Modern Slavery,Immigration Regimes and Migrant Workers in Social Care

Abstract

There have been increasing reports of criminal elements (brokers and employers) taking advantage of desperate migrants since the introduction of the health and care worker visa in the UK in 2022. These reports fit broadly with dominant accounts of modern slavery and exploitation that often categorise migrants as ‘exploited slaves’ working in low-paying jobs and susceptible to the whims and caprices of employers and brokers. But the victimhood narrative is insufficient to understand the experiences of exploitation. Drawing on data from interviews with migrants on the health and social care visa in the UK, the study explores the interaction between individual experiences, immigration regimes and structural factors that lead to exploitation. The article argues that abuse and exploitation of migrant care workers are products of migration policies; and that the victimhood narrative does not reflect the complexities of migrants’ experiences as they seek to navigate state constraints on their freedom. In doing so, it addresses the gap between the lived experiences of migrants and policies or campaigns sensationalising their plights.

Keywords

exploitation freedom migration brokerage modern slavery social care

Introduction

Migrants, especially those on the health and social care visa, are in the news. Reports of criminal elements (brokers and employers) taking advantage of desperate migrants began to emerge shortly after the introduction of the health and social care visa in the UK in 2022. Migrants were being reported to be deceived and left despondent by agents and/or employers who facilitated their legal migration to the UK but offered them no jobs. As the visa is tied to these fictitious jobs, these migrants have been described as victims of modern slavery in the country (BBC, 2023; Stewart, 2023; UNISON, 2023).

These reports fit broadly with dominant accounts of modern slavery and exploitation that often categorise migrants as ‘exploited slaves’ working in low-paying jobs and susceptible to the whims and caprices of employers and brokers (Deshingkar, 2019: 2638). However, an unintended consequence of this bias is the tendency to ignore migrants’ own migration agendas while presenting them as helpless victims (Agunias, 2009; O’Connell Davidson, 2015). This is evident in the fact that while there is an avalanche of literature documenting experiences of exploitation of migrants in different sectors (especially under the umbrella of ‘modern slavery’), there is little account analysing the regimes and structures that produce vulnerability, the complexities of migrant experiences or the strategies employed by migrants to navigate different structural barriers. Contrary to dominant accounts of modern slavery that blame criminal elements for the exploitation of migrant care workers, the article presents evidence that shows how immigration regimes affect the choices available to them thereby contributing to their vulnerability.

Through its exploration of migrant care workers’ perception of their vulnerability, and how their experiences compare with dominant accounts of their exploitation, the article draws on interviews with migrants on the health and social care visa in the UK to argue that abuse and exploitation of migrant care workers are products of migration policies; and that the victimhood narrative does not reflect the complexities of migrants’ experiences as they seek to navigate state constraints on their freedom. In doing so, it addresses the gap between the lived experiences of migrants and policies or campaigns sensationalising their plights (De Genova, 2010; Howard, 2017; Martins Junior and O’Connell Davidson, 2022; Sanchez, 2020; Stock, 2019).

The article begins with a brief overview of the UK government’s efforts at addressing modern slavery in order to provide a contextual understanding of social care work as well as migrant workers in the sector. Next, it examines the binary thinking and assumptions that shape the modern slavery narratives. After this, there is a brief discussion of the study methodology before I present the findings. Discussion of findings follows before some concluding remarks.

Combatting Modern Slavery and Challenges in Social Care

Since the introduction of the Palermo Protocol in 2000, a number of scholars and activists have discussed its weaknesses especially as it fails to define exploitation, which is believed to be the core of human trafficking (see, for example, Chuang, 2014; Howard, 2017; O’Connell Davidson, 2015; Scott, 2017; Skrivankova, 2010). As such, it is not uncommon to observe confusions, complications and contradictions among international organisations, national governments, policy makers, activists and agencies seeking to address the problem of exploitation. For example, the ILO (International Labour Organisation) favours the term ‘forced labour’ and uses trafficking as its subset; the TIP (Trafficking in Persons) reports of the United States Department of State emphasise ‘human trafficking’ as the umbrella term; the UK government uses the term ‘modern slavery’ – although the devolved governments in Scotland and Northern Ireland have the Human Trafficking and Exploitation Act (2015) as opposed to the Modern Slavery Act (MSA 2015) in England and Wales; and campaigners like Kevin Bales believe that trafficking is simply a process by which a person is placed into slavery (Bales, 2010).

