Introduction

Refugees and asylum seekers were vulnerable populations long before the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic on March 11, 2020 [1]. COVID-19 has only exacerbated the challenges they face on a daily basis. With asylum hearings moving online, overcrowding in encampments, and increased stigmatization of migrants in the context of disease spread, refugees have been shouldering unequal impacts throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. As of December 2020, there were 82.4 million people who were forcibly displaced worldwide as a result of persecution, conflict, violence, human rights violations, or events seriously disturbing public order (UNHCR). This number is projected to be on the rise.

This chapter provides a global overview of some of those impacts and firsthand accounts from a volunteer in the encampments at the US–Mexico border. The first section of the chapter brings into perspective the conditions of the world’s asylum seekers in the context of COVID-19 and an understanding of the ways the pandemic has aggravated their challenges. The second section features a narrative from an NGO worker at the US–Mexico border who brings a much needed experience-based insight into the lived realities of asylum seekers, especially during the pandemic. By using this case study and secondary level research, in the final section, the authors attempt to draw an inceptive understanding of the long-term implications and lessons that the pandemic offers with regard to the refugee crisis.

Terminologies

The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) updated its Master Glossary of Terms in June 2021, fifteen years after producing the first version of the document [2]. The update came, in part, as a response to an increase in displacement and a need to provide stakeholders with consistency and clarity around displacement terminology [2]. One of the important clarifying points in the document was that “Not every asylum seeker will ultimately be recognized as a refugee, but every refugee is initially an asylum seeker” [2]. Article 14 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights states that “Everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution” [3]. Asylum seekers are people who are either seeking, or have a need for, international protection [2]. People seeking asylum may be awaiting a decision on an application for refugee status or intending to submit an application for refugee status [2].

According to international law, refugees are people who have fled ‘their countries of origin’, and “are in need of international protection because of feared persecution, or a serious threat to their lives, physical integrity, or freedom in their country of origin as a result of persecution, armed conflict, violence, or serious public disorder” [2]. Internally displaced persons face similar circumstances to refugees but have not crossed an international border [2].

Migrant is a term that defies an all-encompassing definition and has no definition under international law [2]. The term is typically associated with more agency in relation to movement, particularly ‘across international borders’ [2]. This agency differentiates migrants from refugees in that migrants “continue in principle to enjoy the protection of their own government, even when they are abroad” [2]. It is for this reason that UNHCR advises against using the term migrant ‘as a catchall’ word for refugees and asylum seekers since refugees are entitled to international protection and it is best to acknowledge this clearly [2].

COVID-19 and the Increased Vulnerability of Refugees and Asylum Seekers

COVID-19 has been likened to an x-ray, revealing fractures in the fragile skeleton of the societies we have built.

It is exposing fallacies and falsehoods everywhere:

The lie that free markets can deliver healthcare for all;

The fiction that unpaid care work is not work;

The delusion that we live in a post-racist world;

The myth that we are all in the same boat.

Because while we are all floating on the same sea, it’s clear that some are in superyachts while others are clinging to drifting debris.

- António Guterres, Secretary General of the United Nations [4]

As the UN Secretary-General rightly pointed out in July 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic exposed the truth that not everybody is in the same boat. For asylum seekers across the world, the pandemic not only aggravated their existing vulnerabilities, but also shed light on the deep fault lines and inequalities that normally make up their reality. According to a UNHCR report from 2020, 86% of the world’s refugees and asylum seekers were hosted in developing countries. There were 3.7 million refugees in Turkey, 1.7 million in Colombia, 1.4 million in Pakistan, 1.4 million in Uganda, and 1.2 million in Germany. Between 2018 and 2020, an average of 290,000 and 340,000 children were born into a refugee life per year [5].

This section of the chapter looks at the varied ways in which the pandemic has aggravated the challenges faced by asylum seekers, including the imposition of movement restrictions, asylum hearings moving online, changes to policies that impact their daily lives, lack of access to health services, xenophobia, and violence. This section also presents a case study that looks at the experiences of asylum seekers at the US-Mexico border through the lens of a non-governmental organization (NGO) volunteer who works in the region.

