10

Finding Welcome off the Refugee Highway

SHELLEY CAMPAGNOLA

Hardly a day goes by when there isn’t something in the news about migrants, refugees, and asylum seekers in numerous countries around the world—stories about borders opening and borders closing; deportations and offshore rescues; families that have been separated and children that have been detained; or governments rising and falling on promises to keep people out or let people in. Fear and accusations give rise to anti-”other” public marches that are countered by marches demanding justice and humane treatment for the vulnerable. Historically, of course, the world has witnessed other waves of mass migration, but never anything on this scale.

For some, migration is voluntary, and we call it immigration. For others, it is forced, and we call it displacement. When persons who have been forcibly displaced come to Canada, they do so either as refugees who have already been granted permission to resettle here, or as asylum seekers—that is, those still seeking safety and who will subsequently claim refugee status.

COMING TO CONSCIOUSNESS

Like most people born and raised in Canada, my early understanding of refugee migration was limited to what I had learned in high school history and geography classes or had heard through the news. In other words, I really didn’t know that much, and the events I did know about were far removed from me in distance and time. I had heard the term “refugee,” but I didn’t comprehend it. I was just happy that my country, Canada, was letting some stay (Vietnamese), and wondered why we were rejecting others (Tamils). It wasn’t until 2004, when I began travelling for various work assignments, that I began to learn more about the complexities of refugee migration. The more I travelled for work in subsequent roles, the more I realized that what I had assumed was far removed from my own experience did in fact affect me personally and was in fact not far removed at all from the Canadian narrative.

One such trip took me to Arusha, Tanzania, to meet with a colleague who was working with orphaned children and single mothers in that city. We were both part of an international network of workers who were training workers and educators and advocating for the rights and needs of children at risk. As part of my orientation to his work, he took me to the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, located since 1995 in Arusha. We stood outside the building and talked about the challenges of gaining justice in the face of overwhelming oppression.

As I stood there thinking about the role of this court in the wake of the Rwandan genocide, I became aware of the movement of people along the street. There were hundreds going in different directions—a seemingly endless line of humanity as far as my eye could see. I asked my colleague where they were going. “Nowhere,” he said. “There is nowhere for them to go. They are just moving so that they aren’t standing still.” They were wanderers, with no destination before them, and no compelling force behind them to press them onward.

On another day in Arusha, we took time to visit a museum that documented the slave trade. I was shown the shackles that were used to restrain people and the posts where they were whipped to determine their value. My colleague spoke in detail, taking me, step by step, through the process of the selling of human beings as slaves. His stories troubled me deeply and I realized I had come as close as I had ever been, or ever hoped to be, to the slave trade. While the slave trade in Arusha had long since ended officially, I was aware then, and I am reminded today, that human trafficking and the slave trade remain rampant throughout the world. Researchers estimate that, as of 2016, more than 40 million people lived in conditions of modern slavery.¹ Refugees are some of those most vulnerable to exploitation, as they enter regions unfamiliar to them in their pursuit of safety.

My thoughts also turn to a Heritage Minutes video that celebrated Canada’s role in the Underground Railroad.² This was a network of people from the 1830s to the 1860s who helped upwards of forty thousand people fleeing slavery find safety in Canada through five key entry points: Lakeshore, Dresden, Windsor, and Chatham, all in Ontario, and Birchtown, in Nova Scotia. I wonder if some of them had begun their lives in Arusha.

Since then, I have been to other countries in Africa, South America, Central America, and Europe and Eastern Europe, and, of course, I have made many visits to the United States. Except for the last, none of these visits have been for vacations; they have all been related to my work throughout the years. My travels and my involvement in matters related to refugee migration have exposed me to human suffering, and have affected me deeply. I have sat amid skeletal remains, bullet holes, and blood stains. I have hugged and talked with women who have been raped as a weapon of war, infected with AIDS, and left impoverished and abandoned by family and community. I have played soccer with young girls rescued from the sex trade and I have had lunch with teens who bear the brunt of oppression, religious persecution, and stolen inheritances. I have listened to people sing and have wondered how they could do so when they live surrounded by corruption, with threats against their lives, and restraints on their movements by economic, social, and political systems well beyond their control. I have watched helplessly as people have been reduced to primal fear by false accusations and threats of detention. I have wept at the end of long dark days, realizing that for many, life this way is normal—they have never known it to be any other way.

In 2007, I came across a saying that was attributed to an Aboriginal rights group in Australia: “If you have come to help me you can go home again. But, if you see my struggles as a part of your own survival, then perhaps we can work together.” It is a quotation I come back to often when, as executive director of the Mennonite Coalition for Refugee Support (MCRS), I now sit on what some might call the “receiving end” of refugee migration. The MCRS (soon to be renamed the Compass Refugee Centre) is an organization that seeks to assist, accompany, and advocate for people who have made it to Canada to seek asylum for themselves and their families.