Despite these confusions, there seems to be a consensus and an emphasis on ‘exploitation as the core of harm’ (Chuang, 2014: 631). For the purpose of this article, I use the term ‘modern slavery’ loosely as it is often used by the UK government as well as campaigners and activists to refer to extreme exploitation in this context, of migrant workers on the social care visa.

While there is a long history of combatting slavery in the UK, much of what is described as the fight against modern slavery today is closely linked with the MSA. The MSA was an attempt to harmonise existing policies and strategies – such as the anti-trafficking strategies of 2007 as well as the 2014 and 2016 Immigration Acts – and crack down on the exploitation of workers (Balch, 2019). However, these changes were occasioned by the criminalisation of irregular work and the creation of a ‘hostile environment’ for migrants (Balch, 2019: 85). At the same time, the UK government continues to ‘support deregulation of labour and endorse a flexible labour market’ (Van Dyke, 2019: 65). Cuts in public spending have also meant that relevant government and labour inspection agencies have had limited capacities and funding to tackle modern slavery (Kenway, 2021). These factors provide a perfect breeding ground for understanding the current market for the social care visa as this article will show.

With an increasingly ageing population as in many western countries, the adult and social care sector has dominated social and public policy discourse in recent years in the UK. Social care has, in the past few decades, undergone changes that resulted in a shift from being mainly funded and provided by the government to being mainly funded by the government, but provided by private organisations and voluntary sectors (Glasby, 2005; Harris, 2003). The sector is therefore made up of many small businesses with only a few directly employed by the councils (SFC, 2024). Further, as a result of government cuts and austerity measures over the years, rising inflation and national minimum wage, employers are increasingly finding it difficult to cope with labour costs. Thus, many employers cannot retain workers and may generally employ temporary agency staff or only pay salaries minus other benefits to workers (Cornes et al., 2010; Hayes, 2017; Hoque and Kirkpatrick, 2008; SFC, 2024) while navigating the complex and flexible needs that social care requires (Moriarty, 2010). Migrant workers are therefore important in meeting some of these challenges (SFC, 2024).

The health and care worker visa was introduced in 2022 by the UK government to address labour shortages in adult care and in the NHS. The visa allows a migrant to come to the UK to work primarily for an employer approved by the Home Office. The employer issues a Certificate of Sponsorship (CoS)¹ that allows the migrant to apply for the visa. Visa holders can work an additional 20 hours in a secondary job as long as they are working for the employer, and the additional hours do not clash with their primary job. A migrant worker’s permission to stay in the country is thus conditional on their employment. As a result of some of the structural factors highlighted earlier, many bogus companies and employers have been identified, and their licences revoked (Mason, 2024). Yet, if an employer’s licence is revoked, migrants must find a new job with sponsorship or leave the country. This leaves migrants with significant procedural and financial hurdles that could facilitate their exploitation.

In sum, by adding this role to the Immigration Salary List (previously Shortage Occupation List), it became easier for employers to apply to get a sponsorship licence and recruit overseas workers to address labour shortages in social care in the country. The change has resulted in a significant increase in the number of migrant health and social care workers as well as in the number of companies licensed to sponsor these workers (McKinney and Sturge, 2023). Almost 78,000 migrants were employed under the social care visa between July 2022 and July 2023 with Nigerians among the top recipients (McKinney and Sturge, 2023). By December 2023, more than 145,000 visas had been issued to migrants in social care (BBC, 2025). It is worth briefly examining why Nigerians are among the highest recipients before turning to the precarious nature of work visas.

