Critical social work with unaccompanied asylum-seeking young people: Restoring hope,agency and meaning for the client and worker

Introduction

Internationally, the provision of support and counselling to asylum seekers engages the social work profession in what are regarded as increasingly challenging practice contexts (Al-Qdah and Lacroix, 2011; Fell, 2013; Robinson, 2014). This article presents a model of social work practice with unaccompanied asylum-seeking young people that can provide, within these contexts, direction, purpose and a sense of agency for both the worker and the client. The model seeks to provide asylum-seeking young people and social workers with the capacity to resist the impact of increasingly punitive and oppressive environments which create uncertainty and undermine hope. The practices emerging from this model promote the skills, values, knowledge and strengths of social workers and their clients and in doing so meaningfully reconnect social workers with key professional values of social justice and human rights.

The model draws on Foucault’s ideas of power relations and resistance, and illustrates how small acts of resistance (Morley et al., 2014) shape the social worker’s approach to counselling and advocacy with unaccompanied minors (UAMs). The model addresses social work practice at a number of levels, requiring: (1) a critical awareness of the ongoing and cumulative impact of dehumanising discourses and policies on the young person; (2) the adaptation of trauma counselling frameworks to take account of the fact that the young person may be confronted with an ongoing lack of safety; (3) advocacy through the gathering of resources, the creation of networks of support and the creation of pathways for practical action; and (4) ongoing engagement with change on a social level.

In order to illustrate the practice and theory in action, the article incorporates a case vignette of ‘Ali’, a UAM asylum seeker. Ali’s story is constructed from the experiences of many unaccompanied young people who are in the process of seeking asylum in Australia. The story of Ali provides just one example of what young unaccompanied asylum seekers can experience and highlights the key characteristics of the model and its underlying theories. The rationale is to engage the reader more deeply by presenting specific details of the daily lives of UAMs in a way that brings to life the role and practices of social work. The article concludes with an exploration of the potential international transferability of the model to other practice contexts.

The article begins with an overview of the current international and Australian asylum-seeker policy and practice contexts. The challenges experienced by social workers in this area of practice are presented with particular reference to the definition of social work as articulated by the International Federation of Social Workers (IFSW) and the Australian Association of Social Workers (AASW).

International context

In recent years, the global conflicts that drive people to flee their countries in the hope of safety have intensified. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), in 2014, 59.5 million people were forcibly displaced (UNHCR, 2015c). More than half of all refugees worldwide (53%) came from just three countries: Syria (3.88 million), Afghanistan (2.59 million) and Somalia (1.11 million) (UNHCR, 2015c). In 2014, 1.7 million new asylum applications were lodged worldwide.

Since 2012, there has been an unprecedented increase in the flow of people coming by boat to Europe in particular. According to the UNHCR, in 2012, 22,500 people arrived by boat in Europe, compared with 219,000 in 2014 and 322,500 in the 8 months from January to the end of August 2015 (UNHCR, 2015a: 5). This ‘refugee crisis’ has been met with varying responses, ranging from tolerance and welcome to a rise in anti-foreigner rhetoric and an increase in restrictive policies in some European countries (UNHCR, 2015b).

Of the 1.7 million asylum applications made across the world in 2014, more than 34,300 were made by minors: children and young people under the age of 18 years who had fled without their family (UNHCR, 2015c). The labels given to these children and young people vary internationally. For instance, in the United Kingdom, these minors are usually referred to as ‘unaccompanied asylum-seeking children’ (Barrie and Mendes, 2011; Kohli and Mather, 2003). In Australia, they are called ‘unaccompanied minors’ or ‘UAMs’ (Evenhuis, 2013; Refugee Council of Australia (RCA), 2014).

Like other asylum seekers, UAMs are compelled to leave their home countries as a result of a range of different factors (Bhabha and Crock, 2007; Chase, 2010; Hopkins and Hill, 2008; Kohli, 2007). Among these are the well-documented effects of war. UAMs may have witnessed killings, seen atrocities, escaped horror and suffered life-threatening situations in their home countries. These experiences can be traumatising. And although not all UAMs have been traumatised, being unaccompanied is an important risk factor for emotional wellbeing, with research showing higher intensity and longer duration of psychological problems for this group (Derluyn and Broekaert, 2007).

