A telling symbiosis in the discourse of hatred

Saving Us From Them

Filth, Incontinence and Border Protection

In this article, we build on previous critical discursive research concerning the deployment of nationalist rhetoric in the negative representation of asylum seekers to also consider the interplay between neoliberal and nationalist discourses regarding asylum seekers arriving by boat to Australia. Rather than arguing that neoliberalism and nationalism are incompatible (by virtue of the former being about internationalization and the latter about protecting the nation-state), we argue that in fact media representations of asylum seekers are compatible with both neoliberal and nationalist discourses, with both ultimately aimed at protecting the sovereignty of the (White) Australian nation-state. Utilizing a synthetic approach to critical discourse analysis, we analyze two incidents concerning asylum seekers that were widely reported in the mainstream media in late 2009, namely, the Oceanic Viking and the Jaya Lestari 5 incidents. Our article demonstrates that while many of the discourses concerning asylum seekers can be read as nationalistic in nature (i.e. through ‘protecting’ a sovereign state and maintaining border control), they can also be seen as neoliberal in relation to the (supposed) economic benefits of excluding asylum seekers and their undesirability on economic terms. The ‘threat posed by asylum seekers arriving by boat’ was positioned as one that required increased economic support for stricter border protection policies. The economic nature of border protection and security came to the fore not only in terms of its role in keeping out those seen as economically undesirable, but also in the economic investment required in ensuring that the nation-state was able to protect its sovereignty through the maintenance of a homogeneous population regulated at the borders.

