African Heritage Australian Youth: Forced Displacement, Educational Attainment, and Integration Outcomes (Studies in Migration and Diaspora) [1 ed.] 0367742357, 9780367742355

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African Heritage Australian Youth is a powerful, compelling, and timely book. It makes a profound contribution to significantly extending our understandings of the experience of African heritage youth from refugee backgrounds. In doing so, it is an indispensable and vital source for policymakers, educators, and politicians. While highlighting the challenges and injustices faced by African heritage youth, it is also an inspiring work which captures refugee resilience, agency, and empowerment. In arguing for new forms of cultural citizenship, this work offers a pioneering and much-​needed innovative approach to achieving equity, freedom, and dignity for African heritage refugees. Professor Joy Damousi, AM, Director, Research Centre for Refugees, Migration, and Humanitarian Studies, Australian Catholic University, Australia African Heritage Australian Youth: Forced Displacement, Educational Attainment, and Integration Outcomes is a book of many voices. It presents a well-​structured and thoughtful argument grounded in rich empirical data and multidisciplinary theoretical explication. I feel privileged that Tebeje asked for my “opinion”, and in my opinion, this book not only spotlights the plight of African heritage youth but also delivers a clear message of change and empowerment within the multicultural policy framework. Dr Karen Dunwoodie, Deputy Director, Centre for Refugee Employment, Advocacy, Training and Education, Deakin University, Australia African Heritage Australian Youth is an important intellectual work that draws attention to multifaceted challenges that African heritage Australian youth have faced. The book also outlines policy ideas that can help address issues of disengagement and negative representation affecting the group. The book is an excellent read for people studying or working in education, migration, refugee settlement services, and multicultural and youth programmes. Dr William Abur, lecturer and researcher, University of Melbourne, Australia Reading African Heritage Australian Youth with a non-​academic and non-​Australian perspective, I am very positively surprised by how relevant its analysis and policy recommendations are in a European context. Not only in relation to young refugees with an African background but also in relation to the education and integration of Europe’s marginalised Roma communities. Although differences are present, the similarities prevail. There are many valuable lessons to be learned from Tebeje Molla’s approach to inclusion. The book is of great interest to educators, policymakers, and anyone interested in understanding the barriers to education faced by refugee youth and the ways in which they can be overcome. Johannes Cornelis van Nieuwkerk, initiator, Refival.org, Hungary In African Heritage Australian Youth, Tebeje Molla offers readers a groundbreaking text that sheds light on an underserved and largely misunderstood student population. This important book incorporates multiple data sources and is conceptually framed using Sen’s capability approach. Molla’s work complicates what readers think they understand about people with refugee backgrounds and compels us to

treat this group with the dignity they deserve. African Heritage Australian Youth is a vital read for any administrator, researcher, or policy professional committed to more clearly understanding and supporting marginalised students in the Australian context. Dr Meseret F. Hailu, lecturer and researcher, Arizona State University, USA

African Heritage Australian Youth

In the last four decades, Australia has resettled thousands of African refugees. As a visibly different minoritised group, Black African youth are often represented as disengaged, dangerous, and undesirable. Even so, rarely are generative mechanisms that negatively affect the life-​courses of the youth critically examined. Drawing on a wide range of theoretical resources, policy reviews, longitudinal statistical data, and in-​depth interviews, this book reports on the educational attainment and integration outcomes of African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds. The book also identifies intersectional factors of educational disadvantage, analyses equity provisions, and outlines policy ideas for improved educational attainment and integration of refugee youth. It is unique in its scope and focus and contributes to knowledge in African Australian studies. The book will appeal to researchers, postgraduate students, and policymakers interested in understanding the dynamics of refugee resettlement and integration. Tebeje Molla is a senior lecturer and ARC Future Fellow in the School of Education at Deakin University, Australia. His research focuses on inequality and policy responses in education. Theoretically, his work is informed by critical sociology and a capability approach to social justice and human development. Tebeje is the author of Higher Education in Ethiopia: Structural Inequalities and Policy Responses (Springer, 2018).

Studies in Migration and Diaspora

Studies in Migration and Diaspora is a series designed to showcase the interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary nature of research in this important field. Volumes in the series cover local, national and global issues and engage with both historical and contemporary events. The books will appeal to scholars, students and all those engaged in the study of migration and diaspora. Amongst the topics covered are minority ethnic relations, transnational movements and the cultural, social and political implications of moving from ‘over there’, to ‘over here’. Series Editor: Anne J. Kershen, Queen Mary University of London, UK Narratives of Migrant and Refugee Discrimination in New Zealand Angela McCarthy The Gender of Borders Embodied Narratives of Migration, Violence and Agency Edited by Jane Freedman, Alice Latouche, Adelina Miranda, Nina Sahraoui, Glenda Santana de Andrade and Elsa Tyszler African Heritage Australian Youth Forced Displacement, Educational Attainment, and Integration Outcomes Tebeje Molla Race and the Colour-​line Boundaries of Europeanness in Poland Bolaji Balogun

For more information about this series, please visit: https://​www.routle​dge.com/​sociol​ogy/​ser​ies/​ ASH​SER1​049

African Heritage Australian Youth Forced Displacement, Educational Attainment, and Integration Outcomes Tebeje Molla

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Tebeje Molla The right of Tebeje Molla to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-​in-​Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Molla, Tebeje, author. Title: African heritage Australian youth : forced displacement, educational attainment, and integration outcomes / Tebeje Molla, Deakin University, Australia. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2023. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023005248 (print) | LCCN 2023005249 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367742355 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780367742362 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003156703 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Australia–Emigration and immigration–Social aspects. | Refugees–Australia. | Africans–Australia. | Social integration–Australia. Classification: LCC JV9125.2 .M655 2023 (print) | LCC JV9125.2 (ebook) | DDC 305.896094–dc23/eng/20230414 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023005248 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023005249 ISBN: 978-​0-​367-​74235-​5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-​0-​367-​74236-​2 (pbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​003-​15670-​3 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/​9781003156703 Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK

To my family—​Yeshi, Fetayel, and Menab—​with love.