The Australian context

Australian policy towards people arriving by boat seeking asylum has historically been dominated by deterrence and punishment (Briskman, 2013; Briskman and Cemlyn, 2006; RCA, 2014). For instance, in 1992, Australia implemented mandatory detention for all asylum seekers arriving without a valid visa (Parliament of Australia, 2013). Most recently, these policies have been driven by the rhetoric of ‘stopping the boats’ to prevent deaths at sea. The Australian government and the media have also contributed to the construction of negative stereotypes which identify these asylum seekers as illegals. The implication is that the asylum seekers themselves are criminals or possibly Muslim terrorists who do not have the right to belong and who are nothing but economic refugees (RCA, 2014). This rhetoric has resonated with xenophobic and racist discourses which have deep historical roots within mainstream Australian culture (Briskman and Cemlyn, 2006; Masocha and Simpson, 2012; Wazana, 2004).

Between 2012 and 2013, 25,173 people arrived in Australia by boat as asylum seekers (Parliament of Australia, 2014). As a result of this increase in numbers and the resultant fear of a continuing influx of asylum seekers by boat, the Australian government began to introduce a dizzying array of arrangements in which asylum seekers were treated differently depending not only on mode of arrival but also on the exact date of arrival (Briskman, 2013). Although all asylum seekers were placed in mandatory detention upon arrival, by 2012, the Immigration detention system was so stretched that the government allowed some 30,000 to live in the community on bridging visas until their claims were settled. However, asylum seekers who arrived by boat and eventually came to the Australian mainland after 12 August 2012 and before July 2013 were barred from making any application for protection by the ‘no advantage’ rule (Australian Government, 2012). This rule was designed to create ‘disincentives’ that would mean that ‘asylum seekers gain no benefit by choosing not to seek protection through established mechanisms’ (Australian Government, 2012: 8). No specific timeframe was offered to define when an asylum seeker could be said to have satisfied this ‘no advantage’ rule.

Since that time, other measures have been added, including the withdrawal of funding for migration assistance (RCA, 2014) and the introduction in early 2014 of a specific ‘code of behaviour’ for asylum seekers living on bridging visas on the Australian mainland (Australian Broadcasting Corporation, 2014). This code highlights the conditional and precarious nature of the asylum seeker’s position in the community, with the ever-present threat of re-detention.

In December 2014, the government also re-introduced temporary protection visas (TPVs) for this group of asylum seekers (The Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, 2014). Under the ‘fast track’ process enshrined in the new legislation, the Minister can lift the bar and allow asylum seekers to submit claims for protection. However, should they be found to be genuine refugees in need of Australia’s protection, they will only be eligible to receive a TPV and will be barred from achieving any permanent resettlement in Australia.

Research about the psychological and social effects of TPVs shows that a TPV, with its enforced state of uncertainty combined with its prohibition against family reunion or family visits, has major negative effects on mental health (Steel et al., 2006, 2011). For example, Steel et al. (2011: 1155) found that ‘persons on TPVs are likely to experience persisting or worsening psychiatric symptoms over time’ (p. 1155).

Social work with UAMs

The AASW definition of social work accords with that of the IFSW. Basic to the profession are the principles of promoting social change and the ‘empowerment and liberation of people’ (AASW, 2015; IFSW, 2014). The definition also refers to the central principles of social justice and human rights (AASW, 2015; IFSW, 2014). Social work with UAMs can provide a constant reminder of the challenges of meeting these definitions in practice.

Globally, social work with unaccompanied asylum-seeking young people is undertaken variously depending on the context in which the practice is located. For example, in the United Kingdom, after initial screening, including identification and age determination, unaccompanied asylum-seeking children are cared for by local authorities in placements under the 1989 Children’s Act (Barrie and Mendes, 2011; Kohli, 2007). British social workers can play a key role in initial screening, supervision and support in placement. Where required, social workers prepare unaccompanied asylum-seeking children to be returned to their countries of origin (Barrie and Mendes, 2011; Carr, 2014; Wright, 2014).

