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Migrant Lives

Not My Problem: Individual Responsibility And Government Abuse Of Asylum Seekers

Denial and indifference drive the way ordinary Australians face the mistreatment of refugees.

Not My Problem: Individual Responsibility And Government Abuse Of Asylum Seekers

A Syrian refugee camp in the outskirts of Athens

Jamal Barnes


As one of its first acts in government, the newly elected Labor government turned back a boat of Sri Lankan asylum seekers trying to enter Australia.

Labor has vowed to continue Operation Sovereign Borders, including boat turnbacks and offshore detention. This is concerning. Not only do turnbacks violate international law, but offshore detention has resulted in torture and cruel and inhuman treatment of refugees.

Even more concerning is the lack of criticism Labor has received for continuing offshore detention and turnbacks. Apart from being condemned by human rights groups and minor political parties, Labor’s refugee policies appear to have gone without much comment from a large part of the Australian public.

As I found in my new research paper, the Australian government has used three forms of denial, creating physical and psychological distance between itself and refugees.

This allows the federal government to promote illegal and harmful policies while proclaiming to still be upholding human rights.

Creating indifference

Human rights abuses in offshore detention have been well documented.

On Manus Island (in Papua New Guinea) and Nauru, refugees have faced torture, inhumane detention, overcrowding, violence from guards, sexual assault and rape, and mental harm. Children as young as nine have suffered severe depression and attempted to commit suicide.

According to the latest data by the Refugee Council, 112 people remain on Nauru and just over 100 people are on Manus Island. Although New Zealand will now resettle many of them in the coming years, Nauru detention centre will continue to remain open indefinitely.

How can Australia continue to promote itself as upholding human rights, while at the same time maintain such policies?

One answer is that offshore detention has created indifference to the suffering of refugees. Australia’s policy framework has produced what the UN Special Rapporteur on Torture has called “moral disengagement”. This involves “the self-deceptive denial of reality” by denying the wrongfulness of, responsibility for, or occurrence of, human rights violations.

These “self-deceptive” strategies reduce moral dilemmas that come from violating human rights norms.

My research found Australian federal governments have used three forms of denial to push refugees out of sight and out of mind – denial of responsibility, denial of fact, and denial of wrongdoing.

Denying responsibility

The government has denied responsibility over refugees in offshore detention by denying it has jurisdiction. The term “jurisdiction” is different from sovereign territory. A state can have jurisdiction outside of its sovereign territory when it exercises effective control over others.

Showing that a country has jurisdiction over others is important. It can help hold states accountable for human rights abuses and establish responsibility for those in its care.

The Australian government has argued that PNG and Nauru – which aren’t part of Australia – have jurisdiction over the detention facilities and the refugees in them. It claims all Australia does is provide financial and material support.

Such arguments make it difficult to hold Australia accountable. But they are also incorrect. A Senate inquiry, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, and human rights groups, among others, have argued Australia exercises effective control and shares jurisdiction with Nauru and PNG.

Denying jurisdiction creates physical and psychological distance between itself and refugees, helping to create indifference. By denying responsibility, human rights abuses become someone else’s problem.

Activists in Brisbane to protest against the permanent detainment of refugees and asylum seekers in Australian-run and funded facilities

Joshua Prieto/SOPA Images/ZUMA

Denying fact

A second key strategy is denial of fact. The Australian government, along with the governments of Nauru and PNG, has denied human rights abuses and made it hard to find out what occurs in offshore detention.

Human rights monitors and journalists have been restricted or denied access to offshore detention.

Staff have been threatened with prosecution under confidentiality agreements if they speak publicly about detention treatment.

Operation Sovereign Borders has also been shrouded in secrecy. For example, it was common for Coalitionministers and border force officials to refuse to answer questions in the media about “on water matters”.

As Peter Young, the former mental health director of IHMS, the medical provider in immigration detention, stated: “Secrecy is necessary because these places are designed to damage”.

These policies have made it difficult to know what occurs in offshore detention. They also create doubt about whether such harm is even happening at all.

Denying wrongdoing 

Along with “stopping the boats”, the government has argued offshore detention has been necessary to save lives at sea.

When former UN Special Rapporteur on Torture Juan Méndez criticised Australia for violating the UN Convention against Torture in 2015, then Prime Minister Tony Abbott stated

The most humanitarian, the most decent, the most compassionate thing you can do is stop these boats .

This is a key strategy of self-deception. By arguing the policy is saving lives, it focuses attention away from the harm refugees suffer, to the humanitarian goal of “saving lives”.

Moral dilemmas about torture or ill treatment are pushed aside, and so are feelings of wrongdoing.

Challenging indifference

Key to ending this illegal and harmful policy is to challenge these self-deceptive strategies that have produced moral disengagement.

Other countries, such as the UK, are following in Australia’s footsteps by introducing offshore detention for asylum seekers. This means challenging strategies that deny reality – and widening our circle of empathy – is more urgent than ever.

It’s indifference that’s helping to maintain offshore detention. And it’s this indifference that needs to be challenged to both respect international law and uphold the rights and dignity of refugees.

Jamal Barnes, Lecturer, Edith Cowan University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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FOCUS: Russia-Ukraine War

What Happens When A Ukrainian Asks ChatGPT About Crimea

The public version of the Artificial Intelligence-driven chatbot is not yet fully plugged into the real-time internet. But there was an enlightening conversation going back to 2014, when the conflict in Ukraine actually started. ChatGPT’s hedging responses may help explain why the world wasn’t prepared for Putin’s invasion a year ago.

Screenshot of OpenAI's ChatGPT homepage with a flag of Ukraine in the background

Putting AI to the Ukraine test


After a year of talking (arguing, pleading, crying) with all sorts of humans about the war between Russia and Ukraine, the time came to have the conversation with ChatGPT.

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The past 365 days, like other Ukrainians, have been consumed by a war that seems drudged up from the 19th century. But I have long been interested in the potential of Artificial Intelligence and the machine revolution, I believe in the three laws of robotics, and have grown up on the new-wave of American science fiction.

Still, I walked into my first contact with ChatGPT carefully. I knew the machine would not have responses about the past year since it is trained on content only until 2021. But I also suspected that its post-2014 view of the situation in Ukraine — following Russia’s annexation of Crimea and its war in Donbas — might shed some light on how we got here.

I also knew that the machine’s responses would be strung together sentences and ideas from humans — and as I said, I’ve had my fair share of arguments with them about Ukraine.

Rather than slowly wade into the subject, I started the conversation with a direct question — and yes, all of my questions are those of a Ukrainian human.

The following is our full, lightly edited “chat”:

Let us begin, who owns Crimea?

The ownership of Crimea is a politically contentious issue, it has been claimed at various times in history by different groups, including the Crimean Tatars, the Ottoman Empire, Russia, and Ukraine.

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