Movement Restrictions

At the start of the pandemic, governance systems across the globe were faced with difficult decisions regarding how to continue operations in the short- and long term. The lockdowns and border closures that followed in the days, weeks, and months after March 11, 2020, were challenging for many people, but disproportionately so for asylum seekers. Globally, there were 109,956 restrictions on movement put into effect between the first day of the pandemic and July 12, 2021 [6]. Of these 109,956 restrictions, 980 exceptions were made [6]. Had there not been a pandemic, we could have expected far more asylum seekers and refugees to arrive in host countries in 2020. According to UNHCR, that number is about 1.5 million [5]. When UNHCR compared actual numbers with those that were forecast, they found that there were roughly “1.5 million fewer people than would have been expected [to arrive] in non-COVID circumstances” [5].

Online Asylum Hearings

Even in cases where people were able to travel to host countries to seek asylum, the circumstances often looked very different than they did prior to COVID-19. In the United Kingdom, for example, as in many other countries, asylum hearings took place online in response to the pandemic lockdowns [7]. The United Kingdom’s Immigration and Asylum Chamber accelerated its shift to online services once the pandemic began [7]. The move to online hearings was not without its complications for those seeking asylum, even though it did allow for asylum applications to continue being processed in spite of the pandemic.

Developing a sense of trust between asylum seekers and the barristers representing them is more precarious in a virtual format [7]. Establishing a good rapport is more likely to occur face-to-face than it is online [7]. Additionally, asylum seekers may not be able to consistently connect with their representatives digitally prior to their hearings if they are inexperienced with the necessary technology or cannot afford it [7]. Virtual asylum hearings are prone to the same technical difficulties as other online events, but the stakes are much higher [7].

On top of this, asylum seekers may also have additional characteristics that exacerbate their vulnerability in the context of their asylum hearings [7]. The language of their host country, and therefore, the language used for their asylum hearing, may not be their native language. They could be experiencing mental health challenges, including fear or anxiety, or they may have a dependency on drugs or alcohol. Young adults and children asylum seekers are also more likely to be vulnerable litigants [7].

If asylum seekers experienced trauma prior to arriving in their host country, some of the characteristics of ‘lockdowns’ such as confinement and a sense of captivity, paired with the anticipation leading up to their asylum hearing could be particularly difficult. Asylum seekers may also inherently distrust the government officials involved in their asylum hearing, due to the negative experiences from which they fled in their home country [7]. Feelings of mistrust could be amplified in an online environment due to a lack of ability to make direct eye contact, see full body language, and the dampening of other non-verbal communication factors. These same qualities may also disadvantage asylum seekers as they communicate with judges. For example, asylum seekers may appear to be averting eye contact and thus seem evasive, when in reality they are simply looking down at the people on their screen [7].

An element of legal proceedings that is meant to bolster trust in the system—making hearings open to the public—may pose a perceived and/or real risk to asylum seekers in an online setting [7]. If third parties are able to watch recordings of asylum hearings after the fact, then asylum seekers may worry about disclosing their full case. Asylum seekers’ trust in the process could be damaged if they do not feel assured that bad actors in their home countries will be prevented from viewing their asylum hearings. The benefit of in-person hearings is that asylum seekers can see the people who enter the room for the hearing. If a recording is made available, there is no way for the asylum seeker to know exactly who has seen it or will see it [7].

Policy: Title 42 in the United States

Asylum seekers have had to manage additional perturbations beyond and prior to hearings moving online. During the first three months of lockdowns due to COVID-19, the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services halted services that normally take place in-person, including interviews for asylum applications [8]. Adding to the disruptions in the typical process for seeking asylum is a clause of the United States Code called Title 42 [9].

The pandemic opened up the possibility for government agencies to use certain emergency powers. Section 265 of Title 42 gives the Surgeon General the authority “to prohibit, in whole or in part, the introduction of persons and property from such countries or places as he shall designate in order to avert such danger, and for such period of time as he may deem necessary” in the context of communicable diseases being introduced into the US from foreign countries [9]. Nine days after COVID-19 was declared a pandemic, the US Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) issued an emergency regulation, which implemented Sect. 265 of Title 42 and set in motion a chain of events impacting asylum seekers at the US–Mexico border.