In Australia, social workers occupy a less clearly defined space and engage with UAMs in different ways. Some directly represent the Minister for Immigration, while other social workers have a relatively independent support role and engage with these young people in non-government agency contexts (Briskman and Cemlyn, 2006; Cemlyn and Briskman, 2003).

Social work with UAMs in any of these contexts can be rewarding and inspiring. However, it can also be highly politicised, disempowering and demoralising (Kohli, 2007; Robinson, 2014), confronting the practitioner with the daily injustices perpetrated against their asylum-seeker clients. Social workers can be burdened by the knowledge of how UAMs, who may already be suffering from the effects of past trauma and the absence of essential family support, continue to exist in limbo, suspended in perpetual uncertainty compounded by policies that marginalise them.

Social work’s strong location within a human rights discourse means that social workers themselves can become marginalised in these contexts. Social workers may be more accustomed to focusing on second-generation human rights such as the right to education, health and housing (United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948, cited in Healy, 2008). However, working with asylum seekers necessitates a consideration of first-generation human rights (civil, legal and political) (Healy, 2008) and in particular, in the Australian context, their reduction or denial. In terms of social work values, it can be demoralising to witness the marginalising of human rights and the rights of the child, and the ascendancy of xenophobia in relation to the treatment of asylum seekers. It can be frustrating to see the increase in government secrecy around this issue (RCA, 2014).

A critical systems analysis can help the social worker to understand the effects of punitive and marginalising social policy and social discourse on the asylum seeker and on the social worker. However, as Mullaly (2002, cited in Briskman and Cemlyn, 2006) points out, ‘it is difficult to practise in a way that confronts, resists and attempts to change the larger culture’ (p. 720).

For the social worker, Foucault’s notion of resistance can provide a basis for addressing these problems and gaining a sense of direction and purpose in this work. Foucault focuses on power not only as it is exercised instrumentally by the state but also as it is negotiated between groups and individuals within society. He argues that where there is power, there is also resistance (Morley et al., 2014). In power relations between individuals, ‘resistance comes first, and resistance remains superior to the forces of the process; power relations are obliged to change with the resistance’ (Fillingham, 1993: 151). Even within oppressive power structures, people have some agency and ability to manoeuvre (Briskman and Cemlyn, 2006). In this situation, the relationship between social worker and client, shaped by small acts of resistance to dominant discourses and policies, offers practical ways forward for both. Ultimately, it can also contribute to the social worker’s engagement with the social justice and human rights discourses that underpin the profession, and with wider activism for social change.

The following case vignette of ‘Ali’, a UAM seeking asylum in Australia, places within context a model of critical social work practice. Ali’s story is constructed from the experiences of many young unaccompanied young people who are in the process of seeking asylum in Australia. The model of practice that is illustrated throughout Ali’s story encompasses the social work tasks of counselling and advocacy and emphasises how critical social analysis shapes an understanding of the possibilities for ‘little practices of freedom’ (Morley et al., 2014: 165) that arise from resistance.

Social work with Ali

Ali came from the Hazara people of Afghanistan and grew up in an atmosphere of fear and danger, under constant threat from the Taliban. When Ali was 15 years old, the Taliban murdered Ali’s father in his shop. Ali discovered his father’s body. The Taliban kidnapped Ali and tortured him, with Ali sustaining shoulder, knee and facial injuries.

Fearing for his safety, Ali’s family paid an ‘agent’ (a ‘people smuggler’ in Australian government language) to help him escape. So when he was 15 years old, Ali embarked on a very dangerous journey through Pakistan to Malaysia and Indonesia and then onto a boat to Australia. Ali’s boat was intercepted by the Australian navy and brought to Christmas Island, a small Australian territory in the Indian Ocean.

In October 2012, after some weeks in the Christmas Island detention centre, Ali was transferred to Community Detention where he was placed in a residential institution for UAMs, living with a number of other boys who had also experienced hardship and danger before arriving in Australia by boat. Ali was particularly keen on school and was highly motivated to improve his English which, after his months of detention, was already good enough that he did not need or want an interpreter. He also loved soccer and played whenever he got the chance.