Self

Negotiating integration: Refugees and asylum seekers in Australia and the UK

Australia has had controversial legislation for mandatory detention of asylum seekers since 1992 and legislation since 2001 allowing indefinite detention of such persons on the mainland, Christmas Island or ‘offshore’ on Manus Island in Papua New Guinea and on the small Pacific island nation of Nauru. Despite frequent protests from lawyers, doctors and humanitarian organisations that such policies infringe human rights and blatantly contravene the 1951 United Nations Refugee Convention, to which Australia is a co-signatory, both major political parties have persisted with these cruel policies. The clear aim is deterrence. Asylum seekers are demonised as potential terrorists or as economic migrants, callously and inaccurately referred to as ‘illegals’, and imprisoned indefinitely with no knowledge of when and where they will be released.1, 2 The reason for such poor morality is political: the issue of asylum seekers who arrive by boat wins and lose elections: votes are more important than morals. In late 2014, a paediatric refugee nurse and I were asked by International Health and Medical Services (IHMS) to spend 5 days on Nauru seeing children in consultation. IHMS are the private health-care providers contracted by the Australian Government to provide health care to asylum seekers in Australia and offshore. Our contract said we would not make any public statement or talk to the media about anything that concerns IHMS or the Department of Immigration and Border Protection. We considered carefully if we should go. In favour was our ability to treat children with acute problems, refer children with mental health problems to a child psychiatrist or psychologist and assess living conditions. The Government has drawn a deliberate veil over its handling of asylum seekers, particularly boat arrivals and the conditions in offshore detention centres. Workers sign strict confidentiality agreements and have been summarily dismissed for social media posts that offend the Government. Journalists have to pay $A8000 for a visa to visit Nauru. When Professor Gillian Triggs, President of the Australian Human Rights Commission (AHRC), was trying to gather information for her inquiry into children in detention,3 she was banned from visiting asylum seekers on Nauru because they were ‘not in Australia’ and therefore not under the jurisdiction of the AHRC. A major reason for us visiting was to see the conditions first-hand. Reasons against going were that this might implicitly condone behaviour we already knew was immoral and the knowledge that we might feel obliged to speak out publicly. We went in December 2014. We did not want to profit from our visit and agreed in advance to donate our earnings to our hospital Refugee Service. We were utterly appalled by the Nauru Processing Centre, a prison camp except in name, which was situated in the centre of the island where it was hottest and most humid (see Fig. 1). Living conditions were Spartan. Asylum seekers lived in lines of adjoining tents without privacy or running water. Many tents had mould on the canvas. Toilet and shower facilities were 30- to 120-m distance. At night, this was a fearsome walk under the eyes of huge, threatening guards. Many children and some women wet the bed rather than brave the walk. Sanitary arrangements for menstruating women were unsatisfactory. Movement was restricted by fences manned by guards. The asylum seekers were starved of information about their fate and all complained of being utterly helpless and powerless. They reported being treated with contempt and tormented by many of the guards. Later, I asked a family who were transferred from Nauru to Villawood Detention Centre in Sydney how the guards in the two places compared. ‘The difference between Villawood and Nauru was like the difference between an angel and a devil’, said the father. Health-care workers were usually more respectful, but a culture of gross injustice is insidious: IHMS staff referred to asylum seekers by their boat arrival numbers rather than by name. The children we saw had a variety of stress-related behaviour problems and somatic complaints. We saw examples of self-harm, the most chilling being a 6-year-old girl with strangulation marks from a fence-tie, whom we referred urgently to the visiting child psychiatrist. In trying to give some measure of hope, we talked of the pending AHRC report on children in detention3 and promised to publicise their plight when we returned to Australia. In this issue, paediatricians who work with asylum seeker and refugee children give their response to the AHRC report.4 Painting of the island of Nauru from Nauru Airport. The Nauru Processing Centre is in the centre of the island (where the phosphate rock is being mined). On our return to Australia, we were nervous about writing a media opinion piece, but our sense of outrage and our promise to the families trumped guilt at breaking our contract and fear of reprisal. A prominent human rights lawyer advised us it was legitimate to break a contract to reveal ‘iniquity’ and what we had witnessed was undoubtedly iniquitous. We decided to provide IHMS with a detailed report of suggested changes but also decided to publish an opinion piece and do subsequent media interviews. We met senior IHMS staff to discuss our report. They expressed disappointment we had gone to the media and felt betrayed. We said we thought IHMS tried hard in the camp and had done excellent work propping up Nauru health care services outside the camp (IHMS asked us to consult on some children at the Republic of Nauru Hospital), but we thought IHMS should protest more about conditions. The IHMS staff said their Government contract forbade them criticising Government policy and they preferred to work for change from within the system. The meeting ended with each of us acknowledging our respect for but disagreement with the others’ position. Doctors can be placed in a moral dilemma by injustice. Psychiatrists in the Soviet Union were strongly criticised for being complicit in State-based use of psychiatric hospitals to suppress political prisoners. Doctors at Abu Ghraib Prison were condemned for condoning torture. The former IHMS chief psychiatrist described the treatment of asylum seekers on Manus Island and Nauru as ‘akin to torture’.5 The Australian Medical Association6 and the Royal Australasian College of Physicians7 have described mandatory detention of children as child abuse. This raises moral questions for doctors working with children in detention, particularly in the most extreme conditions such as on Nauru.7 Although our first duty is to treat a child in extreme need, treating them does not change the underlying problem. Two major charities have different approaches to politics. Red Cross insists on political neutrality and never comments on local socio-political issues in order not to compromise access to people in need. Médecins Sans Frontières provides medical care always with the stated commitment to ‘speak out’ on political and situational problems impairing health. Both charities do wonderful work. As private contractors, IHMS have the potential conflict of money: criticism of the Government could cost them a lucrative contract. IHMS's approach is to provide best possible care while working from within. The alternative of refusing to provide care offshore without the right to speak out would probably see them lose their contract and they argue would disadvantage children. Individual doctors have to decide for themselves.8 Mandatory detention is immoral, but detention on Nauru is an abomination and paediatricians should protest long and loud until it is ended. I thank Alanna Maycock who accompanied me to Nauru, stood up to bullying guards and taught me about courage and recognising and confronting injustice. I thank my son Mark Isaacs for his bravery and for being an inspiration,1 and Philip Britton for helpful discussions.

