No Refuge

By Ken Silverstein

"By the end of 2006, there were almost two million Iraqis living as refugees outside their country—most of them in Syria and Jordan," George Packer recently wrote in The New Yorker. "American policy held that these Iraqis were not refugees, that they would go back to their country as soon as it was stabilized. The U.S. Embassies in Damascus and Amman continued to turn down almost all visa applications from Iraqis. So the fastest-growing refugee crisis in the world remained hidden." But Packer's focus was the situation facing Iraqis who have worked for U.S. forces and private groups; whatever one thinks of the war, American treatment of that group is truly appalling. He tells of a meeting between former U.S. ambassador Zalmay Khalilzad and a large group of Iraqi employees: "After the Iraqis raised the possibility of immigrant visas to the U.S., Khalilzad said, 'We want the good Iraqi people to stay in the country. An Iraqi replied, 'If we're still alive'."

A person who formerly worked for an American contractor in Iraq recently shared with me the story of a Sunni doctor who by 2004 was unable to practice due to the deteriorating security situation. Government health centers where he had once worked had fallen under the control of Moqtada al-Sadr's Mahdi Army militia, which was attacking people who refused to swear allegiance to the Shiite cleric.

Late last year, this doctor fled to Jordan; he has no hope of coming to the United States given the government's policy of issuing so few entry visas to Iraqis and so has filed a request for asylum with another Western country. The following account is adapted from his asylum letter. I was given a copy of the letter after promising not to reveal the doctor's name or the names of the Western groups he worked for, so as not to jeopardize his application for asylum. Even under those restrictions, his story is interesting and representative of the conditions facing Iraqi refugees.

After being forced to abandon his medical career, the doctor, who speaks fluent English, went to work for an NGO as a translator and interpreter:

A militia group attacked and looted the NGO's offices, leading the group to shut down its operations. I found work with another organization the following year, but while driving home one evening was chased by car [and narrowly escaped]. I later learned that I’d been targeted because of my job with the NGO.

I stayed at my job because I believed I was helping to build democracy and was learning about how government should work. Last June, I returned home to find a note saying I would be killed if I didn't quit my position. My father said he would not tell my mother about the letter because it would kill her with worry for her son. At that point, I believed my family would be safer if I moved out of my home, so I accepted my supervisor's offer of a place to stay in the Green Zone.

I attended a training course outside of the country, during which time I received word that my brother had been kidnapped. Two months later, I was able to arrange my brother's release, for a ransom of $5,000, but was again told that I would be killed if Ireturned to work.

It was at this point—with no possibility of working any longer for Western groups or for the Health Ministry, which was controlled by a Sadrite—that I fled to Jordan. I currently work at a health clinic but am poorly paid (especially, because my employer knows I am in Jordan illegally). Family members have told me not to come back to Iraq, because they have been told that I will be killed, or they will be killed, if I do.

My source asked me to publicize the story, saying, "We expose these people to danger, and then we tell them they have to save themselves and their families. They get no help at all from the U.S. government."