Some time after his arrival at the Community Detention house, the staff noted that Ali was sleeping poorly and having nightmares. The staff also noticed the physical evidence of his torture, which he refused to talk about. Ali easily became angry and often got into fights with others in the house. At other times, Ali withdrew and was described as silent and sullen and sometimes refused to go to school. So in terms of the rules governing his community detention placement, Ali was seen as non-compliant.

Engaging with a critical social analysis of the treatment of UAMs

In order to achieve the purpose of social work as defined by the IFSW and the AASW, a social worker engaging with Ali needs to construct a critical view of the policy context and the social discourses that shape the experience of UAMs and other asylum seekers. The effects of these are felt daily by the asylum seeker, and it would be remiss not to take them into account in developing a comprehensive understanding of the environment through which the UAM must navigate.

Within the broader policy and social context, the treatment of UAMs is fraught with tensions and contradictions. Ali is regarded as an illegal arrival who has threatened the integrity of Australia’s borders by entering without a visa. Rather than being treated as a ‘child first and foremost’ (Stone, 2000, cited in Kohli and Mather, 2003), Ali’s status as a young person is subordinated to his status as an asylum seeker. Specifically in the treatment of UAMs, Australia has been criticised for abrogating its obligations under the United Nations Treaty on the Rights of the Child, by ignoring the principle of the ‘best interests of the child’ (Cemlyn and Briskman, 2003; Evenhuis, 2013; Sullivan, 2013).

As a community detainee, Ali lives in the community but remains in Immigration detention. He is subject to strict regulation and is required to attend school. His daily living arrangements reflect the tension between a paternalistic and a punitive approach, in which the UAM is seen both as a victim in need of protection and a threat in need of containment and potential expulsion (Evenhuis, 2013). This contradictory governmental response is exemplified in the role of the Minister of Immigration, who is responsible both for the care and for the detention of UAMs (Barrie and Mendes, 2011; Evenhuis, 2013; Sullivan, 2013). This conflict of interest in the Minister’s role is reflected in the dual roles of the Community Detention institution staff as both carers and guards.

Through the establishment of a counselling relationship based on social work values of social justice and human rights, the social worker can become an ally with Ali and in doing so explore not only the effects of the policy context but how this impacts Ali’s inner world. The aim is to draw on Ali’s strengths, values and abilities in order to promote his capacity to resist oppression and maintain hope and direction.

Engaging Ali in counselling

In their role as carers, Community Detention staff members refer Ali for counselling. However, Ali is reluctant to attend counselling because he thinks, ‘counselling is only for crazy people’. He does not trust the social worker and worries that she will report details of their conversations to the Department of Immigration. Ali does not want to talk about the past because it is too painful for him and talking will make him sad. But Ali agrees to give the social worker a chance, at least in part because he feels coerced by his carers.

Ali is greatly relieved that the social worker does not ask him to talk about his past. Instead, they talk about the pressure that Ali feels. He says that ‘thinking about the past and about the future’ makes pressure worse. He is terrified of being sent back to Afghanistan and this stops him from sleeping. His nightmares also begin to focus on the future, and he sees himself back in Afghanistan, running from people who are chasing him. Ali sees his dead father in his dreams, beckoning him. This is a very bad omen in his culture. He tells the social worker, ‘I feel like I’m under attack’.

The social worker engaging with Ali brings an understanding of the roots of persecution suffered in the past and how Ali’s experience of travel to Australia and his current situation compound this persecution in many different ways. It is also important to notice and acknowledge Ali’s own small acts of resistance to these. Ali acts to resist the stigma of being an asylum seeker through engaging with school as a student and with soccer as an athlete. While coming to terms with a foreign language and culture, he also maintains continuity with his cultural and religious identity through attendance at the mosque. He engages with the task of trying to find some sense of day-to-day safety, although it is highly contingent. He begins to live a ‘liminal life between hope and rejection’ (Kohli, 2011: 312).

