I know that I am, certainly. At the beginning of my Level 2 (Advanced) course this year I told my students they would have to be prepared to create and maintain a blog as part of the course. I wasn't quite sure what form this would take or what we would use it for specifically but I knew that I wanted the students to start to write in a more natural, more motivated way. I wanted them to write about what they cared about or in a format that suited them rather than trying to shoehorn their writing skills into specified formats that would probably have no further use in the world beyond English classes.
The problem is, with all this insistence on their regular updating of their blogs I have left mine rather unwritten. I give occasional reminders in class or gentle prodding to those who don't make updates, I remind them why it's worthwhile, I tell them how great a reflective tool it is. But I haven't done anything of the sort myself. I have my excuses - this term has included a move to a new building and the various settling-in issues that inevitably arise; I'm having to plan and teach an entirely new course from scratch with no co-teacher; my role has grown substantially within the department and I'm responsible for a lot more than last year. Nevertheless, if I'm expecting my students, with their own busy lives, to update their blog regularly, is it not an expectation I should have of myself too?
It's easy for us to tell students to do their homework, to prepare for their exams, to read books more regularly, to be on time, to be there every day; they're the same things I tell myself I ought to do - and I do try. But life does, quite often, get in the way of being a perfect teacher!
And so, I am updating my blog. Finally. With the news that half of my students have taken to blogging very well. Half only - there is some reluctance from a few students to write online, understandably. Some students made a go at it and then let it become dormant, but then isn't that the case with most blogs: lost in the ether! But a few have made it their own - they are fulfilling the briefs that I occasionally give them as homework but are also adding posts that are of their own devising. I have had thoughts on the unknowability of the future, musings on famous quotations, book and film reviews and, most recently (and impressively), poetry. I love to read the posts and see the huge progress that my students are making. Post by post there is clear evidence of progression. And they are writing. Something that usually provokes groans and resistance when given in class is now proving to be its own motivation in a personal capacity.
So, I was inspired and humbled. And I'm going to try to be better, and a little less of a hypocrite.
Thursday, 17 November 2011
Sunday, 17 July 2011
Technology lesson - My Blackberry is not working!
This is a quick, funny technology vocab warmer for Upper-Int using the wonderful Ronnie Corbett and Harry Enfield. One list of vocab, taken from the video, was dictated to the class including: blackberry, boot (v), blackspot, crash, juice etc. The class were then split into two groups who had to quickly discuss the meanings of the words. The twist was that Group A had to find technological meanings for the words and Group B had to find everyday non-technological meanings. This is pretty easy for the fruit based words (as they are often the brands) but not so easy for juice (trying to elicit a reference to electricity via thirst metaphors was a challenge) and boot (make sure they know this is a verb).
The groups reconvened, found a partner and compared answers. They then tried to find ways to combine these words in sentences to predict what usage they might hear or collocations that might work, e.g. My Blackberry has crashed. My Blackberry is on Orange.
This all culminates in the watching of the video. Show it once to see if they understand the jokes - I was pretty concerned that my students wouldn't find this funny at all, as puns are such a linguistically challenging step for students to make, but by this time they had embedded both meanings simultaneously and I was pleased to find they laughed. Even at the dongle pun - for which I had not given them a definition, only a suggestion that it may have evolved from dangle!
A second viewing could be used to make notes of the collocations which are actually used in the clip which can lead into speaking practice for complaints about technology glitches. For me this led into a complaint letter lesson. But I think there are plenty of other places it could lead.
Credit for this idea must go to my colleague, Kirsty, who happened to watch this programme over Christmas and suggested it for the 'technology' week we had coming up in the new semester.
Any ideas how you might use the video?
Saturday, 16 July 2011
Staff noticeboard with lino-it
Our college is moving to a brand-spanking new building soon and the expectation is that we will all, suddenly, be able to change the habits of a lifetime of teaching and become paper-free over night! To that end we anticipate there will be no staff noticeboard to share messages or information on and a debate has raged (well, quietly bubbled along - we're not savages) about what we can do in place of this.
Thanks must therefore go to Sandy Millin whose blog introduced me to the concept of lino-it - an online noticeboard with the capability to stick post-its, photos, videos and documents up on it for all or a select few to see. Click the pic to be taken to the website.
This is just a representation of what I started with, as the staff want their noticeboard to stay private, but I can honestly say that within 20 minutes we had very little noticeboard left to play with. And play they did. We are talking about a staff room where the IT literacy and usage is average but no higher, and enthusing staff about new technology is not easy. But they were very excited about this website and we had a spontaneous outpouring of ideas of teaching uses.
This for me is the first little success in what I hope is a new enthusiasm for IT in my department. I'm very grateful so far to all the Twitter users on #eltchat who have such inspiring ideas and who seem to have a psychic ability to find all these online resources before the rest of us have realised it exists.
Thanks must therefore go to Sandy Millin whose blog introduced me to the concept of lino-it - an online noticeboard with the capability to stick post-its, photos, videos and documents up on it for all or a select few to see. Click the pic to be taken to the website.
This is just a representation of what I started with, as the staff want their noticeboard to stay private, but I can honestly say that within 20 minutes we had very little noticeboard left to play with. And play they did. We are talking about a staff room where the IT literacy and usage is average but no higher, and enthusing staff about new technology is not easy. But they were very excited about this website and we had a spontaneous outpouring of ideas of teaching uses.This for me is the first little success in what I hope is a new enthusiasm for IT in my department. I'm very grateful so far to all the Twitter users on #eltchat who have such inspiring ideas and who seem to have a psychic ability to find all these online resources before the rest of us have realised it exists.
Friday, 15 July 2011
Action for ESOL (through the summer)
What does that mean?
Well, ESOL students are often the most vulnerable in society: new immigrants; refugees and asylum seekers fleeing wars and persecution; women who have come to join their husbands and often remain within their community without ever learning English. These people are usually on benefits such as income support, or Home Office benefits which are not classified as 'active' jobseeking benefits. This is because they are prevented from working either by the Home Office or because they have kids to care for. These are the people who can't access cheap ESOL classes anymore.
Why does it affect us?
The Conservatives and right-wing press often have a lot to say about lack of integration of new immigrants to the UK. Indeed, they often use this as the reason for extremist behaviour. What better way to integrate people into the UK than to teach them the language? Cutting funding does exactly the opposite. We alienate those who desperately want to integrate; we make them feel an outsider in our land. That only breeds dissatisfaction and segregation. And if we don't teach them English? The people who need English won't simply disappear - they are here and if we don't teach them to speak for themselves we will have to pay for interpreters anyway. It's a false economy to cut English classes. We gain nothing.