The Director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) subsequently issued an order which suspended the introduction of certain ‘covered aliens’ into the United States, focusing specifically on people trying to enter from Canada and Mexico [10]. This order allowed agents working for US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) to expel individuals ‘without valid documents’ including asylum seekers, back to their home countries or Mexico without screening for fear of persecution [11]. As of May 2022, more than 1.8 million people have been expelled under Title 42 [12].

According to CBP, “Expulsions under Title 42 are not based on immigration status and are tracked separately from immigration enforcement actions” [12]. Although the CDC and CBP have stated that Title 42 expulsions are a public health policy, rather than an immigration policy, public health experts in the United States have contested the validity of this [13]. In a letter addressed to the secretary of HHS and the director of the CDC, 57 leaders of public health schools, medical schools, hospitals, and other US institutions implored that HHS and the CDC end the policy of expelling individuals and families seeking protection from the US, saying that “public health laws should not be used as a pretext for overriding humanitarian laws and treaties that provide life-saving protections to refugees seeking asylum and unaccompanied children” [13]. The CDC has since exempted unaccompanied children from being expelled under Title 42, although other individuals and families continue to be expelled [14].

The policy is directed at non-citizens arriving at US entry points by land [13]. The public health experts who signed the letter pointed out that the US is still allowing citizens, permanent residents, as well as tourists who travel to the country in airplanes and ships, to enter the country regardless of the fact that this type of transportation is categorized by HHS as having a ‘higher risk of disease transmission than land travel’ [13]. They viewed the policy as a way ‘to target certain classes of non-citizens’ and not as one that is explicitly in the interest of public health [13].

Accessing Medical Services

Asylum seekers have always faced administrative, financial, and legal hurdles as well as language barriers when trying to access medical services they need [15]. In 2020, WHO’s Global Health and Migration Programme surveyed over 30,000 refugees and migrants living in 170 countries to learn about how the pandemic has affected these vulnerable groups. Common reasons cited by participants—who lived on the street or in insecure accommodation—for not seeking medical assistance for a suspected COVID-19 infection included lack of money, fear of deportation, non-availability of healthcare providers, and in some cases uncertainty about their entitlement to healthcare. Refugees and migrants living in encampments had less access to COVID-related information than others. The study also found that civil society actors played a key role in disseminating COVID-related information to refugees and migrants [16]. In terms of the impact of COVID-19 on mental health, there were greater feelings of depression, anxiety, loneliness, and worry. Some primary reasons for anxiety included uncertainty about the future, fear of falling sick or fear of suffering from serious financial consequences [16].

In addition to access to medical services, it is important to note how the pandemic has impacted the social determinants of the health of asylum seekers. In the Matamoros encampments in Mexico, the pandemic reportedly reduced access to nutrition, employment, asylum processing, and health facilities due to financial, transport, and discrimination challenges [17]. These barriers were observed to impact the mental and physical health of asylum seekers, relatively more than COVID-19 [17].

Xenophobia and Violence

Estimates from the WHO European region show that asylum seekers commonly have a low risk of transmitting communicable diseases to host populations [15]. Despite the evidence, this vulnerable population group is often the first to be stigmatized and unjustly blamed for the spread of viruses. In February 2020, when the African continent had just one case of COVID-19, Italy’s far right politician Matteo Salvini blamed the rescue ship that docked in Sicily with 276 African refugees onboard for bringing the virus from Africa [18]. In March 2020, when no confirmed case of the coronavirus was yet recorded in Hungary, the country suspended the access of asylum seekers to border transit areas noting that a ‘certain link’ was observed between COVID-19 and asylum seekers [19]. Xenophobia against asylum seekers during the pandemic has been largely perpetuated by nation states not merely in their vocabulary, but at many systemic levels disrupting the rights of asylum seekers. Xenophobic and hostile measures including detentions, pushbacks, migrant deterrence policies, and so on have led to human rights violations of asylum seekers who still continue to face the impact in the form of torture, drownings at sea, trafficking, and sexual violence [20].