Contents

List of figures List of table Foreword Series editor’s preface Acknowledgements List of abbreviations and acronyms 1 Introduction

xi xii xiii xvi xviii xix 1

PART I

Context and concepts

15

2 African refugees in Australia: Resettlement and representation 17 3 Education and refugee integration: A capability approach

42

PART II

Educational attainment

63

4 School education: Aspirations, engagement, and transition

65

5 Higher education opportunities: Policy visibility of refugees

89

6 Higher education participation: Access, experience, and success

112

x  Contents PART III

Integration outcomes

135

 7 Multiculturalism and refugee integration

137

 8 Economic participation, social engagement, and cultural citizenship

158

 9 Racial Othering

179

10 Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas

207

Index

230

Figures

2.1 Australia’s net overseas migration, 1861–​2021 2.2 African permanent migration to Australia, 1945–​2017 2.3 Number of Africa-​born people (from MCOAR) in Australia by census years 4.1 Contexts that mediate school experiences of refugee students 5.1 Key aspects of structural factors that mediate refugees’ higher education opportunities: Scalar misalignment and policy misframing 5.2 Scalar misalignment: The recognition of refugee status as a subcategory of disadvantage across three policy scales 6.1 HE participation among refugee-​background African Australians, 2016 6.2 Percentage of young adults (18–​30 y/​o) attending university or other (non-​TAFE) tertiary institution during the census years 6.3 HE participation of young people (18–​30 y/​o) from MCOAR countries, by census years 6.4 Percentage of young Africans (18–​30 y/​o) who have no degree and are not attending university within five years of their arrival 6.5 African refugee youth in Australian HE, 2001–​2017 7.1 Matrix of acculturation strategies of destination societies 7.2 The proportion of Australian residents who were born overseas or had a parent born overseas 8.1 Unemployment rate: People from the MCOAR, 2016 8.2 Imprisonment rates in Australia in 2018 (per 100,000 adult population, by country of birth) 9.1 Frequency of the use of “refugee”, “racism”, and “nationalism” as key terms in the Google corpus of books published since 1900 9.2 The cycle of socialisation 10.1 Walk slowly: A poem

23 28 29 78 99 101 114 115 116 117 123 140 144 161 164 180 186 225

Table

2.1 The evolution of the global refugee regime

21

Foreword

My mother arrived in Australia in 1944 when the White Australia policy was in full swing. She had escaped from a civil war in the Middle East and saw Australia as her “promised land”. Her skin and hair colouring, strong accent, inability to speak “good” English, and religion marked her as other to the largely Anglo-​Celtic and Christian population of Melbourne, Australia. She recounts how in those early days she would be walking down the street, talking in her mother tongue with her sister, and be told in no uncertain terms to “go back where you came from if you won’t speak English!” She may not have understood all the words they used, but she understood the sentiments behind the words and the hostility in the speakers’ faces. If we flash forward to 2022, Australia has undergone a revolution since my mother’s arrival. The White Australia policy was finally dismantled in the 1970s. Major changes to Australia’s migration policies post–​World War II mean that in 2021 close to 30 per cent of the population were born overseas, with over 300 languages being spoken at home (ABS, 2022). Moreover, as the author of this book notes, Australia has one of the most generous refugee resettlement policies in the world, measured in per capita terms. Over the past four decades, Africans have been one of the main beneficiaries of the nation’s humanitarian programme. Yet, Africans have also been subjected to some of the most xenophobic and hostile reactions from conservative politicians, dominant media outlets, and sections of the populace. For example, in the 2018 Victorian state election, an opportunistic opposition party sought to capitalise on the social disengagement of some African heritage Australian youth from refugee (AHAY-​R) backgrounds by running an extremely ugly scare campaign against “African youth gangs”. They were aided and abetted by some sections of the media and conservative politicians at the state and federal levels. Happily, the opposition did not win (they were defeated in a landslide loss), but the damage was done. As the author of this book notes, “In his essay, ‘Words That Wound’, legal scholar and critical race theorist Richard Delgado (2013) argued that, in a racially oppressive society, words can be used as a means of degradation and exclusion”.

xiv  Foreword This important book provides a compelling narrative about African “inheritors” of Australia’s humanitarian programmes. Specifically, it trains a forensic lens on the educational attainment and integration outcomes of AHAY-​R backgrounds in the compulsory and post-​compulsory sectors. Such a book is sorely needed, and this one does not disappoint. The book makes a vital and unique contribution, for there is scant knowledge about African heritage youth from refugee backgrounds as a specific group in Australia. This contrasts with the body of research examining educational attainment and integration for youth from refugee backgrounds more generally. Secondly, the book draws on a wide range of sources, including never-​before-​accessed longitudinal statistical data in the university and vocational education sectors, to map trends of higher education (HE) enrolment and completion among refugee-​background African youth and reflects on practical strategies for expanding their educational capabilities. For this reason alone, this book makes a key contribution to educational policy debates in the HE sector. Such data paints a sobering picture of AHAY-​R’s institutional barriers to success, despite the availability of flexible pathways into these sectors. Finally, the book draws on an impressive armoury of “thinking tools” such as Sen’s capability theory and critical policy analysis, to name but two. Its accessible writing style insightfully locates the challenges to AHAY-​R’s educational attainment and integration in broader policy debates and discussions about mechanisms of marginalisation. The author challenges deficit representations of refugee youth and paints a compelling case for the need for evidence-​based inclusive advocacy work on behalf of the disadvantaged. The book is divided into three sections. The first section, “Context and concepts”, examines the resettlement and representation of African refugees in Australia over the past four decades, drawing on such notions of racial prejudice as anchoring and othering. It introduces the reader to economist and philosopher Amartya Sen’s capability approach and its usefulness for conceptualising education and refugee integration. As the author notes, this analytical framework shifts the gaze to an assessment of “human wellbeing (or quality of life) in terms of what options people have to be and to do rather than what resources they have access to or the level of satisfaction that they are able to attain”. This is a crucial move in refugee education scholarship. Section II, “Educational attainment”, analyses aspirations, engagement, and transition in schooling as a crucial pathway for successful resettlement and integration, drawing on compelling narratives from interviews conducted with AHAY-​R students and career advisors. It then devotes two chapters to HE opportunities and participation, utilising critical policy analysis to note key policy silences in the sector when it comes to refugees, problematise equity provisions, and examine overlooked factors of disadvantage. The final section, “Integration outcomes”, discusses a range of crucial dimensions for understanding the integration outcomes of AHAY-​ R backgrounds: multiculturalism as an integration strategy, which can contribute to or detract from successful integration; indicators of successful refugee integration, that is, economic participation, cultural engagement, and cultural