What can be done?
Help me to support some of the most vulnerable people in our society by listening to their stories and reading the facts here on a great website put together by Mike Harrison; sign the petition to ask the government to reconsider the funding constriction; or, if you're not the action type, just do me a favour and read about the atrocities committed in Congo, the disappearances in Iran, or just the day-to-day fear of living in Afghanistan and please, try to remember, these are the people I teach. This is the level of suffering I encounter in my students and quite frankly, they deserve more than this awful struggle to learn how to speak English in the country which they believed would give them sanctuary.
I want to come back to work able to admit all-comers to my course, not just the privileged few that can still afford it. Back in 2005 the government had the same bright idea about reducing funding for asylum seekers and it was my job to tell people that they couldn't have classes, despite the fact that I knew they had nothing else in their life and for some these classes were a lifeline. I don't want to have to do that again. It was unnecessarily cruel and, I believe, inhumane. Back in 2005 we fought, we protested and we made ourselves heard and the government capitulated. Let's do it again!
Wednesday, 6 July 2011
Sense and Sensitivities
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| (c) Robin Reid |
It's the end of the year and the feedback forms have been analysed and, let's face it, I don't even need to look at them to know they're going to be great! Mainly because I spent the final 3 weeks of term teaching my students how to say, "My teacher is excellent and her lessons are always well-planned"!
There were things they didn't like though. There was the classic, "too many games", followed swiftly by "not enough games", and best of all, "I didn't like all the stairs I had to climb every day". However, most potently was the simple comment, "I didn't like when we talked about prejudice".
I knew immediately which lesson this student referred to, and sadly it was probably the most prominent memory he will take away from my classes as it happened during his first week. We had, as a team, decided to teach about the ESOL cuts and in order to illustrate the effects of the cuts one teacher wanted to teach a lesson about asylum seekers and their status in the country. We agreed it could be controversial and inflammatory but perhaps necessary, as we had heard some very ill-informed opinions emanating from some of our European students.
My colleague had a really successful lesson which seemed to enlighten the students and bring a collective understanding of the system asylum seekers were subjected to, whereas my class descended into chaos. The European students questioned what money asylum seekers had access to, and when informed one particular student was outraged and wanted to know why we should fund asylum seekers who could be murderers. This led to a young refugee running out of the room crying and staff being dispatched to find him whilst the rest of the class sat in bewilderment. The new student, who had expressed doubts about the topic at the beginning of the class, wanted to leave too but I asked him to stay and support the point of view of other students who were debating with the Europeans. He stayed, reluctantly, and said nothing, but stood firmly alongside his fellow refugees. He didn't attend for a week after that.
I felt horrible. Was I right to try to teach this lesson? I knew that some of the class held particularly ignorant beliefs and I knew that I had some sensitive students. The new guy told me that he had left his previous college due to the prejudice he had been subjected to and he was angry that I had brought this prejudice right into the room where he wanted to feel safe. Plus, he still remembers it as the low point.
However, I know that, equally, the other students remember it too. They will remember their contrition as they started to understand the situation; they will remember their horror as some of the refugees told their stories candidly; they will remember the tears of a friend who had seemed so confident and unbreakable. And they did learn about each other, and they did come to a collective understanding, even if it wasn't immediate. And I honestly think that the experience was an education that many hadn't expected to face in their daily English class. Would I do it again? Not the same way, no. But though one student has listed it as a negative, I think it has been one step towards tolerance for others. Indeed, one student has said that she has encountered more cultures and languages in one year in our ESOL department than in her entire life.
But are there topics that ought to be avoided in the ESOL classroom? Is it good sense to plough on through our students' sensitivities?
Monday, 27 June 2011
Still trapped but dancing
After a Refugee Week which I spectacularly managed to miss most of (due, in no small part, to it being my last week of teaching and therefore an anxious rush of cramming) I managed to get to a lovely Celebrating Sanctuary musical day out in the park.
Having, just the day before, managed to get my Refugleers up and singing in front of our entire department and not only singing, but in tune and in time, I really wanted to support an event specifically run to celebrate the music of refugees. I have seen my students blossoming this year, especially Entry 1 and 2 students who struggle to communicate, singing their hearts out. Music is an under-rated commodity in ESOL teaching. It's a scary thing to have to present as often students don't see the relevance of it. But it can be incredibly liberating whilst also being a wonderful lexical approach to language! I'm sneaky like that - my students should never forget the lovely lexical chunks of Stand By Me!
So the music was success, and more so the dancing that followed. It seemed that the vast majority of the students, as never before, wanted to dance with each other. We usually just have a bit of Kurdish dancing and the rest fade away and leave. But we had every nationality up and moving together.
Much like the Celebrating Sanctuary event in the park. I had expected to be surrounded by middle-eastern faces and families but found myself in amongst the most diverse crowd you could imagine and I watched them all joining together and dancing. One of my students was there - he is still Section 4 (in case you don't know, that means he is a failed asylum seeker and is no longer receiving support, i.e. destitute) and though the ins and outs of his case are unknown to me he seems like the ideal person to be welcomed to our country. In the years he has been here and had nothing from the state he has constantly volunteered for homeless charities, using his chef experience from home to cater for other homeless people. He is the most generous person I have met and he has had it pretty bad for many years. But the music had all the people that had supported him together in that park. And so he danced.
And do you know what's strange? In all the time I've been in a classroom with him, his English has often been difficult to understand; sometimes a little garbled, sometimes confused or backwards. But sitting there in those circumstances he spoke for 2 hours and he was understandable.
I feel like all this comes from the same place; the feeling of empowerment that my students feel when they take over, when it's their turf I'm on, or when it's them on the stage singing to their peers. As ESOL teachers we sometimes forget they are people; they're adults with skills and qualifications and experience well beyond our own and they rarely get to express that to us. In the last week I have been quite privileged and humbled to see who my students are and what they can do. Best lesson of the year for me, I reckon.
Having, just the day before, managed to get my Refugleers up and singing in front of our entire department and not only singing, but in tune and in time, I really wanted to support an event specifically run to celebrate the music of refugees. I have seen my students blossoming this year, especially Entry 1 and 2 students who struggle to communicate, singing their hearts out. Music is an under-rated commodity in ESOL teaching. It's a scary thing to have to present as often students don't see the relevance of it. But it can be incredibly liberating whilst also being a wonderful lexical approach to language! I'm sneaky like that - my students should never forget the lovely lexical chunks of Stand By Me!