Ali’s liminal life is often difficult. In his community detention placement, Ali is subject to a great deal of surveillance and invalidation. He is both silenced by others and uses silence as a form of resistance to protect himself and others, and to hold onto some choice over what he reveals and to whom (Chase, 2010; Kohli, 2006). This includes his family, as Ali cannot speak with them directly for fear of putting them into danger, and even when he talks with his relatives, he does not tell them about the Australian policies or the negative view of asylum seekers in this country.

He is constantly making efforts to control and preserve what he can, and the social worker’s acknowledgement can support him in this. By speaking with Ali about his experience of pressure, the social worker demonstrates an understanding of the contextual and structural sources of pressure and resists individualising and pathologising ways of describing Ali’s experience.

A counselling relationship with a UAM asylum seeker can be powerful and beneficial. However, it is often discounted as an important part of social work practice in this area. For instance, Kohli (2007) points out that in the United Kingdom:

there are seldom any accounts of social workers taking the psychological needs of unaccompanied children into account in practice, particularly in relation to what social workers might do to assist the young people in helping them to voice and make sense of their experiences or feelings. (p. 73)

For UAMs like Ali, who have experienced trauma, this kind of relationship is especially important. However, it is essential that the social worker takes a critical stance in regard to traditional approaches to trauma and extends this framework with the aim of maximising the client’s sense of control and agency.

The experience of trauma arises from events that a person perceives as constituting an overwhelming threat to the preservation of life (Janoff-Bulman, cited in Joseph and Murphy, 2014). At a physical level, survival becomes the overriding aim, and evolution-based biological and neurobiological responses are designed to preserve the human being in the short term (e.g. Briere and Scott, 2006; Perry and Szalavitz, 2006; Siegel, 2006). These immediate responses can nonetheless leave a legacy of physical and neurobiological reactions (hyperarousal, avoidance, fear, dissociation, etc.) that can adversely affect the person in the long term (Siegel, 2006).

At a psychological level, trauma can undermine a person’s sense that life has basic meaning or that people can be trusted. As Janoff-Bulman (1992) argues, trauma shatters ‘the fundamental, and often unconscious, beliefs we have about the world and who we are as a person’ (cited in Joseph and Murphy, 2014: 1099). Trauma affects both children and adults and there is an expanding literature that examines the neurobiological and psychological effects of this experience across the lifespan (e.g. Ogden et al., 2006; Perry and Szalavitz, 2006). Social workers also need to recognise and work with the multiple and complex levels of trauma, from the biological to the socio-political (Nelson et al., 2014).

In terms of trauma, it is important to note that the social worker does not require Ali to talk about the past. With the growth of understanding of the neurobiological effects of trauma, the field has moved away from an emphasis on recounting the trauma story as this can be counterproductive in terms of recovery (e.g. Ogden et al., 2006; Wylie, 2004). However, although the social worker does not talk directly about trauma, an understanding of its effects can help Ali to gain control and keep resistance intentional and effective.

Ali exhibits effects of past trauma (nightmares, poor sleep, hyperarousal), but he also experiences present threats that revive and renew the trauma symptoms. He lives with constant uncertainty which might, on a biological level, engage trauma-based self-preservation responses that are survival-driven and automatic. There is also a heightened risk that the very strategies that Ali automatically employs to protect himself in an environment of perceived danger might actually lead to reactions on his part that invoke punitive measures from those in power over Ali.

An understanding of the neurobiological basis of trauma directs the social worker to work with Ali to find ways to try and lower automatic responses and increase his sense of control over these powerful responses. This can keep Ali safe in a very real way so that he can continue to remain in the community where the social worker can help him in practical ways. However, there are major limitations to adopting a trauma-informed practice and the social worker confronts these directly when working with Ali.

Although the experience of trauma has universal neurobiological features, it is always embedded in culturally ascribed meaning and interpretations (Nelson et al., 2014). The Western approach to trauma and its treatment has been widely criticised as pathologising, medicalising and individualising (Masocha and Simpson, 2012; Nelson et al., 2014). In many cultures, there can be significant stigma associated with engaging in Western-style counselling.