Nigeria, a British colony until 1960, is the biggest crude oil exporter in Africa. Increasing oil revenues, Structural Adjustment Programmes (SAPs) and other neoliberal policies have however resulted in structural imbalances, large-scale corruption and uneven distribution of wealth in the country (Falola and Heaton, 2008; TiP (Trafficking in Persons Report), 2024). Also, the dependency on crude oil has made the country vulnerable to fluctuations in the global economy, which in turn has worsened the conditions of living for most Nigerians (Adeniran and Sidiq, 2018). Increasing poverty, mass unemployment, job losses and issues of insecurity including banditry, kidnapping and terrorism are the major causes of emigration from Nigeria in recent years (Akanle et al., 2021; Liu, 2024). Thus, emigration has become synonymous with (semi-) permanent relocation among many educated middle-class and upper-class Nigerians (Adeyanju and Olatunji, 2022; Liu, 2024).

Yet emigration from poor countries like Nigeria to the West is a complicated task for the majority of aspiring migrants. This is because as much as western governments and politicians champion economic growth, free trade and/or globalisation, they continue to place significant barriers and ever-stringent conditions on the path of citizens of poor countries seeking legal migration to the West for personal and political agendas (Gadd and Broad, 2024; Obi-Ani et al., 2020). Thus, visa regimes are also political decisions (Czaika et al., 2018) that affect the livelihoods and vulnerabilities of migrants.

Given the above, it is now widely accepted that there were significant flaws in the introduction and implementation of the social care visa (Mason, 2024). Reports of abuse and exploitation have also increased as the number of migrant care workers have increased. Instead of presenting these abuses as anomalies, I argue that they are products of a system that promotes labour flexibility and seems ‘addicted to cheap (and exploitable) labour’ (Balch, 2015: 94). For example, while recent policy changes – including an increased salary threshold for employing migrant workers, curbing dependants from the social care visa and increasing the qualifying period for permanent settlement from five to 10 years – have significantly reduced the number of new social care visas being issued (BBC, 2025), the structural and regulatory conditions that shape the migrants’ experience remain unchanged. In other words, migration through the social care visa fits the agenda of a neoliberal state that courts migrants (Adeyanju and Olatunji, 2022) for their labour power (willingness to take little pay to do the dirty jobs that remain unattractive to citizens) but creates conditions that contribute to the vulnerabilities of migrants.

Migrant Labour and Exploitation

It is worth stating here that the social care visa is like several work-related visas in the sense that it is for a specific job (albeit in a sector infamous for low pay and poor working conditions) and prevents migrant workers from changing jobs without losing residence rights.² Tied visas – especially for low-skilled jobs – however are problematic. Such visas have been associated with precarious statuses and vulnerability that may manifest in different forms (ILO, 2022). Evidence also shows a strong correlation between tightening migration policies – for example through tied visa schemes – and the exploitation of migrant workers, or modern slavery (Andrijasevic, 2021: 414; LeBaron and Phillips, 2019; Niezna, 2022; O’Connell Davidson, 2010). For example, the ‘kafala’ system, which ties migrants to employers across the Middle East, is closely linked with widespread abuse and extreme exploitation of migrant workers in the region (Deshingkar et al., 2019). In Canada, research shows how limits and restrictions placed on migrant workers in domestic service and agriculture empower employers to exploit employees (Fudge, 2013), and the UK’s au pair and domestic workers’ visas have been linked to increased cases of severe labour exploitation among migrants (Anderson, 2009; Roberts, 2019).

The fact that migrants are disproportionately represented in low-paying, low-skilled jobs and at risk of greater vulnerability and exploitation in the Global North is well documented. In the UK, there is an avalanche of research on ‘routine’ or extreme labour exploitation among legal and undocumented migrant workers in sectors such as hospitality, agriculture, the food industry, construction, prostitution/sex work, among others (see Allain et al., 2013; Davies, 2019; Malloch and Rigby, 2016; Ruhs and Anderson, 2010; Waite et al., 2015). These studies show the various ways that experiences of extreme exploitation might be worsened by immigration status. There are related studies among migrant domestic workers and au pairs, but there is limited research on the experience of migrant workers in social care as a distinct sector (for exceptions, see Ahlberg et al., 2022; Moriarty, 2010), and on the social care visa as this article seeks to do.