So the music was success, and more so the dancing that followed. It seemed that the vast majority of the students, as never before, wanted to dance with each other. We usually just have a bit of Kurdish dancing and the rest fade away and leave. But we had every nationality up and moving together.
Much like the Celebrating Sanctuary event in the park. I had expected to be surrounded by middle-eastern faces and families but found myself in amongst the most diverse crowd you could imagine and I watched them all joining together and dancing. One of my students was there - he is still Section 4 (in case you don't know, that means he is a failed asylum seeker and is no longer receiving support, i.e. destitute) and though the ins and outs of his case are unknown to me he seems like the ideal person to be welcomed to our country. In the years he has been here and had nothing from the state he has constantly volunteered for homeless charities, using his chef experience from home to cater for other homeless people. He is the most generous person I have met and he has had it pretty bad for many years. But the music had all the people that had supported him together in that park. And so he danced.
And do you know what's strange? In all the time I've been in a classroom with him, his English has often been difficult to understand; sometimes a little garbled, sometimes confused or backwards. But sitting there in those circumstances he spoke for 2 hours and he was understandable.
I feel like all this comes from the same place; the feeling of empowerment that my students feel when they take over, when it's their turf I'm on, or when it's them on the stage singing to their peers. As ESOL teachers we sometimes forget they are people; they're adults with skills and qualifications and experience well beyond our own and they rarely get to express that to us. In the last week I have been quite privileged and humbled to see who my students are and what they can do. Best lesson of the year for me, I reckon.
Monday, 20 June 2011
Refuglee! Everyone Sing Out Loud!
It's nearly the end of the academic year. My students sit their exams next week. All we've worked for is nearly at fruition. But this has been a year like no other in my teaching career. This year I have tried and achieved some different things and I am proud.
The thing I am most proud of is Refuglee club. Every Wednesday, in our lunch breaks, a few teachers and a bunch of loyal students gather in a classroom and sing. That's it. And we love it!
It all began at Christmas - it has become something of a tradition for me to take my students to the theatre for the Christmas show, which is usually based on a famous novel and therefore introduces them to a novel and the magic of theatre all in one go. Students who have never been near a theatre in their lives are astonished by the tricks of a clever set and tend to be blown away by the experience. But this year one student in particular bounced joyfully all the way through at the songs in the show. I asked him later if he'd enjoyed himself and he replied, "I want to be there", gazing at the stage.
This led to a (wine-fuelled) conversation about the possibility of running a music group for our ESOL students, especially those who have serious PTSD or other mental problems. We thought it would be a release whilst at the same time being a great way to learn lexical chunks without noticing!
I didn't think it would last all the way through to the end of term. I certainly didn't think we would be putting on a show of our songs at the end of this week. We've attracted a loyal core of singers who come every week to try everything from Beyonce's Halo, through the Beatles' Hey Jude, to Iko Iko. However, our performance will be of a two-part Stand By Me, with the boys being the double bass! Yeah, we're ragged round the edges. Yeah, half of them can't hold a note. But that's not the point and never has been. One of my quietest students turned out to be a piano teacher and has accompanied us beautifully throughout the process (in spite of my appalling conducting) and she has really come out of herself, and her confidence has shone through in her huge improvement in her English.
And that's why we do it. And it's why I keep doing my job even when it's getting hard. Music is hugely important to people and having the opportunity to express yourself freely and without judgement is rare. But that's the first rule of Refuglee club: Everyone Sing Out Loud!
Wednesday, 15 June 2011
A New Leaf
They say that one of the most regularly written posts in blogs is, "I'm really sorry I haven't been updating this recently but...blah blah blah". This is not one of those posts. I haven't updated this blog in a year because all has been quiet on the Section 4 front. What I mean is, nearly every student for whom I was writing, those suffering under the indignity of Section 4, have been granted Leave to Remain. I had nothing to rail against. I had no fight to fight.
But there was a whole heap of paperwork and the attendant difficulties of becoming a citizen: finding somewhere to live before your month's grace is up and you're kicked out of NASS accommodation; getting your benefit claim sorted in time to be able to pay rent; suddenly adjusting to the fact that after your life's been in stasis, you can finally work; adjusting to realisation that you have to pay tax! All these things take a whole lot of time, and though I've done very little to help, I've had to try and keep their heads straight and get them through exams. Well, the college does have funding to keep, after all.
So, I've been busy with my job. And I am happy about that. But this is where the turning of leaves begins. I've spent a few months now becoming a little more social network friendly and I have realised there is a whole world of ESOL teachers out there writing a whole lot of blogs and websites and I'm a little excited by this. I have also come to the frightening realisation that I know almost nothing about this and am having to learn pretty slowly. There are some people out there who are very knowledgable about technology or just about teaching and it's a big old intimidating world out there.
So I start up my blog again. I won't kid myself, I'm not a regular updater. But if there's stuff to say... why not?
But shouldn't I start up a new blog - entitled something to do with being a techy teacher or something equally alliterative? Nah. I am really passionate about the people I was writing for and they are, after all, my students. I don't necessarily teach for the learning. My pleasure in teaching comes from seeing some of the most vulnerable in society grow and change and improve their lives. And sometimes a little bit of that comes from me and my class, and I'm proud of that. So yeah, I am trapped in Section 4... and I kind of like it.
But there was a whole heap of paperwork and the attendant difficulties of becoming a citizen: finding somewhere to live before your month's grace is up and you're kicked out of NASS accommodation; getting your benefit claim sorted in time to be able to pay rent; suddenly adjusting to the fact that after your life's been in stasis, you can finally work; adjusting to realisation that you have to pay tax! All these things take a whole lot of time, and though I've done very little to help, I've had to try and keep their heads straight and get them through exams. Well, the college does have funding to keep, after all.
So, I've been busy with my job. And I am happy about that. But this is where the turning of leaves begins. I've spent a few months now becoming a little more social network friendly and I have realised there is a whole world of ESOL teachers out there writing a whole lot of blogs and websites and I'm a little excited by this. I have also come to the frightening realisation that I know almost nothing about this and am having to learn pretty slowly. There are some people out there who are very knowledgable about technology or just about teaching and it's a big old intimidating world out there.
