BY SARAH STEPHEN
The Australian government speaks proudly of this countrys history of resettling large numbers of refugees (numbering 600,000 since World War II), keen to present an image of Australia as a country that opens its arms to those who have suffered persecution.
Yet since the end of 1999, an increasing number of refugees have been punished simply because of the way they arrived in Australia.
Unlike the thousands of Vietnamese asylum seekers before them, asylum seekers who have fled to Australia by boat from Afghanistan, Iran and Iraq have paid a terrible price for their desperation.
Since the passing of the Border Protection Act in November 1999, the Australian government has used thousands of Afghan and Iraqi refugees as an example of what happens to those who don't wait patiently, supposedly to deter others from making the same journey.
There are now some 8500 people now living in Australia who have been issued with a three-year temporary protection visa (TPV). Despite being accepted by the government as "genuine refugees", they are denied many of the most basic rights extended to those refugees who waited to be resettled from Ruddock's mythical queue, or who arrived in Australia with valid visas.
TPV refugees can work and have access to Medicare, but they are denied the right to bring their families to Australia, denied the right to free English language classes, denied job-search assistance, public housing and access to tertiary education unless they can pay full fees.
They are ineligible for assistance from government-funded migrant resource centres and they are denied a whole range of services essential to make a transition to a new country which is linguistically and culturally alien to them, and to recover from the trauma they fled.
What's more, TPV-holders are forced to live in complete limbo for three years, unable to plan for the future while they await the outcome of a review of their cases at the end of three years.
The first study of TPV-holders was conducted by Multicultural Affairs Queensland in February 2001. The study found that the policy is causing severe disadvantage to the affected refugees as well as placing enormous strain on community services. It confirmed the considerable cost-shifting from the commonwealth to the states and community-based organisations.
The federal government has pressured state governments not to assist TPV refugees, but the Queensland government decided in November 2000 to ensure that TPV-holders received the same state government services as other refugees, including access to public housing, English language classes and free schooling for children.
The second study on TPV-holders was conducted in Victoria, and released in July. It was conducted jointly by Melek Bagdas from the Victorian Arabic Social Services and Fethi Mansouri from the Centre for Citizenship and Human Rights at Deakin University.
The aim of the study was to gather empirical data, principally the views and stories of TPV refugees in Victoria, and provide an overview of the core problems they faced, their transition into the community, and their immediate cultural and social needs.
The comments from TPV refugees throughout the study are a harrowing confirmation of the extent to which their suffering continues beyond the experience of detention including extremely high levels of anxiety and depression as a result of feeling guilty about not being able to help family members combined with the experience of being in a foreign land on their own.
Fifteen TPV-holders were interviewed for the study: 11 Iraqis, three Afghans and one Syrian. Asked about their expectations on arriving in Australia, the study noted that "14 of the 15 believed Australia was a democratic country that respected human rights, encouraged freedom of speech and was compassionate on humanitarian issues. They suggested this was the image Australia portrays to other countries and had received such information through advertising, literature or word of mouth. They had very high expectations and were disappointed and shocked by their experiences."
One woman from Iraq, who thought she would not survive the long and perilous journey to Australia, recalls her feelings upon arrival: "When I saw the Australian flag dancing on the Australian boat, I felt a sense of relief and calm [because this was] a symbol of freedom, symbol of safety, symbol of peace."
The report continued: "All participants expressed shock at the length of time they were detained, the ill treatment they received, and the negative media coverage of their plight. One Iraqi respondent said: 'I was very angry about the stories that were generated about us by the media because they were introducing us to Australian society as criminals, murderers and terrorists. This is not true. We are just people trying to save our lives.'"
Describing the refugees' first experiences of life after detention, the study explains: "All participants enjoyed the new freedom of moving around their new neighbourhoods, but said they felt imprisoned psychologically because they lacked control over their lives and their futures."
The report pointed out that basic information such as how and where to buy food, how to use public transport and how to pay bills was not provided. Two participants became lost when shopping for food.
An Iraqi woman explained: "If you are a TPV nobody wants to give you housing, nobody wants to give you a job. We're discriminated by everyone because we are TPV. TPV means my plight and circumstances is not recognised, it means I have no control over my life and my future, it means I cannot plan and I don't know what is going to happen to me."
The study found an "overwhelming feeling of powerlessness and worthlessness reported by all participants... One woman described it as 'suffocating and emotionally imprisoning', while an Iraqi man simply said, 'I still feel stateless and I still don't belong'...
"Family reunion and travel restrictions further imprison and marginalise TPV-holders who believe that they should be treated like [all] other refugees... When the TPV-holders were asked about their plans for the remainder of the time they held TPV status, many responded with a blank look, which quickly turned sad. All participants answered with a variation of: 'How can we make plans when we don't know what is going to happen to us? We don't have control over our future, the Australian government has. We cannot plan until the government decides'... The participants feel their lives have been frozen for three years."
Addressing the health needs of TPV refugees, the study points out that the traumatic experiences of detention are not immediately addressed upon release: "All participants' Medicare cards were slow in coming some up to two months which prevented them from seeking medical attention as evidence[d] by the following statement: 'I just wanted to recover from my mental and physical problems which crippled my life after being tortured. I hoped that I would be treated. Once again I was terribly disappointed, as I could not access any of the services I required for five months. The general practitioners would not see me because I did not receive my Medicare card for two-and-a-half months. It took the same amount of time to get a referral to see the appropriate specialist'."
Few were able to find stability. Nine of the 15 participants were still living in short-term accommodation six to 12 months after their release, sustaining "feelings of insecurity, anxiety and helplessness".
Lack of English language tuition only increased feelings of social isolation, and the study points out that this is a key factor that keeps TPV-holders dependent on others for basic needs. None of the 15 participants received language classes.
The restriction of services by the federal government has put an enormous strain on community-based services, which traditionally rely on volunteers. According to the study, the Victorian government has made some funds available for TPV-holders to support basic welfare services not covered by federal funding. In 2001 the Victorian government estimated this federal shortfall would be around $5 million for the 500 TPV refugees currently in the state.
Interviewing seven service providers in Melbourne, the study found that six of them received no additional funding or resources from the state government to meet the increased demand on their services. Workers in some agencies were working longer hours, and most agencies were trying to attract more volunteers.
The study points out that the "recent legislative disincentives are based on a premise which is fundamentally flawed. [The TPV] and restrictions on settlement services will not stop genuine refugees from seeking whatever means available to them to escape oppressive regimes."
One Iraqi man believed the visa was invented to punish them, because of the way they arrived: "The Australian government should not judge us before determining our situation. We feel that we have suffered enough. I don't want to run any more and I don't want to be punished any more."
An Iraqi woman expressed a similar view: "The Australian government is trying to stop people coming to Australia by boat. They don't understand, nobody wants to leave a happy, safe home, we don't come because of choice. We leave our country and our homes because we can die if we stay. The government is making the situation worse because people are now coming with their families, not on their own, and the families who are left behind are also coming because they know that there cannot be family reunion under TPV. I feel discriminated, judged and totally powerless."
To obtain a copy of the study, Politics of Social Exclusion: Refugees on Temporary Protection Visas in Victoria, phone the Centre for Citizenship and Human Rights on (03) 5227 2113, email <cchr@deakin.edu.au> or visit <http://arts.deakin.edu.au/cchr>.
From Green Left Weekly, September 25, 2002.
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