I love the story about the Darién Gap by the Atlantic… I just think it’s tremendous. The stories from this week have raised more questions than provided answers, personally. Firstly, I want to interrogate the impact of the Darién story – it made waves when it came out, front page and cover story on their edition which feels huge for a migration story. But since then, what has changed? I have google alerts set for news about the Darién gap, and it’s always the same news. At this point we know migrants from all around the world are coming through it (Africans, Asians, etc) and we get daily horror stories about deaths and abuses on the journey. How does a story about the Darién make an impact at this point? And when will real change happen? Alma Guillermoprieto writes that “because the media were much more important than they are now, my articles (…) had to be taken seriously by the policymakers and by the public.” I disagree with the value-judgment given to the media over time, but I do agree that policymakers used to respond to the media more. What has changed? Readings from this week more generally made me aware of the ways governments sanction migration, even in its illegal forms. Panama doesn’t necessarily outlaw smuggling through the Darién, they just make it less safe. The US doesn’t outlaw immigration, they make it more difficult. (1.6 million “gotaways”!!!!) I found the New Yorker article sad in how it affirmed the political machinations behind migration policy. I enjoyed the way it zoomed out from migration and showed it as an issue that sheds light generally on the current political landscape. What does it tell us? That we’re in deep trouble. Minor things: one of the guys outside “Stripes” says there’s an app for human trafficking… what is it!? That is a fantastic story. Similarly, I’ve heard surprisingly little about CBP One… are tech stories just not sexy? I imagine it’s having a huge impact at the border, but I only ever see statistics. Writing about tech in an interesting way is deeply difficult. 

I’m going to now turn to some “methods” questions again. Particularly focusing on photography since we have Robert Nickelsberg in class with us. The photos in both the Atlantic piece and the New Yorker piece are striking, how does / did he select photos for articles? What does his editing process look like, or was the magazine work he did from El Salvador edited by others? The New Yorker piece in particular makes me think of Ken Light’s Midnight La Frontera, a photography project I have personal issues with, but still find deeply, deeply compelling. How do you walk the line between taking photos that shock without doing so in an intrusive or voyeuristic way? I guess that’s a general question to be applied to photography, but photojournalism carries its own independent weight. And he’s done work on reconstruction of the past / confrontation of the past – at least that’s how his photos are interpreted by the writers collected in Legacy of Lies – what did that process of creation look like? I think I just have general questions about photojournalism, but those can be left for tomorrow. Enjoyed these readings, questions float about.

Naqibullah Obayd, 35, moved to the United States in July of 2024. A policy-maker by profession, the Taliban threatened Obayd after he refused to work for them following the 2021 takeover of Kabul. He fled to Qatar with his wife and two daughters, and after a year and a half, received asylum in the US.

After four months living in Philadelphia, employment quickly became Obayd’s biggest concern. As part of the newest wave of refugees, he belongs to a group of largely educated Afghans who are struggling to find work in their professional fields. 

Obayd has a master’s degree in policy-making from Gazi University in Turkey, with six years of professional experience. In 2021, he “was working as a plans and policies director in the attorney general’s office of the Republican government,” he explained. On November 2nd of 2024, he interviewed to be a grocery bagger at Walmart. 

76,000 Afghan evacuees came into the United States in August of 2021, the largest American evacuation since the end of the Vietnam War.

That month, the Biden administration created the Operation Allies Welcome program; it served as an immigration pathway for vulnerable Afghans, particularly those who had worked for the US government. After extensive background checks, the admitted Afghans entered the United States either as Humanitarian Parolees (a temporary protection which needs to be renewed every two years) or, if they had worked for the US government, through Special Immigrant Visas (SIVs).

Louise Sandberg of the Princeton Interfaith Refugee Resettlement Committee (PIRRC) has worked to resettle 127 people since 2015, 86 of them Afghans. Her organization works with the US Committee for Refugees and Immigrants, and she said that the work has been harder than expected. 

“With Afghans – with the overlay of these traditional values and the extended families they’re coming from…” she trailed off. “It’s really difficult.”

PIRRC helps refugees find housing, schooling, and employment. “It was an eye opener,” said Sandburg, about the Afghan evacuees. “They’re moving towards independence. Most of them are able to support themselves for the most part. But it hasn’t been easy.”

According to a study by the Immigration Policy Institute, only 61% of Afghan immigrants were employed in 2022. Other figures were equally grim: the median household income for Afghan families was $48,000, compared to $75,000 for the average immigrant household.

Obayd said that many of the difficulties in finding work are due to improper job training. He said that without the proper direction, he had many unanswered questions: how to write a resume, how to job-hunt, how to act in interviews – he felt that he hadn’t been properly prepared by the refugee agencies.