Foreword  xv citizenship; and racial othering, in which the racialisation of youth violence in Australia and its undesirable impact on African heritage young people are acutely analysed. The author argues that: with inadequate education, poor job prospects and deepening stress of racism, Black African youth remain at the margin of society. Without timely public action, they are more likely to continue living in a state of double disentanglement: displacement from their roots and alienation from the cultural, social, and economic lives of the destination society. However, this is not a discourse of despair. The author reminds us that “refugees are not defined by their vulnerability. Most of them are capable of growing stronger after the shock of displacement, dispossession, and trauma. They are antifragile”. This is a crucial message and needs to underscore all policies aimed at improving the integration of AHAY-​R backgrounds. The book concludes with a series of important policy ideas for improving refugee integration that should be required reading for politicians of all persuasions, policymakers, and educators. I loved reading this book. It lightly and apparently effortlessly weaves together complex theoretical concepts from a range of disciplines with compelling qualitative and quantitative data. It pierces the smug complacency of politicians who boast of Australia’s multicultural success whilst simultaneously cutting the vital resources and infrastructure that contribute to such success and denigrating the values that underpin the nation’s commitment to fairness, equity, dignity, and freedom for all. It reminds us that such “success” must be earned and relearned and that educational institutions can play a vital role in challenging the “lived, practical, and tangible” injustices experienced by AHAY-​R backgrounds by equipping them and other marginalised students with “critical hope”. However, educators and educational institutions cannot do this on their own. The author makes a compelling case for the need for a new social contract: a “national framework for promoting the cultural citizenship of visibly different minorities, such as African heritage migrants” which would “build on shared values of equality, freedom, fairness, and a ‘fair go’ ”. In so doing, the author provides a rich suite of conceptual, policy, and practical tools for how this can be done and thus makes the ideal of justice real and tangible. I can think of no greater compliment. Jane Wilkinson Monash University Reference Australian Bureau of Statistics [ABS]. (2022). Snapshot of Australia: National summary data. www.abs.gov.au/​sta​tist​ics/​peo​ple/​peo​ple-​and-​comm​unit​ies/​snapsh​otau​ stra​lia/​202

Series editor’s preface

For young refugee arrivals and the children of refugees, acclimatisation to a strange environment, even if a safe haven, can be difficult and demanding. One of the gateways—​one taken as a given and mandatory in countries in the Global North—​is education. Access to quality education and training widens pathways to gainful employment and creates a secure foundation for a future career. The student body which is the focus of this book is Australian youth of African heritage, a group about which, the author of this book stresses, little is known and which Tebeje Molla considers to have been side-​lined as a policy issue in the context of higher education in Australia. As he explains, African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds (AHAY-​R) have been “invisible in the Higher Education policy sphere”, further arguing that the lack of a degree directly impacts job opportunities and thus minimises the successful future of members of this group. There are several related issues which have inhibited the educational progress of AHAY-​R, the primary one being the lack of any formal education prior to arrival in Australia because of time spent in refugee camps awaiting entry visas. This creates problems when they eventually enter school. Put into classes with pupils of their own age, lacking a standard educational grounding and being unable to cope with the work, many become disengaged and disruptive in order to mask their inadequacies. Black African youths thus have become perceived as violent, dangerous, and undesirable class members. The racialisation and othering that accompanies this labelling has deprived many of the empowerment that higher education provides on the journey towards a successful career. And yet, in spite of the above, AHAY-​R have not been identified as a specific group in the government’s higher education policy research; rather, they have been clustered with other refugees/​immigrants that form a part of the culturally diverse population that makes up Australia. In order to attempt to explore the issues that have held back young Black Africans from accessing higher education, Molla carried out field research in the city of Melbourne and interviewed 44 members of the AHAY-​R population (26 males and 18 females) between the ages of 18 and 30. At the time of the author’s investigation, only

Series editor’s preface  xvii 17 per cent of the nation’s AHAY-​R had enrolled in university. The research exercise was vital as little data is available on the educational progression and employment achievements of this particular section of Australia’s immigrant young people. In contrast to the commonly accepted view, a selection of the interviewees had aspirations for academic achievement, seeing a degree, and even a Ph.D., as possible and, accordingly, presenting career opportunities that included becoming a doctor, a scientist, a writer, or a real estate agent. For some, these “dreams” reflected parental expectations which, in a number of instances, were unrealistic as many young people “were unaware of the level of academic standards required” to achieve their goals. In spite of this, there are some positives; the State of Victoria has been attempting to support refugee school children in settling into, and coping with the demands of, schooling. However, the author stresses there is still a distance to go, and he puts forward recommendations as to how refugee youth can be helped to begin their journey of progression through the world of academe. Particularly, there is a need to recognise refugee status as a cause of educational inequality whilst, at the same time, acknowledging the capital that young refugees import and the ways in which this can be promoted to combat the negative images of refugee youth and, in the context of this book, those of African heritage. Finally, Molla emphasises the necessity for the AYAH-​R to recognise their self-​worth in order that they may find their rightful place within Australia’s multicultural society. Whilst this book concentrates specifically on Australian youth of African heritage, the problems young refugees face in the settlement process are not specific to Australia. At a time when the movement of displaced young people is increasing, a reading of this volume, which provides an insight into the issues which confront the disadvantaged immigrant, will prove a valuable tool for all those engaged in understanding the young migrant experience. Anne J. Kershen Queen Mary University of London

Acknowledgements

Writing an academic book is a collective endeavour. This book is no exception. It has benefited from the generosity and support of many people. First of all, I would like to thank Australian taxpayers. The research that informed this book was fully supported by the Australian government through the Australian Research Council’s Discovery Early Career Researcher Award (DECRA) funding scheme, 2019–​2022 (project number DE190100193). I am very grateful for the opportunity. I am also profoundly indebted to African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds, university equity managers, school career advisors, and multicultural educational aides who took the time to share their stories. To Prof. Julianne Moss and Dr Trevor McCandless, thank you very much for your valuable support and encouragement. Trevor, your thorough reading and insightful feedback have immensely benefited the manuscript. I extend my gratitude to the Victorian Department of Education and Training (for granting me permission to access public secondary schools in the state) and to the Commonwealth Department of Education and Training and the Australian Bureau of Statistics (for providing me with the necessary statistical data on economic and educational participation of African heritage refugees). To my academic friends and colleagues in the areas of refugee education, equity research, and policy studies—​ without the fertile discussions, connections, and collaborations with you all, this book would not have come into being. Thank you! Finally, a special thank you to Nina-​Marie Thomas for her careful copy-​ editing, and to Neil Jordan (my editor at Routledge) for his patience and excellent guidance throughout the publication process.