This article conducts a close reading of the asylum seeker Code of Behaviour (‘the Code’), which commenced operation in December 2013. The Code applies to all so-called ‘illegal maritime arrivals’ who apply for or seek to renew a bridging visa. In order to access a bridging visa, this group of asylum seekers must sign the Code, and are thereafter bound by a ‘list of expectations’ about how to behave at all times while in Australia. Its expectations range from obeying the law, to refraining from spreading rumours, spitting or swearing in public, or persistently irritating anyone. Signing and adhering to the Code is a precondition for an asylum seeker either to be released from detention or to remain in the community. Despite being in force for nearly two years, the introduction and implementation of the Code have received little media attention or academic scrutiny.In this article we argue that the Code is a rhetorical tool, aimed at positioning asylum seekers arriving by boat outside the imagined borders of ‘the Australian community’. In addition to critiquing the Code’s rhetorical impact, we highlight the negative impact of the Code on the lives of asylum seekers, and its glaring absence of procedural fairness guarantees. The article firstly outlines the genesis of the Code, the substance of its provisions, and consequences for breaching them. Following this, it conducts a critical analysis of the Code’s enforcement and operation to date, with reference to data obtained from the Department of Immigration and Border Protection (‘DIBP’) under a Freedom of Information (‘FOI’) request. The final part of the article evaluates the practical and rhetorical impact of the Code.Our central argument is that the Australian Government has exploited the Code primarily as a rhetorical tool; it depicts us — ‘the Australian community’, as potential victims, threatened by them — ‘illegal maritime arrivals’. The Code propagates a sentiment of ‘paranoid nationalism’ among the Australian public, constructing asylum seekers as pre-criminal, racialised ‘others’, who must assimilate and adopt imagined standards of Australian civility. While the Code functions rhetorically to persuade the public to fear and resent asylum seekers, it also has harmful material effects. The Code subjects asylum seekers to the ongoing threat of surveillance and policing of its terms by ‘all members of the community’. And given the severe consequences of breaching the Code, including income reduction and incarceration, it increases the insecurity already experienced by asylum seekers on bridging visas.

Immigration policy, arrival modes, human rights, and international obligations have all been part of the debate that has ensued over the Australian Government’s policy response towards refugees and asylum seekers. This debate was a central campaign focus in the lead up to the 2013 Australian federal election and was accompanied by extensive media coverage. This media coverage is a significant contributor to the representation of refugees and asylum seekers to the Australian public. This study explores how refugees and asylum seekers were represented in Australian print news media in the period immediately before and after the 2013 federal election. Using news framing and critical discourse analysis, this study examined 162 articles, published between 7 August and 8 October 2013, in Australian newspapers. The analysis revealed two opposing themes in the representation of asylum seekers: refugees and asylum seekers were represented as either a threat requiring a military intervention or as victims requiring management. The findings of this study demonstrate the ways in which the print media contribute to a polarised representation of refugees and asylum seekers and the potential deleterious effect of this dichotomous construction to an informed public opinion.

Asylum seekers or ‘illegals’ are, by virtue of their humanity, more similar to us than they are different. Their aspirations and dreams are our aspirations and dreams, they feel the same love for their children (it is noteworthy that the video tape supposedly showing children being thrown into the sea has not been seen by the Australian public), and their need for compassion is as great as ours ( Walsh 2002, p. 69). I went on to implore mental health nurses to ‘engage in public debate regarding these issues and to use their understanding of our shared humanity to bring some compassion and charity to…this increasingly demonized group’ (Walsh 2002; p. 69). Fourteen years on, what has changed? Remarkably, very little. If anything the plight of asylum seekers has worsened. We now have mandatory offshore detention and boat turn backs. Children are still suffering in detention, despite the promises of various governments. In the detention centre on Nauru late last year, paediatrician Professor David Isaacs witnessed numerous concerning behaviours, including stress-related behaviour and evidence of self-harm in children as young as six (Isaacs 2015). Australia's position on ‘irregular’ arrivals by sea and the detention of children has been widely criticized, including by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (Dingle 2014) and the Australian Human Rights Commission (2014). Certainly, Australia's reaction to boat arrivals appears to be disproportionate to the reality of the situation, and much more severe than that of other developed countries. It is important that we, as health professionals, make a stand against such inhumane treatment, but it is also important that we try to understand why it is happening. There have been various theories put forward. In a recent article in The Conversation, two psychologists, Anne Pedersen and Lisa Hartley, attempted to explore why (in a recent poll) up to 60% of Australians think the Federal Government should increase the severity of the treatment of asylum seekers. They went on to discuss the role of government rhetoric and asylum seeker myths in perpetuating anti-asylum seeker prejudice. (Pederson & Hartley 2014). While there is not the space here to fully explore the issue, a brief psychodynamic formulation might illuminate the matter further. From this perspective, reactions which are disproportionate to the reality of a threat usually indicate the operation of a psychological defence mechanism (Malan 1982). Indeed, on almost any measure, Australia's policy reaction is disproportionate. Could it be that Australia is suffering from a collective paranoia? Australia's refugee policy appears to mirror the paranoid–schizoid position of Melanie Klein's object relations theory (Klein 1975; Diamond & Allcorn 2009). According to this perspective, when anxiety is high, people manage this by splitting off the good and the bad elements of their existence. The good elements are introjected into the self, and the bad elements are projected onto others (Walsh et al. 2011; Voyer et al. 1997). Thus, various groups might see others (in this case, asylum seekers) as representing something bad and fearful (queue jumpers, illegals), and themselves as something good. Importantly, the extent of this splitting can be mediated by leaders. Leaders can increase paranoid projections by decreasing access to and contact between groups (Halton 1994), and increasing the dominant group's anxiety. Invasion anxiety has long been Australia's historical existential threat (Burke 2008). The political climate in recent years has seen leaders from both Labor and the Coalition try to out-tough each other so as not to be seen as ‘soft’ on ‘border security’ (Butterly 2015). It is telling that Australian Customs and Border Protection has now been rebranded as ‘Border Force’, and its powers extended (Parliament of Australia 2015) in response to a few desperate asylum seekers and their children in leaky boats. The rationalization of preventing deaths at sea is used as justification for the most severe of Australia's asylum seeker policies. The lack of meaningful and constructive discussion from the political elite about possible humanitarian alternatives to these simplistic utilitarian policies that see real lives destroyed in an effort to prevent future drownings is staggering. However, while some leaders might exploit the paranoid–schizoid position, there is an alternative: the depressive position. This position would see leaders, who have the capacity to act as containers of societal anxiety, step forward (Halton 1994). When leaders can recognize the potential for splitting and act to contain it, they can give people the psychological space to acknowledge emotions and work through anxieties to find effective solutions (including polices) that do not rely on splitting. Australia has had leaders like this in the past. During the HIV/AIDS pandemic of the 1980s the Commonwealth Minster for Health Dr Neil Blewett, and other leaders, did much to contain societal anxiety and prevent the splitting and projection onto gay men, sex workers, and intravenous drug users that was seen in other countries (Aggleton & Kippax 2014). The subsequent Australian policy response was been widely praised internationally and seen as an exemplar of HIV/AIDS policy success. In the absence of mainstream political leadership on the issue of asylum seekers, it behoves us as health professionals to acknowledge societal anxiety and act to hold the space for reasoned and empathic dialogue with family, friends, and the general public. We must counter the paranoid–schizoid position by taking every opportunity to reinforce the humanity of those seeking asylum and challenge the myths and the rhetoric used to rationalize inhumane policies. The topic is complex, and the solutions will be difficult to find, but whatever solutions we find, they must be humane. In the words of Wilhelm Reich: ‘Great ends cannot be obtained by base means….The meanness and inhumanity of the means make you mean and inhuman and make the end unattainable’ (Reich 1948, p. 204).

