodies were found on June 30, more than two weeks after they were taken.

They are all our boys.
They are all our boys.

Israel blamed Hamas for the kidnapping and, since the three teens disappeared, has been engaged in a crackdown against the terrorist organization. For its part, Hamas did not claim credit for the crime, but praised the kidnapping. The event has sparked Hamas rocket fire from Gaza into Israel, retaliatory airstrikes, and the revenge killing of an Arab teen by Jewish extremists.

The discovery of the young men’s bodies also led to mass mourning within the Jewish community in Israel, around the world, and here in Washington, DC. Last week, 1,200 mourners attended a memorial service in suburban DC for the slain teens. Most of the attendees were Jews, but representatives of several local Christian communities were also present. All expressed solidarity with the family members and deep sadness at the loss of “our boys.”

Of course in times of tragedy, it is the nature of communities–even fractured ones like the American Jewish community–to come together to mourn and comfort one another. But this recent tragedy in my own community, and our response to it, has gotten me thinking about whether the way we mourn–and what events we choose to mourn–contributes to the problem of violence between communities. 

One area of concern for me is the us/them mentality of the Jewish community’s response (and obviously this is not unique to the Jewish community). The idea that there is an us and a them. Our expression of grief over the loss of “our boys” seems to me symptomatic of the problem. We grieve for “our boys,” but not for “their boys.” Maybe this is a trite point, but I can’t help but think about some of the people I have represented; people who have faced senseless losses as horrible as those suffered by the Israeli teens’ families.

For example, I am representing a Syrian couple whose newborn baby was asphyxiated by dust and poison gas during a battle. I also represented (successfully) an Iraqi mother who watched her son gunned down in front of her and in front of his own wife and young child. We recently attended an asylum interview for an Afghan man who saw dozens of his relatives and friends killed and maimed by a missile strike on a family wedding. There are no public memorials for these victims. No one even knows about their stories. Indeed, maybe because stories like these are so common in places like Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, no one pays much attention. But I have met all these people and heard their stories, so when I see the outpouring of grief for the three Israeli boys, it is difficult not to feel that the solitary suffering of my clients (and millions like them) is unfair and that failing to fully validate the humanity of such victims is unjust. Perhaps if we thought of people like my clients as “us” rather than “them,” we would be more willing to take action to help them (and that goes for all the unaccompanied minors arriving at our Southern border–what if we thought of these children as “our boys and girls”? How would our approach to them differ?).

Maybe I am hoping for too much here. How can we acknowledge so many losses? Why shouldn’t we honor and support “our own” before we deal with everyone else? I don’t know, but it seems to me if we could do better about recognizing the humanity and the value of “the other,” we would take a big step towards preventing future harm for everyone.

A second concern I have about my community’s response to the deaths is more about what we didn’t do. We mourned “our boys,” but not the Palestinian boy who was killed in a barbaric revenge attack by Jewish extremists. Israel quickly arrested the culprits and Prime Minister Netanyahu and many others have condemned the killing. These are obviously important steps, but it is a bit different than mourning the loss of the young Palestinian. Mourning the young man’s death is important not only because “our side” is responsible for his death and thus it reflects on us, as Jews, but also because we need to recognize the boy’s value as a human being.

Again, maybe it is asking too much–especially in the heat of conflict–for Israelis and Palestinians to mourn each others’ losses, but I believe that this is what we must do if we hope ever to end the violence. Indeed, family members of one of the Israeli boys and of the Palestinian boy have been in contact with each other, and some Palestinians and Israelis have been crossing the lines to offer condolences to each other. If people so close to these tragedies can see the humanity in each other, perhaps one day the rest of us will too.

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U.S. Sex Offender Receives Asylum in Canada

by Jason Dzubow

A convicted sex offender who fled the United States to escape her 30-year prison sentence has been granted protected person status in Canada.

Canadian boys celebrated the decision in Ms Harvey's case.
Canadian boys celebrated the decision in Ms Harvey’s case.

In August 2008, Denise Harvey was convicted in a Florida court for having sex with a 16 year-old boy–a friend of her son’s. After refusing a plea deal for 11 years, Ms. Harvey went to trial. She was convicted and sentenced to 30 years in prison. While her appeal was pending, she remained free on $150,000.00 bond. In 2010, when it became clear that the appeal had failed and that she would have to report to prison, Ms. Harvey fled to Canada.

She crossed the border and moved to Saskatchewan with her husband. They settled in a small community outside Saskatoon.

The Law caught up with Ms. Harvey in April 2011, when Canadian authorities arrested her. Later that month, she appeared before an Immigration and Refugee Board (“IRB”) adjudicator and was released on a $5,000.00 bond. Ms. Harvey requested “protected person status” and claimed that the 30-year sentence was cruel and unusual. She noted that her crime–having consensual sex with a 16-year old–was not illegal in Canada.

The IRB agreed that the sentence was cruel and unusual and granted Ms. Harvey protected person status. To obtain protected person status, an applicant must show that returning to the home country would subject the person to torture, cruel and unusual punishment or death. No nexus to a protected ground is required. People who received protected person status are eligible to apply for permanent residency and eventually obtain Canadian citizenship.

The Minister of Citizenship and Immigration, Chris Alexander, appealed the IRB ruling on two occasions, but Ms. Harvey’s protected person status was finally upheld last month. The Minister commented:

I find it mind-boggling that individuals from the United States, which has been designated a safe country, precisely because it respects human rights and does not normally produce refugees, think it is acceptable to file asylum claims in Canada. Lucky for them, they have no understanding of what true persecution is, and what it means to be a genuine refugee.