WELCOME TO CANADA?

A now famous tweet by Prime Minister Trudeau in late January 2017 was a catalyst for putting the asylum process in Canada on the stand for public cross-examination: “To those fleeing persecution, terror & war, Canadians will welcome you, regardless of your faith. Diversity is our strength #WelcomeToCanada.” Trudeau’s tweet was in sharp contrast to a recent policy shift in the United States that would see people from certain Muslim countries excluded from the asylum process there. The subsequent influx of people crossing into Canada from the US seemed to be directly related to that tweet. But to suggest that such a statement of welcome in the face of the unwelcoming approach to the south was the sole reason why people came to Canada is to fail to consider the historical trends, global realities, policies, public perception, and political navigation of a world that produces refugees.

Among the formal and informal policies that have affected the welcome, or lack thereof, for refugee claimants is the Safe Third Country Agreement (STCA) between Canada and the United States, which came into effect in 2004. A “safe third country” is defined as a country where an individual, on passing through that country, could have made a claim for refugee protection. The purpose of the agreement was to enable both governments to better manage access to their own refugee system in response to people crossing the shared border at land points. It applies only to refugee claimants, and it worked well for Canada at first, reducing the number of people coming through the United States and seeking refugee status in Canada.

When the policies and attitudes toward refugees and immigrants in the United States changed in 2017, it also brought into question how safe the United States was for refugees. Reports of undocumented people being detained and deported at shockwave speed spurred a negative ripple effect far beyond the shared border with Canada. People who might have tried to claim refugee status in the United States now wanted to steer clear of that country and come straight to Canada. Even those already in the process of claiming refugee status in the United States heard, and experienced, a clear message that they were not welcome, and began making their way north.

Because the agreement between the two countries is applied only at official border checkpoints, increasing numbers of people crossed, and, at the time of writing, continue to cross, the border between such points. Yes, this is an illegal act, but it is a way to counter what has been deemed an untenable policy that leaves those seeking refuge with no opportunity for a fair hearing. Justice Michael Phelan recognized as much in his November 2007 Federal Court decision that followed a legal challenge brought by several organizations, including the Canadian Council for Refugees. In his decision he wrote, “Several aspects of U.S. law put genuine refugees at risk of refoulement to persecution and/or refoulement to torture,” and then he went on to argue:

It is therefore quite clear that the life, liberty and security of refugees is put at risk when Canada returns them to the U.S. under the STCA if the U.S. is not in compliance with CAT [the Convention Against Torture] and the Refugee Convention. The law in the U.S. with respect to gender claims and the material support bar, along with the other issues found to be contrary to the Convention, make it “entirely foreseeable” that genuine claimants would be refouled. The situation is potentially even more egregious in respect of refoulement to torture. A refugee, by his/her very nature, is fleeing a threat to his/her life, liberty or security, and a risk of return to such conditions would surely engage section 7 [of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms]. There is sufficient causal connection between Canada and the deprivation of those rights by virtue of Canada’s participation in the STCA.³

He further wrote that “there is evidence that people from countries which are powerless to stop torture or from countries where terrorist organizations routinely extort money will be disproportionately affected. It will be especially hard for these individuals to prove genuine refugee claims in the U.S. This is a burden which other claimants entering at the land border do not bear.”⁴

Although the Federal Court of Appeal subsequently overturned the decision, it did so on technical grounds—that is, it did not rule that the United States is a country safe for all refugees. A new challenge to the Safe Third Country Agreement was brought in July 2017, and in July 2020 the STCA was again struck down. Federal Court Justice Ann Marie McDonald found that the agreement violates the constitutional guarantee of life, liberty and security. As she wrote,

Failed claimants are detained without regard to their circumstances, moral blameworthiness, or their actions. They are detained often without a release on bond and without a meaningful process for review of their detention. While responsibility sharing may be a worthwhile goal, this goal must be balanced against the impact it has on the lives of those who attempt to make refugee claims in Canada and are returned to the US in the name of “administrative efficiency” (Bedford at para 121). In my view, imprisonment cannot be justified for the sake of, and in the name of, administrative efficiency.⁵

At the time of this writing, that decision is being appealed by the Government of Canada.

Caught in the middle of all these legal challenges are the refugee claimants themselves, who risk deportation to the very danger they have fled if they cross at a border point and risk their well-being, even life, if they cross between border points. People who make it across the border must complete an initial application (in either English or French) and be interviewed by an officer of the Canada Border Services Agency (CBSA), who will decide whether they are eligible to remain in Canada to make a refugee claim. If so, they are handed what is currently called a “Confirmation of Referral” letter, an application package that includes a “Basis of Claim” form that must be submitted to the Immigration and Refugee Board (IRB) within fifteen days, and a list of organizations that might be able to help them. They are then sent off to find their own way. In 2017, a year after I joined the MCRS, 559 people found their way to the organization. Add to these people those who had come before them and those who have come since. That brings the number of people we are presently helping through the refugee claim process up to over 1,600 men, women, and children.