The limitations of traditional trauma therapy also become apparent when working with UAMs and other asylum seekers. The first step is deemed to be the re-establishment of a sense of safety and security in the person’s life (Herman, 1997). This basic premise, however, is problematic in the context of social work with asylum seekers. While the fundamental aim of asylum seekers is to find safety in a new environment, the present Australian policy context makes this impossible. The person remains in a state of uncertainty and insecurity that is a direct consequence of the current socio-political environment. The effects of past trauma are not only maintained and augmented by new traumatic experiences in the present, but arguably even projected into the future (Steel, 2014).

This means that the model of practice cannot be defined as a recovery model. The social worker seeking to work effectively with Ali must significantly extend the traditional trauma therapy approach. The goal is to engage in therapeutic relationship building with Ali in ways that prevent re-traumatisation, acknowledge his strengths and build connection, meaning and hope. By adopting a strengths perspective, the social worker does not ignore or minimise Ali’s experiences of trauma or adversity, but rather looks for solid evidence of strengths and capacities in order to build his resilience (Saleebey, 2012). The social worker and Ali can then forge an alliance that acknowledges the young person’s small acts of resistance while also finding ways to remain safe in a punitive context. Kohli (2007) describes this type of work as the ‘domain of connection’ (pp. 156–7).

For example, in counselling with Ali, the social worker might say the following:

So you’ve told me that you felt like you didn’t belong, when the other students in class were talking enthusiastically about their plans for studying after school. I’m wondering, when you feel like that, what is it that keeps you going? Where does that quality come from? How has it helped you in the past?

The social worker would go on to identify and explore in depth with Ali these qualities and capacities.

While these counselling sessions are important, they are not sufficient. The social worker must also engage in securing resources and finding other alliances that will promote Ali’s wellbeing. Through advocacy, the social worker draws on professional networks and organisational resources. Wherever possible, it is important to take practical steps to overcome structural barriers that restrict and limit a UAM’s options and sense of agency. This advocacy not only demonstrates to Ali that the social worker is listening but also provides effective help in navigating the complex and difficult systems that Ali encounters as an asylum seeker in Australia.

Advocacy

Ali has pressing practical issues to deal with, which he faces because of the policy context in which he finds himself. While he has some manoeuvrability and agency despite the restrictive context, there are also times when he needs action from others to remove or resist barriers. This is another important role for the social worker and can require resources at intra- and interagency levels.

For example, Ali is worried about not having a lawyer and is well aware that the government has passed legislation to re-introduce TPVs and to limit Australia’s protection responsibilities and grant the Minster for Immigration greater powers. He is afraid that he will have to prepare his claim himself, filling in all the complicated forms. He is not confident that he will be believed or that he will be able to tell his story in a way that will meet all the bureaucratic requirements.

The organisation in which the social worker is employed takes up this issue and organises a network of pro bono migration agents. Ali is offered this support. Ali’s need to withdraw in order to protect himself, his revulsion from telling his story and his lack of trust are so marked that he does not immediately accept the offer. But the offer is maintained and he eventually engages with the migration agent.

Ali is also offered medical help to reduce the physical signs of his past torture. These physical signs adversely affect Ali on a daily basis and he is worried in particular that ‘Australian’ students at school will ask about his scars. He does not know what to tell them because ‘I’ve never told them I’m an asylum seeker. They’ll look down on me’.

Ali is also encouraged to participate in community development programmes which provide some much-needed recreational activities. The organisation of soccer teams is an example of social activities often enthusiastically embraced by UAMs like Ali. Through community development activities, Ali celebrates important religious festivals like Eid. International research with refugees and asylum seekers attests to their strong desire to integrate and participate in the wider society (Al-Qdah and Lacroix, 2011).

There is no doubt that advocacy, done at intra- and interagency levels and in the context of ever-increasing restrictions of rights for asylum seekers, can be extremely demanding and draining for individual workers and organisations as a whole. The social worker has to be alert to creative possibilities for subverting, going through, around, under or over the multiple and multiplying barriers encountered by the UAM. And when the social worker’s organisation as a whole supports this kind of advocacy, even more opportunities can be discovered and more resources harnessed as the various roles and skills within the organisation can be brought to bear. This individual advocacy also helps inform the social worker’s ongoing engagement with social change.

