Conditions in Norway

The living conditions in Norway as an irregular migrant were mentioned by most as the main motivating reason for deciding to sign up for assisted return. However, this push factor for returning was expressed in various ways by the migrants we interviewed. We emphasise here 6 main conditions and experiences that were emphasised. Some of them partly overlap, and some migrants mentioned more than one of these conditions as the motivating factor.

1. Experience of losing their dignity and human value

I die a little bit every day I’m here in Norway, I cannot work, cannot get healthcare if I need it, I cannot do anything, I’m not treated as a normal human being. [single man]

. . .

I have lived here without rights, without right to work and health for four years. It is really hard to live long like this. Without living a decent life, decency. [single woman]

Several explained that they had changed their outlook on Norway because they had arrived with high expectations about the possibility of staying based on their specific problems and because of their perception of Norway’s reputation of protecting human rights. Some expressed disappointment about Norway’s treatment of their asylum applications and Norway’s failure as a country to live up to their expectations as a forerunner of human rights. One woman in her 30s explained that she had been

politically active in the last five years in her country of origin. She worked for women’s rights and was a known public figure in her local society, but was convicted on account of her activities. Her aim was to draw more attention toward the political suppression of women and executions without trials in her country of origin to the world press and to the Norwegian public. However, she explained that today she is very disappointed with Norway and is returning. She stated, “I was wrong about Norway.”

2. Marginalisation in Norway – difficulties living as irregular migrants

Many related that they would put themselves in danger by returning, but still intended to travel because they currently live in appalling conditions and would rather meet their fate with self-respect. One young male informant explained that the friends he had travelled with from Turkey had all been granted residence permits, and that made further contact with them difficult. He said, “It hurts me because we were together, we were friends, we lived together. They have a good life now – have houses, traveling abroad.” Their different legal status shaped their relationships, and he has withdrawn from them. He felt that “everything looks down” on him. From how he talked about his social relationships, we had the impression that his self-perception has been degraded. We could surmise how social relationships break down because the experience of being “illegal” implies not only a different legal status, but also a different social status and possibilities for the present and future than for regularised friends.

Another Kurdish migrant told us that others he knew from his church community had been granted residence. Therefore, he never goes to church when they are there – but avoids them, even though he still has contact with Norwegians in various cities in Norway and in the activist environment.

Such feelings of marginalisation, the lack of opportunity to work or be part of activities that are meaningful for them and loss of hope that this situation will change also have psychological effects on many. The unbearable living conditions affect their psychological health and lead some to sign up for assisted return. This can also affect individuals in a family differently:

It will be better for my husband, because here it is psychological difficult, there [country of origin] it is physically difficult. But here he becomes crazy by doing nothing.

3. Fading away of hopes for the future

In particular, informants with a family stressed the future of their children as a main motivating factor for signing up for assisted return. Seeing that their children could not participate fully in the social life at school or in extra-curricular activities such as sports was hard for several parents. They talked about how living as an irregular, and without enough economic means, affected their children’s well-being, their abilities to integrate and their future possibilities:

I have been in Norway for five years. I have six children, my oldest daughter is in high school and is 17 years. And two are slightly younger. They took my eldest daughter out of school. They said that she was not allowed to stay here, because we had been rejected and therefore she could not go to school. She became depressed, she walked around by herself, went around in parks and wept for herself. And then the two younger ones who go to school, they refused going to school because they believed they would experience being refused to go to school. That they would come and tell them that they had to stop.

. . . My son is playing on a football team and he could not be there [on the team] because he did not have personal ID. If he is to travel with the team they must have personal ID. So he couldn’t participate in anything. And they took out my son who was very good in the skiing team. Also he was taken out of the ski team, . . . . So it's things like that that has affected the decision. [father]

. . .

The children thrive of course most here, and they’d rather not go back. They have more freedom here, they’re doing a lot of things in their free time. But we have no choice.

