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By definition, they're the people nobody wants. Conflict, disaster,
persecution and other crises uprooted about 43 million people from their
homes last year. Many millions were displaced by conflicts directly
linked to U.S. foreign policy in Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan. But
despite its historical promise of refuge to the world's huddled masses,
America keeps its humanitarian floodgates tightly guarded.
By definition, they're the people nobody wants. Conflict, disaster,
persecution and other crises uprooted about 43 million people from their
homes last year. Many millions were displaced by conflicts directly
linked to U.S. foreign policy in Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan. But
despite its historical promise of refuge to the world's huddled masses,
America keeps its humanitarian floodgates tightly guarded.
Recently, the Obama administration proposed an annual cap
of 80,000 on refugees entering the U.S.--a generous number by
international standards but a tiny fraction of the unrelenting wave of
displacement.
The annual cap will include around 17,000 Iraqis (though the actual
number admitted may differ from the annual target). The figure is a
modest acknowledgment of America's moral debt to that country. It
also may reflect geopolitical posturing at least as much as it responds
to humanitarian needs--not surprisingly, the U.S. absorbs far more refugees from
Iraq, Burma, Iran and Cuba than from the rest of the world combined.
Regardless, opening our doors to 17,000 Iraqi refugees is not nearly
enough, when measured against Washington's responsibility in driving
them from their homes.
Betsy Cooper of the U.S.-based Iraq Refugee Assistance Project, argues that from a historical standpoint:
We could do better--and have. The United States annually
resettled at least 35,000 refugees fleeing the Vietnam War for over a
decade. After the Cold War, we welcomed over 60,000 Soviet refugees in a
single year. We have played no less of a role in causing the refugee
crisis in Iraq, yet our commitment to resettling refugees seemingly has
waned.
What hasn't waned is Iraq's underlying instability, despite the
formal end of U.S. combat operations and Washington's eagerness to turn
away from Baghdad toward Afghanistan and Pakistan. According to the
Washington Post, recent polls suggest that a majority of Iraqis who have returned to their country after fleeing now long for escape again:
Of those who expressed regret, some 60 percent cited
security concerns such as bombings, harassment, military operations and
kidnappings. ... 34 percent of those polled would consider leaving Iraq
again unless conditions improve.
Refugees International reports
that some Iraqi refugees who resettled in Jordan and Syria are so
impoverished that they seek work back to Iraq, where they may "end up
living as squatters in slum areas; many women turn to night clubs and
prostitution; some children drop out of school to work; and others turn
to smugglers to help them find work opportunities abroad."
Those foreboding signs haven't stopped the governments of the United Kingdom, Sweden, Norway, and the Netherlands from forcibly repatriating resettled Iraqis.
The UN has raised concerns that Iraqis have been quietly shipped back on "special charter flights," possibly in violation of U.N. regulations, according to IRIN:
No country told the UN [High Commissioner for Refugees] how
many of the passengers being put on board the plane were going home
voluntarily, and how many were being deported against their will, but
reports from Baghdad say police had to be called to escort some of them
off the plane.
Calling for an overhaul of the system, human rights activists point
out that many are shut out due to arbitrary restrictions, like a
one-year filing deadline for asylum applications. Human Right First has criticized the administration for applying so-called "terrorism bars" so broadly that under the rubric of national security, even victims of militia groups are branded "supporters" of terrorists.
Meanwhile, Europe's reputation as a beacon of humanitarianism clashes with the continent's rising ride of xenophobia.
Officials have pushed back against resettling "non-European"
humanitarian migrants--i.e., mainly poorer, darker people from across the
Mediterranean. In recent weeks, Iranian asylum seekers in Greece, who have claimed they will face persecution or death if returned to Iran, sewed their lips shut to protest their legal limbo as their cases stall in the immigration bureaucracy.
Canada and New Zealand, too, have tightened their refugee and asylum policies, reflecting fears of "boat people" fleeing from crisis zones like Burma.
The Global South isn't in such a privileged position to pick and choose among the desperate survivors clamoring for a temporary safe haven.
Typically, refugees in some of the most embattled regions are shuttled from one "fragile state" to another. Around 1.7 million Afghans have fled to neighboring Pakistan,
only to face more militia violence and air strikes from the United
States (which took in just 349* Afghan refugees last year)--and now add
to that the devastation of catastrophic floods.