Abbreviations and acronyms

ABS ACARA AHAY-​R AHRC ATAR CA COAG CSA DAG DEET DEEWR DET DIAC DIBP DOHA DSS ECCV ECRE EU EUAFR HE HEPPP ICSEA IOM MCOAR NBEET NESB NPPP OECD PC PCA

Australian Bureau of Statistics Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds Australian Human Rights Commission Australian Tertiary Admissions Rank capability approach Coalition of Australian Governments Crime Statistics Agency Department of the Attorney General Department of Education, Employment, and Training Department of Education, Employment, and Workplace Relations Department of Education and Training Department of Immigration and Citizenship Department of Immigration and Border Protection Department of Home Affairs Department of Social Services Ethnic Communities Council of Victoria European Council on Refugees and Exiles European Union European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights higher education Higher Education Participation and Partnerships Program Index of Community Socio-​educational Advantage International Organization for Migration main countries of origin of African refugees National Board of Employment, Education, and Training non-​English-​speaking background National Priorities Pool Program Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development Productivity Commission Parliament of Commonwealth of Australia

newgenprepdf

xx  Abbreviations and acronyms RCA SES TAFE UN UNGA UNHCR VCAL VEOHRC VET VTAC

Refugee Council of Australia socioeconomic status technical and further education United Nations United Nations General Assembly United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees Victorian Certificate of Applied Learning Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission vocational education and training Victorian Tertiary Admissions Centre

1 Introduction

Refugees Dragging their dark Bodies, thin as fibrous Roots, wearied as torn Leaves, under the blade of The reaper, they search For sanctuary. (Dang Nghiem, 2021)

1.1  What this book is about Refugees arrive in destination societies with stories of precarity and courage. Like other refugees, those with African heritage cross cultural and geographic boundaries, cherish memories of the past, and aspire for a better future. Whether refugees fit in and become contributing members of society depends largely on the availability and effectiveness of integration policies and programmes. In this regard, governments in refugee destination societies facilitate integration by making resources and opportunities available to newcomers. Even so, those provisions are rarely adequate, and refugees continue to face intersectional mechanisms of exclusion and disadvantage. This book explores the educational attainment and integration outcomes of African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds (AHAY-​R). Starting with a brief historical account of the resettlement of African refugees in Australia, the book documents educational opportunities, experiences, and outcomes of the group. It also problematises the multicultural policy in relation to the politics of racial Othering and its impact of African heritage youth’s sense of security and belonging. In so doing, the book argues why, beyond welcoming refugees, governments need policies that support effective integration. As a signatory to the United Nations Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees (adopted 28 July 1951, entered into effect 22 April 1954), Australia annually resettles thousands of refugees. In the last 75 years, under its humanitarian migration programme, Australia has resettled around 12,000 refugees annually. Since the mid-​1980s, the government has resettled thousands of refugees from Africa. In the 2000s alone, more than 48,000 Africans resettled DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-1

2  Introduction in Australia under the humanitarian programme. The number of African refugees settling in Australia has significantly increased since the mid-​1990s (the 2021 Census reported that there were close to 400,000 Australians born in sub-​Saharan Africa, including Sudan and South Sudan). Refugee resettlement needs to be accompanied by resources and support mechanisms that promote integration. Without the necessary public action, refugees are destined to be permanently excluded. In Australia, the Commonwealth and state and territory governments spend millions of dollars annually to support integration of refugee resettlement and integration programmes. For instance, the Department of Home Affairs administers the Fostering Integration Grants programme to support activities that assist successful resettlement and integration of refugees. Likewise, the Department of Social Services manages the Settlement Engagement and Transition Support grant and the Strong and Resilient Communities initiative to promote the sense of belonging and social engagement of new arrivals, including refugees. Further, civil society and community organisations cooperate with government agencies to provide services to refugees and other immigrants. Organisations such as the Brotherhood of St Laurance run educational programmes on cross-​cultural responsiveness to enable companies and businesses to work with multicultural communities. Similarly, in the education sector, refugees benefit from generic equity provisions. Education and training play pivotal roles in supporting refugee integration. Improving the educational attainment of refugees is a collective responsibility because low educational attainment of refugees is both a loss of human capital and a challenge to providing social cohesion. Without the necessary knowledge and skillsets, refugee youth often find it difficult to engage with their community actively and be able to contribute fully to society at large. For example, African refugees arrive in Australia at a younger age than other migrants. The population censuses show, on average, approximately 60 per cent of migrants from the main countries of origin of African refugees (MCOAR) were aged between 15 and 34. These data imply the importance of education for African refugees’ integration into the community and the need to boost the human capital of the nation in general. Effective integration requires the education and training that will prepare them for well-​paid jobs. However, the social integration of AHAY-​R remains a critical challenge. Particularly since the mid-​2010s, social disengagement of Black African youth has been a common subject of public discussion. Manifestations of socioeconomic alienation of AHAY-​R are evident in daily media reports of violence associated with some members of this “group” (Molla, 2021a) and where overseas-​born African Australians represent the highest imprisonment rate among overseas-​ born persons in Australia (ABS, 2018). Refugees continue to face lingering challenges in the areas of educational attainment, employment, cultural adaptation, and social engagement. After consulting with over 2,500 African Australians in 50 community meetings across the nation, the Australian Human Rights Commission reported that African youth experience discrimination, prejudice, and racism