I am not sure that Ms. Harvey would agree with him. And luckily for her, the Canadian courts did not agree with him either. I suppose this highlights the old trope that no country is safe for everyone all the time (and indeed, even in the United States, Ms. Harvey is not without her supporters. In her home community of Vero Beach, Florida, 2,000 people–more than 10% of the total population–signed a petition requesting that Florida’s governor pardon her).

As for me, I must agree that a 30-year sentence for consensual sex with a 16-year-old boy is a bit over the top. Of course, reasonable people can differ about this, but the Canadians (and who is more reasonable than the Canadians?) have not even criminalized this behavior. Also, there is no indication that the victim suffered particular trauma as a result of the “unlawful sexual activity.” If there was evidence that he had been traumatized by Ms. Harvey’s conduct, then the punishment might be more easily justified.

While I agree with the result, the IRB decision does leave some unanswered questions: Would the decision have been the same if the perpetrator was a man and the victim was a 16-year-old girl? What if the sentence had been less severe? Does Canada plan to offer protected status to every U.S. citizen convicted for a crime that is not punishable in Canada? Does it plan to evaluate each U.S. sentence to determine whether it is “cruel and unusual”? The death penalty has been eliminated in Canada, so if a U.S. citizen facing the death penalty reaches Canada, will he be offered protected status?

The Canadians may have to deal with these issues in future cases, but Ms. Harvey’s case is relatively easy. The sentence is so excessive and the crime so seemingly minor that Ms. Harvey appears deserving of protection. Only time will tell if other convicted criminals will follow Ms. Harvey’s lead. If so, it will be interesting to see how the Canadian authorities respond, and if the U.S. government takes offense.

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Family Members of Asylum Seekers – Beware!

by Jason Dzubow

The sister of my asylum-seeker client recently got an unpleasant surprise from the U.S. Embassy in her country. The sister is a prominent journalist who had come to the Embassy several times (at the Embassy’s request) to brief U.S. diplomats on the situation in her country. She and her family members held B-1/B-2 visitor visas to the United States. A few weeks ago, the consular section called and demanded that the sister appear for a visa “re-interview.” When she asked for a one-day delay due to a previously-scheduled medical appointment for her child, she was refused.

The sister dutifully arrived at the U.S. Embassy, where she was kept waiting for two hours. Finally, the consular officer met with her and informed her that her visitor visa was being revoked because her sister (my client) was seeking asylum in the United States. The sister, of course, objected, noting that she had the visa for some time but had not used it. Also, she explained that she had been meeting with Embassy officials to discuss the situation in her country, at some risk to herself. All this was of no avail, and the sister’s visa was revoked. To add insult to injury (and without any evidence), the consular officer accused the sister of wanting to move to the United States so her husband could get a better job and make more money.

The US Embassy proves that it's not just the NSA that can damage our diplomatic relations.
A U.S. consular officer proves that it’s not just the NSA that can damage our diplomatic relations.

On her way out, the sister ran into a local Embassy employee who she had befriended during her two hour wait. When the employee learned what happened, he told the sister that the Embassy had been revoking visas for people whose family members were seeking asylum in the United States.

Before her sister went to the re-interview, my client called me to tell me what was happening. I suggested that her sister speak to her contacts at the Embassy. Her contacts are (presumably) in the diplomatic or public affairs sections of the Embassy, not the consular section, and they told her that there was nothing they could do.

So it seems that a person who had been a useful contact for our country, and who is an up-and-coming journalist, was insulted, embarrassed, and had her visa revoked, all because her sister has a pending asylum case in the United States. For most relatives of asylum seekers, that would be the end of the story. But in this case, since the sister is somewhat high-profile, the matter worked its way up the chain to higher ranking diplomats, who were apparently quite upset at the doings of their brethren in the consular section. There is now an effort underway to re-issue the visa, but the outcome is far from clear, as officers in the diplomatic and public affairs sections do not have authority over the consular section (and heaven forbid that one section would work in concert with another).

As best as we can tell, when my client filed her asylum application, the consular section was not alerted. But when she applied for her work permit (after the application had been pending for 150 days due to the asylum backlog), the application for an employment document triggered notice to the consulate, which was (somehow) aware of her sister. The visa was then revoked.

This is not the first time that one of my clients’ family members had trouble as a result of an asylum application. I wrote previously about two clients–spouses of asylum seekers–who had their visa applications denied because of their spouses’ asylum applications. In those cases, I was more concerned with the breaches of confidentiality (the consular section informed the spouses that their visas were being revoked because of their spouses’ asylum claims; the problem is that in some cases, people seek asylum because of persecution by a family member, so informing the relatives of the asylum applications was a breach of confidentiality).

For me, the take-away from all this for asylum applicants and their family members is that family members may be denied non-immigrant visas or have their visas revoked once the consulate learns about the asylum application. But maybe the more interesting question is, how should the consulates deal with family members of asylum seekers?

The easy answer (and the one I prefer) is that consulates should not be informed about the asylum applications in the first place, and if they are informed, they should take no action against family members (and they certainly should not violate confidentiality). Asylum is a humanitarian form of relief and people (or their family members) should not be penalized for pursuing legitimate claims.