More generally, Obayd said English-language difficulties have complicated the job-searching process. “I want to do a job in my own field, in the future,” Obayd said. “But right now, I need to improve my English.”

Obayd said another problem was that resettlement agencies were only finding jobs to meet their quotas. “Their policies for job seeking is that they are filling their targets,” he said. “They just want to put people in different jobs which is not going to help them in the future.”

Despite his master’s education and extensive experience in plan and policy making, he said that he hasn’t been connected with any related work opportunities. 

Shayan Davoudi, an immigration lawyer at the HIAS refugee organization, said he’s seen Obayd experience reflected in the cases of many Afghans. 

“The majority of my clients, they were educated people. They had their own dreams, they had their own profession, they had their whole life,” Davoudi said. “Regardless of what age they came to this country, they have to start from zero.”

“And 0 means, more likely than not, forgetting about what you had in your country,” he continued. Davoudi has worked with over a hundred Afghan refugees since 2021, and said that regardless of master’s- or doctorate-level education, he sees many Afghans “just end up being an Uber driver, Lyft driver or working in a factory.” Without proper systems of support or training, many of them stop trying to find jobs in their professional field. 

“You know, after 2-3 years of being in this country,” Davoudi said, “you lose hope.”

As of the publishing of this article, Obayd hasn’t heard back from Walmart about the potential job, but he’s hopeful. He insists that he’s grateful to the United States for welcoming him, and he calls out human rights abuses in Afghanistan. 

But he continues to hope that in the future, the resettlement agencies will match him with work in his professional field. “I’m a policy-maker, they want me to be a carpenter,” he said. “It doesn’t work like that.”

According to Nickelsberg, there are people in the White House who seem to understand that not addressing immigration will lead to populist authoritarianism. I’m wondering why then, this issue which has been present since the 80s according to Nickelsberg, is going unaddressed. Is it because the political payoff of fear mongering is high and Democrats have no way of responding to it so they align themselves with more punitive immigration policies? Trying to think through this question reminded me of a study that I saw by the Vera Institute that showed how politicians can win local government elections against tough-on-crime candidates without themselves adopting tough-on-crime positions. I’m curious to know whether a similar study exists for anti-immigrant sentiment.

I also want to ask Nickelsberg what he thinks will happen in the event of a Trump win vs. a Harris win (and more specifically if he thinks that a Harris win will just be kicking the problem of immigration down the road). Will we reach a point where Democrat and Republican positions on immigration converge? From the New York Times review of his book, it seems that he believes the Trump administration will be more coordinated and effective when it comes to implementing the kind of policies that they did last term (like the Consequence Delivery System). There’s a quote from Miller in the book where he says, “We need to be smarter if we want to implement something on this scale again.”

The scene about the men exchanging photos of they took at the prison commissary was compelling to me. I’m curious why they were willing to pay the $3 to get the photo taken when I would imagine they don’t have much if any cash with them to begin with. Did documenting their arrival or incarceration at the detention center serve as some sort of a strategic tactic? Or was it a point of pride that they wanted to document?

I’m also just curious in general, as someone who worked as a photographer for Time magazine for thirty years, whether there were moments where Nickelberg had to think through ethical dilemmas of photographing migrants (whether publishing photographs of them might put them in danger, whether he decided to intervene in life-and-death situations, etc.).

For the New Yorker piece, I was most curious about how the reporter gained access to the scene that they used to write the hook where the Border Patrol agents are in helicopters and are talking about “bodies.” This scene further illustrates this broader idea we’ve been talking about, that dehumanization of immigrants is a requisite step in rationalizing American immigration policy. I think that photographers like Nickelsberg literally force us to see these people as people (because it is very difficult to maintain this idea of an amorphous group that has been discursively constructed by politicians, when we are confronted by pictures of real people).

The Atlantic piece about the Darién Gap reinforced a point that we have been discussing throughout the semester: that the people arriving at the Southern border will do anything and everything to get to the U.S.—regardless of how dangerous it is. I feel like I still can’t quite wrap my head around why politicians (particularly Democrats) haven’t realized this; or if they have and they think it’s a politically unappealing message compared to what the Republican (or perhaps more accurately Trump) narrative has been on immigration.

