Thousands of stateless people live in limbo due to gaps in Australia’s system, according to a report published today by researchers from the University of Melbourne.
What Does It Mean to Be Stateless?
To be stateless means no country in the world recognises you as legally belonging. Lack of nationality can negatively shape every aspect of a person’s life. Stateless people can struggle to access the most basic human rights, such as education, health care, and the ability to work and move freely. The impacts on children can be especially debilitating, robbing them of their childhood and the chance to build a future. Millions of people are estimated to be denied a nationality globally; one third are believed to be children.
Australia Lagging Behind
The report, Understanding Statelessness in Australia, is based on analysis of more than 800 decisions by tribunals and courts, and almost 100 interviews with stateless people, lawyers, health workers, policy experts and community workers. It found Australia is failing to identify and adequately protect stateless people. The authors argue Australia can follow the example of the United Kingdom, France and the Netherlands and establish a framework to allow people to resettle within a reasonable timeframe and with dignity.
For instance, the UK introduced a formal “statelessness determination procedure” in 2013, after a similar national study on the issue. This procedure provides a framework for recognising a person’s statelessness status, allowing them to acquire residence and socioeconomic rights, with a pathway to naturalisation. Although far from perfect, it shows other countries have recognised the importance of the issue. Australia, meanwhile, is lagging behind.
A State of Uncertainty
Following the second world war, many stateless people came to Australia. They worked hard, built homes and families, and became valued members of the community. But today’s stateless arrivals are treated very differently. For years they live in a state of uncertainty.
Hassan* and Noor* began life in Australia behind bars, with their children unable to attend school for months at a time. Immigration detention was the only home their third child knew for the first 16 months of his life. Eventually the family was released into community detention and then placed on a series of endless, rolling short-term visas. This presented problems, particularly for Noor, who has a chronic health condition. Hassan explained: “Every time the bridging visa would expire, our Medicare card would expire […] Sometimes every three months, sometimes every six months. The constantly expiring visas made it hard for my wife to get medical treatment when she needed it.”
Thousands of stateless people live legally in Australia, but with no pathway to permanency. They can’t be returned to the country they came from as they are not recognised as belonging. Despite signing up to key international obligations to protect stateless people, Australia is largely ignoring their plight while they languish in a state of legal limbo.
Another young woman, Nur, told researchers she recently finished high school but has been unable to study medicine because of visa restrictions. She is also prohibited from working, saying: “I want to be useful and do something with my time. I tried volunteering for a large charity, but I couldn’t get a police check because I don’t have enough documents.”
Amir is a Kurdish man who was detained and subjected to short-term visas for more than a decade but then was given a special form of permanent visa in recognition of his sporting abilities, and went on to captain the Australian blind football team on the global stage. Yet he worries for others, saying: “Within my community in Australia, I see so many stateless people who haven’t been given visas […] Everyone needs a clear pathway and plan; some form of certainty. When you are stateless, you’ve always been uncertain about your life […] Uncertainty makes you feel unwell. There has to be a cut-off. We must say, ‘OK, these people have suffered for 10–15 years. Enough is enough.’ […] Give them a visa so they can get on with their life.”
Very Real Consequences
Legislative gaps and bureaucratic delays have very real human consequences. After 14 years of waiting to become a citizen, Hassan says the limited hope he has left is for his children: “I’m tired of trying to understand what is happening. I just want to go to work, support my family and come home. I want a simple life. I am old now, and I am still not a citizen […] My time is finished now, I only care about my children. The future is about my children.”
*Names changed to protect identity