Introduction  3 and cautioned that “structural barriers” to education and employment can leave them “on the margin of Australian society” (AHRC, 2010, p. 4). Educational disadvantage—​as assessed in terms of who gets access to what kind of education and with what experiences and outcomes—​is intricately connected with political, economic, cultural, and social positions of individuals and groups. Refugee-​background African Australian youth and their peers in the mainstream society with high socioeconomic status (SES) backgrounds are not equally positioned to transform equal resources (e.g. the option to go to university) into valued outcomes (e.g. transition to higher education [HE], successful degree completion, and subsequent paid employment). The educational disadvantage of refugees persists when its causes and consequences are overlooked or misframed in the policy space (Molla, 2021b). For instance, the exclusion of refugees as equity targets means that intersectional factors of inequality associated with the life-​course trajectories of this group remain discounted. In the absence of targeted policy provisions, refugees lack the necessary institutional support to navigate opportunities and thereby succeed in their studies. Further, with the prevalence of negative stereotypes towards some refugee groups in the public sphere as a background, at the institutional level, refugee students continue to experience racial bias and are construed in deficit terms. This book explores the representation of the educational disadvantage of refugees as a policy problem and documents the experiences of AHAY-​R. There is scant knowledge about the educational attainment and integration outcomes of African heritage youth, especially those from refugee backgrounds. To address this knowledge gap, this book presents a brief account of the migration of Africans to Australia, documents educational participation and outcomes of refugee-​background African youth, and discusses the socioeconomic and cultural indicators of the integration outcomes of African youth. The book’s final chapter outlines policy ideas to improve the educational attainment and integration outcomes of refugee-​background Africans. The book documents success stories and challenges faced by African heritage refugee youth. In so doing, it does not assume the disadvantages experienced by this group are more important than those of other minority and disadvantaged groups in society. Instead, the intention is to show the uniqueness and complexity of the problems African youth encounter and thereby generate policy ideas that can be taken up at sectoral and institutional levels. Generally speaking, refugee youth live between cultures—​fully recognised neither here nor there. Their relationship with destination societies is always uncertain and fragile, while they also no longer belong to the nations they have recently escaped from. To paraphrase Julia Kristeva (1991), refugees belong nowhere; they are always elsewhere. Kristeva (1991) characterises the positionality of the migrant as: not belonging to any place, any time, any love. A lost origin, the impossibility to take root, a rummaging memory, the present in abeyance. The space

4  Introduction of the foreigner is a moving train, a plane in flight, the very transition that precludes stopping. (pp. 7–​8) As Agier (2008) argued, “each displaced person, each refugee, carries within them the experience of being undesirable and placeless” (p. 28). This permanence of Otherness is particularly the case when it comes to visibly different minorities, such as Black Africans in predominantly White societies. Refugees leave their homes out of desperation and continue to live in protracted situations (Nghiem, 2021). On resettlement in a third country, refugees rely on the socioeconomic support of the destination society. At the core of the commitment of advanced nations to resettling refugees is the principle that “when people face serious harm at home, they should be allowed to flee and receive access to a safe haven, at least until they can go home or be permanently reintegrated elsewhere” (Betts & Collier, 2017, p. 4). Refugee resettlement programmes should be seen as expressions of our obligations to one another. The moral argument goes: “Just as we cannot stand by and watch a stranger in our own community suffering, so too we have obligations towards distant strangers, when we are able to assist and it is not significantly costly to do so” (Betts & Collier, 2017, p. 6). We should not gauge our commitment to refugees solely by their contribution to society. We should not expect refugees to derive their value from the benefits they bring to the destination society. The remainder of this chapter briefly describes methodological approaches employed in this project and outlines the book’s organisation. 1.2  Methodological notes The project on which this book draws asked why African refugee youth have limited access to social opportunities, such as HE. The study used a multimethod inquiry approach (Hesse-​Biber & Johnson, 2015) that combined critical inquiry and quantitative data to shed light on key indicators of African refugee integration. A critical inquiry of the social world is “ontologically constructivist and epistemologically interpretive” (Yanow, 2006, p. 23). Hence, any attempt to understand social reality (e.g. the educational disadvantage of African refugee youth and factors underpinning the persistence of the problem) needs to be grounded on accounts and perspectives of social actors who are prompted to engage in meaning-​making by the researcher. The research used a range of methods of data generation tools. For example, the interviews with AHAY-​R were informed by narrative research. The underlining assumption of narrative research is that human experience is “a storied phenomenon”, and accounts of life stories are instrumental in understanding the phenomenon (Squire et al., 2008). As Creswell (1998) argued, social knowledge exists “within the meanings people make of it … [and] is gained through people talking about their meanings” (p. 19). Czarniawska (2004) added, “In

Introduction  5 order to understand their own lives, people put them into narrative form” (p. 5). Retrospective analysis of the lived experience of refugee youth is instrumental in understanding their life-​courses, including how their current condition relates to their past experiences and future opportunities. That means access to constructed reality requires interactive data generation instruments such as interviews and focus group discussions. I interviewed 44 refugee-​background AHAY-​R (26 males and 18 females), six equity managers in five universities, and nine school career counsellors and multicultural education aides of government secondary schools in the State of Victoria. Most of the African heritage youth who participated in the study came to Australia with their parents at a young age (only two participants reported they arrived as unaccompanied underage refugees). Before they signed the consent forms, all participants were given plain-​language statements and were fully informed of the study’s purpose. The length of the interviews ranged from 45 to 70 minutes. In addition, HE participation and population census datasets were also secured from, respectively, the Commonwealth Department of Education and Training (DET) and the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS). I also reviewed national and institutional equity policy documents. The key documents reviewed in the study included A Fair Chance for All (1990); Higher Education Support Act 2003 (DAG, 2003); Analysis of Equity Groups in Higher Education, 1991–​2012 (James et al., 2004); Review of Australian Higher Education: Final Report (Bradley et al., 2008); Other Grants Guidelines (Education) 2012 (Australian Government, 2012); Multicultural Australia (Australian Government, 2017); Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide (Australian Government, 2018); and the Australian Government’s Response to the Report Investing in Refugees (Australian Government, 2019). The 44 AHAY-​R (aged between 18 and 30) were born in the MCOAR and arrived in Australia on permanent humanitarian visas. The positionality of the research team was critical in establishing rapport with the participants. The research assistant (RA) was a refugee-​background African Australian. As an active member of the community, he had an insider position and was able to inform potential participants about the purpose and scope of the research. Although I am not from a refugee background, as a Black African diasporic researcher who explores the lived experiences of other Black people in Australia, my positionality is defined by my intercultural competence and racially marked body. To an extent, these attributes enabled me to integrate, and easily identify, with participants and understand their accounts with utmost sensitivity. I recruited the participants through snowball sampling using the social ties of RA and myself in the African communities in the State of Victoria, where over 65 per cent of refugee-​background Africans live in Australia. With the prevalence of negative racial stereotypes in public as a backdrop, the youth were specifically invited to recount how the “African crime gangs” narrative might have affected them and reflect on how they interpreted their experiences. One of the challenges in data mapping was that neither the ABS nor DET reports “refugee background” as a category. The only refugee-​related