According to the Global Monitor of COVID’s Impact on Democracy and Human Rights, almost 12,000 people trying to leave Libya in 2020 were captured by the coast guard, and the majority of them were held in crowded detention facilities [21]. Likewise, officials in Ghana, Kenya, Morocco, and Tunisia have unlawfully imprisoned asylum seekers, detaining them in immigration centers, police custody, and prisons [21]. This routine of violence heightened during the pandemic as asylum seekers faced assault, forced quarantine, poor legal assistance, overcrowding, and more.

Narrative of an NGO Volunteer at the US–Mexico Border

Civil society has always been known to take the lead and steer possible responses in spaces ignored or abandoned by state actors. At the US–Mexico border, the Reynosa and Matamoros encampments are examples of such spaces where asylum seekers have been supported by non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and aid workers. This was especially true during the COVID-19 pandemic which forced asylum seekers to confront new vulnerabilities. What follows is the narrative of an NGO volunteer at the US–Mexico border, who has been serving asylum seekers as they grappled with the impacts of COVID-19. We will call her Mia. Amidst the media coverage and secondhand accounts of the plight of refugees and asylum seekers in encampments, Mia’s narrative offers much needed experience-based insights into their lived realities during the pandemic.

These encampments are not fit for people to live in, first. That’s just without COVID involved at all.

Mia has worked in both the Reynosa and Matamoros encampments and is aware of how asylum seekers in these camps live with a shortage of resources, abysmal sanitation, and little to no safety. The Matamoros encampment closed down in March 2021, one year after the pandemic began. Shortly after its closure, the Reynosa encampment was created. The Reynosa encampment has significantly fewer resources than the Matamoros encampment with only 20 portable latrines for over 2,000 people living inside the camp. If such impoverished living conditions were not difficult enough to deal with, the asylum seekers also live in constant vulnerability to threats of kidnapping and assault. This is put into perspective when Mia describes an incident that unfolded just 30 min prior to the interview; four women asylum seekers were beaten, forced into a truck, and kidnapped. ‘This is at 1:30 on a Wednesday afternoon,’ she says, highlighting how unsafe it is for anyone living or volunteering in the Reynosa encampment. The outbreak of COVID-19 has amplified the multitude of challenges faced by those living in the encampment and added new layers of complexity.

Denial of Medical Help for COVID Recovery

COVID has hit the Reynosa encampment so hard we're lucky no one has died from it up to this point.

When the virus outbreak first happened inside the Reynosa encampment, it spread to such a high extent that for each family tested, one family member tested positive for COVID-19. During this period, the bigger issue was the lack of any legitimate means to avail medical support including medications and ventilators. The denial of medical support to asylum seekers was a well-known reality even prior to the pandemic. From morning to night, men, women, and children in the camps are all prone to fainting from heat exhaustion, illnesses, and many other reasons. Describing this, Mia says, “In Reynosa, right now people pass out all the time; that's not an uncommon thing.” She also observes how at night time, when it gets quiet, one can hear coughing throughout the encampment.

Mia has received phone calls almost every night during this period if an asylum seeker was very sick, needed medical attention, and the ambulance did not arrive. “Ambulances have been called on multiple occasions, but just like in most border cities, an ambulance won't put an asylum seeker inside of their truck. They won't,” she says. If an asylum seeker is lucky and a paramedic is compassionate enough to take him/her to the hospital, the hospital won’t accept this person specifically because s/he is an asylum seeker. She recalls a recent incident when a boy who had been sick passed out in the camp around midnight. Once she was alerted to this, Mia called the delegate of Reynosa and demanded that the child be taken to the hospital immediately and warned that if he were to die in the camp from COVID, the officials would be accused of inaction. Only after receiving a photograph of the ambulance on the Reynosa Plaza did Mia go to bed. Later the next day, she learnt that the ambulance had arrived and provided medical assistance to the boy but left him there. She then conducted a COVID test. Looking back on this incident, she says, “Sad to say, officials don't care that much about asylum seekers, they just want them out of their city; but what they do care about is how they appear to others.” A social worker, Mia’s typical day consists of putting out such fires for the asylum seekers with whom she works closely. Her undeterred sense of commitment and dedication comes through when she says, in passing, “Oftentimes, when there are problems and issues, I get phone calls, which is fine because my role is to solve them.”