But even in a supposedly wealthy beacon of democracy like the United
States, survivors are subject to all kinds of suffering. Asylum seekers,
who apply for humanitarian protection after landing in their host
country (as opposed to refugees who apply from abroad) may be detained
arbitrarily, locked into a legal gauntlet that could drag on for months
or years.
Amnesty International's investigation of the U.S. immigrant detention system reveals:
According to a 2003 study, individuals who were eventually
granted asylum spent an average of 10 months in detention with the
longest reported period being 3.5 years... Individuals who have been
ordered deported may languish in detention indefinitely if their home
country is unwilling to accept their return or does not have diplomatic
relations with the United States.
In conflict zones, monstrous violence has spawned a transient, deeply
traumatized population: children out of school, parents separated,
workers unable to provide for their families. When wealthier countries
arbitrarily deny refuge to displaced migrants from zones of disaster and
conflict, the divide between the industrialized north and global south
grows wider still, and temporary displacement shades into long-term
devastation of whole communities.
Bringing 80,000 people into the U.S. on humanitarian grounds helps
ease some of that suffering, but countries like Iraq and Afghanistan
need more than a slot in a resettlement queue. The U.S. and Europe need
to restructure policies
to account for social and economic inequality on a global scale, while
ensuring that individual refugees have access to critical services,
legal help, and a process for family reunification. Ultimately, refugee
protection must be coupled with assistance to migrants' home countries
so that as many as possible eventually have the right to return.
America isn't solely responsible for the global refugee crisis, but
as long as U.S. policies keep churning up waves of destruction and
displacement, Washington can't justify shutting out so many of those who
wash up on our shores.
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By definition, they're the people nobody wants. Conflict, disaster,
persecution and other crises uprooted about 43 million people from their
homes last year. Many millions were displaced by conflicts directly
linked to U.S. foreign policy in Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan. But
despite its historical promise of refuge to the world's huddled masses,
America keeps its humanitarian floodgates tightly guarded.
Recently, the Obama administration proposed an annual cap
of 80,000 on refugees entering the U.S.--a generous number by
international standards but a tiny fraction of the unrelenting wave of
displacement.
The annual cap will include around 17,000 Iraqis (though the actual
number admitted may differ from the annual target). The figure is a
modest acknowledgment of America's moral debt to that country. It
also may reflect geopolitical posturing at least as much as it responds
to humanitarian needs--not surprisingly, the U.S. absorbs far more refugees from
Iraq, Burma, Iran and Cuba than from the rest of the world combined.
Regardless, opening our doors to 17,000 Iraqi refugees is not nearly
enough, when measured against Washington's responsibility in driving
them from their homes.
Betsy Cooper of the U.S.-based Iraq Refugee Assistance Project, argues that from a historical standpoint:
We could do better--and have. The United States annually
resettled at least 35,000 refugees fleeing the Vietnam War for over a
decade. After the Cold War, we welcomed over 60,000 Soviet refugees in a
single year. We have played no less of a role in causing the refugee
crisis in Iraq, yet our commitment to resettling refugees seemingly has
waned.
What hasn't waned is Iraq's underlying instability, despite the
formal end of U.S. combat operations and Washington's eagerness to turn
away from Baghdad toward Afghanistan and Pakistan. According to the
Washington Post, recent polls suggest that a majority of Iraqis who have returned to their country after fleeing now long for escape again:
Of those who expressed regret, some 60 percent cited
security concerns such as bombings, harassment, military operations and
kidnappings. ... 34 percent of those polled would consider leaving Iraq
again unless conditions improve.
Refugees International reports
that some Iraqi refugees who resettled in Jordan and Syria are so
impoverished that they seek work back to Iraq, where they may "end up
living as squatters in slum areas; many women turn to night clubs and
prostitution; some children drop out of school to work; and others turn
to smugglers to help them find work opportunities abroad."
Those foreboding signs haven't stopped the governments of the United Kingdom, Sweden, Norway, and the Netherlands from forcibly repatriating resettled Iraqis.
The UN has raised concerns that Iraqis have been quietly shipped back on "special charter flights," possibly in violation of U.N. regulations, according to IRIN:
No country told the UN [High Commissioner for Refugees] how
many of the passengers being put on board the plane were going home
voluntarily, and how many were being deported against their will, but
reports from Baghdad say police had to be called to escort some of them
off the plane.