Caitlin Dickerson’s article in The Atlantic offers a poignant account of the journey that thousands of migrants have undertaken over the years for a chance to reach the American El Dorado. These horrific and painful experiences not only speak to the desperation that drove these refugees to leave their homelands, but they also highlight the courage and dedication of people fleeing persecution, violence, and extreme poverty in their countries. I was reminded me of a conference I attended last year on the experiences of migrants traveling through Central America. We heard from an anthropologist who had joined a group of migrants through the Darién Gap to try to understand the significance of what they brought with them and what they left behind. The researcher explained that, although she was with the migrants on this journey, she was constantly aware of her distance and, frankly, her privilege. The mere access to a U.S. passport set her apart from the racialized and politically vulnerable group she found themselves with, even though they had embarked on the same journey.

Reading Dickerson’s article, I couldn’t help but think about the ethical considerations of reporting such experiences as a journalist for whom non-intervention is a core principle. Being a spectator to such violence while being aware of one’s own privilege can raise important ethical considerations. Then comes the process of publishing reports, speaking at conferences as a paid expert on the suffering of others, or trying to make sense of it, in the case of academics. Indeed, these considerations are not unique to journalists. Yet I believe these questions are extremely important to grapple with for people interested in telling refugee stories, which can be incredibly violent, intimate, traumatic, and incredibly personal. At the same time, these stories play an important role in our political discourse. They give a name and a face to the people we talk about and make policies about, forcing us to confront the reality of their humanity. Overall, have these stories made us more empathetic to the suffering of others, or have they simply fueled our perverse desire to uncover stories that move us? These are difficult questions to answer, but they are important because when we engage with them critically, we become better researchers, better journalists, and better storytellers.

I really enjoyed discovering the tension between deterrence and more conciliatory approaches to migration governance in Aikins’s description of Jonathan Blitzer’s book. Filkins, on the other hand, does a fantastic job of analyzing the politicization of migration governance in the United States and how it has exacerbated failures that are mainly systemic in nature. Both pieces highlight the experiences of people on both sides of the migration issue and the political spectrum, to show how tone-deaf policies designed in Washington DC policy offices affect the realities of migrants and border protection agents. Both articles complement Dickerson’s piece very well. While Dickerson highlights how these policies affect displaced migrants by putting arbitrary and dangerous barriers in the way of displaced people trying to find a better life, Filkins and Aikins delve into the intricacies of the immigration system and the many ways it fails everyone—not just migrants. These stories show us how the system has been overwhelmed and how the politicization of migration has made it even more difficult to find a truly effective solution to what is above all a logistical problem and a human rights nightmare.

While these pieces show how complex the immigration system of the United States has grown over the years, I have also found myself feeling slightly more optimistic about one day finding solutions to the so-called “migratory crises”. As illustrated in Blitzer’s book, “the American immigration system is a victim of its own dysfunction” (Aikins). If only we allow ourselves to leave behind the politics and approach this challenge as a logistical one, we can begin to alleviate the pressures on the border through policies that achieve effective resource building and allocation and create straightforward pathways for legal migration into the United States.

From 2013 to 2018, Southwest Philadelphia’s Paschall-Elmwood neighborhood had seen a percentage growth of foreign-born residents at a rate that greatly exceeded the citywide rate– 24.9% in Paschall–Elmwood and 14.6% in the city. A recent report showed that as of 2022, 66% of the foreign-born population in Paschall-Elmwood are originally from Africa. Why are so many African migrants coming to Philadelphia, especially the Paschall- Elmwood neighborhood?

“Philly has a huge migrant population and you see it when you walk around. The first thing that comes to mind [when describing the city] is that it’s a melting pot,” says Louise Bittout, Communications Manager of  The Welcoming Center. “[Many migrants] go to cities like New York, because it’s popular, and then they realize it’s way too expensive to live there. Then they come to the next closest city, which is Philadelphia.”

The population boost in this area has helped create a net growth in the population of a city still reeling from years of deindustrialization and movement to suburban areas. From an Italian market filled with European, Hispanic, and African vendors to community-based organizations that repeatedly support these demographics, there are many ways people can find community here, which seems to be a crucial factor in why many come to the area and stay.

“Even people in Liberia know Woodland Avenue in Southwest Philly. If you [go there] from Liberia, you’re not going to see the difference,” says Muhammad Kenneth, organizer of various programs in the Condo Reconciliation Group that primarily serves Liberians in Philadelphia.

More than 20% of Philadelphia’s African migrant population now lives in Paschal-Elmwood, an area often referred to as “Little Africa”, and for some of the streets within, “Little Liberia”.  Kenneth describes the unity in the community to be appealing to fellow Africans because everything is the same; the same food, same language, and the same people. He says that people come to this neighborhood so that they can find a place to fit in and feel connected to the community around them. From 32nd street all the way to 72nd, African migrants are able to get a taste of home. There’s a high chance that each store you pass on the street is likely to be an African store, an African restaurant, or even an African hair salon and as you walk, flying above are flags representing countries from all over the continent. It’s a community that highlights African culture and is a place for African migrants, built by African migrants.