The counter-argument, I suppose, is that consulates are required to determine whether applicants for non-immigrant visas are actually intending immigrants, and the behavior of relatives may be relevant to that determination. One problem with this argument, at least in the cases I’ve mentioned, is that there was always pretty good evidence that the family members were not intending immigrants. The visas were denied or revoked anyway, seemingly solely because a relative had filed for asylum. Another problem with this argument is that all my clients’ asylum cases were legitimate (two were granted and one is pending). I can more easily understand the consulates revoking or denying a family member’s visas where their relative has filed a fraudulent claim. But that is not the situation in any of the cases I’ve discussed.

As things now stand, asylum seekers in the U.S. face a sort-of Sophie’s choice: Save myself and the family members in the U.S. with me, but sacrifice my relatives who are trying to get visas. I don’t see how this comports with the spirit of our international obligations, or with any notion of morality. It seems naive to imagine that this policy of excluding family members of asylum seekers will be discontinued anytime soon, but maybe if the consular sections continue to act contrary to the diplomatic sections, as happened to my client’s sister, there will be some pressure to behave a bit better. For the sake of diplomacy and human rights, I hope so.

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Measuring a Country by Its Olympic Asylum Seekers: Russia vs. UK

by Jason Dzubow

If imitation is the highest form of flattery in art, immigration is the highest form of flattery in politics. The decision to move to a particular country demonstrates the belief that that country is worth living in. So as the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia approaches, it will be interesting to compare the number of athletes who seek asylum in Russia to the number who sought asylum during the 2012 Games in Great Britain.

Sochi-o-path
Sochi-o-path

To make this comparison, we first have to determine how many athletes sought asylum in 2012. I have not seen a concrete count of the number of athletes who “defected” during the 2012 Games. This is because asylum is confidential, and so the British government has not published any figures on Olympic asylum seekers. However, one source estimates that at least 20 athletes and coaches defected during the Games. Cameroon had the most defections: Seven of its 37 athletes did not return home.

When athletes (or anyone) seeks asylum, we can assume that there is a “push” and a “pull.” The “push” is the bad conditions in the home country that lead the person to flee, and the “pull” is the good conditions in the country where the person seeks refuge. The “pull” of the UK is obvious: It is  a developed, liberal democracy that generally respects human rights and offers opportunities (educational, professional) for its residents. People fleeing persecution (or economic deprivation) would generally be lucky to start a new life there.

The “pull” of Russia is less obvious. For one thing, Russia is not known as a welcoming destination for non-Russians. Racism and xenophobia are problems, and many minorities have been targeted and killed. Homophobia is also rampant, and institutionalized (though the mayor of Sochi claims that there are no gays in his city). In terms of its economy, Russia is not as an attractive destination as Western Europe or the U.S., but it is better than many places. Finally, the Russian language is not spoken by nearly as many people as English, and so this might create some disincentive for potential asylum seekers. For all these reasons, I doubt we will see many athletes defecting to start new lives in Russia.

To be fair, many of the source countries for asylum seekers do not send athletes to the Winter Olympics. But even if they did, I doubt many of them would desire to resettle in Russia. Conditions there are simply not conducive to starting a new life, particularly for people who come from Africa or Central Asia.

There have, of course, been a few high profile asylum seekers in Russia. Edward Snowden is one, but I don’t think he deliberately chose Russia as his destination country. Instead, it seems he got stuck there on the way to somewhere else. So the Russians really can’t claim him as someone who had a burning desire to resettle in their country.

Another immigrant to Russia is Gerard Depardieu, a “tax refugee” from France who (sort-of) left his homeland due to high taxes and (kind-of) settled in Russia. I suppose in Mr. Depardieu’s case, there was a “pull” from Russia, but that seems more to do with his friendship with President Putin (who summarily granted him citizenship last year) than with his desire to seek a better life there. Indeed, though Mr. Depardieu has citizenship and an address in Russia, it is unclear how much time he actually spends there.

The bottom line is, I don’t think Russia is seen by many as a desirable place to resettle, and I expect that we won’t see many athletes defecting during the upcoming Games. Perhaps the Russians will be pleased by this (Russia for the Russians!). But maybe upon reflection, they will find that it demonstrates a darker truth about the culture and society that they have created.

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Laughing at Death

by Jason Dzubow

Last week, two new clients hired me. Each told me a story that ranks among the worst I’ve heard since I’ve been practicing asylum law.

Having a positive attitude is half the battle.
Having a positive attitude is half the battle.

The first was an Iraqi grandmother. Her son worked for an international NGO and the family had received threats because of the son’s work. One day, armed militiamen pulled the son from his car, and shot him to death in front of my client, her daughter-in-law (the son’s wife), and the son’s infant child. Later, the militia bombed my client’s house and killed her elderly mother. Years before, my client lost her husband, when he was killed in a bombing raid during the Iran-Iraq War. My client’s relative/translator explained, “This is Iraq.”

The second client was from Afghanistan, and his story was not directly related to his current asylum claim. He told me that 20 years ago, he was going to a party at his relatives’ house. For some reason, he was delayed, and before he arrived, the house was hit by a missile. He reached the scene moments later, and witnessed horrific carnage (I will spare you the details he told me). Suffice it to say, he saw many relatives and friends dead and dying. At the time, he was a teenager, and what he saw sent him into shock. He was physically unable to offer assistance, and he had to be carried back to his home. Relating the story many years later, he told me how the scene was still perfectly clear in his memory.

One thing that both clients have in common is that they laughed nervously and smiled while telling me their stories.