Calling for an overhaul of the system, human rights activists point
out that many are shut out due to arbitrary restrictions, like a
one-year filing deadline for asylum applications. Human Right First has criticized the administration for applying so-called "terrorism bars" so broadly that under the rubric of national security, even victims of militia groups are branded "supporters" of terrorists.
Meanwhile, Europe's reputation as a beacon of humanitarianism clashes with the continent's rising ride of xenophobia.
Officials have pushed back against resettling "non-European"
humanitarian migrants--i.e., mainly poorer, darker people from across the
Mediterranean. In recent weeks, Iranian asylum seekers in Greece, who have claimed they will face persecution or death if returned to Iran, sewed their lips shut to protest their legal limbo as their cases stall in the immigration bureaucracy.
Canada and New Zealand, too, have tightened their refugee and asylum policies, reflecting fears of "boat people" fleeing from crisis zones like Burma.
The Global South isn't in such a privileged position to pick and choose among the desperate survivors clamoring for a temporary safe haven.
Typically, refugees in some of the most embattled regions are shuttled from one "fragile state" to another. Around 1.7 million Afghans have fled to neighboring Pakistan,
only to face more militia violence and air strikes from the United
States (which took in just 349* Afghan refugees last year)--and now add
to that the devastation of catastrophic floods.
But even in a supposedly wealthy beacon of democracy like the United
States, survivors are subject to all kinds of suffering. Asylum seekers,
who apply for humanitarian protection after landing in their host
country (as opposed to refugees who apply from abroad) may be detained
arbitrarily, locked into a legal gauntlet that could drag on for months
or years.
Amnesty International's investigation of the U.S. immigrant detention system reveals:
According to a 2003 study, individuals who were eventually
granted asylum spent an average of 10 months in detention with the
longest reported period being 3.5 years... Individuals who have been
ordered deported may languish in detention indefinitely if their home
country is unwilling to accept their return or does not have diplomatic
relations with the United States.
In conflict zones, monstrous violence has spawned a transient, deeply
traumatized population: children out of school, parents separated,
workers unable to provide for their families. When wealthier countries
arbitrarily deny refuge to displaced migrants from zones of disaster and
conflict, the divide between the industrialized north and global south
grows wider still, and temporary displacement shades into long-term
devastation of whole communities.
Bringing 80,000 people into the U.S. on humanitarian grounds helps
ease some of that suffering, but countries like Iraq and Afghanistan
need more than a slot in a resettlement queue. The U.S. and Europe need
to restructure policies
to account for social and economic inequality on a global scale, while
ensuring that individual refugees have access to critical services,
legal help, and a process for family reunification. Ultimately, refugee
protection must be coupled with assistance to migrants' home countries
so that as many as possible eventually have the right to return.
America isn't solely responsible for the global refugee crisis, but
as long as U.S. policies keep churning up waves of destruction and
displacement, Washington can't justify shutting out so many of those who
wash up on our shores.
By definition, they're the people nobody wants. Conflict, disaster,
persecution and other crises uprooted about 43 million people from their
homes last year. Many millions were displaced by conflicts directly
linked to U.S. foreign policy in Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan. But
despite its historical promise of refuge to the world's huddled masses,
America keeps its humanitarian floodgates tightly guarded.
Recently, the Obama administration proposed an annual cap
of 80,000 on refugees entering the U.S.--a generous number by
international standards but a tiny fraction of the unrelenting wave of
displacement.
The annual cap will include around 17,000 Iraqis (though the actual
number admitted may differ from the annual target). The figure is a
modest acknowledgment of America's moral debt to that country. It
also may reflect geopolitical posturing at least as much as it responds
to humanitarian needs--not surprisingly, the U.S. absorbs far more refugees from
Iraq, Burma, Iran and Cuba than from the rest of the world combined.
Regardless, opening our doors to 17,000 Iraqi refugees is not nearly
enough, when measured against Washington's responsibility in driving
them from their homes.
Betsy Cooper of the U.S.-based Iraq Refugee Assistance Project, argues that from a historical standpoint:
We could do better--and have. The United States annually
resettled at least 35,000 refugees fleeing the Vietnam War for over a
decade. After the Cold War, we welcomed over 60,000 Soviet refugees in a
single year. We have played no less of a role in causing the refugee
crisis in Iraq, yet our commitment to resettling refugees seemingly has
waned.