So I start up my blog again. I won't kid myself, I'm not a regular updater. But if there's stuff to say... why not?
But shouldn't I start up a new blog - entitled something to do with being a techy teacher or something equally alliterative? Nah. I am really passionate about the people I was writing for and they are, after all, my students. I don't necessarily teach for the learning. My pleasure in teaching comes from seeing some of the most vulnerable in society grow and change and improve their lives. And sometimes a little bit of that comes from me and my class, and I'm proud of that. So yeah, I am trapped in Section 4... and I kind of like it.
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
On a slightly different note
As so many of our students are escaping from countries that Amnesty International are trying to keep an eye on, I thought it only right and proper to publish their Shell ad which the FT pulled from publication today.
See AI's response here:
http://amnesty.org.uk/news_details.asp?NewsID=18768
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Tortuous torture
What on earth is going on? It's the most ridiculous situation. I have people coming to me each day telling me that they have just received their refusal through the post. It's all over, they have to leave the country despite having a really good case. They are broken. They don't know what else to do, they don't know why they have wasted 7 years of their life waiting for the UK Borders Agency to believe their awful stories of the fear they have of going home only to receive a refusal through the post from their new caseworker in Liverpool. They go through anger, tears, hatred, bitterness and sheer disappointment in front of me.
Within a week the same people are coming back to me declaring that they have received a new letter from Croydon Home Office containing confirmation of Indefinite Leave to Remain. Not only this, but these letters are dated January and February. They have been held back in Croydon, they just haven't been posted and during the time that these letters have been in existence a whole other branch of UKBA is issuing refusals to the same people. How is this possible? Why is it being allowed? The Home Office cannot surely be so inept. It's appalling treatment of people who have already had their emotions played with for years. It's cruel and unnecessary.
Yes, admittedly, this is the result they have been waiting for and yes, we are happy for them. But to have to go through all this first. You put people at a point where they are feeling helpless and suicidal and then just as they are at the edge they are given that one thing they have desperately waited for. Is it simply to manipulate them into gratitude?
Within a week the same people are coming back to me declaring that they have received a new letter from Croydon Home Office containing confirmation of Indefinite Leave to Remain. Not only this, but these letters are dated January and February. They have been held back in Croydon, they just haven't been posted and during the time that these letters have been in existence a whole other branch of UKBA is issuing refusals to the same people. How is this possible? Why is it being allowed? The Home Office cannot surely be so inept. It's appalling treatment of people who have already had their emotions played with for years. It's cruel and unnecessary.
Yes, admittedly, this is the result they have been waiting for and yes, we are happy for them. But to have to go through all this first. You put people at a point where they are feeling helpless and suicidal and then just as they are at the edge they are given that one thing they have desperately waited for. Is it simply to manipulate them into gratitude?
Friday, 19 March 2010
Trauma Fatigue
These last couple of weeks have been pretty hard simply because every day seems to bring more news from one or other of my students of issues that have arisen because of their status.
One really lucky guy has been given leave to remain. I'll be honest, I don't know why his case was more deserving than any other but at least he is out of the loop. Or not. He was given notice of his leave to remain and mere days later he was informed that he was evicted from his home as he was no longer being supported by NASS (the support agency for asylum seekers) and would have to find his own home and his own support. Fair enough really, he ought to do as any of us would if we lost our job and find his own place and money. But most of us get at least a month's notice; he got a few days. He has missed so many classes now because he is trying to reassemble the pieces of his life. Although, to his credit, he handles it all with a smile.
He's lucky. Another student has been summoned to the Home Office with instructions to bring all his belongings; surely a sign that he is about to be detained and deported. Last week several people were deported back to Iraq and Afghanistan, the safest of all countries to be in right now. They didn't know they were going to be deported - they were just taken from the Home Office when they went to their weekly signing. My student now has this doubt cast over him and has to live with the fear until he finds out on Monday. And it is by no means a foregone conclusion that he will go: time and time again people are called into the Home Office with the same instruction to bring their belongings and they return a couple of hours later with no change to their circumstances. It just seems like a sick joke; a need to keep them in suspense, to keep torturing them.
A further student, an older lady who recently spent some time in hospital having an operation on her foot, found last week that she had lost her bus pass. She needed it particularly on that day as she had to submit some new evidence to her solicitor to make a case against the Home Office as they recently evicted her and left her destitute. With no bus pass and no cash she had no choice but to walk, despite her recent operation, for two hours to finally get to her solicitor with five minutes to spare. She has since missed classes whilst she recovers from the damage she did to her foot. She is recovering where she sleeps on her friend's floor.
I can't write anymore. There are so many other stories just this week alone. They all feature the same fear, the same physical and mental suffering, the same needless torture. They are just people. They don't deserve this. I can't hear any more stories as I don't think I have the capacity to hear about so many people in so much pain. Quite selfishly now, I just want it to stop. It shouldn't be this way.
One really lucky guy has been given leave to remain. I'll be honest, I don't know why his case was more deserving than any other but at least he is out of the loop. Or not. He was given notice of his leave to remain and mere days later he was informed that he was evicted from his home as he was no longer being supported by NASS (the support agency for asylum seekers) and would have to find his own home and his own support. Fair enough really, he ought to do as any of us would if we lost our job and find his own place and money. But most of us get at least a month's notice; he got a few days. He has missed so many classes now because he is trying to reassemble the pieces of his life. Although, to his credit, he handles it all with a smile.
He's lucky. Another student has been summoned to the Home Office with instructions to bring all his belongings; surely a sign that he is about to be detained and deported. Last week several people were deported back to Iraq and Afghanistan, the safest of all countries to be in right now. They didn't know they were going to be deported - they were just taken from the Home Office when they went to their weekly signing. My student now has this doubt cast over him and has to live with the fear until he finds out on Monday. And it is by no means a foregone conclusion that he will go: time and time again people are called into the Home Office with the same instruction to bring their belongings and they return a couple of hours later with no change to their circumstances. It just seems like a sick joke; a need to keep them in suspense, to keep torturing them.
A further student, an older lady who recently spent some time in hospital having an operation on her foot, found last week that she had lost her bus pass. She needed it particularly on that day as she had to submit some new evidence to her solicitor to make a case against the Home Office as they recently evicted her and left her destitute. With no bus pass and no cash she had no choice but to walk, despite her recent operation, for two hours to finally get to her solicitor with five minutes to spare. She has since missed classes whilst she recovers from the damage she did to her foot. She is recovering where she sleeps on her friend's floor.