After a courageous battle with lung cancer, Dr. Sally Jacoby, 58, distinguished teacher and researcher in applied linguistics, energetic conversationalist, theater and music enthusiast, and former editor of Issues in Applied Linguistics passed Sally was an associate professor in the Department of Communication at the in applied linguistics from UCLA, her M.A. in applied English linguistics from the University of Birmingham, and her Bachelor degrees from the Northwestern University and Tel Aviv University. Her areas of specialization included discourse and conversation analysis, talk and interaction in everyday and institutional set- tings and indigenous assessment of communication performance. Her publications are primarily in discourse analysis but one paper in language assessment is an on the concept of indigenous assessment criteria. This work was also discussed in Dan Douglas’ book indigenous assessment criteria as those used by subject specialists in assessing the 68). Sally was also a frequent presenter at the American Association of Applied many topics that were brought to the podium. I knew Sally from our days together as doctoral students in the applied lin- Beach Boys had made it out to be. And that Westwood was not Bohemian enough. We spent thousands of hours chatting about other mutual interests in the areas of magazines, the New York Review of Books and , and the writing of abstracts and papers for publications. It was these diverse interests and also the lack of a publication venue for student ideas that propelled us to found the student-run journal Issues in Applied Linguistics terms of dissemination of new student ideas – especially because the UCLA Working Papers in Applied Linguistics had ceased to operate. But we needed money to fund any kind of publication and the Department of Applied Linguistics did not have any funds for this. So, I submitted a proposal to the Graduate Students Association to different campus groups based on need and merit – and after a few months of