It seems to me that laughing and smiling in response to these stories is a very human reaction. Perhaps the normal emotions–anger, grief, shock–are simply inadequate to the task of recalling and relating such events. Or maybe my clients’ embarrassed smiles are almost an apology for having to talk about such terrible stories. There probably is no appropriate affect for telling personal stories of senseless violence and life-changing horror, and so maybe the default demeanor is a shy smile or a nervous laugh.

Of course, as an immigration lawyer, I am concerned that an “inappropriate” smile or laugh might create the impression that my clients are not credible. Although they have often reacted this way during our practice sessions, my clients seldom laugh or smile during actual trials or asylum interviews. And even if a client did show an “inappropriate” emotion, I suspect that most decision makers would see the reaction for what it was, and I doubt credibility would be negatively impacted.

I also sometimes wonder about how these stories affect the people that hear them. One study I found about secondary trauma in asylum lawyers found that lawyers were at some risk of secondary trauma, and the risk increased with the amount of time the lawyers worked on asylum cases. Another study, which originally appeared in the Georgetown Immigration Law Journal (where I once served as a Senior Notes and Comments Editor), found that Immigration Judges suffered from secondary trauma and “more burnout than has been reported by groups like prison wardens or physicians in busy hospitals.”

I’ve always been a bit skeptical that people in my line of work (or me specifically) suffer from secondary trauma. The difficulty for me comes not from hearing the clients’ stories (which can be upsetting), but rather from overwork. Too many clients expect too much, too quickly. Maybe hearing terrible stories and working with people who have experience real trauma has an effect on us, but it is very hard–for me at least–to see this effect.

But of course, like my clients who laugh when they tell me their stories, I have my own ways of coping with stress. In my first job out of college, I helped find work for recently resettled refugees. Everywhere I went, I asked about employment opportunities. Finally, I decided that I could not continue that way. There was a time for work, and a time for not working. If you can’t separate the two, you ultimately won’t be successful at either. Although it is more difficult now, with my own business, I still try to keep that separation. With that said, I’m off to the pub to do some more coping. Cheers.

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Asylum Seekers and the Right to Illegal Entry

by Jason Dzubow

Do people fleeing persecution have a “right” to illegally enter the United States? A new report from Harvard Law School about changes in Canadian asylum policy got me thinking about this question.

The report, Bordering on Failure: Canada-US Border Policy and the Politics of Refugee Exclusion, concludes that recent changes to Canadian refugee and border policy have made it more difficult for legitimate asylum seekers to find refuge in Canada.

Training program for rookie Liaison Officers.
Training program for rookie Liaison Officers.

The recent changes include the Multiple Borders Strategy (“MBS”), whose goal is to “push the border out” and to “intercept improperly documented persons as far away from Canada’s territorial borders as possible.” Canada “enacts measures that deter and deflect the arrival of asylum seekers at… countries of origin, visa screening points, airline check in points, points of initial embarkation, transit areas, points of final embarkation, and points of final arrival.” How do they do this? Canada has 63 liaison officers in 49 “strategic locations around the world.” The officers “train and work with airlines, local immigration authorities, and local law enforcement agencies to identify improperly documents persons, including some asylum seekers, and block them from boarding Canada-bound boats or planes.” The officers have intercepted 73,000 people between 2001 and 2012. Another part of the MBS is to sanction airlines and shipping companies that allow improperly documented people to arrive in Canada. The Canadians have also imposed stricter visa requirements on people from refugee source countries when refugee arrivals from those countries increase. In short, Canada is doing more to block people from illegally entering the country. So what’s wrong with that?

The Harvard report raises a few points. For one, some of those people blocked from arriving in Canada are refugees (though we don’t know how many). The liaison officers and the carriers do not consider whether a person qualifies for asylum; they block anyone with improper documentation. Another problem is that by tightening security, some asylum seekers will resort to other means of gaining entry into Canada–human smuggling, for example. This puts the asylum seekers at risk of harm. The report concludes that by “closing its borders to asylum seekers, Canada is setting a poor example for other nations, and contributing to the deterioration of refugee protection around the world.”

Aside from criticizing the (probable) negative impact of the MBS on asylum seekers, Harvard offers little in the way of solutions. Should Canada loosen its entry requirements? Should liaison officers allow people with fraudulent documents to go to Canada if those people express a fear of persecution? Should Canada get rid of the liaison officers so it is easier to enter Canada improperly? Should it eliminate carrier fines, so that airlines will be encouraged to allow anyone to fly into the country, even if they do not have permission to enter?

The basic problem, it seems to me, is that refugees who are rich enough to qualify for a visa or to hire a competent smuggler, will likely get in. Ditto for those clever enough to obtain fraudulent travel documents. Poor people, less educated people, people who are not resourceful enough, will not get in. Tightening or loosening the border (or even “pushing out” the border) will, as the Harvard report points out, exclude people in “arbitrary and unprincipled ways,” but this impact is tiny compared to the basic–and very arbitrary–distinction between the rich, the educated, and the lucky, who will probably get in, and the poor, the uneducated, and the unlucky, who will probably be excluded. Thus, even if Canada had not implemented any of the new restrictive changes, the asylum seekers who manage to reach Canada are able to get there because of factors (such as wealth) that are completely unrelated to the merits of their asylum claims. Given that the ability of potential asylum seekers to enter Canada is completely arbitrary anyway, why should it matter if Canada imposes another layer of arbitrariness on those seeking admission? In other words, why should it matter if an arbitrary portion of an arbitrary group is blocked from seeking asylum?