I can't write anymore. There are so many other stories just this week alone. They all feature the same fear, the same physical and mental suffering, the same needless torture. They are just people. They don't deserve this. I can't hear any more stories as I don't think I have the capacity to hear about so many people in so much pain. Quite selfishly now, I just want it to stop. It shouldn't be this way.
Sunday, 28 February 2010
Recent media response
So who do we blame for this. In the media we blame the asylum seeker. This label is thrown out at any given opportunity as short-hand for everything which is evil in the world: terrorism, murder, rape, theft - all down to the asylum seeker. But in fact, we are talking about people who are living in fear and are just trying to get a just decision based on the facts. Thankfully, finally, there appears to be some acknowledgement of this in the media. In the last couple of weeks there have been articles about the Borders Agency and their flawed system. the Daily Mail chose to portray this as a failure to be quick enough to deport, but other sources chose to highlight the human suffering caused by this failure.
The BBC have reported on the investigation into the backlog and the lack of care about human suffering and the Guardian too reported under the title Asylum failings damage lives. What seems to come up time and time again is that due to UKBA failings people are kept waiting for years for any real decision to be made. If any other government agency failed so miserably to do their job we might be in line for some compensation. Their compensation for this waste of their life is, if they are really lucky, a positive decision, a pat on the back and an order to leave their accommodation immediately. If they are unlucky, it is a deportation notice and arrest. Never an apology in sight.
The BBC have reported on the investigation into the backlog and the lack of care about human suffering and the Guardian too reported under the title Asylum failings damage lives. What seems to come up time and time again is that due to UKBA failings people are kept waiting for years for any real decision to be made. If any other government agency failed so miserably to do their job we might be in line for some compensation. Their compensation for this waste of their life is, if they are really lucky, a positive decision, a pat on the back and an order to leave their accommodation immediately. If they are unlucky, it is a deportation notice and arrest. Never an apology in sight.
But they have been refused - accept it and go home!
This is the response I have had from everyone I have spoken to about this. Even the most sympathetic people, people who work with asylum seekers, people who protect asylum seekers. This is what makes my point of view so controversial, as once an asylum decision has been made by the Borders Agency it is assumed that the decision ought to be accepted and the applicant ought to return to their home country.
I would absolutely agree with this course of action but unfortunately the Borders Agency have not, by any means, been making fair decisions on asylum applications. In 2006 they were given the target of 6 months to make a decision and in many cases the pressure of targets led to decisions being made which did not take into account all the evidence presented or did not truly take into account the fact that human lives were being dealt with. This meant that blanket stereotypes were used to make decisions rather than the story of the person presenting their application. Individual need was not taken into consideration. People were no longer treated like people. The person about whom I wrote to the Home Secretary was refused because his solicitor failed to send the translation of death threats he had received in time to be considered. His claim was refused. And yet you say he ought to accept it and go home.
It is clear that the decisions which have been made in the last 6 or so years have been flawed, mainly because they have been driven less by the cause of humanitarian protection and more by targets and this belief is upheld by the Home Office's own inspection into the immigration system. This means that people have a right to appeal, and when they appeal they are no longer supported as true asylum seekers but instead as Section 4. This is when they essentially become illegal immigrants. All because the Home Office hasn't been doing its job very well.
Of the myriad people I know who are refused asylum seekers and therefore trapped in the Section 4 loophole not one of them wants to go home. Yet when you speak to them about their lives they tell you they miss their families terribly or they are lonely and wish they were around more people who spoke their language, or simply that they are homesick. So when the Home Office gives them the opportunity to go home don't you think they would take it if they could? Wouldn't that be preferable to this life where they are nothing and are treated like pariahs? Unless, of course, they are genuinely too afraid to return.
I would absolutely agree with this course of action but unfortunately the Borders Agency have not, by any means, been making fair decisions on asylum applications. In 2006 they were given the target of 6 months to make a decision and in many cases the pressure of targets led to decisions being made which did not take into account all the evidence presented or did not truly take into account the fact that human lives were being dealt with. This meant that blanket stereotypes were used to make decisions rather than the story of the person presenting their application. Individual need was not taken into consideration. People were no longer treated like people. The person about whom I wrote to the Home Secretary was refused because his solicitor failed to send the translation of death threats he had received in time to be considered. His claim was refused. And yet you say he ought to accept it and go home.
It is clear that the decisions which have been made in the last 6 or so years have been flawed, mainly because they have been driven less by the cause of humanitarian protection and more by targets and this belief is upheld by the Home Office's own inspection into the immigration system. This means that people have a right to appeal, and when they appeal they are no longer supported as true asylum seekers but instead as Section 4. This is when they essentially become illegal immigrants. All because the Home Office hasn't been doing its job very well.
Of the myriad people I know who are refused asylum seekers and therefore trapped in the Section 4 loophole not one of them wants to go home. Yet when you speak to them about their lives they tell you they miss their families terribly or they are lonely and wish they were around more people who spoke their language, or simply that they are homesick. So when the Home Office gives them the opportunity to go home don't you think they would take it if they could? Wouldn't that be preferable to this life where they are nothing and are treated like pariahs? Unless, of course, they are genuinely too afraid to return.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Letter to the Home Secretary
More comment to come, however for now read the letter sent to Home Secretary Alan Johnson.
This letter has so far gone unanswered. It relates the case of just one of my students and does not, by any means, cover the entirety of his suffering.
This letter has so far gone unanswered. It relates the case of just one of my students and does not, by any means, cover the entirety of his suffering.
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
One week
Could you imagine life as a Section 4 asylum seeker, just for one week?
You arrived in the UK desperate and asking for protection from the torture you had undergone in your own country. Your family are dead, you know that people are hunting you down. You are covered in scars from injuries inflicted during your beating/torture/rape. Your request for help and protection is turned down because your immigration solicitor didn't really see the urgency of sending your documents, or because the Home Office decided they didn't believe you, or indeed they did believe you but they think that your rape and torture is unlikely to happen again because they're sure your country is just fine now.
But you don't want to leave as you are afraid of being hunted down and killed as soon as you get home. I am not exaggerating. This is the experience of the majority of failed asylum seekers that I know. They have been refused help or protection and are now essentially destitute. This is the stage at which they are put under Section 4 support. This means they will receive a roof over their head and £35 vouchers for their nearest supermarket. This must suffice for all food, toiletries, clothes and any other requirements. Fine in the short term I'm sure. Not for several years though. Not, in the case of people I know, for over 3 years. And if I'm honest, I don't think I could survive like that for one week let alone such a protracted amount of time.