Last month, Kenneth set up a meeting with local law enforcement for new immigrants to engage with police in a supportive environment and realize they don’t have to be scared of the police. Initiatives like this from local organizations are providing migrants with opportunities to not only feel secure in their jobs and follow their passions, but feel safe in their communities. In Philadelphia, support seems to come more readily from local organizations and nonprofits than through state or city assistance. With this community support, the migrant population in Philly continues to grow and new migrants are able to gain their footing in a new country.

“When I first came to the United States, I thought they would be very welcoming, but it wasn’t,” says Mariama Korka Diallo, a new immigrant from Guinea who started her life again in Philadelphia just 11 months ago. She says, after many bad encounters with healthcare and DMV workers during her first few months in the United States, she started isolating herself at home. Coming from a big family community to a home with only her husband –and no one she knows or can relate to– she started losing confidence in herself and said, “I felt empty, like a baby. I didn’t know anything. I [said] this country is not mine. When I came back home, I [told] my husband, ‘I would like to go back to my country, because here, it’s not my country. I don’t feel secure.  I miss my community. I need to go back.’”

Diallo’s story underscores a common experience for many new migrants to the US who often face the language barrier early on. Regardless of what might have been a rocky start, Diallo now thrives in her new job as an administrative support specialist at The Welcoming Center in Central Philadelphia, after regaining her confidence in English by engaging in their International Professionals Program. She credits her successful adjustment to the Welcoming Center’s immigrant support programs that helped her find a community in America saying, “I met many different people from different communities. They all had the same problem as me and helped me understand that I’m not alone.”

The Center is one of many programs in Central Philadelphia that promotes economic development through community engagement, English and digital skills classes, career development programs, and assistance for people to start a business. They help hundreds of migrants involved feel more connected to their community and follow their passions with confidence.

For new African migrants in the area, they have the support of organizations like the Condo Reconciliation Group, the African Cultural Alliance of North America, and The Welcoming Center. Kenneth and other local leaders are taking on critical roles by providing services and resources that are often not as available at the city or state level, helping build trust and connections in the migrant community. As the Paschall-Elmwood neighborhood develops its own infrastructure, it continues to support the practical, social, and emotional needs for new African migrants, making the area a true home away from home.

The first thing I noticed when New Yorker piece (which I read last) was the word bodies. Four bodies. Six bodies. Ten bodies. It seems like such an inhumane way of describing people. People who have stories and emotions, many of whom, nowadays, have experienced immense trauma. Who are escaping inhumane treatment. Who have been sexually assaulted in the Darién Gap . Who are from Mexico to Honduras to Venezuela, fleeing persecution and targeted (or even un-targeted violence). The people who Blitzer writes about in “Everyone Who is Gone is Here.”

I really appreciated reading the Atlantic article, especially because I love Caitlin Dickerson. It was interesting to read this in the context of her piece “‘We Need to Take Away Children.'” It seemed like almost a prequel to that piece – with the traumas that asylum seekers faced when entering the U.S. (among them, family separation), they faced so many on their way there. I was also struck by the actions of the guides: videoing early on; it’s almost like a disinformation campaign, selling their journey as enjoyable and not telling the hardships and abuse. They don’t show them after sexual assaults and traumas. They don’t show hell. And the fact that Caitlin and her team actually went and traveled through the Darién Gap with their subjects is such great reporting. I hope to have an experience like theirs someday (maybe not as dangerous for my mother’s sake).

Reading this in context of the American government’s various policies regarding immigration and the southern border makes the situation seem all the more hopeless. These people need our help, and I believe we are morally obligated – our “moral imperative” – to provide them that aid. Putting the New Yorker article alongside the New York Times review of “Everyone Who is Gone is Here” truly shows, as the New York Times puts it, “the American immigration system as a victim of its own dysfunction.” And this dysfunction is harming real people who have already gone through such trauma and pain to get here, a land they see as an escape from hardships.

P.S. In another edition of this class, I highly recommend assigning “‘We Need to Take Away Children'” – it is hauntingly well-written (it won the Pulitzer, of course).

Eleven months after fleeing Sudan’s civil war to Cairo with his family, Mohamed Hassan faced a dilemma. Though safe from the horrors of the war, Cairo provided a new set of economic challenges that left him and his family struggling to build a new life. Coupled with the worsening economic situation in Cairo, hearing of the Sudanese Armed Forces recapture of Omdurman, where the family comes from, forced Hassan to consider moving back to the province.