The Migrant Protection Protocols

The Migrant Protection Protocols (MPP), otherwise known as the “Remain in Mexico” program, was implemented in January 2019. According to the Department of Homeland Security, under MPP, “certain foreign individuals entering or seeking admission to the US from Mexico—illegally or without proper documentation—may be returned to Mexico and wait outside of the US for the duration of their immigration proceedings, where Mexico will provide them with all appropriate humanitarian protections for the duration of their stay” [22].

NGOs such as Mia’s have stepped in to provide asylum seekers with food, education, and medical care while they wait in Mexico. MPP is, in part, meant to deter people from trying to enter the United States, but people have continued to seek asylum even with MPP in place. Asylum seekers are still living in tent cities at the US–Mexico border for months, and sometimes years, as they await their asylum hearings. MPP was implemented prior to the pandemic. Therefore, people were already living in encampments once the pandemic began. Mia points out, “COVID shut down the court systems, COVID shut down interviews…That’s how MPP and COVID collided; it shut down the system for minority asylum seekers…”.

The Secretary of Homeland Security decided to terminate MPP in June 2021, which received pushback from the US District Court for the Northern District of Texas. The Department of Homeland Security will terminate MPP “as soon as practicable after issuance of a final judicial decision to vacate the Texas injunction” [23].

Civil Society Leading the Public Health Fight

Mia’s group was among the first respondents to assist the asylum seekers in Reynosa when COVID-19 hit. They procured several thousand face masks and with the support of two other NGOs, transported and distributed them to every asylum seeker in the Reynosa encampment. In addition, during the early months of the pandemic, her team transported hundreds of COVID-19 testing kits to Mexico and distributed them to asylum shelters in Reynosa as there was a rising need to test asylum seekers who were sick. “For a while, we were spending between 6,000 to 8,000 dollars a week for buying COVID tests alone,” she says, highlighting how they spent the little grant money they had very quickly and cleaned out retail stores until other NGOs began to provide support through procuring test kits. If an asylum seeker believes s/he has COVID, multiple questions are asked to note any visible symptoms before a COVID-19 test is administered. Mia says that this is because COVID-19 testing kits are treated like gold in Reynosa. They are not only expensive to acquire, but it is also a laborious process to cross them into Mexico with the permission of the Mexican government, which fines every testing kit if the protocol is not strictly followed.

Given the denial of medical services at the hospital, the NGO has set up three medical teams who rotate shifts at the plaza. Mia and her team have also become certified to give a valid COVID test that is approved and acknowledged by the United States Customs and Border Protection (CBP). If individuals test positive the NGO pays for their medication advised by the doctor.

Heightened Risks and Exacerbated Realities

“COVID has made the situation for the asylum seekers worse,” she notes, “and that’s a really hard thing to do if you live inside of the Reynosa encampment or the Tijuana encampment.”

COVID-19 testing kits, protective masks, and access to medical support may be some key issues for asylum seekers from a public health standpoint during the pandemic. However, what often goes unrecognized are the complexities that compound them. For instance, availability and accessibility are not the only concerns when it comes to face masks for asylum seekers. Given the extreme heat and humidity in the region, it is impossible for them to live outdoors and breathe with the N95 face masks on 24/7. As Mia states, “It’s hot. It’s like 101 and 105 degrees out there everyday. So, you can imagine how it would be living outside 24 hours a day with a face mask on your face.” Except for the times when volunteers or visitors visit the plaza, very few asylum seekers wear face masks inside the encampment because breathlessness is a more visible concern than the spread of disease.