Modern Slavery and Binary Thinking

The modern slavery narrative rests on fundamental dualisms that are central to how we make sense of the world in liberal societies (O’Connell Davidson, 2010). In this thinking, people are imagined as either subjects or objects, good or bad, free or unfree, and migration as either voluntary or forced (Brace, 2004: 160–161; O’Connell Davidson, 2015). Modern slavery is thus imagined and conceptualised in opposition to freedom or independence, and is often discussed in relation to such terms as coercion, absence of choice and/or lack of agency. People are either free to enter socio- economic contracts or they are forced; they are either exercising their free will or being coerced. For example, the Palermo Protocol (2000: 3) explains trafficking in relation to a person ‘having control over another person’; and campaigners like Bales (2000: 15) characterise ‘modern slaves’ as those who cannot ‘walk away’.

However, concepts such as freedom, consent and coercion are social constructs, rather than essential categories; and the categorisation of people or social relationships as forced or free is not as clear cut as often presented (Fudge, 2019; O’Connell Davidson, 2015). Yet these categorisations have continued to shape migration theories and policies with serious implications for individuals that are affected by such (Bakewell, 2010; Martins Junior and O’Connell Davidson, 2022). For example, the distinction between forced and voluntary migration is often premised on the degree of choice that individuals are assumed to be able to exercise over their decisions to migrate. Thus, refugees are imagined in terms of the circumstances that forced them to move and as individuals unable to exercise agency, or their case for refugee status may be undermined (Bakewell, 2010: 1690). Victims of trafficking or modern slavery are similarly imagined – they are at the mercy of ‘evil traffickers’ and/or intermediaries; unable to willingly agree to exploitative labour arrangements and are therefore in need of rescue by state and non-state actors. To imagine these individuals as agentic, and/or the state as complicit in their exploitation is to enter a zone of discomfort for governments and activists (Martins Junior and O’Connell Davidson, 2022).

In other words, the binary distinction between freedom and coercion or legality and illegality does not reflect the realities and complexities of individual migratory decisions (Müller-Funk et al., 2023: 1). Previous research around sex work for example has suggested that legal and free employment relations may involve elements of force, and that degree of freedom may be involved in highly restrictive contexts (see Anti-Trafficking Review’s (2019) Special Issue on Sex Work). Moreover, individual migratory decisions and labour market options are not independent of state policies – including labour market regulation and immigration regimes (Fudge, 2018).

Given the above, the study follows Massey et al.’s (1998) proposition that a satisfactory account of (international) migration needs to include structural forces promoting emigration (from areas of origin) and immigration (in destinations), the motivations and aspirations of migrants as well as the socio-economic and political connections between immigration and emigration. I argue that the modern slavery characterisation of migrants on the social care visa is problematic because it fails to account for the experiences of these individuals as well as the socio-economic and political structures underpinning immigration (in the UK as the destination) and emigration (from Nigeria as an area of origin).

Methodology and Methods

Given the objective of gaining in-depth understanding of migration brokerage and individual migrants’ experiences of the same, in-depth interviews were used for the study. Purposive and snowball sampling techniques were used to select migrants who had migrated to the UK on the healthcare visa. As a Nigerian migrant with prior experience of work visas in the UK, I could approach participants as ‘one of them’ to gain their trust; and my status as a ‘more experienced’ migrant might have influenced their perception of me as well as the information they were willing to share with me. Thus, I made use of informal and extensive networks – involving Nigerians in different settings in the UK – to recruit participants and those that agreed to take part in the study referred others who might be interested. As much as these informal networks were significant in gaining access to participants, the sensitive nature of the topic and fear of potential negative consequences on their immigration status limited the number that agreed to take part in the study. Given these constraints, other significant voices and experiences – such as those of undocumented migrants or non-Nigerians working in the sector, or those in different care roles – are not captured in the study.

In all, 14 Nigerian migrants, comprising 11 women and three men, on healthcare visas took part in the study in three UK cities in the South-East and North-West regions of England between December 2023 and June 2024. Participants were aged between 31 and 48 years old. Three interviews were conducted online while 11 were conducted in person. Interviews lasted between 60 and 90 minutes, and were conducted in English, Yoruba or Pidgin English. Some (two participants) were unwilling to be recorded, so I had to rely on notes I made during the interviews or immediately afterwards.

