The United Kingdom’s Rwanda Bill has been passed into law, allowing asylum seekers deemed to have illegally entered its territories after January 1, 2022, to be sent to the African country for “processing.” Crucially, irrespective of whether an asylum seeker is found to be “genuine” or not, they cannot return to the UK and must opt for settlement in either Rwanda or another country.
Prime Minister Rishi Sunak’s government devised the legislation after furious opposition to what was earlier a “scheme” to send “illegals” to Rwanda. In 2023, the supreme court declared the scheme unlawful, pointing out that Rwanda was not a “safe” country and the plan went against the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR). In return for acting as an offshore processing centre, the impoverished African nation will receive substantial amounts of money, running into hundreds of thousands of pounds.
The Bill has been suggested to act as a deterrent to those who make landfall on the UK coastline in small boats, often inflatable rafts with an engine strapped on, crossing the English Channel from European ports. These ongoing acts of extraordinary desperation continue to take a toll on passengers on these matchstick carriers. On April 23, an attempted crossing from the French coast came to grief with the death of five passengers who fell overboard when the engine of the overcrowded boat stalled. One of those who died was a seven-year-old. Notwithstanding this, those who remained on the boat chose to carry on towards the English coast after the engine had been restarted, rather than turn back to the safety of the nearby land.
The Rwanda Bill is not unique. Australia’s offshore refugee programme involved the tiny South Pacific nation of Nauru (population around 13,000 with a GDP of approximately $US135 million). It is estimated that in 2021-2022, around two-thirds of Nauru’s revenues came from payments connected to the Australian refugee scheme. The processing centres are not currently operational, though they are kept in a “readied” state should Australia need them again. Nauru’s refugee servicing industry lingers on.
The UK or the Australian de-territorialised systems of national governance are part of longer and growing trends in dealing with troubled populations that disturb the borders of rich countries. The European Union (EU) finances refugee-blocking and processing arrangements across several countries in the third world. Both the Trump and Biden administrations have been active in formulating such arrangements in their South American backyard.
In recent times, Western governments’ attitudes towards refugees have taken on important symbolic dimensions. These are intended for both domestic consumption and consolidating the idea of the West at a global level. First, the idea of “control” over national borders has been a powerful tool of electoral politics across many Western countries. Refugees and asylum seekers are grist to the “sovereignty” mill. A significant precursor to Australia’s Nauru “solution”, for example, was erstwhile prime minister John Howard’s 2001 statement that the Australian government would control who came into Australia. This was linked to the government’s refusal to allow a Norwegian ship carrying rescued refugees to dock on its shores. Howard’s “strong” stance is widely credited with winning an election his party was expected to lose. It is unsurprising that a constant refrain to the UK’s Rwanda Bill has been Rishi Sunak’s statement that “international courts” will not be allowed to determine the country’s domestic policy. The idea is that British “sovereignty” is under threat from extra-national forces, including refugees and international courts. This echoes significant parts of the Brexit narrative.
Second, on a global level, the Rwanda Bill is part of the symbolic register of “compassion” that forms an indispensable part of Western notions of the self. If sovereignty demands a policy of extra-territorial governance, then the Rwanda solution is also an answer to charges of callousness towards the world’s most vulnerable populations. For, it retains the idea of compassion – financed through payments to Rwanda – by suggesting that asylum seekers still have access to refugee status. It is just that it has to be determined elsewhere. One can be both a “strong” leader and protect national borders by staving off international forces that may “undermine” sovereignty but also be compassionate.
Beyond these symbolic registers, there is an additional one that should also trouble us. The emerging “asylum economy” in Nauru and other parts of the world has something troubling about it as a form of neo-colonial relationship between rich and poor nations. It is as if the solution to the historical and geopolitical conditions that produce refugees and asylum seekers is to create massive holding camps in the third world. There are very few indications that the conditions that create refugees and asylum seekers will abate any time soon. Women, men, and children do not get into creaky boats – with prior knowledge of the fate of others who have made similar journeys – to either challenge national sovereignty or test the limits of Western compassion.
There will be more legal challenges to the Bill, though the sight of refugees being bundled onto planes to camps in Rwanda will, some will hope, be a tonic to Sunak’s party’s electoral chances. What is entirely unclear is if any of this has anything to do with addressing the underlying causes that lead such large numbers to put themselves in harm’s way with the faintest idea of making landfall along a coastline of hope.