When an asylum seeker gets infected with COVID-19 and needs medical assistance, the hospitals refuse to treat them unless they are escorted by an NGO worker and pay cash up front for COVID tests and overnight stay. This was the case even prior to COVID. Mia says, “We've walked them into many doctors’ offices. We've also taken asylum seekers to get cancer treatment, but we always have to be the ones there with them for them to be accepted to get medical care, which is awful. If you're an asylum seeker and you have COVID and you're not walking in with some American, then you're not going to get treated.” The risk here is not merely the denial of medical help but the precarious situations they are pushed into as a result. For instance, the threat of kidnapping has increased since the pandemic began. As Mia points out, “Anyone who says, I'm willing to help you, and if you're in Reynosa, you should not accept any help from any stranger because the odds of you getting kidnapped or assaulted are really, really high. They happen on a daily basis.” However, if a child or a spouse is suffering from COVID-19 and there is no known NGO volunteer present, the asylum seekers are forced to take a risk and trust any strangers who claim they can help, despite the evident threat of kidnapping and assault. Mia describes this predicament, “If we're not there, who is left for you to depend on and how long are you willing to watch your child or spouse be sick, before it's just too much for you, before you say yes to that stranger and get in that van or that truck?” The COVID-19 pandemic in the encampments has worsened the already aggravated realities of asylum seekers and the deliberate lack of a state-led public health response has ensured that there is nothing for them to depend on, except the NGOs.

Furthermore, basic necessities are lacking when asylum seekers try to recover from COVID. In addition to an obvious lack of medical care and an appropriate quarantine space, there is no access to clean drinking water and also a high chance of missing meals when asylum seekers are too unwell to receive food assistance deliveries.

It is with exasperation that Mia declares, “Because of COVID and because you're an asylum seeker, you are like beneath the totem pole. It's like you're not even at the bottom, you're beneath it, where you have no other options if you, your child, or your spouse is sick. We put asylum seekers in impossible situations and then we blame them for wanting to come to our country.”

Stigma, Denied by the State

Social stigma is another aspect over which asylum seekers have no control. Asylum seekers who wait in the encampments and cross the border to the United States are often blamed and stigmatized for carrying the coronavirus into the country. “The narrative that the media has put out that asylum seekers are just bringing COVID into the US is false,” Mia counters.

She elaborates on the system put in place by the United States government at the US–Mexico border to prevent disease spread. For the asylum seekers who are crossing the border to be able to enter the United States, they need to test negative for COVID-19. If they test positive, they are held in Mexico for two weeks until they test negative. It is only with a negative test that they are allowed to go to the port of entry to the US and present themselves to the CBP. They are tested again for COVID once they enter the US, before being released. Pointing to this two-step verification put in place by the administration, Mia says, “Whenever I see these reports about asylum seekers bringing in COVID, it often surprises me how our administration sits back and says nothing when they're the ones who put the policy in place. They don't really try to correct that false narrative out there.”

Denial of Vaccination

The only place asylum seekers can rightfully gain access to vaccines is when they are allowed to enter the United States. Mia notes that, unlike American citizens, asylum seekers don’t have the luxury of turning down a vaccine because vaccination is not made available for those awaiting hearings in the Reynosa encampment. “There’s no reason they should go unvaccinated as us Americans get booster shots,” she says. When Mia attempted to address this with the local authorities at the US–Mexico border, she was told by the US government that ensuring vaccine availability for asylum seekers is the responsibility of the Mexican government, even when the individuals in question are US asylum seekers and future US citizens.

Fault Lines Exposed by COVID-19

When asked if the COVID-19 pandemic offers any lessons for how the US refugee crisis needs to be handled, Mia says, “Our whole asylum system needs an overhaul. Everything about it works against asylum seekers and when I say, ‘everything about this’, I mean US laws and policies against the asylum seeker.” In this regard, one can observe that the pandemic has not only exacerbated the vulnerabilities of asylum seekers, but has evidently uncovered and further exposed the systemic hurdles that surround their day-to-day realities as non-citizens. State intervention is deliberately absent when it comes to meeting the bare minimum necessities of asylum seekers. Mia reflects on the disparities that have been made clear by the pandemic. “We are not giving asylum seekers access to vaccines. And we are not giving the asylum seekers access to medical care if they become sick with COVID. We leave them out on the Reynosa Plaza gasping for air, as Americans go to sleep.”