6  Introduction data available is that associated with students who identified themselves as having a permanent humanitarian visa. Hence, it is impossible to identify all refugee-​background African students, including those who transitioned from a humanitarian visa to citizenship. Further, DET’s datasets on HE enrolment, commencement, and completion (from 2001 to 2017) do not include details of Africans since these groups were often fewer than five students and therefore not identified as a separate group in the data. The Department of Home Affairs’ (DOHA) historical data on humanitarian visa recipients are also presented in aggregate, not by countries of origin. As a result, it was not possible to conclusively report how many refugee-​background Africans from each of the sub-​Saharan African countries attended university courses in a specific period. As mentioned above, the statistical data acquired from those agencies do not show students who arrived as refugees and later became Australian citizens. This is important because a person may commence a course as a refugee but complete it as a citizen. One might also enrol in multiple courses across the same period. In order to alleviate the effects of these limitations, I made a conscious decision to use the eight MCOAR as a proxy to understand the trends of HE participation among AHAY-​R. These countries were Eritrea, Ethiopia, Liberia, Somalia, South Sudan, Sudan, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Sierra Leone. On average, over 60 per cent of people from these countries arrived in Australia on a humanitarian visa, and the other 30 per cent came on family visas. In other words, over 90 per cent of people from MCOAR have had either refugee or “refugee-​like” experiences (Stevenson & Baker, 2018). In the last two decades, the MCOAR were also featured on the Australian government’s annual list of top 10 humanitarian visa recipients. The analysis proceeded inductively from identifying meaningful segments to building themes. Although the initial data sense-​making occurred simultaneously with data generation, the formal coding process involved immersion in the personal accounts of each participant. I thematically coded the transcribed data. That is, I closely read the textual data (policy documents and interview transcripts), identified meaningful segments to mark relevant sections, and mapped out emerging themes and patterns. Then, by way of synthesising the empirical data and theoretical concepts, I constructed emergent themes associated with the educational experiences and integration outcomes of AHAY-​R. The themes were then theoretically redescribed; that is, the participant accounts and policy reviews were placed in the context of ideas and concepts drawn from the literature. As Danermark et al. (2002) noted, applying theory to empirical data enables a social researcher to detect “meanings and connections that are not given in our habitual way of perceiving the world” (p. 94). The theoretical redescription drew on conceptual tools from sociology, social welfare, social psychology, and cultural studies. In other words, in order to “move the analysis from the mundane and obvious to the creative” (Marshall & Rossman, 2006, p. 161), I synthesised the themes with the literature and presented the interpretation in the form of descriptive and explanatory accounts.

Introduction  7 At present, in Australian universities, there is no viable space for Black Diaspora Studies. As a result, theoretical, empirical, and methodological debates about the lived experiences of Black people in society remain limited. In making sense of African refugees’ aspirations, challenges, experiences, and achievements in Australia, the book draws on theoretical resources from sociology, education, cultural studies, social psychology, and policy and social welfare studies. It is my hope that, in the not-​too-​distant future, we witness the flourishing of interdisciplinary African studies and dialogues across Australian universities. Finally, a brief note on the use of a couple of terminologies is in order here. To begin with, in documenting the experiences of African youth, I am mindful of Philips’ (2011) argument that it is imperative not to homogenise the experiences of African communities in Australia. For example, the life-​ courses of refugee-​background African youth are different from those of other economic migrant Africans. Experiences of forcible displacement mean that refugees face unique intersectional disadvantages. Even within the group of refugee-​background Africans, ethnic and cultural differences are prominent. In using AHAY-​R as a categorical descriptor, I do not assume homogeneity within the group. Instead, I am interested in how their shared positionality (i.e. African-​ origin refugee-​ background youth) informs their educational experiences and integration outcomes. The term AHAY-​R refers to people aged between 18 and 30 who (or whose parents) were born in an African country and had arrived in Australia on a humanitarian visa. Following the Arabisation of North Africa since the seventh century and the Europeanisation of Southern Africa following the colonisation of the continent beginning in the 17th ­century, the demographic features of Africa have significantly changed. In this book, I focus on people from what is commonly referred to as sub-​Saharan Africa (i.e. Black Africans, excluding Arabs in North Africa and European-​ descent settlers in southern Africa). Throughout the book, I use “African heritage” rather than hyphenated phrases (e.g. African-​Australians) to highlight people’s transnational identity. In Australia, it is common to refer to non-​Indigenous and non-​White migrants by their cultural heritages. The “heritage” framing emphasises one’s cultural roots and is politically neutral. Unlike hyphenated identities, heritage does not attract the usual charge of “divided allegiance” of the group in question. Those who subscribe to the ideology of excessive nationalism may view the hyphenated Australian as a less deserving Australian. The stress on the hyphen may also be seen as an indicator of resistance to integration and acculturation. Relatedly, most migrants from South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Mauritius, as well as those from North African countries, are mainly White or have the “proximity to Whiteness”. As a result, their lived experiences of resettlement and integration are distinctive from those who are Indigenous (Black) Africans. In other words, African heritage youth in Australia differ along the lines of migration status (economic vs. humanitarian) and racial background (Black vs. non-​Black). Therefore, by using terms such as “Black Africans” and “Black

8  Introduction African refugees”, my intention is to remind the reader that I am talking about a specific group of African migrants. 1.3  The organisation of the book The book is structured in three parts. The first part focuses on context and concepts and consists of Chapters 2 and 3. Chapter 2 presents a brief historical account of Africans in Australia, focusing on issues of resettlement and representation. Measured in per capita terms, Australia has one of the most generous refugee resettlement programmes in the world. The first substantial number of African refugees (106 in total, including 96 Ethiopians) arrived on humanitarian visas and settled in Melbourne in 1984. In the last four decades, Africans have been one of the main beneficiaries of Australia’s humanitarian programme. Against the backdrop of Australia’s history and politics of migration, this chapter maps trends of African refugee resettlement. It documents political debates and resettlement services associated with African humanitarian entrants. The fear of the arrival of the displaced has triggered xenophobic reactions that, in many countries, led to electoral successes of populist politicians. The rise of excessive nationalism that has, in turn, caused political rupture and racial tensions in many historically liberal democratic societies (Castells, 2018) means that refugees face hostile environments. People from visibly different cultural backgrounds (e.g. Muslims) or racial origins (e.g. Blacks) have particularly become primary objects of suspicion and antipathy. They are often seen as threatening to cultures with which they come into contact. Conservative politicians and media commentators deploy “Othering” as a discursive strategy of identity politics; they transfer differences through stigmatising the “different” as dangerous. In Australia, in recent years, conservative politicians and media outlets have routinely racialised youth violence, labelling Black African youth as inherently dangerous and prone to committing crime. Against the backdrop of this politics of racial Othering, it is timely and critical to investigate whether people have equal substantive opportunities for relational well-​being. The chapter argues that substantive opportunities for dignifying representation and genuine options for participation constituted a critical condition for refugee integration. The politics of Othering diminishes integration outcomes of refugees by (a) depriving people of an equal right to respect and dignity (the ability to appear in public without fear or shame) and (b) diminishing a sense of affiliation, consolidating the permanence of Otherness, and reinforcing isolation, disengagement, and estrangement of youth. Chapter 3 introduces the conceptual framework that informs the analysis in the book. It starts with the assumption that education is a foundational capability, insofar as it empowers people to be and do what they have a reason to value in their lives. The chapter synthesises the capability approach (CA) to social justice with a sociological theory of practice to explain the interplay between disadvantaged social position, educational opportunity, and