“I was living in a two-bedroom apartment with 10 of my family members, so it was tight,” he told The National . “I arrived in November of last year and it has been one of the hardest years of my life. In the few weeks before I departed Egypt, life had become too expensive to sustain. The school year started and I couldn’t enroll my children because of the high fees.” 

On October 1, 2024, Hassan moved back to Sudan with his wife, daughter and sister, a decision increasing numbers of Sudanese refugees in Egypt are taking. More than 12,239 people crossed into Sudan from Egypt in September of 2024, an increase from the 7,890 in August, a report by the Sudan News Agency confirmed. The numbers are expected to increase as the weeks go on, signaling the extent problems in Egypt are affecting refugees. 

For the 550,00 Sudanese who fled following the outbreak of the war, legal, social and economic barriers have put most into situations of financial precarity. Unable to access services because of lack of aid and organizations on the ground, as well as the necessary documentation needed for employment, many found themselves either unable to make a living or forced into high risk jobs in the informal sector and vulnerable to exploitation. Egypt is a primary destination for Sudanese refugees. However, historical ties between the two nations haven’t resulted in a hospitable welcome or coordination to help in the settlement of those who made it to Egypt, or their legal integration into the labor force. 

In 2004, Egypt and Sudan signed the Four Freedoms Agreement, a framework that in theory aimed to guarantee freedom of movement, residency, work and property ownership for their respective citizens. In the face of restrictions Sudanese face both at the border and administratively once they arrive in Cairo, the promises of the agreement remain unfulfilled. 

‘I’ve heard stories about people being in crisis for decades and still not being able to access any kind of government assistance, so it’s definitely stressful. It’s been nine months, and they still haven’t gotten their yellow cards yet’, said Reem Saeed, a Sudanese Princeton student about her family who fled Khartoum. 

They now live in the Giza governorate, an area west of central Cairo where a large number of Sudanese people have settled. ‘They’ve been trying through the Egyptian government, but that wasn’t working. Now they’re trying with the UN, but it’s such a long and expensive process. They’re completely undocumented, so any employment that they do have isn’t as substantive as if they had full documentation, or even refugee status period,” she said. 

Refugees who make it into Egypt must register with the UNHCR in order to obtain a yellow card. This guarantees them access to essential services such as healthcare, education, permits employment as well as legal protections against deportation, generally for a period of 18 months. Egypt only has three UNHCR offices across the country, two of which are in Greater Cairo and the last in Alexandra, meaning Sudanese are unable to register at the southern border and must first reach the north of the country before registering. Even in Cairo, however, waiting periods for registration can stretch up to six months, leaving many in administrative and economic limbo. In some cases, authorities have denied refugee status to some, claiming they came from ‘nonviolent’ areas.

Reem says her family was reasonably wealthy prior to the war; now, they rely on money her family in the US send back every month to support them. But those who can’t rely on remittances often end up forced into the informal sector, where there are no labor protections and work is poorly paid. 

Meanwhile, Sudanese people are increasingly scapegoated amidst economic problems in Egypt. In January 2024, Prime minister Mostafa Madbouly made statements regarding government assistance to refugees that resulted in a surge of anti-migrant and anti-refugee sentiment following its media coverage, Sada Journal reported. 

For most however, community-run initiatives make up the bulk of support, most set up by Sudanese themselves. For example, in 2020, Amal Raha Bouda, a Sudanese refugee who moved to Egypt in 2018 launched Hope for the Future, a female-run initiative that offers community, education and help for those facing issues such as homelessness and domestic violence. Community schools have been especially vital in providing Sudanese children with education whilst they wait for their yellow cards, without which they are unable to enroll in state schools. 

Angela Klara, a legal caseworker who handles asylum cases in Cairo, attributes the situation to both racism and donor exhaustion.”There’s just nowhere near enough funding. With everything going on in Gaza, Sudan just doesn’t have the same visibility,” she said. “There’s obviously also a racial angle as to why everyones looking away. In Egypt, they’re Black, they’re seen as uneducated, and they don’t get the same urgency as other refugees.”

Sudanese refugees increasingly face discriminatory and racist attacks at the hands of both the police and civilians. These have left the community living and operating in fear, with many scared to leave the house as they know they will be targeted based on their race.

In June, Amnesty International reported the arrest and forcible return of over 800 Sudanese refugees between October 2023 and March 2024. Tracking these cases is difficult as the Egyptian government does not provide statistics on arrests or deportations. An investigation by the New Humanitarian however reported that thousands of cases had been recorded between the Global detention project and the UNHCR. 

The Egyptian State Information Service did not respond to a request for comment.