Apart from the primary consideration about making your money last there is the added indignity of having to be identifiable as a voucher user. Knowing that you have nothing and everyone else knowing it too. The fact that you are a social pariah being aired every time you go to buy a loaf of bread. But hold on, if you just want a loaf of bread you would waste a whole heap of money, because the supermarkets are not allowed to give change. So popping to the shops for a couple of bits is no longer possible. You have to plan it out.
Can you perhaps understand why so many exchange their £35 vouchers for £25 cash? But should you be really prudent and save up your pennies by barely eating each week so that you can buy yourself something remember that you don't qualify for contents insurance and you can't pay for it. So when your place gets broken into and all your meagre belongings stolen you have no way of reclaiming it. You might think this is a little extreme. I have known one man in particular who has sadly been through this. It happens.
Add to this the fact that you are not allowed to work and you are probably a trained lawyer, doctor, nurse, teacher. How horribly frustrating for anyone with a bit of intelligence to have to fester and not be allowed to use the talent or training you are lucky enough to have. So you decide to volunteer; no-one could have a problem with that. But a recent application for volunteer work resulted in a refused asylum seeker being asked for 5 forms of ID, such as bills. People under Section 4 have an ID card and confirmation of their support (usually a few years old). They have no bills or bank statements. Nothing. They have no status. They appear on no lists. They do not exist in a day to day reality. They occupy a space beneath the real world and no-one sees them there.
And the irony is they have no choice but suffer like this. There is no escape. They have no travel documents so it's not like they can just up and leave and tell the UK government where to stick their 'support'. It is illegal for them to travel. They can't even leave their address for a week as they have to regularly report to the Home Office. They are imprisoned here. They are utterly trapped. Section 4 is the new Catch 22.
Can you imagine this, really? I don't think you can truly contemplate it. I find it hard and I'm faced with people suffering like this every day. I can't imagine having no identity, status or rights for the best part of a decade. That's an appalling thought.
You arrived in the UK desperate and asking for protection from the torture you had undergone in your own country. Your family are dead, you know that people are hunting you down. You are covered in scars from injuries inflicted during your beating/torture/rape. Your request for help and protection is turned down because your immigration solicitor didn't really see the urgency of sending your documents, or because the Home Office decided they didn't believe you, or indeed they did believe you but they think that your rape and torture is unlikely to happen again because they're sure your country is just fine now.
But you don't want to leave as you are afraid of being hunted down and killed as soon as you get home. I am not exaggerating. This is the experience of the majority of failed asylum seekers that I know. They have been refused help or protection and are now essentially destitute. This is the stage at which they are put under Section 4 support. This means they will receive a roof over their head and £35 vouchers for their nearest supermarket. This must suffice for all food, toiletries, clothes and any other requirements. Fine in the short term I'm sure. Not for several years though. Not, in the case of people I know, for over 3 years. And if I'm honest, I don't think I could survive like that for one week let alone such a protracted amount of time.
Apart from the primary consideration about making your money last there is the added indignity of having to be identifiable as a voucher user. Knowing that you have nothing and everyone else knowing it too. The fact that you are a social pariah being aired every time you go to buy a loaf of bread. But hold on, if you just want a loaf of bread you would waste a whole heap of money, because the supermarkets are not allowed to give change. So popping to the shops for a couple of bits is no longer possible. You have to plan it out.
Can you perhaps understand why so many exchange their £35 vouchers for £25 cash? But should you be really prudent and save up your pennies by barely eating each week so that you can buy yourself something remember that you don't qualify for contents insurance and you can't pay for it. So when your place gets broken into and all your meagre belongings stolen you have no way of reclaiming it. You might think this is a little extreme. I have known one man in particular who has sadly been through this. It happens.
Add to this the fact that you are not allowed to work and you are probably a trained lawyer, doctor, nurse, teacher. How horribly frustrating for anyone with a bit of intelligence to have to fester and not be allowed to use the talent or training you are lucky enough to have. So you decide to volunteer; no-one could have a problem with that. But a recent application for volunteer work resulted in a refused asylum seeker being asked for 5 forms of ID, such as bills. People under Section 4 have an ID card and confirmation of their support (usually a few years old). They have no bills or bank statements. Nothing. They have no status. They appear on no lists. They do not exist in a day to day reality. They occupy a space beneath the real world and no-one sees them there.
And the irony is they have no choice but suffer like this. There is no escape. They have no travel documents so it's not like they can just up and leave and tell the UK government where to stick their 'support'. It is illegal for them to travel. They can't even leave their address for a week as they have to regularly report to the Home Office. They are imprisoned here. They are utterly trapped. Section 4 is the new Catch 22.
Can you imagine this, really? I don't think you can truly contemplate it. I find it hard and I'm faced with people suffering like this every day. I can't imagine having no identity, status or rights for the best part of a decade. That's an appalling thought.
Recent Developments
Very recently the Home Office, in an apparent acknowledgement of its own ineptitude, sent letters declaring it was going to try to resolve the backlog of these so-called 'legacy' cases by 2011 at the latest. These letters were written in 2009, so only another possible 2 years to add to the near decade of wasted life then. The way they plan to 'resolve' the cases was not explicitly stated so for a further two years these people are to continue waiting, in fear, for the day they receive news either of discretionary leave to remain or enforced deportation.
The next letter was equally vague. It asks those people who are supported on Section 4 to provide 4 passport photos. To what end they do not know. So they provide them, hoping that this is for the identity documents. To many people, this was a hopeful sign: 'they want the photos to give me a passport! At last!'. To others it was far more sinister. It came with no explanation, no promises. Just a request.
In the past two weeks I have been informed of two cases: one where a family were, in their entirety, given leave to remain. The second was a young man who was sent a final refusal letter and informed that he was no longer eligible for any support. One week later his landlord, a private agent providing accommodation, chucked his belongings into a bin bag and physically threw him onto the street. His support had been cut, he had no further advice on how to survive, he had no knowledge of what would happen next. He only knew that now he was homeless. He is lucky that he has friends who will take him in for the night and share their food with him, though, with £35 vouchers only, it won't go far. And at the same time, they too are wondering if they have the same fate to look forward to.