Introduction  9 outcome. In so doing, it extends the literature on the educational disadvantage of refugees. The chapter invokes key concepts such as social arrangements, substantive opportunities, capability expansion, conversion factors, navigational capacity, conditioned choices, and agency freedom. The notion of educational capability refers to one’s ability to become well educated. It concerns both the availability of educational opportunities and the relevance of these opportunities to the needs and situations of policy targets. The chapter also argues that differences in educational attainment tell us little about the issue of disadvantage until we assess real opportunities people have had and the choices they have made. Genuine equity entails access to resources and the conversion of these into valuable and valued outcomes. With this assumption, capability-​based equity research moves backward from current experiences and outcomes to asking what substantive opportunities people had to achieve alternative ways of being and doing. The second part of the book, “Educational attainment”, consists of Chapters 4, 5, and 6. Each chapter syntheses empirical and theoretical accounts of educational attainment among refugee-​background Africans in Australia. Chapter 4 covers school education. Schooling is a critical gateway to culture learning and to the successful resettlement of refugee youth. At school, students acquire the knowledge and skills they need to integrate into society meaningfully. The value of schooling is particularly important for African heritage students from refugee backgrounds who arrived at a young age with limited educational attainment. This chapter highlights educational aspirations, student engagement, African parents’ involvement in their children’s learning, and transitional pathways of AHAY-​R. The chapter also reflects on persisting challenges young people face at home and in school. Chapter 5 examines the issue of policy visibility for refugees in the HE sector. Political membership is accompanied by responsibility and privilege; the state regulates access to rights, resources, and opportunities. In so doing, the state draws a distinction between citizens and non-​citizens through retributive, distributive, and recognitive instruments (e.g. legal actions, policy provisions, and political discourses). With a focus on HE opportunities of African refugee youth, this chapter problematises the relevance and sufficiency of national inclusion statements, sectoral equity programmes, and institutional equity strategies and practices. The chapter argues that, although African refugees are a highly visible minority group in Australia, ironically, the group remains invisible in the HE policy space. Notwithstanding intersecting factors of disadvantage they face on their way to and within HE, African refugees are hidden from view. For two decades (1991–​2010), universities subsumed refugee-​background students under the category of non-​English-​speaking background (NESB). In the last 10 years, with the government’s abandonment of NESB as an equity group, refugees are often identified as belonging to the low SES group. The chapter unmasks policy silences, highlights the homogenising effects of equity categories, and calls for a recognition of refugee status as a category of educational disadvantage.

10  Introduction Chapter 6 specifically concerns HE participation of refugee-​background AHAY-​ R. For refugees, education provides life-​ changing opportunities, including tools for effective integration. Drawing on longitudinal national educational statistics and population census data, this chapter maps trends of HE enrolment and completion among African refugee youth. The chapter shows that, despite the viability of generic equity provisions: (a) in the last 25 years, only one in 10 refugee-​background African youth transitioned to HE within the first five years of their arrival, and (b) students from MCOAR lag well behind the general population in terms of undergraduate course completion. For example, in 17 years (2001–​2017), only a little over 17 per cent of refugee-​background African students who were enrolled in undergraduate degrees were able to complete their courses. Nationally, 46 per cent of domestic students who commenced undergraduate courses in 2009 in Table A providers completed their degrees in four years; when the cohort length increased to nine years, completion rates improved: 74 per cent for domestic undergraduates. Completion outcomes are discussed, with a focus on institutional support mechanisms and the help-​seeking behaviour of African students. It is argued that, in the absence of concerted efforts to promote HE participation of the group, African refugee youth transition to adulthood without an adequate level of education, making them unlikely to ever go to university once they have established their own family. For African refugees, the lack of an advanced level of knowledge or skills means limited job opportunities, low income, and limited social engagement. Part III, “Integration outcomes”, consists of the final three chapters of the book that elaborate on three indicators of African refugee integration: economic participation, social engagement, and cultural adaptation. Chapter 7 deals with refugee integration in a multicultural society. The chapter has two main foci of analysis. First, drawing on the existing theoretical and empirical literature, the chapter reviews the theory of refugee acculturation and analyses multidirectional and multidimensional aspects of refugee integration in a multicultural society. It explains why the extent to which refugees adopt the basic values of the destination society is mediated in part by the degree to which the latter adapts institutions to meet the needs of the newcomers. Second, the chapter documents the emergence of multiculturalism as a political project and subsequent refugee integration policies and programmes in Australia. It shows that multiculturalism is a political response to cultural pluralism, which has been practised in Australia since the late 1970s. While some degree of structural assimilation is unavoidable, multiculturalism celebrates cultural diversity. The chapter asks: if multicultural societies are ideal for refugee integration, why do humanitarian-​entrant Africans remain at the margins of Australian society? Key themes addressed in this chapter include the means and markers of refugee integration, multicultural society, acculturation strategies, and mutual recognition. Chapter 8 analyses the economic participation and social engagement of AHAY-​R. This chapter presents two indicators of refugee integration: economic