Or, to return to our initial question in a more specific way: Do those asylum seekers lucky enough to have the ability to reach a safe country have a “right” to travel to that country to seek asylum? If you accept the basic premise of sovereignty of nations (and there are very good reasons not to), it is difficult to answer that question in the affirmative. But to answer that question in the negative would invalidate much of international law and practice related to protecting refugees.

Perhaps the key to resolving this dilemma is to recognize that most countries–including Canada and the United States–have given up some of their sovereignty when they voluntarily entered into treaties protecting refugees. Nevertheless, the Harvard report highlights an odd reality: People who are smart enough, rich enough or sneaky enough to evade border security and gain entry into a safe country have a right to seek asylum in that country. But those who are unable to reach a safe country–even if the reason for their failure is that the safe country managed to prevent their entry–do not have a right to seek asylum in that country.

So I guess the answer to the initial question is a qualified yes (or perhaps a qualified no, if you are a glass-is-half-empty sort of person): Asylum seekers have a right to illegally enter the United States, but only if they manage to get in. Or, to paraphrase Robert Anton Wilson, “rights” are what you can get away with.

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The New Middle Passage: Journeys of Modern Day Slaves

by Jason Dzubow

The blog entry was originally posted on Wherever Magazine‘s website. It’s not uncommon for me to meet clients who have been victims of human trafficking. Most of them were trafficked from East Africa to the Arabian peninsula, and then to the U.S. as domestic servants. Occasionally, I also meet clients who were victims of sex trafficking. For this post, I combined several of my own cases and one publicly available case in order to illustrate the problem of modern day slavery:

Amelia was a promising twenty-something working as a teacher in her native Indonesia. After she lost her job due to religious and ethnic discrimination, she wanted to move some place safe. She began looking for ways to come to the United States.

The past isn't really past.
The past isn’t really past.

Through an ad, Amelia found a position in the restaurant industry in New York. An agency arranged her travel to the U.S., but when she reached JFK, things were not as expected.

Her “contact” met Amelia at the airport and immediately took her passport and other documents. Instead of bringing her to the promised job, he took her to a brothel. When she protested, her contact threatened Amelia with a gun.

For the next several months, Amelia was transported from one brothel to the next and forced to have sex with many different men. Her captors kept her under close watch at all times. 

Finally, one day, she escaped through an unlocked window. Even after she was free, Amelia knew no one in the United States and she did not know where to go for help. She lived on the street until she met someone who put her in touch with law enforcement.

Amelia was able to obtain a “T” visa—a special visa for victims of human trafficking, which allows an alien to (eventually) become a permanent resident of the United States. 

Except for the successful escape, Amelia’s story is quite typical. Social scientists estimate that there are currently about 27 million victims of human trafficking world-wide. But only a small fraction of those victims—about 40,000 people—are identified and helped each year. In the United States, as many as 200,000 children are currently at risk of sex trafficking. Most victims are trafficked within their own countries, but many people—like Amelia—are taken on long journeys from poor countries to more affluent countries, where they serve as sex slaves, domestic labor or agricultural workers.

According to U.S. government estimates, last year over 17,000 people were brought into the United States to serve as slaves.

As an attorney who represents asylum seekers, I sometimes meet victims of human trafficking. One common scenario involves women recruited to work as domestic servants in the Persian Gulf (most commonly in Saudi Arabia and the UAE). The women usually come from poor countries in Africa and are lured to the Gulf with promises of a decent wage and steady work.  

In one recent (and typical) case, my client Fatima had been detained and beaten in Ethiopia because of her political activities. She was also a victim of female genital mutilation. Fatima had to find a way out of her country. She went to an employment agency. The agency helped Fatima obtain a passport and found a job for her as a domestic servant in the United Arab Emirates. In July 2009, she left Ethiopia and started working for a family in the UAE. 

Work conditions and pay were not as promised. Originally, the agency told Fatima that she would be babysitting one child. When she arrived, she found that she would be babysitting three young children. In addition, she had to clean the house, cook, wash laundry, and tend to her employers’ guests. Fatima worked 20 hour days, and her employer banned her from speaking with other Ethiopian house servants. When she showed signs of being unhappy, the employer threatened to return her to Ethiopia. 

In August 2010, the employers announced that they would be going to Florida with the children for a six month vacation. Fatima would come with them. The U.S. government issued Fatima a visa for “personal and domestic employees” and she was on her way to America.

In the United States, Fatima continued as a domestic servant, but now her employer stopped paying her. She knew no one in Florida and had little opportunity to meet people outside her employers’ house. Finally, after five months as an unpaid, 140-hour a week domestic worker, she met some other Ethiopians in a park. They told her that she could seek political asylum in the United States. 

Fatima called her brother in Ethiopia, who put her in touch with some friends in Ohio. Those friends found someone in Florida to help. So early one morning, while her employers were sleeping, Fatima snuck out of the apartment, went to a rendezvous point and met her contact. She stayed with him for a few days until her brother’s friends arranged to bring her to Ohio and then Washington, DC.

In DC, Fatima filed for asylum. The case took several years, but finally, in September 2013, an Immigration Judge granted Fatima’s application for asylum. She has now begun her new life in the United States. 

Fatima and Amelia both escaped from their captivity. Most trafficking victims are not so lucky.

At least in Fatima’s case, the U.S. government could have done more to protect her. She received her visa without an interview at the U.S. Embassy. For domestic servants who come to the U.S., the embassies should interview each person (as they do for most other visa applicants) and ask about wages, hours, and working conditions. Where there is evidence of trafficking, visas for the workers and their employers should be denied, and the local authorities should be contacted. At least this would reduce the number of victims trafficked to the U.S. And once they are here, the employers of domestic workers should be required to verify (with evidence) that the domestic workers are receiving their salary, paying taxes, and working reasonable hours. Employers who do not comply with the law should have their visas revoked and should be prosecuted.