I sought and obtained ethical approval for the project through my University’s ethics committee. As such, the study was conducted in line with standard ethical principles including informed consent, confidentiality and anonymity. For example, I was mindful of potential emotional harm that could result from recollection of previous or current experience of exploitation and was careful to remind them not to share anything they considered too personal with me if they did not feel comfortable doing so. Pseudonyms are therefore used throughout the article to protect the participants.

Findings

Motivations and Intergenerational Aspirations

For us (my wife and I), it was about leaving at all costs . . . in fact, if I had listened to my wife, we would have migrated earlier, but I didn’t take her seriously initially, and also considered my job. . . but looking at the way things were going in the country, we had to leave. (Dan, 45, Male)

we made the decision to leave because of our children . . . their future was more important to us than what we had in Nigeria. (Teni, 48, Female)

The first theme from the study relates to the motivations of the participants. For almost all the participants, the primary motive was to ‘leave at all costs’ or to use a popular parlance among Nigerians, to ‘japa’ (i.e. to escape or ‘flee’) as a matter of survival and security. Another participant (Ajike, 39, Female) noted: ‘Back home, you earn wages, but there are too many things to take the money away. . . high prices of goods and services, basic amenities, families and friends to support, insecurity and constant fear of what the future holds.’

The social care visa was thus seen as a pathway to leave the uncertainties, insecurities and hopelessness that characterise everyday living in Nigeria. According to James (40, Male): ‘It is not about the job (i.e. care work); it is a strategy to reset and restart.’ James had moved with his wife and three children, so it was about leaving Nigeria for good he said. He explained that the social care visa at the time of its introduction was thought to be a more straightforward emigration route.

Given the above, it was clear that these migrants made informed, calculated choices to seek employment in the sector, or rather to take advantage of the openings in the sector regardless of the experiences of work in the sector. As will be shown later, these considerations are also important for understanding their perceptions of their exploitative conditions and the modern slavery narrative.

Further, migrants’ choice of the social care visa was also connected to intergenerational aspirations and class-based variations within the Nigerian migrant community. It was common to listen to participants speak in terms of moving ‘for the sake of their children’, ‘for the family’, ‘having a future’, ‘being able to live safely’ among others ‘considering the situation back home was not safe for our future and our children’. This would explain – at least in part – why there have been more dependant visas than work visas in the healthcare sector (Home Office, 2024).

Compared with upper-class Nigerians who have the resources and connections to travel abroad for education, tourism or permanent relocation, many middle-class or working-class Nigerians do not have the means to navigate complex visa regimes (Adeyanju and Olatunji, 2022; Liu, 2024). For the latter, migration comes with several costs beyond the reach of individuals and/or their immediate families. Yet, the opportunity to migrate through the social care route was seen as an investment with potential long-term returns for migrants and/or their children. Hence, many sold assets, took loans and relied on informal networks and support to be able to realise their ambitions. These informal systems and kinship networks are also important in discussing migration brokerage as the next section will show.

Brokerage, Illegality and a Web of Complexities

Yewande and her husband with their two kids were to come to the UK on a study visa, but while they were waiting to sort out their finances and visa applications, they realised that the window of opportunity to enrol had passed, and they had to wait for another year to commence her study in the UK. However, when the healthcare visa opportunity came up, they used part of the money they had for her tuition to ‘buy sponsorship’. Less than one year into the visa, the employer’s licence was revoked, and they faced the possibility of being forced to return to Nigeria. They were awaiting correspondence from the Home Office at the time of the interview, but she also confessed that they were actively and desperately looking for another ‘CoS to buy as long as the employment is genuine and can guarantee regular shifts’ (interview with Yewande, 38, Female).

Similar to what has been reported, 13 out of 14 interviewees reported paying significant sums (between £2000 and £12,500) to brokers, employers and/or their representatives for visa sponsorship to reside and work in the UK. The only participant that reported not paying any fees had ‘an insider’ or ‘an uncle’ working with the management of the company that brought her to the country. To her, it was largely because of the influence of this relative that she was able to migrate.