From procuring masks and COVID-19 testing kits to arranging for comfortable quarantine shelters and appropriate medical and nutritional support, different NGOs in Reynosa have taken on vital tasks and work with mutual exchange of resources to ensure the wellbeing of the asylum seekers during this period. Pointing to this collaborative effort, Mia adds, “We've all done our part to help out asylum seekers during the pandemic.”

The role played by NGOs and aid workers in ‘stateless’ settings like the asylum encampments is exceptional. It exemplifies the true pursuit of ensuring human rights. However, as long as the state and its institutions deny and evade their basic responsibility to protect the wellbeing of asylum seekers, no amount of civil society intervention can adequately fill this fundamental gap.

Policy: Global Perspective

The world over, refugees, asylum seekers’, and migrants’ rights and protections are impeded on a daily basis, many of which are heightened by lack of status in countries of asylum, surveillance, curfews, and other means of marginalization that enhanced risk protections during the COVID-19 pandemic [24].

The global lockdown unduly affected these populations precisely because of the lack of rights afforded to them. As the COVID-19 pandemic began, human rights organizations reported on immigration raids and arrests in Malaysia in response to public anger, fears, and concern over the spread of the coronavirus [25].

In the crowded Cox’s Bazar refugee complex in Bangladesh, Rohingya refugees feared family separation. Isolation in treatment facilities hampered testing efforts. That fear was clearly connected to Bangladesh’s restrictions on movement as well as internet and mobile communications which infringe on refugee rights to health and freedom of movement [26].

When the pandemic struck, East Africa simultaneously dealt with a triple crisis of COVID-19, floods sweeping across the region, and a second round of crop destroying locusts in a ‘decade of back-to-back-crises’ linked to climate change. In Somalia alone, one million people were impacted and 400,000 were displaced. In Kenya, at least 40,000 people were displaced by floods. The pandemic struck Somalia while it had struggled with years of drought, war, food insecurity, and rising internal and cross-border displacement. Kenya, which already hosts a record number of refugees, continued to receive new Somali arrivals. As part of a containment strategy for the coronavirus, Kenya restricted movement in and out of its refugee camps at Dadaab and Kakuma camps [27].

Pakistan also faced the effects of the same locust battle, which deeply impacted its food security as it dealt with surging COVID-19 cases and continued to host 1.4 million Afghan refugees within its borders [28].

In the US, deportations of migrants and asylum seekers from its borders continued even with the virus status unknown. For instance, on May 11, 2020, a deportation flight from Texas to Haiti departed with 50 passengers who were sent to hotels for quarantine upon arrival in Port-au-Prince at the Haitian government’s expense. However, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) did not deport five Haitians who tested positive for COVID-19 on that flight after media reports revealed the US government’s plans were to deport them as well. Deporting individuals who are known to be infected with the virus violates both the US and international public health guidelines to prevent the spread of the virus [29].

In Guatemala, 15% of its caseload in May 2020 comprised US deportees, where at least 117 Guatemalans deported from the US tested positive as of May 4, 2020 [29].

The drivers of forced displacement persisted despite the global pandemic and its commensurate lockdown. But how can you flee persecution amidst closed borders? How can you live in situations of forced displacement among your persecutors and abusers?

And once again, when a new global challenge tested our resolve, it was the resilience of refugees that shined through as an example for us all.

Refugees and Asylum Seekers as Stakeholders for Their Own Solutions

Amidst this global lockdown, refugees showed time and time again why forcibly displaced populations face particular threats. They also showed how the particular contributions and support they provide are an asset in situations of crises. All over the world, refugees stepped up in their own communities to respond to the needs of fellow refugees, migrants, and asylum seekers.

In Lebanon, pandemic restrictions limited refugee rights even further. But refugees stepped up to meet their community’s needs by translating COVID-19 health information into Arabic, raising awareness on social media, collecting donations, and distributing relief, even as public sentiments turned against them [30].

In Uganda, refugee-led organizations responded in both camps and cities. In the Nakivale Settlement, the Wakati Foundation employed refugees to sew and distribute masks, while also raising community awareness about the virus. In Arua, the Global Society Initiative for Peace and Democracy conducted hygiene and sanitation information campaigns to slow the spread of the virus [31].

