By Roxana Isaacs
What does it mean to be treated as “less than human”? In a recent study of women in UK immigration detention centres, 85% of those surveyed reported feeling this way, denied recognition as equals at the most basic level. Among the report’s many disturbing and illuminating figures, it was this one that struck me with the most force.
During 16 Days of Activism against gender-based violence, we affirm women’s rights. But we must be clear: this sentiment applies to all women. The current government has pledged to halve the rate of violence against women within the next decade, but this promise rings hollow if female asylum seekers are excluded. The rights of asylum seekers, simply, are human rights, and to neglect this fact is to permit the attitude and treatment that leave so many feeling “less than human”.
Culture of Disbelief
Women who arrive in the UK fleeing violence and abuse are not met with protection, but with suspicion and hostility.
This became clear to me when reading Voke’s story, a former asylum seeker in the UK who had moved from solicitor to solicitor, none of whom had shown any real concern about the life she was fleeing from. Having finally been told she could claim asylum, the Home Office did not believe her, and it was only after eight months in immigration detention that she had the legal support needed to present a successful case. Voke had already experienced disbelief from the police in her native hometown, having told them of the abuse she experienced from her stepfather. Once in the UK, she encountered a system that mirrored that very same culture of distrust and general reluctance to support someone vulnerable. Voke’s experience is one of far too many stories of women denied refuge due to unwarranted and punitive barriers.
Since the 2022 Nationality and Borders Act, strict deadlines have been imposed to present oneself to the government and to provide evidence of one’s treatment, often in what feels like a ‘race against time’. This disproportionately impacts those recovering from trauma. In a Women for Refugee Women report, 78% of women surveyed experienced gender-based violence in their country of origin; these cases are not abnormal by any means. The reality is that women fleeing abuse often suffer from PTSD or depression, which makes recounting traumatic experiences especially difficult, often requiring time to process and recall.
Yet, the consequence of stepping outside these restricted timescales is that such a claim will receive ‘minimal weight’. It seems, therefore, that whilst asylum seekers are to give grounds for refugee status immediately, regardless of their experiences, they could be left in the dark for months, even years. This discrepancy is frustrating and unnecessary, and I believe it takes a permanent toll on women, such as Voke, who had already sought to escape the hands of injustice.
An effective fight against gender-based violence cannot solely focus on preventative measures but must also demand active compassion towards the victims of abuse. This would involve ensuring time to process, to recover, and to be heard. Without a more efficient asylum process, the necessary consideration cannot be granted to individual and complex circumstances. Meaningful reform must then occur at the structural level; only then can female asylum seekers receive the consideration and patience they are entitled to.
Reinforced Trauma and Neglect
Returning to Voke’s story, I would like to draw attention to this eight-month waiting period. Some asylum seekers may even wait years while their claim is being considered. These are not just periods of uncertainty and inconvenience but entail intolerable living conditions. In particular, the conditions are such that they can retraumatise those fleeing gender-based violence.
Those living in asylum hotels during this time are confronted with what has been described as ‘prison-like’ conditions. They present tangible demonstrations of a culture of disbelief, with early curfews and constant and visible surveillance measures.
The hotels can also be the source of new trauma, as female residents have consistently been subjected to humiliating and degrading treatment by staff. I felt deeply affected by former hotel resident Mercy’s testimony. She revealed the harassment she received from the hotel manager, constantly knocking at her door and pressuring her to go out with him. She spoke also of returning to the hotel, having been ill, to find she had been evicted with no notice. Mercy’s story revealed to me not just the kind of abuse that these hotels can perpetrate, but also the complete absence of support and accountability. The harassment was carried out at the highest level of staff; the eviction could have been prevented or at least warned of in advance.
Similarly, immigration detention centers are set up such that intrusion and harassment can proceed with impunity. Many women are forced into intimate situations with male staff. There is no policy in place, for example, to prevent women from being searched by male officers. Appallingly, those who are deemed at risk of suicide, rather than being granted the necessary support or addressing the underlining conditions, they are instead subjected to constant supervision, and often by men.
The Government has already acknowledged the vulnerability of victims of gender-based violence who have been criminalised. Indeed, it has promised to reduce the women’s prison population. But if the problem can be recognised and a solution constructed for UK citizens, the same kind of initiative can and should be launched for women seeking asylum.
The Importance of Human Rights Frameworks
An effective tool for change already exists and is set out in international law. By appealing to the following frameworks, we can boldly affirm the universal and permanent standard that the UK is accountable to.
The 2011 Istanbul Convention calls on governments to provide adequate accommodation to women who have been or are at risk of being abused. It is perhaps the most direct recognition that violence against women is not a private matter, but a crime and a violation of human rights. States must prevent, protect, prosecute, and challenge the inequalities and stereotypes that allow abuse to persist. In essence, we must actively intervene, both in the short-term and long-term, when a woman is vulnerable. It is this practice of compassionate and ethical intervention that is clearly absent from our asylum system.
We can also turn to the European Convention of Human Rights, which under Article 3 prohibits any form of degrading treatment or punishment. Under no circumstances, then, can cultures of harassment in asylum hotels and immigration detention centers – treatment that has permanently affected Mercy and so many – be permitted or turned a blind eye to.
Finally, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) importantly targets the broader, and fundamental, issue of gender inequality. We cannot ignore that women are disproportionately harmed in asylum hotels and immigration detention centers, simply by virtue of being women. Female asylum seekers are constantly at risk of being taken advantage of their boundaries being crossed with impunity. It is therefore crucial, in this effort, to turn to CEDAW: a binding framework affirming women’s equal claim to enjoying and exercising their human rights.
Conclusion
It has long been a part of the Jewish legacy to uphold human rights, and to commit to their fair and consistent application. Hersch Lauterpacht, a Jewish International lawyer and prosecutor at the Nuremberg trials, made this point well: “the claim to equality before the law is in a substantial sense the most fundamental of the rights of man”. In looking to make a difference and combat injustice in some way, we should bear in mind who it is that we are fighting for and who we might be overlooking in the process.
I am relatively new to human rights as a research area. The process of discovering and confronting modern human rights issues has been uncomfortable but eye-opening. Looking into the treatment of female asylum seekers in particular, I have come to recognise two important insights.
I have reconsidered the distinction between ‘doing’ and ‘allowing’. It is natural to see the former as bearing more moral weight. But I believe that passivity and neglect in the face of injustice can sometimes be equally as harmful as the injustice itself. Indeed, it is fundamental to the Jewish system of values not to stand idly by, and to protect the vulnerable when in a position to do so. We must therefore replace this practice of neglect with one of active compassion.
It is also clear to me now that we cannot truly be said to be fighting for a cause if we are not doing so in an inclusive and considerate way. When we exclude a particular group or people, whether out of intention or oversight, we not only allow for continued harm and abuse, but also reflect a dangerous kind of attitude: that this particular group or sect do not stand on an equal footing; they do not have the same claim to basic rights. And it is this which fosters the sense that one is “less than human”.
UK decision-makers already seem to be committed to the general project of combating violence against women and girls. If that is so, then radical amendments to the current asylum system must be part of that strategy going forward. This means undoing the culture of disbelief, addressing the prison-like conditions in asylum hotels and immigration detention centers, and immediately holding the perpetrators of abuse to account. We have a role in urging the Government to uphold this and should feel empowered by that fact.
So, over the next 16 days, as we work to put an end to gender-based violence, let us remind ourselves that no woman must be left behind.
