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This week, we commemorate the 70th anniversary of the United Nations Refugee Convention, which was formulated in response to the shocking failure during the Holocaust. For me, the United Kingdom, the country that gave me asylum and respected me in a different way, now wants to abandon everything that the Convention represents, which makes me very sad.
When you flee from war or violence, you will not stop running until you feel safe. Twenty years ago, I fled to Britain from war-torn Afghanistan. I spent most of my childhood avoiding rockets and withstood the inhumane conditions of the refugee camp where I survived tuberculosis. I came to the UK as a 15-year-old. Separated from my family, I have almost no formal education, and my name has a total of 100 dollars.
In a safe place, I can rebuild my life. The current Secretary of State for the Interior Priti Patel and then Prime Minister Theresa May are proud of my achievements in healthcare and innovation. However: The British government today is closing the door to people like me, who have their own hopes and dreams, and have proposed a nationality and border bill.
The anti-refugee bill proposes to establish a two-tier asylum system. A person fleeing war or persecution will be convicted or imprisoned if their journey is not pre-authorized-thus undermining the basic principles of the convention, it deliberately emphasizes not how they arrived in the country, but they Why are they forced to flee their country. The first is home.
According to this proposed legislation, I will not have the opportunity to study English and medicine at Cambridge University, nor will I be a doctor in the UK to fight the coronavirus. If I run for my life today, I will be denied an asylum hearing and be deported immediately.
Most people fleeing war or persecution do not have the “luxury” of pre-authorization, although this may be desirable. Back in Afghanistan, there was no “legal” escape route for me or other civilians caught in gunfire and shelling. 1% of the world’s population was forced to be displaced by conflict, and this is also the case today—a small percentage of them ended up on the British coast.
The refugee convention that Britain promoted after the horrors of World War II couldn’t be clearer: the right to seek asylum is universal, no matter how refugees reach your coast. If the government can “show a valid reason,” they may not impose penalties based on the method of arrival. By focusing on “how” disadvantaged groups enter the UK, rather than protecting their principled obligations, the UK threatens to violate its international commitments and abandon those who need it most.
Another threat posed by the bill is existentialism. Anti-foreigner and anti-refugee sentiments have penetrated into British politics; they run counter to the kindness and compassion that the British government and people have shown me in the past few decades. The heartbreaking scene of desperate people crossing the English Channel in small boats has been seen as a “refugee crisis” before our country. However, UNHCR records show that in 2020, the number of asylum applications received in the United Kingdom is slightly less than one-third that of Germany and about two-fifths that of France.
When the US military withdrew from Afghanistan and my friends and family endured escalating violence in the country, I couldn’t help feeling that history was repeating itself. Except, I worry that those who seek safety from the UK will be rejected in the most ruthless way.
Refugees have long been part of the British structure. They enrich our health and education system, as well as our culture and community. Soon after I was qualified, I established Arian Teleheal, a charity that uses technology to connect doctors with limited resources in the war zone with clinicians from the UK’s National Health Service to exchange medical expertise. In many ways, it represents the “global Britain” we promised after Brexit. It clarifies one thing-that the diversity of experience and knowledge benefits everyone-and in many cases, can save lives.
The 70th anniversary of the Refugee Convention should help remind Britain of its glorious history of protecting people like me. It must now stand up and play its role in an increasingly dangerous world. The way we treat people is a symbol of the country we want to be. On this anniversary, the message to the British government must be clear: give us a compassionate and fair way of asylum-this is what the UK globally deserves.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.
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