I am often asked about the financial situation of the asylum seekers and the money they used to get to Canada. Behind the question is the perception that refugees shouldn’t be able to travel all the way to Canada and then claim they have nothing so that they can be dependent on social assistance. The question is magnified by media stories of people with nice suitcases, clean clothes and white teeth crossing the border, leaving cellphones dumped on the other side. It is disheartening to read what people write about these things on social media platforms. The images we have at MCRS are of real people who have experienced or seen many things. When we meet them, they sit across from us holding desperately onto the last shreds of personal dignity, hoping we believe them and that we can help them prepare to tell their story to the one person at the IRB who will decide if they can stay in Canada.

These people have names and hopes and dreams. They had full lives and were raising their families and caring for loved ones and celebrating the milestones in life we all celebrate. Some are former government officials who spoke out against rampant corruption. Some are human rights activists who lobbied against abuse and exploitation. Some are journalists who were imprisoned and tortured for daring to write the truth. Some are families who dared to pray that God would bring about change so that their children would be safe in their communities and not be dragged off to child labour or to be a child soldier. Some are businesspeople who said no to extortion in countries overrun by gangs. Some are women who have escaped human trafficking. Some are fathers whose families were killed because of their refusal to engage in drug smuggling. Some are couples whose children were kidnapped as a warning to stay silent about the crimes they witnessed. Some are mothers who are trying to keep their daughters from being mutilated. Some are brothers who bravely agreed to testify against organized crime. Some are children whose parents were murdered for trying to do the right thing. Some are sons and daughters whose pictures are in the local newspaper so that they can be hunted down and killed for their sexual orientation. We have even worked with people who have been tracked around the world by the people who were targeting them.

When refugees arrive, many of them only have the clothes on their back and a few small personal items, including pictures of family members they had to leave behind. When they fled their countries of origin, they could only afford to get one person out of danger. They hope, now they are here, that they can work on getting their families to safety as well. Little do they know that many of them will not be reunited for years. The wait will be long enough that their families will start to believe they are not wanted. In the worst situations, their families will not survive. Families of refugees have been found in their places of hiding and killed or have died trying to cross dangerous terrain, hoping to speed up their own safety or family reunification.

Refugees need shelter, they need food to eat, they need warm clothes, and they need a good long sleep. Except that many of them can’t sleep, at least not all that well. They have been through much, they are desperately missing their families, and they don’t have assurance that they won’t be sent back. The food is different, the temperature is cold, and very few of the people around them, if any, speak their language. They don’t like being on social assistance. For most of them, there was no such thing in their home country, but here they have no choice until they are granted a work permit and can find employment. It’s even harder when they begin to understand that they are perceived by so many to be “tax-takers” and “frauds” for having received the help offered. It is even harder still when the money refugees do receive isn’t enough to pay the bills, which means they must go to food and clothing banks to make ends meet.⁶

They also need help filling out the numerous forms that they are required to submit, which are daunting even for someone already fluent in English or French. I wonder how many of us could do this without help or supporting documents in front of us, even if we hadn’t also gone through the traumatic experiences and upheaval claimants go through. They must also answer the all-important question—the basis of their claim—in which they have to provide details of the harm they experienced, including dates, times, other people involved, and reasons why they think it happened. Each family member’s claim is considered separately. If parents have children under six, they must explain why those children should not be returned to their country separate from any harm that could come to them as a parent. We have seen children be accepted but not their parents, and vice versa. We have seen only one parent and some or none of the children accepted. We have seen grandparents who are dependent on their children deported.

They have fifteen days to get their refugee claim in. That includes weekends but not statutory holidays. That gives us fifteen days (if they get to us on the first day) to help them get the documents completed and translated, acquire legal aid and a lawyer, and then get it all submitted. What ends up on those documents will determine the rest of their lives. The Canadian public demanded quick processing, and that’s what the government gave them. The fact that, after that, hearings are often delayed because of a lack of government resources is another matter. As of January 2020, the IRB was estimating that refugee claimants would wait an average of 22 months for a hearing.⁷ In the meantime, they must gather the evidence that supports their claim. Police reports, eyewitness statements, newspaper clippings (all of which must be translated), pictures of scars on their body showing the torture or other harm they experienced, and any other official reports that could corroborate their story must be pulled together and submitted to the IRB no later than ten days before the date of their hearing.

