Still We Rise

In this episode, we confront a disturbing reality unfolding, the criminalization of people seeking asylum, Britain of course is still a signatory to the Refugee Convention, a document it once championed. A recent report published by the Centre for Criminology at the University of Oxford titled No Such Thing As Justice Here lifts the veil on this criminalization law. One key feature of this report is the seminal trial of a Senegalese National, Ibrahima Bah whose age is contested, his birth certificate says he is 17 years old. He stands accused of steering a dinghy boat, in which tragically, four people perish, lost to the unforgiving depths of the sea. Bah, a person seeking asylum, now finds himself ensnared in a web of injustice. His testimony at Cantebury Crown Court paints a harrowing picture: forced at gunpoint to navigate perilous waters by people traffickers, compelled by circumstances beyond his control.
And yet, his narrative is not one of solitary suffering. It finds echo in the voices of those who, against all odds, made it to the shores of Dover, bearing witness to the horrors endured on that fateful voyage.

What emerges is a stark indictment of a policy forged in the crucible of fear and intolerance. A policy that casts aside the principles of compassion and humanity, instead wielding the heavy hand of criminalization against those in their most vulnerable hour. And perhaps most chillingly, this policy finds its architects not in the distant halls of power, but in the children of immigrants themselves, Priti Patel, James Cleverly and Rishi Sunak who know all too well the struggle and resilience upon which migrating to this country is built upon. And so we must confront the uncomfortable truths that lie at the intersection of law and morality. For in the story of Ibrahima Bah lies not just a singular injustice, but a reflection of a broader crisis of conscience—one that demands our attention, our empathy, and our collective resolve to set things right.

In this episode, we confront a disturbing reality unfolding, the criminalization of people seeking asylum, Britain of course is still a signatory to the Refugee Convention, a document it once championed. A recent report published by the Centre for Criminology at the No Such Thing As Justice Here lifts the veil on this criminalization law. One key feature of this report is the seminal trial of a Senegalese National, Ibrahima Bah whose age is contested, his birth certificate says he is 17 years old. He stands accused of steering a dinghy boat, in which tragically, four people perish, lost to the unforgiving depths of the sea. Bah, a person seeking asylum, now finds himself ensnared in a web of injustice. His testimony at Cantebury Crown Court paints a harrowing picture: forced at gunpoint to navigate perilous waters by people traffickers, compelled by circumstances beyond his control. And yet, his narrative is not one of solitary suffering. It finds echo in the voices of those who, against all odds, made it to the shores of Dover, bearing witness to the horrors endured on that fateful voyage.

What emerges is a stark indictment of a policy forged in the crucible of fear and intolerance. A policy that casts aside the principles of compassion and humanity, instead wielding the heavy hand of criminalization against those in their most vulnerable hour. And perhaps most chillingly, this policy finds its architects not in the distant halls of power, but in the children of immigrants themselves, Priti Patel, James Cleverly and Rishi Sunak who know all too well the struggle and resilience upon which migrating to this country is built upon. And so we must confront the uncomfortable truths that lie at the intersection of law and morality. For in the story of Ibrahima Bah lies not just a singular injustice, but a reflection of a broader crisis of conscience—one that demands our attention, our empathy, and our collective resolve to set things right.

Daniel Trilling spent six months interviewing politicians, civil servants, frontline staff, lawyers, judges, campaigners and ordinary people caught up in the system to ask one simple question:

What's up with the Home Office?

It culminated in this Guardian Article Long Read article titled.

Cruel, paranoid and failing: Inside the Home Office.

We spoke to him about this seminal piece of journalism.

What is life like as an Asylum Seeker?

Why does Britain have an inhumane Asylum system? Why will Britain not expend all the patience and care and thought she possesses to help people in fear for their lives? The dynamics of prejudice, dehumanisation and maltreatment are hardly without historical precedent, they can be traced back to centuries of the slave trade, colonialism and Imperialism authored on this island.

So it’s not so much that any of this is new, it is the realisation that the deliberate and calculated nature of the mistreatment serves an incendiary electoral purpose. Beneath the ‘taking back control’ slogans and toughening up the border regime is an inconvenient historical truth. When Britain led the drafting of the 1951 Refugee Convention in the aftermath of the horrors of the second world war, they didn’t envisage that those who’d be arriving on its shores to seek protection would come from outside Europe, hence its initial temporal and geographical restriction, this changed when African, Asian and some Middle Eastern countries signed the 1967 protocol.

What Governments of every colour have demonstrated through hostile Immigration rules is their uncomfortable with this reality, but rather than be grounded in truth, they’ve over two decades created a hostile and inhumane Asylum system.

So what is one confronted with when they arrive on Britains shores to claim Asylum?

We speak to three young women whose lived experience is harrowing. The system is broken and no one should have to endure the hostility and indignity.

In this episode, we lift the veil on life inside the controversial Napier Barracks. Some members in society are systemically denied the right to basic rights, deprived of the right to a private space to sleep, denied the liberty to contribute economically, not seen as worthy enough to be protected from Covid infection, literally reduced to a Number!

Amir was known in Napier Barracks by his room Number, dehumanised in the land of Magna Carta, his movements were surveilled day and night, merely because he fled to Britain to seek protection. He gives a harrowing instructive account of Britain stepping to the edge of the precipice, thank goodness He survived to share his Lived experience of abuse at the hands of an overreaching Home Office.

If this doesn’t prompt you to start an action to close these Barracks, perhaps you’re part of the problem.

Shut Down Napier Barracks Now!