The situation has now become urgent for me. I wrote to Alan Johnson in December after several of my students had received the photo request letter and were concerned about its meaning. He has yet to acknowledge my letter and suddenly people I know and have a duty of care towards are being forced onto the streets and left destitute. They are being treated like criminals and yet they came here for help. After years of not being allowed to leave the UK and being forced to live in humiliating circumstances they are being further punished by having the last pathetic bit of support taken away from them. It is with a sense of urgency that I am posting these opinions, whilst hopefully drumming up support from other sympathetic sorts who will also help to publicise this horrific discrimination at the hands of our own government.
The next letter was equally vague. It asks those people who are supported on Section 4 to provide 4 passport photos. To what end they do not know. So they provide them, hoping that this is for the identity documents. To many people, this was a hopeful sign: 'they want the photos to give me a passport! At last!'. To others it was far more sinister. It came with no explanation, no promises. Just a request.
In the past two weeks I have been informed of two cases: one where a family were, in their entirety, given leave to remain. The second was a young man who was sent a final refusal letter and informed that he was no longer eligible for any support. One week later his landlord, a private agent providing accommodation, chucked his belongings into a bin bag and physically threw him onto the street. His support had been cut, he had no further advice on how to survive, he had no knowledge of what would happen next. He only knew that now he was homeless. He is lucky that he has friends who will take him in for the night and share their food with him, though, with £35 vouchers only, it won't go far. And at the same time, they too are wondering if they have the same fate to look forward to.
The situation has now become urgent for me. I wrote to Alan Johnson in December after several of my students had received the photo request letter and were concerned about its meaning. He has yet to acknowledge my letter and suddenly people I know and have a duty of care towards are being forced onto the streets and left destitute. They are being treated like criminals and yet they came here for help. After years of not being allowed to leave the UK and being forced to live in humiliating circumstances they are being further punished by having the last pathetic bit of support taken away from them. It is with a sense of urgency that I am posting these opinions, whilst hopefully drumming up support from other sympathetic sorts who will also help to publicise this horrific discrimination at the hands of our own government.
Sunday, 14 February 2010
Why so angry?
So, why am I angry about this policy?
Let me first say, I acknowledge that we have a problem with control of immigration in the UK. There needs to be an overhaul of the entire system to ensure that the right people are being given asylum and I'm sure there are plenty of folk who come here for economic advancement rather than due to genuine fear of persecution.
That's not really what I'm concerned about here.
The Border Agency currently claim, on their website, that "We now aim to conclude all new asylum applications within six months". This is why, they say, that asylum seekers are not offered permission to work or study, it would stop them integrating so that it's not so hard for them when they are chucked out because they won't have made any ties. And yes, I agree this may be a sensible policy but if, and here is the crux, only if the decision time is indeed under 6 months.
However, the people that I know who are currently under Section 4 support are suffering from a decision-making process that has gone on for years and years and years. These people, despite the Home Office's best efforts, are integrated. They speak the language, their friends are here, they have families here, they are married here, their children are here. Some of the youngest have spent nearly a third of their lives here. Indeed, those young asylum seekers may be able to survive here, know how to rent a house or how to get a job or travel around, and may have no idea how to do that in their home country. The Home Office do not resolve their cases within 6 months and it has lead to this pseudo-imprisonment. Indeed, according to the Section 4 guidance referenced in my previous post, the housing contracts that the Borders Agency signed to house Section 4 clients have recently expired due to the extended length of time taken on decisions and in some cases people are being evicted and being left destitute.
I am not necessarily arguing against the return of asylum seekers to their home country (although I'm sure I could be tempted!); I'm arguing about the return of those people who have been kept waiting so long due to the Home Office's incompetence that they have now made the UK their home. Despite having no real status or rights.
One particular Section 4 asylum seeker I know, on hearing he may be up for Indefinite Leave to Remain, was primarily taken with the fact that he 'would be able to pay taxes' and was keen to start taking care of his new home. 'I would pick up any litter I saw on the streets if I had a passport'! I wonder how long that would last! But the sentiment is clear.
Let me first say, I acknowledge that we have a problem with control of immigration in the UK. There needs to be an overhaul of the entire system to ensure that the right people are being given asylum and I'm sure there are plenty of folk who come here for economic advancement rather than due to genuine fear of persecution.
That's not really what I'm concerned about here.
The Border Agency currently claim, on their website, that "We now aim to conclude all new asylum applications within six months". This is why, they say, that asylum seekers are not offered permission to work or study, it would stop them integrating so that it's not so hard for them when they are chucked out because they won't have made any ties. And yes, I agree this may be a sensible policy but if, and here is the crux, only if the decision time is indeed under 6 months.
However, the people that I know who are currently under Section 4 support are suffering from a decision-making process that has gone on for years and years and years. These people, despite the Home Office's best efforts, are integrated. They speak the language, their friends are here, they have families here, they are married here, their children are here. Some of the youngest have spent nearly a third of their lives here. Indeed, those young asylum seekers may be able to survive here, know how to rent a house or how to get a job or travel around, and may have no idea how to do that in their home country. The Home Office do not resolve their cases within 6 months and it has lead to this pseudo-imprisonment. Indeed, according to the Section 4 guidance referenced in my previous post, the housing contracts that the Borders Agency signed to house Section 4 clients have recently expired due to the extended length of time taken on decisions and in some cases people are being evicted and being left destitute.
I am not necessarily arguing against the return of asylum seekers to their home country (although I'm sure I could be tempted!); I'm arguing about the return of those people who have been kept waiting so long due to the Home Office's incompetence that they have now made the UK their home. Despite having no real status or rights.
One particular Section 4 asylum seeker I know, on hearing he may be up for Indefinite Leave to Remain, was primarily taken with the fact that he 'would be able to pay taxes' and was keen to start taking care of his new home. 'I would pick up any litter I saw on the streets if I had a passport'! I wonder how long that would last! But the sentiment is clear.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
What is Section 4?
Firstly, what is it not? It is not the newest Gears of War release. Neither is it a mythical area of land, as yet unacknowledged by the government, from which strange lights and stories of suspect autopsies are emitted.
It is more sinister than that.
Section 4 is a little bit of legislation under the Asylum ruling of 1999 which came to prominence in 2004 as it sought primarily to deal with the glut of Iraqi asylum seekers coming to the UK to seek protection. It was based upon the assumption that, 'we got rid of Saddam, what's there to be scared of anymore' and suggests that those whose asylum claim has been refused ought return to Iraq, regardless of whether their original decision was fair. Unfortunately, it didn't really take into account that the political situation was not necessarily as 'stable' as they would have hoped (ha!). This was the message also given to those Sudanese asylum seekers who had the cheek to remain here after the news channels stopped coverage of the Sudanese wars. It seems that if the government aren't hearing about it on Sky News, it's simply not happening.