For trafficking victims in the U.S., there are resources available. The Department of Homeland Security’s Blue Campaign raises awareness about the issue, and there are numerous NGOs, such as the Polaris Project, involved in the anti-trafficking fight. It will take the combined efforts of governments, non-profits, and individuals to identify and free victims of human trafficking, and bring the perpetrators to justice.

In this article, the names of the women and identifying details have been changed.

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Dear House Republicans: Hate the Government? Go Live in a Country Without One

by Jason Dzubow

At the heart of the Republicans’ intransigence on the budget and the debt ceiling, and their willingness to shut our government down in order to (sort-of) block Obamacare, lies an utter contempt for America’s government and its employees. A willingness to disrespect, blame, and penalize government “bureaucrats” for everything and anything. They love to quote President Reagan‘s old trope: “Government is the problem.” Well, I have a proposal for you–if you hate government so much, why not try living in a country without one?

As an asylum attorney, many of the people I represent come from countries without decent governments. They come to America because in their countries, there is no security, no jobs, no justice. Let me tell you about some of my clients.

One is a woman from Afghanistan who was pushed into an engagement by her family and her fiance’s family. The woman was highly educated and accomplished. In her job, she helped hundreds of people and she met with many high-level officials, including a U.S. Secretary of State. Her fiance threatened to kill her if she continued her work or education. Did her government help her? No, in Afghanistan, women have no rights when it comes to family matters. She had to come to our government for help, and she received asylum.

I represented a policeman from Nepal who had worked and fought against Maoist guerrillas. Although many outside observers (including the U.S. government) consider the Maoists a terrorist group, they managed to enter politics and eventually take power in Nepal. The result was that when the guerrillas attempted to kill my client, there was no one to protect him. He fled the country and received refuge here.

Another client was a man from El Salvador whose relatives were murdered by gang members. The Salvadoran government was unable to control the gang, and so the man fled to the U.S., where he received protection.

I’ve represented an old lady from Iraq. A Shi’ite militia kidnapped her son. There was no one to protect the family, so she paid a ransom to have the son released. After that, the militia continued to extort and threaten her until she came to the U.S. and received asylum.

The list goes on and on, and it’s not just an absence of government; it’s bad government: A Falun Gong practitioner who was beaten by Chinese officials; a Somali man, shot in the leg by militiamen; an Ethiopian political activist beaten and tortured by police; a political activist from Zimbabwe who was raped by police after she attended a political rally; a Rwandan Tutsi woman who saw her family members murdered in front of her; a Syrian doctor held in a torture prison; a Russian political activist stripped of his citizenship and threatened; a gay man from Egypt beaten by the police; a lesbian from Serbia who was gang raped. And on and on and on. And that’s not counting all the corruption and discrimination that are endemic in most governments around the world, but which would not form the basis for an asylum claim.

From my point of view, there is great value in an honest (or at least mostly honest) bureaucracy. To disrespect our government workers, to punish them and hold them hostage to a political agenda, and to crush their morale is not just a disgrace. It demonstrates a shocking naivete about how the world works, and about how governments and economies work. Such naivete might be excusable in a college freshman enchanted by Ayn Rand, but it is criminally negligent in an elected official.

Since they don’t have the votes to repeal the Affordable Care Act–a law that has been properly voted on and survived a Supreme Court challenge, not to mention the re-election of President Obama–House Republicans have just shut the government down. They couldn’t do that to the United States and its employees unless they had utter contempt for those employees. That attitude moves our country in the direction of places without a good government; places like Somalia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. 

So, House Republicans, I invite you to visit countries where government really is the problem. Or speak to my clients, who understand all too well what that means. Maybe if you were not so ignorant, you would be a bit more respectful of the people who keep our country great, our government employees.

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Egyptian Coast Guard Fires on, Kills Syrian Refugees

by Jason Dzubow

One of the benefits–if that is the right word–of working on asylum cases is that you get to learn about a side of the world that is hidden. Countries that persecute people usually don’t like to publicize what they do. Most times, the knowledge really isn’t all that news worthy. It’s interesting and sad, but we’re all busy, and there’s only so much time in the day to worry about these things. But a client recently sent me this story, and I wanted to pass it on. It reflects one small piece of the Syrian refugee crisis.

Syrian refugees on the boat. The woman killed by the Egyptian Coast Guard is visible at the bottom right.
Syrian refugees on the boat. The woman killed by the Egyptian Coast Guard is visible at the bottom right.

My client is a Syrian asylum seekers (currently stuck in limbo along with most asylum seekers in the U.S.). He has contacts with the Syrian Free Army and has been involved in the humanitarian effort to help his people (the UN estimate that the war has created 1.5 million refugees and 4 million IDPs).

Apparently, some Syrian refugees in Egypt were trying to escape Egypt and reach Sweden. The first leg of their journey involved a boat trip to Italy. While they were still in Egyptian waters, the Egyptian Coast Guard chased them, fired on their boat with live ammunition, and then captured the refugees. Two people were killed by the gunfire. As of today, the refugees–men, women, and children–remain detained in Egypt in difficult conditions. My client was able to talk with one of the detained refugees by cell phone. Below are some excerpts from the conversation (translated from Arabic and edited by me for clarity).

