You don’t grow up black in Ireland without learning the social importance of being able to blend in. The refrain, “Go back to your own country!”, reverberated through my childhood. My mother, grandmother and great-grandmother were all Irish. Regardless of genetic material, to be black or brown in Ireland is to be eternally perceived as “other”. In a country marked by centuries of ethnic and religious homogeneity, we underestimate the extent to which physical appearance continues to determine social inclusion. Today, physical markers of ethnicity, race and religion still carry meaning when deciding who should be allowed to integrate into Irish society.
It is of no surprise, then, that race is a factor in our social and political treatment of asylum seekers. The emergence of the “two-tier” refugee system is a case in point. Following activation of the EU temporary protection directive, displaced Ukrainians who arrive in Ireland bypass the notoriously lengthy application process for international protection and gain the immediate right to short-term residence. They enjoy many of the same rights as Irish citizens, including full access to the labour market, accommodation, education, social welfare benefits and medical care. The treatment of Ukrainians contrasts starkly with that of all other asylum seekers, who come primarily from the Middle East (Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq) and Africa (Zimbabwe, Nigeria, the Democratic Republic of Congo).
Asylum seekers from these parts of the world have remained legally bound to the direct provision system as they await the outcome of their applications for international protection. While direct provision was designed to accommodate asylum seekers for a short period (ie, approximately six months), the Irish Refugee Council has reported that the average waiting time before which an application is processed is three years, and can be as long as seven years in some cases. During this time, occupants typically live in bleak, overcrowded conditions, and adults receive a weekly allowance that amounts to less than half of a day’s pay at the current minimum wage. Access to employment and adult education is highly restricted.
The fact remains that the State’s differential treatment of refugees is motivated by more than the obvious humanitarian concerns
As Sinéad Gibney, chief commissioner of the Irish Human Rights and Equality Commission, pointed out in her recent Irish Times article, these EU-wide differences in the legislative treatment of refugees have a profound influence on their relative opportunities for integration and social inclusion within Irish society. The extent to which integration is facilitated by both the State and by the wider community is influenced by more than just the degree of humanitarian need of the migrants.
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This is highlighted by the fact that historically, neither the EU temporary protection directive nor any legal equivalent was activated in response to mass influxes of refugees from the war-torn countries of Ethiopia, Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq. Although these people were (and continue to be) subjected to conditions equally devastating as those in Ukraine, there have been strikingly lower levels of public sympathy and support.
Our reception of refugees has been significantly affected by considerations, such as religion, race and ethnicity. We are far more likely to help Europeans of white Christian descent than we are non-white Muslims from the Middle East or black Christians (and Muslims) from Africa.
This is not, however, the first time that our government’s humanitarian policies have been polluted by deep-rooted racial and religious biases. There has been a long history of attempts to preserve the perceived purity of white Christian culture in Ireland. A 1945 memorandum from the Department of Justice to the Irish government regarding “the admission of refugees from Europe”, explicitly stated that the “immigration of Jews is generally discouraged”. The reason given was that “Jews do not become assimilated with the native population, like other immigrants, [and] any big increase in their numbers might create a social problem.”
If I – a woman born and raised within Irish culture – can be denied full integration into Irish society on the basis of my brown skin, what hope have the dark-skinned refugees who come to this country in search of a home?
A 1953 memo expressing similar views was unearthed by UCD professor of migration and social policy, Bryan Fanning. In his book, Racism and Social Change in the Republic of Ireland, Fanning reveals that the memo proposed a system of refugee vetting based on that “‘adopted for the admission of non-Aryan refugees’ in 1938 and 1939”. The memo made a notable distinction between Jewish refugees – who were portrayed as politically dangerous – and “refugees of good character of Catholic and Christian religions”.
The fact remains that the State’s differential treatment of refugees is motivated by more than the obvious humanitarian concerns. Political decisions about who gets to stay have long been influenced by our estimations of their relative ease of assimilation within Irish society and culture. White Christians receive preferential treatment over Muslims and over black and brown people of any religious denomination. Not only are the latter deprived of equal treatment, but they are also often subjected to racist and Islamophobic abuse. Being “othered” often shapes the daily experience of those who do not look European or who are clothed differently.
But it is not just a matter of defending the integrity of Irish culture from the potentially divisive spread of multiculturalism. As a black Irish woman, I have had direct experience of the extent to which physical appearance alone influences one’s social inclusion in this country. It seems a matter of our unspoken commitment to preserving a certain familiar skin tone, a certain liberal dress code and a certain normalised set of facial features.
If I – a woman born and raised within Irish culture – can be denied full integration into Irish society on the basis of my brown skin, what hope have the dark-skinned refugees who come to this country in search of a home?
Niamh Jiménez is a science postgraduate currently studying for a master’s in humanistic and integrative psychotherapy