Their reasons for paying the (illegal) fees ranged from seeking to avoid complex visa requirements, the uncertainties of other visa routes and doubts resulting from previous experiences of visa applications. The stringent visa requirements lead many potential migrants to seek ‘help’ and become susceptible to exploitation (O’Connell Davidson, 2015). This ‘help’ generally comes through informal networks. Hence, all the migrants reported coming to the country through their families, friends and others in their kinship groups. According to Toni (35, Female):

we had lost money in the past trying to migrate to the US . . . when this opportunity came through a trusted source, we had to take it. . . [. . .] Our family friend had used the same agency, and they recommended them to us.

In another sense, the brokerage system and fees were believed to facilitate access to employment, accelerate visa processing and support in the UK. Some confessed that they had never worked in healthcare or health-related industries and felt they would not have secured the job on their own if they had applied outside of the country. According to Jide (39, Male): ‘I was an engineer back home, how on earth would I have secured a job as a senior healthcare assistant in the UK without an agency?’

Temi (30, Female) explained: ‘The agency promised us accommodation for one month in addition to preparing us for the test of English and applying for our visas for us, so it sounded reasonable.’ Temi would later discover that lies and deception were involved in the entire process especially as the family had to arrange their own accommodation on getting to the UK. Yet when asked to comment on her experience, her simple response was: ‘At least we (herself and her family) are here legally.’ Further complicating the modern slavery narrative are cases like Jide and Temi above. They complained about irregular shifts but also praised their employers for supporting them in searching for and securing new jobs as well as extending their visas. Others were less positive about the intermediaries and the immigration system that creates conditions and opportunities for criminal elements to exploit. For example, Yewande (above) lamented that she could not understand how the director of the company that sponsored her first visa was able to get another licence to recruit new workers after the initial certificate was withdrawn (interview with Yewande).

I also interacted with migrants whose employers had lost their licences. Two participants had paid to get new sponsorships in social care, while another got a new sponsorship without paying additional fees at the time of the interview. Since payment of illegal fees is punishable under current UK policy, it follows that migrants who had paid these fees could be seen as being in breach of immigration (and criminal) laws. In other words, these migrants could be simultaneously seen as victims and offenders. This raises the question of whether they are liable for prosecution or in need of protection (see Gadd and Broad, 2024).

What is clear from the above is that the modern slavery narrative is too narrow to explain the overlap between legal (safe) and illegal migration, freedom and coercion as well as offenders (criminals) and victims. The picture here is more nuanced than the narrative of ‘exploiters’ targeting the vulnerability of people in search of economic opportunities and/or security (ILO, 2022) as participants and/or their family members took active roles in seeking recruiters and/or brokers who could support their long-term goals while navigating the constraints posed by immigration regimes.

Visa Conditions and Immobility

A recurrent theme relates to the sense of entanglement felt by participants as a result of conditions attached to the visa. Many participants explained that the issue was not the absence or scarcity of jobs in the sector or elsewhere in the country, but their inability to change employment without changing visas. According to Jide (39, Male): ‘Why would I bother about lack of shifts (job) from my employer if I could just go and pick up shifts elsewhere?’ Another participant noted: ‘An open work permit is better for jobs such as healthcare assistants, while sponsored visas may be better for highly skilled jobs’ (Gift, 42, Female). In the words of Joy: ‘As much as you can look for jobs in other sectors, you know visa conditions will not allow you to get those jobs.’

The above shows how the care visa shapes migrants’ social and economic precarity in distinct ways. Participants spoke about how lack of jobs, irregular shift patterns and threats of (forced) removal as well as unpredictability of immigration policies contribute to their precarious economic situation. They identified their visa or immigration status as a risk factor that limited their employment options and increased their vulnerability to exploitation. In other words, many feel stuck – despite having relevant experience, higher qualifications, levels of education and/or skillsets that could help them secure decent jobs – because of their visa conditions. In this sense, social care visa holders are ‘unfree’ because they cannot circulate freely in the labour market or sell their labour power to different employers (Fudge, 2019: 110). The visa conditions also shape the kind of support that migrants can access. Participants like Joy and Teni explained how they coped with their situations when their employers’ licences were revoked:

I personally cannot go out there to report any agency for abandoning us . . . and I know several others that are going through similar things (frustrations, lack of jobs, threats of deportation) . . . each one is trying to survive on their own while finding alternatives – for example, by working part-time jobs and looking for other places to get CoS. (Joy, 38, Female)

We went through a lot to get here. . . It is about not losing sight of the big picture. . . there have been times that I had no shifts and we had to rely on generous donations from friends and others. (Teni, 48, Female)

As migrants with temporary status do not have recourse to public funds, it was natural for these individuals to rely on informal support networks and intermediaries as they seek to navigate hostile migration and exclusionary state structures (Dağdelen, 2025; Xiang and Lindquist, 2018). Reliance on these support networks however could also reinforce dependency and vulnerability (Dağdelen, 2025).

To these migrants, the choice to speak out or remain silent about their situations relates to fear of possible sanctions and/or negative consequences on their immigration status. This supports previous studies that argue that migrants may tolerate abusive and exploitative conditions for fear of job loss or deportation; or they may remain in industries on the margin in their bid to navigate stringent immigration regimes (Davies, 2019; Milivojevic and Pickering, 2013).

Discussion

The modern slavery narrative seeks to define relative terms such as ‘exploitation’ in absolute or specific terms, and assumes a straightforward distinction between legal and illegal or exploitative migration pathways. The binary framings may be useful in administrative and political tasks of restricting and managing human mobility, but do not reflect the realities and experiences of individuals – as shaped by immigration policies (Martins Junior and O’Connell Davidson, 2022). For example, the significant number of women in the sample corresponds with evidence that social care is a highly gendered work with women making up more than 80% of the workforce (SFC, 2024). Feminist scholars have discussed women’s involvement in care work and how the workforce is reproduced in terms of ‘emotional or feminine cultural capital’; that is, the fact that women are mostly responsible for unpaid care (in familial and private settings) informs the normative expectations of their involvement in paid care with less material reward and status (England, 2005; Hayes, 2017). In the context of this article, it means that, compared with men, migrant women’s experiences of exploitation may be compounded by gendered norms and expectations as well as unequal power relations (Husso and Hirvonen, 2012).

The migrant care workers that I interacted with are ‘victims’ according to mainstream narrative. The varied experiences of working less than their contracted hours, lack of guaranteed work, payment of illegal recruitment fees among others are arguably features of unfree labour. Beyond popular narratives, however, the lived experiences of these individuals show the overlap between legal and illegal, as well as coercion and freedom categories (Martins Junior and O’Connell Davidson, 2022). These blurred boundaries invite us to (re) assess the contexts and structures within which exploitation occurs. Thus, referring to these workers as ‘victims’ without reference to the immigration policies and associated constraints that resulted in their vulnerabilities and exploitation is myopic. To present the abuse and exploitation of social care visa holders as a problem relating to crafty criminals, evil exploiters or sly sponsors is to deflect attention from the reality of structures and processes within which exploitation occurs; emphasising the rights violation of these visa holders deflects attention from the conditions attached to their visas; and talking about the plights of these workers serve to invisibilise the structures that limit the options and opportunities available to non-citizens in the UK and in many western nations.

Related to findings from studies on migration or trafficking into sex work and other sectors (see Fudge and Strauss, 2017; Howard and Forin, 2019; O’Connell Davidson and Sanchez Taylor, 2022; Okyere, 2023; Sanchez, 2020 among others), I argue that choices made by these migrants – to leave their country of origin and/or pay (illegal) fees in search of opportunities to improve their life chances, need to be understood as an interplay of neoliberal structural violence and individual perception of freedom, stability and security (O’Connell Davidson, 2015). As previously noted, the social care visa represents one of the few legal channels for many to escape these uncertainties and insecurities to chart a new course in life and plan for a better future.

But analysing their experiences through the lens of slavery and unfreedom misrepresents their strategies for overcoming unfavourable structural conditions and hostile immigration policies. For example, despite the uncertainties around their work and status in the UK, none of the participants expressed willingness to return ‘home’ in the foreseeable future. Instead, they spoke of their plans to get permanent residency and British citizenship, which will afford them the opportunities to explore new ventures. Thus, the real problem, which many organisations and activists concerned with the rights of migrant workers have discussed extensively, is the immigration regime and political decisions that subdivide migrants into different categories and attach conditions to their continued residence (Ahlberg et al., 2022; Martins Junior and O’Connell Davidson, 2022: 1481).