If they came from one of the top five countries we see represented in our office (Colombia, Turkey, Eritrea, Iran, and Venezuela), getting that information is not easy. The closest country is almost 6,392 kilometres away, and the furthest is almost 12,000 kilometres away. Most of us do not carry around the kind of information that is needed for the application, and if you have bullets whizzing past your head, you aren’t thinking about grabbing evidence. A year, two years, or ten years down the road, refugee claimants in Canada will have their final answer. If they are lucky, they will go to the airport and welcome family members who are at long last able to join them in their new, safe home. If they are not, they will have been deported back to the dangers they fled.

While we are not able to track everyone who is deported, we have been able to track enough of them to know that some do not live much longer after arriving back in their home country. Some are murdered—their fears, which were not believed in Canada, now fulfilled. Others go into hiding or try to flee to yet another country. Still others manage to survive, but often in unimaginably cruel situations. Sometimes deportation divides families, depriving children of their father or mother simply because the two were originally from different countries. Rules are rules, and each parent is sent back to his or her country of citizenship, even if legally married, no matter the senselessness of the decision.

OUTCOMES

What has been highlighted in this chapter are personal observations, and some of the key policies and public perceptions that affect refugee claimants. The world is in upheaval. People are on the move. Some of those people—refugee claimants—have a personal target on their back. They travel thousands of kilometres through all kinds of peril, many of them separated from their families and everything they have known. They go from country to country trying to be heard and trying to find refuge. Instead, they find closed borders, anti-refugee sentiment, and too often, laws and policies meant to deter people from coming rather than being intended to welcome them, listen to them, and provide them the protection they need.

The asylum system itself is a complex one that mixes politics, policies of scrutiny and suspicion, public perceptions, and opinionated rhetoric with the personal pain of real people. It tries to bring justice while not upsetting local budgets, international relationships, economic trading partners, and voters who too often are ill-informed and easily inflamed by incomplete media reporting.

It is also a system that is built to make fast decisions but was not given the “gas”—the people resources—to do so. Thus it leaves people waiting years to hear if they are safe at last and can bring their families to be with them. And it leaves the public thinking the system doesn’t work.

At MCRS, we have helped thousands of people since we first began in 1987. Without help from organizations like ours, we estimate that more than half of those people would have been sent back to the very things they were seeking protection from. They wouldn’t have understood the process or the documents well enough to be successful. They wouldn’t have kept up with the ever-changing policies or have met the tight deadlines. They wouldn’t have had help settling in the community and rebuilding their lives with new sights, sounds, tastes, weather, and so much more. They wouldn’t have had someone advocating for them when they were being misrepresented in the public domain. They wouldn’t have had someone lobbying for changes to policies that jeopardized their well-being. They wouldn’t have had someone crying with them when they learned a family member (or two or three) died while waiting to come.

Given the state of the world, we can be certain that refugee claimants will keep coming until a day arrives when our country closes its borders too. Given how perceptions can change from one season to the next, we will either welcome people openly or we will make it difficult, hoping to deter others. May there be enough of us who believe that the human story should be heard, and that people’s dignity should be protected and restored when others have taken it away. May there be enough of us to ensure that the opportunity to be safe at last may be realized by those who have no place else to go.

1 “Forced Labor, Modern Slavery, and Human Trafficking,” International Labour Organization, http://www.ilo.org/global/topics/forced-labour/lang--en/index.htm.

2 “Underground Railroad,” 1991, Historica Canada, https://www.historicacanada.ca/content/heritage-minutes/underground-railroad.

3 Canadian Council for Refugees v. R., 2007 FC 1262, https://www.canlii.org/en/ca/fct/doc/2007/2007fc1262/2007fc1262.html, at paras. 283 and 285.

4 Ibid., at para. 324.

5 Canadian Council for Refugees v. Canada (Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship), 2020 FC 770, https://www.canlii.org/en/ca/fct/doc/2020/2020fc770/2020fc770.html, at para. 135.

6 At the time of writing, a single person with no children in Ontario is given $733 per month; a couple with two children under eighteen will receive $1,250 a month (“Ontario Works Rate Chart, October 1, 2018,” https://www.toronto.ca/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/99bb-ontario-works-rate-chart-oct2017-tess.pdf). This is supposed to cover basic needs and shelter. Even in Ontario’s smaller cities, it is all but impossible to rent a one-bedroom unit for under $1,000. In downtown Toronto, at the time of writing, the average monthly rent for a one-bedroom apartment is now well over $2,000.

7 “Making a Claim for Refugee Protection? Here’s What You Should Know,” Immigration and Refugee Board of Canada, last modified January 22, 2020, https://irb-cisr.gc.ca/en/information-sheets/Pages/refugee-protection.aspx.