New York Times (Op-Ed)
By Katherine Reisner and Catherine Crooke
July 28, 2015
IN
2006, as violence in Iraq skyrocketed, a Sunni carpenter named Ahmed
panicked when his wife found a death threat in their garage. It came
from the militia that controlled
the family’s neighborhood: “You need to join our militia or we will
kill you or kidnap your kids,” it said.
At
first, Ahmed hoped a low profile would protect him, so he avoided
leaving home. (Ahmed is a pseudonym; he asked that his real name and
home city not be disclosed to
protect family members who remain in Iraq.) But soon, his neighbor —
another Sunni man who was similarly threatened by the same militia — was
killed. Then he learned that his daughter was hospitalized with a rare,
life-threatening kidney disease, and his wife
struggled with their intellectually disabled son. Ahmed knew then he
had no choice, and he, his wife and five children fled to Jordan.
There,
the United Nations referred Ahmed’s family to the United States Refugee
Admissions Program, which assigned him an interview with a Department
of Homeland Security
officer. This interview would be their sole opportunity to prove they
met the definition of a “refugee” under American law: a person who has a
“well-founded fear of persecution” in his home country because of
“race, religion, membership in a particular social
group, or political opinion.”
Our
federal courts have spent many decades defining these few terms. If
your life depended on such a complex legal determination, you’d probably
want a lawyer. Yet the
Department of Homeland Security explicitly bars refugees from bringing
counsel to their interviews. How could Ahmed, with no legal experience,
anticipate the law’s vast technicalities and tripwires?
From
Ahmed’s perspective, his family needed resettlement for numerous
reasons — not just the militia’s threats. Perhaps weighing most heavily
on his mind was the critical
medical attention his children needed, accessible only in America.
Ahmed
tried to explain each of these considerations during his 30-minute
interview. The officer asked Ahmed about his birth, his work history,
his children’s medical needs
and the threats from the militia. Asked what would happen if he
returned to Iraq, Ahmed said he would be killed.
Weeks
later, he received a letter informing him that his request had been
denied. In English, it explained that the officer didn’t doubt that
Ahmed might be killed in
Iraq, but that Ahmed had failed to prove the crux of his case — known
as the “nexus requirement” — between that danger and one of the legally
protected characteristics.
If
Ahmed had had a lawyer present, he might have better proved his case.
Strangely, in asylum proceedings for refugees already in this country,
those seeking to stay must
likewise meet the “nexus requirement,” but they are also allowed
counsel, per their constitutional rights. Not surprisingly, asylum
applicants with counsel have a higher success rate — three to four times
higher, according to several studies.
This
isn’t a matter of a new government program to provide attorneys;
refugees can obtain counsel on their own, either privately or through a
nonprofit organization like
ours. It wouldn’t even require a change in the law; all it would take
is a change in the current Homeland Security procedural guidance.
So
why does the policy persist? The Department of Homeland Security
argues, for one thing, that allowing counsel in hearings would be more
time consuming and less efficient.
But that’s wrong: By reducing the frequency of miscommunication between
the applicant and the interviewer, counsel makes the process more
efficient. According to the American Bar Association, a legal advocate
helps the government interviewer by “bridging linguistic,
cultural, and psychological gaps.”
Take
Ahmed: As a Sunni under threat from a militia and, more broadly, Shiite
extremists, he did meet the nexus requirement; he simply didn’t know
which parts of his case
were most important. (Eventually, he won on an appeal, but only after
years of effort on both sides.)
And
if the department is worried about lawyers dragging out the interview,
it could limit counsel’s role in such interviews to a brief period for
comments at the end,
or submission of comments in writing.
The
other main objection is that these interviews aren’t adversarial, and
so lawyers don’t need to be present. But according to many applicants,
the interviews do get
adversarial, and frequently violate mandatory operating procedures.
Having a lawyer in the room would prevent that, or offer a witness if it
did happen.
Ahmed
now lives in Oregon, where his children have medical care and the local
community has embraced his family. Had a lawyer been at his first
interview, Ahmed would
have reached safety years earlier, and the government would have saved
time and resources.
America
receives over 80 percent of the world’s resettled refugees. For the
system to work efficiently and fairly, applicants need to be able to
make their best cases.
For more information, go to: www.beverlyhillsimmigrationlaw.com
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