As Nicole Rodriguez, a paralegal assisting survivors of domestic violence, stood up to leave a New Jersey courtroom, she saw a woman crying. 

“I’m trying to find an attorney and no one’s listening to me,” Rodriguez recalls the woman telling the judge in Spanish. Rodriguez later learned the woman—an immigrant—was married to an abusive U.S. citizen and had fled her home with her son. 

“It’s so depressing when you’re a lawyer and you go into immigration court and you see how many people don’t have representation,” Michele Pistone, a law professor at Villanova University, explains. “It’s kind of like they’re on this assembly line and we say that we’re giving them ‘process,’ but they don’t understand what’s happening,” she says.

In 1958, the Department of Justice (DOJ) established the Recognition & Accreditation (R&A) Program for precisely this reason—to increase legal representation for low-income immigrants, according to the American Bar Association. The Program certifies accredited representatives, non-lawyers who can represent immigrants in court. Accredited representatives must work at non-profits designated as recognized organizations.

Despite the program’s 66 year history, there are still 1,413 undocumented people in the U.S. for every charitable legal professional, according to the Center for Migration Studies (CMS). In New Jersey, that number increases to 2,687 undocumented people per legal professional. 

Rodriguez, who works at a New Jersey non-profit, is one of those accredited representatives—taking on over 60 cases at a time. Immigrants in removal proceedings who have legal representation are 15 times more likely to seek relief, and 5.5 times more likely to obtain relief, according to a study published by the University of Pennsylvania. 

“It’s very much a program that has been in the shadows,” Pistone explains. Pistone has heard from former students who’ve become accredited that some officers at USCIS—which conducts site visits for the R&A Program—have never heard of an accredited representative. “I’ve heard of judges who’ve never heard of an accredited rep,” she adds. 

There are currently 9 million immigration cases pending at USCIS, and 3 million at EOIR, Robyn Lieberman, Associate Director of the Migration and Refugee Protection Strategic Initiative Group, says. But as of October 2024, there are only 2,561 accredited representatives working at 875 recognized organizations, nationally. “It’s an underutilized tool in the representation crisis,” Lieberman says. “The Program has been on the books since 1958,” she continues, “and there’s never been more than 2,500 at a time.” Why has the number of accredited representatives stagnated despite the growing need for migrants who lack representation?

To become an accredited representative, a prospective representative submits an application with their recognized organization to the DOJ. Rodriguez says, in all, her accreditation took about three months.

But when Rodriguez applied for accreditation, she had no idea how long the process would take. The DOJ provides no such information. 

In 2022, backlogs for accredited representatives reached 12 to 18 months, according to Lieberman. “It is impossible for somebody to put their career on hold for that long,” Lieberman says. “It’s impossible for organizations to keep open cases that long.” In addition, funding for non-profit organizations often depends on quotas that measure how many cases they process.

“That’s basically shutting down the program,” Lieberman says.

While the processing time decreased to one to three months between February of 2023 and 2024, it has begun to increase again. In September, applications took six to eight months to process—double the three to four months it should be taking—according to Lieberman. 

“There should be transparency on the website of how long you can expect to wait for your answer from DOJ,” Lieberman says. 

But the review process itself has transparency issues as well. There are currently two immigration judges—removed from the bench for harassment—who are adjudicating R&A applications, according to Lieberman.

“These are two judges that have had multiple complaints,” she explains. “They are asking some very unusual questions that we’re also documenting—that we think are beyond the scope of the regulations.”

The lack of available contact information for accredited representatives is another problem Lieberman raises. Despite the program’s goal to increase legal representation for low-income immigrants, EOIR only lists the telephone numbers of recognized organizations. Contact information for accredited representatives is entirely missing. 

Lieberman calls it “the referral rejection loop.” “They get a name of an organization that can represent them, and then they pick up the phone, and they’re getting ‘This voicemail is full,’ or ‘Please don’t call us for another two weeks,’” she explains.

“How are people supposed to contact these organizations?,” Lieberman asks. 

Rodriguez’s clients, who are survivors of domestic violence, may not have safe access to a phone inside their home, Rodriguez says.

The DOJ has the contact information of every accredited representative. “People apply with their emails, and they communicate with the DOJ by email,” Lieberman explains.

“This is a public program,” Pistone says. “Part of the purpose is for the public to contact these people.”

But Lieberman says the lack of data on accredited representatives is typical. There has been no comprehensive study of the R&A program in the program’s 66 year history. “There’s no basic data in the field at all,” Lieberman explains. “We have no idea how long the typical average stay is, or tenure is for an accredited rep.”