The trip began last Tuesday, September 17, at 8:00 AM. We started from the shores of Alexandria, Egypt towards Italy. We hoped to reach Sweden to apply for political asylum. When the boat left, we were in extremely hard conditions and the boat itself was in very bad shape and very old. The boat was carrying almost 200 persons, including 30 children as young as four months old. There were also about 50 women; some of them are pregnant. The rest were men aged 20 to over 50.

After sailing for almost an hour, we were surprised that the Egyptian Coast Guard was tracking us. They began shooting live ammunition towards us, even though they could hear the screams of women and children and all the people on-board, and we waved our hands at them hoping they would stop shooting. They did not respond to our desperate cries and they kept shooting at us until our boat stopped. Then some Coast Guard members jumped onto our boat and threatened everyone with their guns. They did not even try to help the wounded among us.

The daughter of Fadwa Taha mourns her dead mother.
The daughter of Fadwa Taha mourns her dead mother.

When the situation calmed down for a moment, we discovered that there were two dead people, killed by the shooting. They are Omar Dalloul, a man in his late thirties, and Fadwa Taha, a woman in her fifties. There were also two people wounded–a 15-year-old boy and a young man who is 20 years old.

After that, the boat was towed to Aboukir Harbor in Alexandria (which is a military harbor), the coast guard did not allow any humanitarian agencies or media to document the incident. They pressured us to leave the boat. We tried our best not to leave the boat before having any organization present like the Red Cross or other humanitarian organization. We stood on the boat for four hours and tried to contact anyone to help us, but it was no use. Finally, the Egyptians promised that we would go to the police station for an hour to sign some paperwork and then be released.  But when we arrived at the police station, they took our passports and we have not been allowed to leave.

Immediately after we left the boat, we were detained in the port for 15 hours in the open. The children and women slept on the floor without any blankets. Finally, at around 2:00 AM on Wednesday, our group was divided up and we were transferred to two police station in Alexandria: Almountazah 2 Police Department and Aboukir Police Point.

Syrian men and boys detained at the Egyptian police station.
Syrian men and boys detained at the Egyptian police station.

The situation is very bad in prison. The part of the prison where we are does not have water or bathrooms because it is still under construction. Every day, construction workers and painters come and work here and the kids are suffering from the smell of paint. Also, there is a swamp nearby and so we are suffering from mosquitoes and flies.

We have babies who need nursing and the police won’t let them out of the prison. We have a boy who is here alone without his parents. When his family came to take him, the police didn’t agree. They said that he is charged and he needs to stay in prison. He is nine years old.

No media have covered our story, but we think some charity knows we are here because we are receiving food. We are not sure who is providing it, but it is not from the prison.

As far as I know, the refugees are still detained in Alexandria. Of course, I cannot verify this story, but it comes from a source I trust.

Egypt has signed the 1951 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees and the 1967 Protocol. We can only hope that despite the turmoil in their own country, the Egyptians will live up to their obligations and treat these and other refugees with respect.

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The American Citizens’ Guide to Seeking Asylum Abroad

by Jason Dzubow

This piece was originally published by [wherever] magazine, an out of place journal of travel literature, travel culture, and travel politics. I will periodically be blogging for the new magazine, which seems like a very cool publication (probably too cool for the likes of me, but for now, I’m still in).

I wrote this piece because I am contacted pretty regularly by U.S. citizens who are seeking asylum abroad, or who are thinking about it. Some of these asylum seekers are not so legitimate in my estimation–criminals who hope to avoid the consequences of their crimes. Others represent sad situations that involve people who have been frustrated by their inability to receive help from the government. Victims of domestic abuse are one example in this category. Also, there are those who are engaged in political activity (or what they consider political activity) that could result in criminal penalties here. Edward Snowden falls into this category. So do certain cannabis activists and others in favor of drug legalization (people who consider drug use a political act).

Some people need to flee the U.S.; others just need to leave already.
Some people need to flee the U.S.; others just need to leave already.

OK, without further ado, the original piece is here (where you can also check out some interesting articles and photos), and a slightly shortened version is below:

Let’s say you’ve decided to flee the United State of America. You’re not some high-profile asylum seeker like Edward Snowden, who can count on help from a rival government (Russia). Instead, you’re just an ordinary asylum seeker, who will have to demonstrate that you qualify for protection under international law. How would you go about it? 

To qualify for asylum, you need to demonstrate that you are a “refugee” under international law. According to the 1951 UN Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, a “refugee” is “any person who, owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country.” The first thing you need to do in order to qualify for asylum is to leave the United States.

While a Julian Assange might get away with living in a friendly embassy (Ecuador in his case), you’re probably no Julian Assange.  Most people who ask for refuge inside an embassy will be summarily evicted. So don’t think you can simply waltz into the nearest consulate of your choice, tell them you need assistance, and that they will provide you with a bed and three squares. It just doesn’t work that way. So you’ll first need to get out of the U.S.

Assuming you make it safely to your new country, you will need to show that you were persecuted in the past or that you have a well-founded fear of future persecution. “Persecution” has been defined as “an extreme concept, marked by the infliction of suffering or harm… in a way regarded as offensive.” So for example, if you’re a cannabis activist who faces jail time for smoking pot, you likely would not qualify for asylum because this punishment is not severe enough to constitute “persecution.”

