The Promise and Pitfalls of Human Rights in Immigration Detention

Post by Andriani Fili and Mary Bosworth. This is the third of five posts that summarise individual chapters from A Research Agenda for a Human Rights-Centred Criminology, edited by Leanne Weber and Marinella Marmo and published in the series Palgrave Critical Studies in Human Rights and Criminology. You can read the introduction here.

The evidence that immigration detention systems worldwide are ineffective in their purported aims to curb migration and deport those deemed unworthy to enter or remain abounds. Despite widespread restrictions on academic research access, information is not in short supply. We know from multiple sources that everyday life inside immigration detention centres is cruel and inhumane. Conditions are degrading and structurally violent; the dignity and human rights of people, including that of children, within them, are neither guaranteed nor safeguarded. Yet, migrants are continuously subjected to multiple techniques and infrastructures of containment, raising profound questions about the impact of human rights protections in a system where ‘many of the fundamental protections guaranteed by law are observed only in the breach.’

Drawing on ongoing work in Greece and in-depth interviews with more than 70 experienced (I)NGO practitioners, researchers, journalists, academics, our chapter in this edited collection assesses how this situation has evolved, why human rights organisations and protections have been so ineffective, and what could be done differently. In this blog post, we summarise our findings. In trying to untangle the promise and pitfalls of human rights in immigration detention, we raise concerns about the relationship between international organisations, like Médicins San Frontières (MSF) and the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), and the National Preventive Mechanism (NPM) with the Greek authorities.

As with others, we have found that immigration detention in Greece operates with the support of these international human rights groups who tend to emphasise polite reformism and quiet diplomacy. Though successful at times, these strategies have not significantly shifted the way detention is implemented in Greece. Nor has it held many accountable for the gross human rights violations within these sites. Niki, a member of an international human rights institution was very clear: INGOs have a complex structure, what is raised [as an issue] every time is a matter of choice depending on the circumstances…As an INGO you can’t go and say I’m going to do this, because then you substitute the state. This is national sovereignty.’

Another former member of an INGO agreed. When preparing a report on the conditions in detention facilities in the Evros region, she and colleagues spent considerable time debating the extent to which they could denounce the detention system as a whole, rather than simply outlining the degrading treatment inside them. ‘It’s a governmental policy,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s like going out there and saying that prisons are wrong. You cannot challenge a policy.’

Our research on the nature of human-rights based monitoring within detention centres in Greece is equally pessimistic. The Greek NPM is meant to play a key role in preventing torture and ill treatment together with the two supranational bodies which also have a mandate to visit detention sites in Greece: the UN Subcommittee on Prevention of Torture and other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (SPT) and the “European Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment” (CPT). While this human rights framework and the laws that enshrine it is designed to prevent ill treatment, and to deter future occurrences through prosecution and sanction, the reality on the ground is different.

The Greek NPM, remains severely understaffed, underfunded and until recently was developing its methodology and its capability in the context of difficult political, financial and technical challenges. Their monitoring visits remain short. The absence of interpreters and the lack of privacy in conversation with detainees raise serious questions about their ability to gather reliable evidence. Under these conditions, it is perhaps unsurprising, that NPM monitoring reports appear only sporadically, if at all. Their dissemination strategy is focused on publishing annual special reports, which summarise the main findings of all their inspections that year, yet these too are often delayed. According to the NPM, it is the national police who determine whether the government accepts their recommendations. While some detention managers try to implement their suggestions, few take action, or are forced to do so.

Against this context, we have found that the benefits offered by human rights protections are not always clear, even to those defending them at courts. Greek NGO lawyers we have interviewed, for instance, often have little faith in bringing about systematic change through litigation. Evgenia, who had years of experience in representing immigrants at court, spoke for many when we asked her about available legal actions: ‘I don’t think there is a mechanism that is able to change the way the police work. They are somewhat autonomous and only interventions from very high up can bring change. Whatever the rest do is just beating the air’. And indeed, the evidence is clear: most cases of alleged police ill-treatment are not criminally prosecuted, and very few of those which make it to court result in any kind of disciplinary sanctions.

One practical criticism that can be levelled at institutions that aim to monitor and protect human rights inside detention facilities is that they point out to detention staff and managers what they already know, doing little to help the change process, and return months or years later to report the same failings. In the meantime, detention authorities have not implemented recommended changes because they lack motivation, money, knowledge or capability. This state of affairs increases cynicism towards these organisations from government and civil society and undermines their efficacy. In Greece, this unvirtuous circle is in full flow, and lends a depressing inevitability to our findings.

Under these circumstances, what role is there for academic research or expertise? As academics, we should not give up on the relevance of empirical evidence. So, even as research access to immigration detention becomes further constrained, and the impact of our work more tenuous, we must continue to insist on studying the system and its impacts directly, to gather material to challenge the politicisation of human rights and reform agendas that have become normalised. In that work, we suggest it would useful to study the institutions that aim to protect individuals against human rights abuses. The point is not merely to scrutinise their effectiveness or even the impact of human rights treaties on state behaviours. Rather, we need to better understand how these institutions perform their duties, gather information, engage with the authorities and other organisations. Research projects should also address issues of transparency and trust. In other words, it is vital to unpack the involvement of non-state actors in state functions and assessing the implications of human rights frameworks on immigration detention’s growth.

Any comments about this post? Get in touch with us! Send us an email, or post a comment here or on Facebook. You can also tweet us.