Time and again, throughout the initial months of the pandemic, Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh and refugees from Uganda, Lebanon, France, Germany, and more filled critical gaps where the international community had failed. The 2016 World Humanitarian Summit ‘Grand Bargain’ recognized people affected by crises as first responders. But they still remain on the periphery. We did not need the COVID-19 pandemic to demonstrate this, but surely it has served as an apt reminder that it is high time we stop sidelining refugees who can provide solutions within their own communities [32].

In March 2020, the Medical Council in Ireland announced that refugees and asylum seekers with medical training can provide essential medical support during the pandemic [33]. This form of inclusion should apply at all times, rather than only in emergency situations such as a pandemic. A true testament to the importance and value—of this type of inclusion are NGOs like Mia’s that work in refugee encampments with the active support and engagement of asylum seekers. As we advocate for states to take responsibility to ensure human rights, asylum seekers and refugees need to be recognized as vital stakeholders for their own solutions. This is one among the four basic tenets propagated by the UN in advancing ‘safe and inclusive human mobility’ during and beyond the pandemic [34].

Moving Forward: Climate Change as an Analogy to the Pandemic

Our next ‘global virus challenge’ is climate change. And with that too it is refugees and migrants who will be challenged to the extreme but will also rise to that challenge. We are already seeing that resolve tested in the asylum seekers held in the US detention centers at the US-southern border who are fleeing violence in their Central American countries as well as climate change. Naysayers may call it poverty and they would not be wrong. It is poverty, but it is poverty fueled by food insecurity, fueled by drought, fueled by climate change, and climate variability [35]. Just as some are in denial about COVID-19 and robust COVID-19 response, the same holds true for climate change, which we already know is deeply impacting some of the poorest and most marginalized populations in the world who have had little to do with contributing to global warming in the first place.

Closing Comments

The refugee crisis has grown into a wide ranging and nuanced problem that has only increased in complexity since the COVID-19 pandemic began. Aside from offering lessons in terms of the global public health response, the pandemic has also shed light on the immense authority wielded by nation states in influencing the rights of asylum seekers, through their actions and inactions. Nations’ oppressive refugee policies defended as public health response have had a detrimental impact on asylum seekers, just as the absence of state led interventions and support systems continue to have on their fundamental human rights.

States need to uphold the commitments they made when they became signatories to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which guarantees the right to seek asylum. It was ratified at the 1951 Refugee Convention. It bears mentioning that both these instruments are customary international law binding on states, regardless of ratification. Problems of resource management, often cited by host countries can be resolved through strategic planning and proactive policy-making. In the absence of sufficient state support, civil society continues to respond to events that force people to seek refuge in other countries. The Migrant Protection Protocols in the US and other similar policies around the globe are not deterrents to asylum seekers as they were intended to be. The number of asylum seekers in the future is projected to increase, not decrease. Political instability, climate change, economic insecurity, resource scarcity, conflict, violence, and persecution are some of the factors, often interrelated, that continue to drive the upward trend of the world’s refugees. Recent events in Afghanistan and Ukraine have highlighted the need for the international community to implement better policies to support asylum seekers.

Within this context, it is critical to ensure that the deeply embedded racial disparities and related forms of discrimination in policies addressing the refugee crisis are dealt with seriously. Just as the COVID-19 pandemic has exposed fault lines and inequalities, so have the varying responses in how asylum seekers are treated based on race. A recent testament to the prevalence and extremity of racism and xenophobia is the proactive and unprecedented response wielded by western countries, particularly Europe and North America, in providing aid to Ukranian asylum seekers; a response which minority asylum seekers have not experienced in equal measure.

We are not all in the same boat. Lest we blame all this on the virus, it is a good reminder that the virus has laid bare pre-existing structures of gross inequality, failed policies, neglect, and forgotten crises all over the world that have now become even worse. There is no doubt that refugees will answer the call yet again, but let’s hope that when all is said and done, we give refugees their due and no longer sideline them as passive beneficiaries in a system of dependency.