Even if you have been persecuted, that might not be enough to win your asylum case—the persecution has to be on account of race, religion, nationality, membership in a particular social group, or political opinion. If you fear harm because you revealed government secrets, a la Edward Snowden, that might not be considered one of the protected grounds, and so you would be out of luck (though perhaps you could argue that your “whistleblowing” was a form of political activity and thus gain protection). Also, if you fear persecution from criminal gangs, or you face domestic violence, or you will be harmed because of your sexual orientation, you may or may not qualify for asylum—it depends on the law of the country where you are requesting protection. For this reason, you would be well served by doing some research about the country where you plan to seek protection before you make the trip. 

So how do you actually make the claim for asylum once you reach your destination country? In many countries (including most countries you’d actually want to go to), there is a form to complete where you provide information about yourself and your claim. You also need to submit evidence—identity documents like your passport, and school and work records, evidence of harm such as medical records and police reports, letters from people attesting to your problems. Then you will be interviewed about your application. Small mistakes on the form or during the interview—a wrong date for example—might cause the adjudicator to conclude that you are not credible, and that your claim is false. Also, seeking asylum from a powerful and influential country like the U.S., a country that generally respects human rights, will be an uphill battle. And remember, there is a good chance you will be doing all of this in a language you don’t understand, possibly while the host government is detaining you as an illegal migrant. The case will take months if you are lucky and years if you are not. Some governments provide limited benefits such as housing and a small stipend for people with pending asylum cases; other governments require asylum seekers to fend for themselves.

Assuming you pass the interview and are granted asylum, what then? You might receive some assistance from the host country—housing, language instruction, job placement—or you might not. In some countries, you can petition to bring your immediate relatives (minor children and spouse) to join you. This will likely take many months, on top of the many months you already waited for the decision in your case.  If you ever return to the U.S., you will quite possibly lose your asylum status and be deported from your new home. So there is a good chance you can’t ever come back, and you probably won’t see many of your relatives and friends again.

As you can see, asylum is often a difficult, frightening, and traumatic process.  Good Luck (though you will need more than that!).

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U.S. Embassies Violate Asylum Seeker Confidentiality

by Jason Dzubow

Two recent incidents involving my asylum seeker clients have revealed what might be a disturbing trend at the overseas U.S. consulates: A near complete disregard for asylum seeker confidentiality.

Both incidents involved family members of asylum seekers who had applied for visas to enter the United States. One incident occurred in Europe; the other in the Middle East. In each case, family members of asylum applicants applied for non-immigrant visas to the United States. The asylum cases were pending at the time the family members went for their interviews. In each case, the consular officer denied the visa and told the family member that the reason for the denial was because their relative had filed for asylum in the U.S., and that they (the family members) were thus intending immigrants, ineligible for non-immigrant visas.

Some people just can't keep a secret.
Some people just can’t keep a secret.

Asylum cases are supposed to be confidential. Confidentiality is important because some foreign governments will punish people who have “defamed” them by seeking asylum abroad. Indeed, when the U.S. government has violated an asylum seeker’s confidentiality, it may create a new basis for an asylum claim. The most well-known example is President Obama’s aunt, who received asylum after her case was leaked to the press.

I have successfully made such claims on behalf of clients whose confidentiality was violated by U.S. Embassies during overseas investigations. The most egregious case involved the U.S. Embassy in Cameroon (this was some years ago).  The Embassy submitted a letter, stating that they had inquired only whether a certain police officer worked at a certain police station (the officer had signed a warrant against my client). The Embassy letter emphasized that confidentiality had been maintained. In the response letter from the police in Cameroon, it was clear that the U.S. Embassy had revealed much more information about my client–the letter referenced the case number against the client and the date of his arrest. If the Embassy had revealed only what they claimed to have revealed about my client, there is no way that the Cameroonian police would have had this additional information. By revealing identifying information to the police, the U.S. Embassy put my client at additional risk.

The more recent cases from Europe and the Middle East are perhaps less egregious because the information was revealed to family members and not to the home government. Nevertheless, it is a problem. Many people–including many of my clients–have claimed asylum based on persecution by family members. This is true in cases involving domestic violence, forced marriage, and (sometimes) persecution based on sexual orientation, for example. Thus, revealing an asylum application, even to family members, potentially endangers the applicant.

In addition, of course, it is a violation of the law, which requires confidentiality. See 8 C.F.R. §§ 208.6(c) & 1208.6(c). Indeed, government officials who violate this provision can be fired. See Lewis v. Dep’t of Justice, 34 Fed. Appx. 774 (Fed.Cir.2002) (unpublished opinion) (affirming decision of Merit Systems Protection Board concluding that breach of section 208.6 was a firing offense irrespective of whether that breach was harmless).  

So what will become of my clients and their family members? And what about the consular officers who violated my clients’ confidentiality?

I don’t see how the rejection of the family members could affect my clients’ asylum cases. Of course, they will remain separated from their families, which is a severe hardship, but it should not impact their chances to receive asylum (in fact, one of the clients did recently receive asylum). As for the family members, instead of coming here immediately, they will now wait for a “follow to join” petition and they will have to come here as asylees. This may not be what they want, but there is no other option.

As for the consular officers, it is unlikely that my clients will make complaints against them. We do not even know their names (though I suppose we could find out) and it would be the family members’ words against the consular officers, so I doubt anything would come of it.

I do hope that the State Department will be more careful about revealing confidential information in the future. There really was no reason to tell the family members about my clients’ asylum applications. The consular officers could simply have denied the visas without an explanation (as they often do anyway).

Confidentiality of asylum claims is important to the asylum seekers and to the integrity of the asylum system. I hope that consular officers will take their responsibility in this regard more seriously.

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