In May of this year, Villanova University and CMS announced the first comprehensive audit of the R&A program. The audit is being conducted through surveys that closed last month, according to Pistone. 

With the 2024 Presidential Election underway, however, the future of the R&A program remains uncertain. “The R&A Program is not established by law, it’s regulatory,” Matthew Lisecki, Senior Research & Policy Analyst at CMS, explains. 

“It can be done away with just an executive action.” 

Anxieties also exist for Lieberman. “I’m living in fear that if there is a Trump administration, I don’t know what’s going to happen to the DOJ office that does the accreditations,” says Lieberman.

“If it’s a Trump administration, I think we’re going to have to fight like hell to keep the office open.”

But Lierbman also remains skeptical of a Harris administration. “I’ve worked with both Joe Biden and Kamala,” Lieberman explains. “They’re definitely sympathetic, but neither of them have immigration as a priority.”

“They’re willing to surrender to a lot of right wing talking points on immigration, and they’re willing to divert funding away from things that they know are right.”

Sources:
1. Matthew Lisiecki, Center for Migration Studies
2. Michele Pistone, Founder & Faculty Director, Migration and Refugee Protection Strategic Initiative Group, Villanova University
3. Robyn Lieberman, Associate Director, Migration and Refugee Protection Strategic Initiative Group, Villanova University
4. Nicole Rodriguez, Community Victim Advocacy Coordinator & Partially Accredited DOJ Representative, Mercy Center
5. Toinette M. Mitchell, U.S. Department of Homeland Security Disciplinary Counsel
6. Recognized Organizations and Accredited Representatives Roster: https://www.justice.gov/eoir/page/file/942301/dl?inline
7. Accredited Representatives Roster: https://www.justice.gov/eoir/page/file/942311/dl?inline
8. A National Study of Access to Counsel in Immigration Court: https://scholarship.law.upenn.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=9502&context=penn_law_review
9. https://www.americanbar.org/content/dam/aba/publications/commission_on_immigration/bia_accreditation_and_entering_immigration_appearances_1994.pdf
10. https://www.justice.gov/eoir/recognition-and-accreditation-program
11. https://www.ecfr.gov/cgi-bin/text-idx?SID=c1727e98a9a2e76e2b419d8a15fec36d&mc=true&node=pt8.1.1292&rgn=div5
12. https://www.cliniclegal.org/resources/federal-administrative-advocacy/policy-brief-severely-under-resourced-ra-program

Articles such as Caitlin Dickerson’s are so vitally important to journalism, society and politics. Her and Addario brought to readers the extremity of the experiences migrants are willing to put themselves and their children through just to try and reach the US, experiences which I think are not portrayed for their gruesome reality in the way that they should be in political discourse. However when reading I thought back to the discussion a few of us had at the welcoming center about The Struggling Girl and journalists responsibility whilst documenting and relaying the experiences of people they are writing about. In this case I thought it was particularly interesting as Dickerson and Addario decided to make the journey alongside the other migrants, rather than it being a case of western journalists being dropped into situations momentarily to witness and relay them in their current moment, and then leaving once they’ve got enough material rather than experiencing things for themselves. At the same time, while they photographed people and the journey and talked about their struggles, such as not being able to afford food, medicine, as well as meeting unaccompanied children I just imagined how uncomfortable I would be to be reporting and spectating, knowing that potentially I had the power to ease their some of their economic struggles as well established american journalists but choosing not to in order to get an accurate ‘scoop’. They are doing such an essential job of reporting the realities of the Darien gap but at the same time I can’t help feeling morally ambiguous about spectating so much human struggle without intervening, especially to those whose life experiences they will go on to profit from once they are back in the US and have written about them. I think this is why journalism by those living experiences on the ground, such as the type of journalism we have seen the past year from Gazans, needs to be massively amplified and supported. 

In terms of the policy issues discussed, the failures of both deterrence as well as more conciliatory policies was a common theme. The Atlantic article heavily pointed out the unintended effects of deterrence policies, whilst the New Yorker made it clear that more conciliatory policies – by no surprise – don’t end up stemming the constant flow of individuals trying to immigrate for economic opportunities. I think framing is so important when considering these issues. Out of moral principle, refugees and asylum seekers should not be framed as causing immigration ‘problems’ for the US or any country who has signed the refugee conventions. They are simply operating within a framework states have agreed and committed too. Even with the case of economic immigrants, I think as Anuj Gupta at the welcoming center put it, the US needs more workers, and there are so many unfulfilled jobs. The bigger issue here is connecting immigrants with the necessary job openings because the reality is, yes maybe NYC is spending a few billion dollars on receiving immigrants, but the city budget is $112.4 billion. The US spends over 700 billion annually on the military.  I am not an expert in budgetary affairs, but I think  these numbers need to be contextualized, especially when it comes to immigrants and the net gain they contribute over time. 