We also have the situation where the kids ask for a lot of things that other children have, but we cannot afford, we did not work and they ask why we do not have job. And why they cannot walk or travel around freely. So we cannot go out in their homeland because it's dangerous, but also not here because we have not allowed. [mother]

Related to the fact that hope for the future has faded is the fact that many have given up hope that the situation can change. As one explained,

What I am thinking, I will go with IOM . . . . I have to face what happens. I am not a coward. I am not scared to go back. But it is really hard. You have to leave your hope to live in peace, in a country fronting human rights, you are a decent person. [single man]

Several talked about how they did not see a future, but felt they were wasting their lives by continuing living as irregulars in Norway. One young woman told us she came to Norway before the age of 18 and sought to continue school and education in order to become a medical doctor:

But my whole life was destroyed. Five years of my life is destroyed. . . . Now I am 22 years old. . . . My sister, she thought that when she was 18 years she would not be allowed to go to school anymore, just like me. So my sister has run away from home. . . . So I decided, I will not be in Norway. If I die at home, it’s better than being here and not knowing what we should do. When I get back, then I can go to school, do all that I cannot do here. [young woman]

4. “Stuckness” – assisted return becomes a solution

Some of those we interviewed felt that their lives were not “going anywhere” and applying for return became a way out of “stuckness.” Stuckness relates to the social position that they found themselves in due to their irregular status, which not only made certain social and health rights impossible to obtain, but also made it impossible to change their social status, for example, from being a young bachelor to becoming a married adult with the social duties that brings (Griffiths, Rogers and Anderson 2013;

Bendixsen 2015). Experiencing such a stuckness that never seems to end meant their adult life was postponed and they were positioned in an uncertain situation where they experienced being “not yet adult.” One person said, “For 10 years I have not been outside Norway, it is really hard. What do I have?

I cannot sleep. What should I do?”

5. The urge to normalise life

For some it became increasingly important to marry and have a family life. For others, the unpredictability of everyday life as an irregular migrant in Norway was dragging them down and they sought to normalise their lives by obtaining a legal residency – anywhere. One young girl talked about the freedom she would get when she returned to her country of origin because she believed her life would be normalised, that is, she would be able to travel freely, to pursue more typical youth activities and to start her education. This was in sharp contrast to her current life in the reception centre where she felt that she had no opportunities. Another person emphasised that it was important “to get valid ID papers” and start life anew.

Some people signed up for assisted return because they realised they had to leave Norway and it was better to at least have the return ticket arranged and paid for. While money was not the motivating factor for them in their decision to return with IOM, the financial benefit of assisted return was an aspect influencing their decision to sign up after they had already made the decision to leave Norway. Yet, for many ambiguity remained involved in the decision to return:

I have not changed my ideas, I’m holding on to this but I have always the hope that I might have a better chance another day, another chance . . . . that I get another opportunity. [man who left his wife and children in the country of origin]

6. The impact of forced return

The overhanging threat of being picked up by the police and forced to return was for many a key factor for signing up for assisted return (Brekke 2015; Bendixsen et al. 2014). The informants varied with regard to how important they held the potentiality of a forced return to be. For some who decided to return early in the asylum process, fear of forced return did not have an important impact. For those who had overstayed the date of legal stay and had lived as irregular migrants, the option of forced return was something that strong impacted their lives and what they considered to be their life-orienting options. Brekke (2015) points out that reception centre spokespersons believe that “talking tough” about forced return (as in, “If you don’t return with assisted return then you risk to be sent back with force”) – although this in practice almost never happens – creates unnecessary stress and fear among residents.

What Matthew Gibney (2008, 149) terms the “deportation gap” is relevant here: “the gap between the number of people eligible for removal by the state at any time and the number of people a state actually removes (deports).” Our informants living in reception centres related that a tangible force exists to return, especially if someone of the same nationality as themselves has been forcibly removed.