Engaging with social change

Engagement with wider movements for social change is an important aspect of social work in this field (Al-Qdah and Lacroix, 2011; Briskman and Cemlyn, 2006; Cemlyn and Briskman, 2003; Lacroix, 2006). In Australia, this can be achieved by supporting the initiatives of the professional association, the AASW, as well as national and community-based Refugee Action Groups. For the social worker, small acts of resistance at the local/individual level feed into wider movements of resistance at the social level. For example, a therapeutic alliance based on an understanding of trauma can not only contribute to small acts of resistance but also connect with the ‘grand narratives’ that underpin social work, such as social justice and human rights. In terms of social justice, Herman (1997) argues that ‘creating a protected space where survivors can speak their truth is an act of liberation … [and] bearing witness, even within the confines of that sanctuary, is an act of solidarity’ (p. 247).

Having the professional mandate and capacity to link the structural and the personal can be argued as one of the great strengths of social work (Ferguson and Lavalette, 2006). Given the recent extraordinary increase in numbers of people seeking asylum, especially in Europe, the role of social workers in this area of practice is likely to grow. So in this context, what is the potential international transferability of this model of practice?

Potential for international transferability

As presented earlier in the article, the four defining features of this practice model reflect the IFSW and AASW definitions of social work. Bringing a critical analysis of the social, policy and political context, engaging in strengths-based trauma counselling, community development initiatives and social and political advocacy and activism, all reflect the profession’s knowledge and skill base and in particular reinforce the profession’s core values of social justice and human rights. These salient features of the model are highlighted by writers such as Al-Qdah and Lacroix (2011) who argue that ‘intervention with asylum seekers in any country should start with an analysis of the interrelationship among the legal, social, economic and political dimensions of their situation’ (p. 529). They go on to reinforce that social work intervention should also address psychosocial needs, community development strategies and lobbying and activism at the macro-level.

While social worker practice with asylum seekers and refugees is locally informed by a range of different agency, policy and legal contexts, what is increasingly global is the construction of an asylum-seeker identity characterised by deficit and vulnerability and increasingly subjected to punitive and controlling border protection processes. Drawing upon a model of practice which acknowledges the multiple layers of this identity and engages both the client and social worker in practices which actively resist its dehumanising impacts has the potential to foster mutual hope and capacity building. As Lacroix (2006) argues, ‘the challenge for social workers working with asylum seekers in a social justice framework is understanding the social structures, processes and practices that have caused oppression while advocating for the rights and opportunities of oppressed groups’ (p. 20).

The imperative for social workers globally to engage in practices of resistance is also championed by writers such as Ferguson and Lavalette (2006). They argue that the profession needs to embrace a more robust paradigm of critical social work practice.

Conclusion

Internationally, social workers are engaged in providing support and counselling to asylum seekers within increasingly challenging practice contexts. It is therefore important to develop a model of practice that is applicable not only in policy contexts that are welcoming towards asylum seekers but also in policy contexts that are restrictive and based on deterrence. The model of practice described in this article was developed in Australia, where the policy context and dominant discourses around asylum seekers run counter to fundamental social work values and where it can be difficult for social workers and asylum seekers alike to maintain a sense of purpose and agency.

The case vignette of Ali presents a detailed description of how the model might appear in practice. The four dimensions of this model, encompassing critical social analysis, counselling, advocacy and social activism, combine to foster a practice that can promote the wellbeing of young people like Ali and also meaningfully reconnect social workers with key professional values of social justice and human rights.

The challenges arising from this complex area of practice require further research and exploration in areas such as the impact on the social worker’s wellbeing and sense of professional efficacy and the long-term impacts of insecure immigration status on young unaccompanied asylum seekers. Conducting these enquiries within a framework of social justice and human rights would contribute to the capacity of social workers to maintain an enduring connection and contribution to this important field of practice.