Over 100,000 ethnic Armenians have been displaced since the war between Azerbaijan and Armenia began in September 2020. After Azerbaijan gained control of the Nagorno-Karabakh region, a mountainous area in Azerbaijan, ethnic Armenians living in the region fled. Siranush Sargsyan, a refugee journalist from Nagorno-Karabakh, was one of them. “It’s fucked,” she says.

Ethnic Armenians have lived in Nagorno-Karabakh for centuries and have strong cultural and historical ties to the region. After Azerbaijan regained control, many Armenians became fearful of ethnic cleansing and persecution, leading to a mass departure from the area.

Sargsyan spoke about the toll the war has had on Armenians and the disappointment of Armenian refugees forced to flee Nagorno-Karabakh. Many fled to Armenia, where she describes starved refugees without basic necessities for months at a time.

Delayed assistance from international organizations further contributed to Armenian disappointment and severe resource shortages. “When an international organization arrived to approach us to help, they (N-K refugees) were asking where you had been this entire time,” says Sargsyan.  There was a big silence.”

The Armenian government has implemented assistance in the form of stipend programs. However, one in every thirty people living in Armenia is now a Nagorno-Karabakh refugee, according to the International Crisis Group, straining the amount of funds available.

Nico Vacca, an international affairs research scholar from George Mason University, spoke on Armenia’s current stipend program. “Stipends are being implemented; however, more aid is needed,” he says. “The Armenian government can not afford long-term aid and assistance stipends.”‘

According to Vacca, the EU has given the Armenian government money to aid in assistance programs, but not enough.  Despite the Armenian government’s attempt to help, Sargsyan emphasizes that the stipends must be increased. “Every refugee received mostly 100-120 dollars, which is not enough for leaving Armenia today,” says Sargysan. “Yes, some refugees were provided food and first aid medicine, but nobody is talking about refugees and how they live one year after.”

Not only are challenges related to money an issue for refugees, but Sargsyan also explains inaccessibility to education, adequate health care, and discrimination are disturbing realities refugees have to face.

Mass displacement from Nagorno Karabakh and challenges regarding Armenia’s ability to handle refugees has prompted Armenians to be concerned about the future. Armenia has already suffered through the Armenian genocide during the First World War, where an estimated 1.2 million Armenians were killed.

Former Armenian Assembly and Armenian General Benevolent Union Partner Deborah Devedijan expressed her concern and commented on what she believes is a continuation of the genocide for Armenians. “The ousting and takeover of N-K is the Turks’ continued effort at finalizing the Armenian Genocide, which began in earnest in the 1890s,” Devedijan says. “The Turks, via Azerbaijan, will continue the genocide until all Armenians are dead or out of Armenia, Turkey, Azerbaijan, and neighboring regions.”

Devedijan isn’t the only one worried about Armenia’s future. As a small country, Armenia only became weaker after the war with Azerbaijan, which Sargsyan says only makes it more vulnerable. “We’ve already lost Artakh and Nagorno Karabakh, and now I have the same fear about Armenia,” she says. “This isn’t only my fear but also my friends, family members, and people I usually interview. They all have these fears.”

A ceasefire agreement between Azerbaijan and Armenia and an end to active war doesn’t necessarily suggest an end to complications between these two countries.  Vacca emphasized that although there is more regional stability because the conflict has ended, Azerbaijan is much more militarily capable than Armenia.

Vacca conducted a strategic report on the conflict and examined its effects on regional stability in the South Caucasus. Contrary to Devedijan’s and Sargsyan’s concerns, he believes there should be less conflict than when Nagorno-Karabakh was an independent state supported by Armenia.

Frustratingly, Sargsyan criticized Western countries for lacking monetary support and proper attention to the region’s stability and refugees. “Most of these countries, US governments, and European countries, France, and Germany, provide some amount of money for refugees, but don’t even know how to care,” she says.

Sargsyan also explained that, ultimately, despite Western countries valuing democracy and stability in the region, they don’t want to pay attention to Armenia. Despite her concerns, she still speaks of what’s next for Armenians and refugees. “I am most definitely not satisfied,” she says.

As of September 2024, Azerbaijan and Armenia are continuing to work on a peace agreement despite continuous threats to Armenians. “I don’t believe in peace. I’ve experienced four wars,” says Sargsyan. “We don’t see any real sign that this country wants to make peace with Armenia even after Nagorno Karabakh.”