Section 4 didn't target all Iraqi asylum seekers. Just what appears to be an arbitrarily selected bunch.** These unlucky sods were put in the position of choosing between two evils: "Go home, we'll pay, and hey, it's safe now" *big, insincere grin*! or "Stay here, but if you do, you get nothing. Well, we'll give you £35 Asda vouchers each week to buy your food and you will live under the constant threat of the police bursting in and evicting you, because, let's face it, you gots no rights!" Strangely, they all seemed to sign up willingly for the latter option. Could their fear of persecution really be that powerful? It would seem so.
At the same time, colleges were told that Section 4 asylum seekers were definitely not eligible for funding for free English classes, as they had been in the past. This essentially left these people, who, if we remember, had come to the UK for protection, in a situation where they had a place to sleep and some money for food and nothing else. Not allowed to study, not allowed to work. Only able to buy clothes if their local Asda had a clothing section and they didn't want to eat for a couple of days.
Lucky them! At least they have food and shelter, you might blithely say. But let's think about this. Can you imagine not doing anything, at all, not being allowed or being able to afford to do anything, travel anywhere, meet people, read, watch TV, see a film for 6 years? Because that's what it's been. 6 years. Longer for some. Had they been imprisoned instead they would have had education, sport, TV, food cooked for them.
'But at least they have their freedom', you might add. What is their freedom then? They have to report to the Home Office or Police Station every week and sign to say they are still patiently waiting for ... something. Theirs is a house arrest without any of the benefits of imprisonment. At least if you are imprisoned you know your sentence. You know when you are due to get out.
Since 2004, these people have lived in a limbo with no updates and no hope of appeal. Very little communication from the Home Office and what they have had has been less than enlightening.
They are lucky that they have some support from the community of ESOL teachers who were forced for a year to turn down their requests for classes. In 2007, a group of college lecturers gathered to protest about the denial of English classes, making the pertinent point that without English, how could they integrate and wouldn't we be creating a climate of alienation wherein anger and aggression to the jailor state could develop! It seemed that this rang true and thankfully Section 4 Asylum seekers were once more allowed to attend English classes. Lucky them. Something to get out of the house for!
Ok, so this is a pretty one-sided view of Section 4 legislation. I thought it was only fair to include a link to the real thing here
**I'm sure the Home Office would disagree with me here. They would insist that those claims they have refused had no reasonable fear of persecution whereas those they granted had a legitimate claim. I would reassert that it certainly seems arbitrary as I have met hundreds of asylum seekers, and many of those who have been refused often have far more harrowing stories than those who were lucky enough to get refugee status. Personal stories from asylum seekers hopefully will appear in a later post. But if you still think the Home Office are totally objective please follow this link to an article that would suggest not...
It is more sinister than that.
Section 4 is a little bit of legislation under the Asylum ruling of 1999 which came to prominence in 2004 as it sought primarily to deal with the glut of Iraqi asylum seekers coming to the UK to seek protection. It was based upon the assumption that, 'we got rid of Saddam, what's there to be scared of anymore' and suggests that those whose asylum claim has been refused ought return to Iraq, regardless of whether their original decision was fair. Unfortunately, it didn't really take into account that the political situation was not necessarily as 'stable' as they would have hoped (ha!). This was the message also given to those Sudanese asylum seekers who had the cheek to remain here after the news channels stopped coverage of the Sudanese wars. It seems that if the government aren't hearing about it on Sky News, it's simply not happening.
Section 4 didn't target all Iraqi asylum seekers. Just what appears to be an arbitrarily selected bunch.** These unlucky sods were put in the position of choosing between two evils: "Go home, we'll pay, and hey, it's safe now" *big, insincere grin*! or "Stay here, but if you do, you get nothing. Well, we'll give you £35 Asda vouchers each week to buy your food and you will live under the constant threat of the police bursting in and evicting you, because, let's face it, you gots no rights!" Strangely, they all seemed to sign up willingly for the latter option. Could their fear of persecution really be that powerful? It would seem so.
At the same time, colleges were told that Section 4 asylum seekers were definitely not eligible for funding for free English classes, as they had been in the past. This essentially left these people, who, if we remember, had come to the UK for protection, in a situation where they had a place to sleep and some money for food and nothing else. Not allowed to study, not allowed to work. Only able to buy clothes if their local Asda had a clothing section and they didn't want to eat for a couple of days.
Lucky them! At least they have food and shelter, you might blithely say. But let's think about this. Can you imagine not doing anything, at all, not being allowed or being able to afford to do anything, travel anywhere, meet people, read, watch TV, see a film for 6 years? Because that's what it's been. 6 years. Longer for some. Had they been imprisoned instead they would have had education, sport, TV, food cooked for them.
'But at least they have their freedom', you might add. What is their freedom then? They have to report to the Home Office or Police Station every week and sign to say they are still patiently waiting for ... something. Theirs is a house arrest without any of the benefits of imprisonment. At least if you are imprisoned you know your sentence. You know when you are due to get out.
Since 2004, these people have lived in a limbo with no updates and no hope of appeal. Very little communication from the Home Office and what they have had has been less than enlightening.
They are lucky that they have some support from the community of ESOL teachers who were forced for a year to turn down their requests for classes. In 2007, a group of college lecturers gathered to protest about the denial of English classes, making the pertinent point that without English, how could they integrate and wouldn't we be creating a climate of alienation wherein anger and aggression to the jailor state could develop! It seemed that this rang true and thankfully Section 4 Asylum seekers were once more allowed to attend English classes. Lucky them. Something to get out of the house for!
Ok, so this is a pretty one-sided view of Section 4 legislation. I thought it was only fair to include a link to the real thing here
**I'm sure the Home Office would disagree with me here. They would insist that those claims they have refused had no reasonable fear of persecution whereas those they granted had a legitimate claim. I would reassert that it certainly seems arbitrary as I have met hundreds of asylum seekers, and many of those who have been refused often have far more harrowing stories than those who were lucky enough to get refugee status. Personal stories from asylum seekers hopefully will appear in a later post. But if you still think the Home Office are totally objective please follow this link to an article that would suggest not...
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