Migration Policies, Freedom and ‘Enslavement’

Stringent immigration requirements create the demand for intermediaries and often lead migrants to explore illegal channels including paying illegal fees to realise their aspirations of migration (Carling and Schewel, 2018; Okyere and Olayiwola, 2022; Sharma, 2018). In relation to this study, the healthcare visa was a more realistic option to migrate at the time the interviewees made the decision given the stringent conditions attached to other visa categories. Indeed, for some, they only considered the social care visa after rejections in other visa categories, or in relation to their long-term prospects in other visa categories.

The fact that they had paid illegal fees to migrate and work legally should also be understood in relation to the ‘unequal and heavily racialised global system of national-state control over human mobility’ (Martins Junior and O’Connell Davidson, 2022: 1490). To borrow from Sharma (2018), without intense state restrictions regarding employment opportunities or legal residence, it is arguable that migrant workers in social care would be able to easily change jobs and/or negotiate better working conditions for themselves especially as evidence suggests that there continues to be a huge demand and labour shortage in the sector (McKinney and Sturge, 2023). Thus, the challenge for the interviewees is not the absence of jobs, but their inability to change jobs with the social care visa. Yet, they cannot change the social care visa without getting a new job (that fulfils the visa requirements). It is therefore unsurprising that ‘people recruited internationally are less likely to leave social care work compared with those recruited domestically’ (SFC, 2024: 133).

Describing these individuals as slaves because of their ‘inability to walk away’ (Bales, 2000: 15) from exploitative and abusive work without reference to the immigration regimes that constrain their freedom is narrow-minded. This is because if their continued legal residence was not tied to their employment, they would not be forced to endure abusive, exploitative and/or illegal practices by their employers or sponsoring agencies. It is therefore safe to conclude that they are enslaved by state policies that seek to exploit their labour power without giving them the full range of socio-economic and political rights available to citizens.

To be a foreigner in many western countries is to have limited choices with regards to rights and welfare, and to be vulnerable to exploitation particularly in low-paying jobs. However, the ‘modern slavery’ label does not account for the complicity of the government in limiting the bargaining power and curtailing the right to free employment of social care visa holders. Freedom or slavery in this context is about the power of passports that individuals hold, and the conditions attached to their rights as humans seeking to make meaning of their lives.

Conclusion

This article has examined the experiences of migrant workers on the social care visa in the UK to challenge the dominant narrative that presents them as victims of criminal elements who exploit their vulnerability. Instead of presenting a selective account of exploitation and vulnerability that focuses on individual actors, the article invites us to consider the role of the state in limiting the options open to migrants in ways that they become vulnerable to exploitation. For these workers, migration through the social care pathway was a strategy for escaping the uncertainties and insecurities at home as well as the complexities of other immigration routes. In this sense, migration is a way of realising individual and intergenerational aspirations. While informal networks expose migrants to abuse and exploitation, they are also the default support systems for navigating exploitation and structural constraints including those arising from border regimes and immigration policies. In this sense, migrants’ perceptions of intermediaries and employers are more nuanced than the sensationalised emphasis on criminals; and immigration status was identified as a greater risk factor than involvement in social care work. Efforts may be better channelled towards developing specific policies adaptable to migrant workers in social care and tackling structural challenges affecting the sector instead of the current anti-migration and anti-slavery rhetoric.

Footnotes

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the journal’s editors and anonymous reviewers for their comments, which greatly helped to improve the article.

Funding

The author received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Ethics Statement

Ethical approval for the project was granted by the University of Aberdeen, UK (project ID: 1541230).

ORCID iD

Peter Olayiwola

Notes

Peter Olayiwola is a lecturer (Assistant Professor) in Sociology and Criminology at the University of Aberdeen. His research interests include human trafficking, exploitation/‘unfreedom’, migration and qualitative research methods.

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