In March 2014 we spent a week on Christmas Island as medical consultants to the Australian Human Rights Commission (AHRC) Inquiry into the Impact of Immigration Detention on Children. The visit involved three Human Rights Commission staff as well as the authors, paediatrician Karen Zwi and child psychiatrist Sarah Mares, representing the Royal Australasian College of Physicians and the Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists respectively. Using interpreters, we spoke to over 40 unaccompanied children and service providers to ascertain processes and policies and to give feedback about detainees of immediate concern. We would like to honour the voices of the detainees; we have used their exact words where possible. In a separate paper, we focus on the families and children detained in immigration acilities on Christmas Island. Unaccompanied children are children under the age of 18 years who are seeking asylum from threatened or experienced danger. They arrive unaccompanied by a parent, legal guardian or adult relative over the age of 21 years. On arrival to Australia, unaccompanied children by law become the legal wards of the Department of Immigration and Border Protection (DIBP). The role of a legal guardian is commonly regarded internationally as one who ‘stands in loco parentis to the child’, which includes making decisions regarding the best interests of the child and providing for the child’s emotional and material needs. In Australia, the Minister’s role tends to be nominal without practical assistance offered to the children, which has been described as leaving them not only unaccompanied but also unrepresented. A DIPB officer is appointed locally as the children’s ‘Delegated Guardian’ as discussed below. Most unaccompanied children leave their homes as a desperate measure in search of protection, education and employ ment, and to contribute to the welfare of their family. They have often embarked on dangerous journeys, experienced war, the death of family members, persecution, violence, sexual abuse, escape from forced recruitment into armed organisations and forced domestic labour. These experiences occur during critical developmental periods, thus placing them at risk of mental health problems. Research is limited to a few cross-sectional or on-arrival studies, which have shown that around 25–50% have emotional and behavioural problems, anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), at higher rates than in accompanied asylum seeker children. However, consistent with other studies on refugee children, the majority of unaccompanied children score below clinical cut-offs for psychiatric disorder, thus displaying a marked resilience. The severity of psychiatric symptoms is likely to increase with more traumatic events experienced prior to forced migration, demonstrating the cumulative impact on well-being of traumatic exposure. Children exposed to adversity following migration, particularly those placed in prolonged detention, are more severely affected. Studies show increased symptoms for those exposed to rioting, fires, violence and self-harm attempts by parents or others in detention. Rapid resolution of asylum claims reduces the duration of uncertainty and associated distress for children, whereas insecure asylum status is associated with a range of psychological problems that can have long-lasting effects. Prompt access to services catering for physical and psychological health is important, as are long-term stability of residence and socially supportive environments. It is also known that PTSD symptoms are increased in lower-support living arrangements suggesting that foster family living and high support may improve outcomes.

Chapter 8 – Media reporting of migrants and migration

Bastard Immigrants: Asylum Seekers Who Arrive by Boat and the Illegitimate Fear of the Other

There is a substantial body of literature that discusses the problematic nature of asylum seeker healthcare in several European countries. However, little is known about how asylum seekers experience primary healthcare in Malta. This paper draws on a qualitative study that aimed to explore the nature of healthcare encounters between asylum seekers and healthcare professionals in Maltese primary healthcare and the contextual processes which influence these interactions. The study utilised critical ethnography, informed by postcolonial theory. Data were collected through observation of encounters between healthcare professionals and asylum seekers (130hours) and in-depth interviews with asylum seekers (n11), cultural mediators (n4) and Maltese healthcare professionals (n7). Thematic analysis of the combined data resulted in three themes: 'the impact of seeking refuge', 'seeking mutual understanding' and 'seeking resolution'. Healthcare encounters between asylum seekers and professionals are characterised by 'othering' practices, pre-conceived expectations and mutual mistrust. These are shaped by a complex interplay of factors, including damaging experiences of migration, derogatory political and public discourses and inadequate resources. In Maltese primary care, healthcare encounters are highly problematic for both patients and professionals. Nurses could take the lead in developing services to assess complex needs and aid asylum seekers in navigating the healthcare system.

The world is witnessing the highest level of displacement of people on record. Public discourse often uses labels to describe people on the move such as ‘migrants’, ‘asylum seekers’, or ‘refugees’ interchangeably. A preregistered study in nine countries (Australia, the Czech Republic, Finland, France, Italy, Portugal, Sweden, Switzerland, and the United Kingdom; N = 2844) tested experimentally the effect of these three labels on attitudes towards immigrants and immigration policies. We found a significant difference between the label ‘migrant’ and both ‘asylum seeker’ and ‘refugee’ on the social distance scale. Participants were happier if migrants, rather than asylum seekers and refugees, were their neighbours, friends, or partners. The effect was mediated by perceived benefits, but not threats, whereby migrants were perceived to bring more benefits to receiving societies than asylum seekers and refugees. To increase the acceptance of immigrants, speakers may consider specifying the given group and emphasize benefits that immigrants bring to receiving societies.