We criticise Donald Trump’s separation of migrant children from their parents at the Mexico-US border, yet 4,300 asylum-seekers languish in inhumane direct provision here, and with families split by deportation, says Caroline Forde

Family and children have long been valued aspects of Irish life. The sanctity of the family is enshrined in our Constitution. Though problematic in its conceptualisation of this unit as nuclear and heteronormative, the importance of being part of a loving family, whatever form it takes, cannot be denied.

As such, the recent US governmental immigration policy that legalised the separation of migrant children from their families at the US-Mexico border was widely condemned.

More than 700 children subjected to this unconscionable policy have still not been reunited with their families by the court-ordered deadline, mostly because their parents have been deported. The US acceptance of asylum-seekers and refugees is appalling low.

However, we need look no further than our own country to witness such cruel treatment. Sixty-nine million people, who have fled war, violence and persecution, are displaced worldwide. Vulnerable and traumatised, they left their homes in search of sanctuary, only to find that hope is a dangerous thing in a neoliberal world that recasts refugees as a problem.

While Trump’s failed immigration policy rightly deserves criticism, Ireland has accepted a mere 859 Syrian people under the Refugee Protection Programme. In addition, 4,300 asylum-seekers are currently living in direct provision (DP) centres throughout the country, while they await a decision on their refugee status.

These are places of exclusion, stigma, and institutional abuse, and adult residents are often separated from their children, whom they had to leave behind. The children living in these centres endure inhumane conditions.

And then there’s deportation. Ireland has a complex history in this regard, a history not many people are aware of. The Abbey theatre’s magnificent adaptation of the film, Jimmy’s Hall, relates the story of Jimmy Gralton.

A staunch socialist, who emigrated to New York in 1909, Jimmy returned home to Leitrim in 1921, to take care of his mother.

As a man who cared deeply about the future of this country and the people who were suffering under postcolonial-rule housing policies, he rebuilt a dancehall on his father’s land.

This hall not only provided the critically engaged locals with a place to socialise, it was also a safe space to organise political meetings to advance the rights of tenant farmers.

Viewed as a threat to the newly founded Church/State nexus that had a stranglehold over the Irish people, he was deported on the basis of his American passport, never to return to his family or home again.

It seems incredible that such a thing could happen. However, the truly terrible truth is that deportations are still happening, albeit in a different guise.

Asylum Seekers protesting Direct Provision in Cork, August 2016

The covertness of such deportations speaks to their inhumane nature. Not unlike rendition, individuals are often whisked away in the dead of night, or, in the recent case of Vahram, an Armenian asylum-seeker who lived in Galway for 12 years, detained and forced to board a flight without notice.

The stage adaptation of Jimmy’s Hall places a strong focus on deportations as a human rights violation. It also highlights the connection between Jimmy’s story and those of asylum-seekers seeking refuge in Ireland today.

Following the September 13 showing in the Galway Town Hall Theatre, Donna, from the Movement of Asylum Seekers in Ireland (MASI), spoke powerfully about our deeply problematic DP system, within which asylum-seekers live daily with the threat of deportation. Joe Loughnane, from the Galway Anti Racism Network (GARN), then talked about Vahram’s case.

Seeking asylum in Ireland, Vahram entered the DP system in 2006. Four months later, he left the system to live and work in the community, as a barber.

In 2010, he met his now wife, Viktoria.

Four years later, they had a daughter, Alina. For the sake of his family, Vahram explained his situation to the authorities, who ordered him to sign in at an emigration office in Dublin every month.

Though he received a deportation order in June of this year, he was advised by his lawyer to continue signing in, as agreed.

This arrangement continued until 14 days after Alina’s third birthday, when, suddenly, Vahram was detained in the Dublin emigration office and deported, without having the chance to see his family and bid farewell.

As Joe spoke, photographs of a smiling Vahram, with his wife and daughter, appeared on a screen behind. These images are of a happy and loving family, the kind of blessing many people hope for.

Viktoria has not been able to tell Alina what has happened to her father, because she knows the truth would break the little girl’s heart. One of the rights enshrined in the 1992 UN convention is that children be protected from abuse and harm.

Separating a child from a loving father who is seeking asylum is an abusive act. How could the Government sign a deportation order, knowing that it was tearing a family apart, thus causing untold trauma that will reverberate in this family’s life for years to come. It seems that only certain types of families are cherished by our government.

In 2015, 3,790 people were deported or removed from the State, an increase of 60% on 2014.

One of these, Mohamed Sleyum Ali, was beaten to death within hours of arriving back in Tanzania. Is this really the history we want to write for our country?

Vahram was a valued member of his community, who is effectively being punished for creating a happy life and family in the country that was supposed to provide him sanctuary.

It is vital that we continue to shine a light on these human rights abuses and to stand with Vahram, by participating in the campaign to bring him back to his home and family.

- Caroline Forde, Galway Anti Racism Network