What hasn't waned is Iraq's underlying instability, despite the
formal end of U.S. combat operations and Washington's eagerness to turn
away from Baghdad toward Afghanistan and Pakistan. According to the
Washington Post, recent polls suggest that a majority of Iraqis who have returned to their country after fleeing now long for escape again:
Of those who expressed regret, some 60 percent cited
security concerns such as bombings, harassment, military operations and
kidnappings. ... 34 percent of those polled would consider leaving Iraq
again unless conditions improve.
Refugees International reports
that some Iraqi refugees who resettled in Jordan and Syria are so
impoverished that they seek work back to Iraq, where they may "end up
living as squatters in slum areas; many women turn to night clubs and
prostitution; some children drop out of school to work; and others turn
to smugglers to help them find work opportunities abroad."
Those foreboding signs haven't stopped the governments of the United Kingdom, Sweden, Norway, and the Netherlands from forcibly repatriating resettled Iraqis.
The UN has raised concerns that Iraqis have been quietly shipped back on "special charter flights," possibly in violation of U.N. regulations, according to IRIN:
No country told the UN [High Commissioner for Refugees] how
many of the passengers being put on board the plane were going home
voluntarily, and how many were being deported against their will, but
reports from Baghdad say police had to be called to escort some of them
off the plane.
Calling for an overhaul of the system, human rights activists point
out that many are shut out due to arbitrary restrictions, like a
one-year filing deadline for asylum applications. Human Right First has criticized the administration for applying so-called "terrorism bars" so broadly that under the rubric of national security, even victims of militia groups are branded "supporters" of terrorists.
Meanwhile, Europe's reputation as a beacon of humanitarianism clashes with the continent's rising ride of xenophobia.
Officials have pushed back against resettling "non-European"
humanitarian migrants--i.e., mainly poorer, darker people from across the
Mediterranean. In recent weeks, Iranian asylum seekers in Greece, who have claimed they will face persecution or death if returned to Iran, sewed their lips shut to protest their legal limbo as their cases stall in the immigration bureaucracy.
Canada and New Zealand, too, have tightened their refugee and asylum policies, reflecting fears of "boat people" fleeing from crisis zones like Burma.
The Global South isn't in such a privileged position to pick and choose among the desperate survivors clamoring for a temporary safe haven.
Typically, refugees in some of the most embattled regions are shuttled from one "fragile state" to another. Around 1.7 million Afghans have fled to neighboring Pakistan,
only to face more militia violence and air strikes from the United
States (which took in just 349* Afghan refugees last year)--and now add
to that the devastation of catastrophic floods.
But even in a supposedly wealthy beacon of democracy like the United
States, survivors are subject to all kinds of suffering. Asylum seekers,
who apply for humanitarian protection after landing in their host
country (as opposed to refugees who apply from abroad) may be detained
arbitrarily, locked into a legal gauntlet that could drag on for months
or years.
Amnesty International's investigation of the U.S. immigrant detention system reveals:
According to a 2003 study, individuals who were eventually
granted asylum spent an average of 10 months in detention with the
longest reported period being 3.5 years... Individuals who have been
ordered deported may languish in detention indefinitely if their home
country is unwilling to accept their return or does not have diplomatic
relations with the United States.
In conflict zones, monstrous violence has spawned a transient, deeply
traumatized population: children out of school, parents separated,
workers unable to provide for their families. When wealthier countries
arbitrarily deny refuge to displaced migrants from zones of disaster and
conflict, the divide between the industrialized north and global south
grows wider still, and temporary displacement shades into long-term
devastation of whole communities.
Bringing 80,000 people into the U.S. on humanitarian grounds helps
ease some of that suffering, but countries like Iraq and Afghanistan
need more than a slot in a resettlement queue. The U.S. and Europe need
to restructure policies
to account for social and economic inequality on a global scale, while
ensuring that individual refugees have access to critical services,
legal help, and a process for family reunification. Ultimately, refugee
protection must be coupled with assistance to migrants' home countries
so that as many as possible eventually have the right to return.
America isn't solely responsible for the global refugee crisis, but
as long as U.S. policies keep churning up waves of destruction and
displacement, Washington can't justify shutting out so many of those who
wash up on our shores.