Introduction  11 participation and social engagement. In this chapter, the economic participation of African refugees is assessed in terms of employment rates and occupational status. Using census data and other relevant sources, the chapter documents the employment outcomes of people from the MCOAR in Australia. An overview of refugee resettlement policies and services is also included. The second half of the chapter deals with social engagement as a measure of interaction with the larger society. Social engagement is made possible through meaningful connections and interactions with people of different backgrounds as well as with institutions, including government services. The chapter shows that with limited educational attainment and high unemployment rates, social disengagement is a serious problem among African youth. Here, social disengagement is expressed in abstention, distrust, antisocial behaviours, and imprisonment rates. The measures of social engagement used in this chapter are incidents of antisocial behaviour and imprisonment rates of people from the MCOAR. Chapter 9 deals with the racialisation of violence and African youth. This chapter focuses on the cultural adaptation of African refugee youth as a key marker of integration. Cultural adaptation is expressed in new arrivals’ language competence, sense of belonging, and feelings of being safe. Taking the experiences of African refugee youth as an empirical case, the chapter shows how racialised moral panic inhibits the cultural adaptation of refugee youth. Black African youth are often incorrectly labelled as inherently violent, dangerous, and undesirable. Conservative politicians and media personalities have raised spectres of “African crime gangs” and made the phrase “of African appearance” synonymous with criminality. This negative representation diminishes the ability of Africans to “appear in public without shame” or take part in the life of the community. In other words, officially swearing the oath of citizenship does not entitle African refugees a full membership in Australian society. This chapter mainly explains why the cultural citizenship of this group remains an unfulfilled dream. People enjoy their cultural citizenship when they are accepted for who they are as they name themselves, knowing that they are worthy members of their communities. The chapter underscores the urgent need to demolish hierarchies of belonging and move from the problems of African youth to the possibilities of African youth. High education attainment provides the refugees with the necessary knowledge and skills for cultural engagement, and people with assured cultural citizenship are more likely to confidently demand respect, dignity, opportunity, and participation. The closing chapter (Chapter 10) of the book reiterates the key findings. It underscores the anti-​fragility of refugee youth, outlines persisting challenges that inhibit African youth’s ability to transform educational opportunities into valuable outcomes, and draws implications of the study for policy, practice, and research in the area of refugee education and integration. Specifically, the chapter calls for (a) expanding evaluative spaces of refugee disadvantages in the areas of education and integration; (b) recognising refugee status as a category of disadvantage in educational equity policies and programmes;

12  Introduction (c) capitalising on the strengths of refugee youth; and (d) promoting cultural citizenship of visibly different minority groups, including African heritage Australians. The chapter emphasises the importance of creating more culturally inviting learning environments that promote racial literacy (intercultural understanding) and explicitly engage students and staff with issues of cultural diversity, race, and equity. It is also argued that sustained advocacy work, guided by critical scholarship, can contribute to the realisation of effective legal and administrative protection of the cultural rights of minority groups. Critical scholarship urges us to ask whether racism in Australian schools and universities is an expression of individual prejudice or a collective problem infused in institutional practices and systemic arrangements. It is only through unmasking structural factors of disadvantage that put refugees at the margin of society that we can reimagine a fair alternative to the existing arrangement. Finally, I wish to mention that each chapter opens with one or more epigraphs that were chosen for their relevance to the arguments developed in the chapter. References Agier, M. (Trans. D. Fernbach). (2008). On the Margins of the World: The Refugee Experience of Today. Oxford: Polity. Australian Bureau of Statistics [ABS]. (2018, December 6). Prisoners in Australia, 2018. Canberra: ABS. www.abs.gov.au/​AUSST​ATS/​[email protected]/​Deta​ilsP​age/​ 4517.02018?OpenD​ocum​ent Australian Government. (2012). Other Grants Guidelines (Education) 2012 [Amendment No 2, 2019]. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Australian Government. (2017). Multicultural Australia: United, Strong, Successful. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Australian Government. (2018). The Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​mca/​PDFs/​multic​ ultu​ral-​acc​ess-​equ​ity-​pol​icy-​guide.pdf Australian Government. (2019). Australian Government’s Response to the Report Investing in Refugees, Investing in Australia: The Findings of a Review into Integration, Employment and Settlement Outcomes for Refugees and Humanitarian Entrants in Australia. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Australian Human Rights Commission [AHRC]. (2010). In Our Own Words—​African Australians: A Review of Human Rights and Social Inclusion Issues. Canberra: AHRC. https://​huma​nrig​hts.gov.au/​our-​work/​race-​dis​crim​inat​ion/​proje​cts/​our-​own-​words-​ afri​can-​aust​rali​ans-​rev​iew-​human-​rig​hts-​and Betts, A. & Collier, P. (2017). Refuge: Rethinking Refugee Policy in a Changing World. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bradley, D., Noonan, P., Nugent, H., & Scales, B. (2008). Review of Australian Higher Education: Final Report. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Castells, M. (2018). Rupture: The Crisis of Liberal Democracy. Cambridge, MA: Polity. Creswell, J. W. (1998). Qualitative Inquiry and Research Design. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Introduction  13 Czarniawska, B. (2004). Narratives in Social Science Research. London: Sage. Danermark, B., Ekström, M., Jakobsen, L., & Karlsson, J. C. (2002). Explaining Society: An Introduction to Critical Realism in the Social Sciences. London: Routledge. Department of the Attorney General [DAG]. (2003). Higher Education Support Act 2003. Canberra: Australian Government Printing Service. Hesse-​Biber, S. N. & Johnson, R. B. (Eds.). (2015). The Oxford Handbook of Multimethod and Mixed Methods Research Inquiry. Oxford: Oxford University Press. James, R., Baldwin, G., Coates, H., Krause, K., & Mcinnis, C. (2004). Analysis of Equity Groups in Higher Education 1991–​2002. Canberra: Department of Education, Science and Training. Kristeva, J. (1991). Strangers to Ourselves. New York: Columbia University Press. Marshall, C. & Rossman, G. B. (2006). Designing Qualitative Research, Fourth edition. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Molla, T. (2021a). Racial moral panic and African youth in Australia. International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 84, 95–​106. https://​doi.org/​10.1016/​j.ijint​ rel.2021.07.005 Molla, T. (2021b). Refugees and equity policy in Australian higher education. Policy Reviews in Higher Education, 5(1), 5–​27. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​23322​ 969.2020.1806​727 Nghiem, D. (2021). Flowers in the Dark: Reclaiming Your Power to Heal from Trauma with Mindfulness. Berkeley, CA: Parallax Press. Phillips, M. (2011). Convenient labels, inaccurate representations: Turning Southern Sudanese refugees into ‘African-​Australians’. Australasian Review of African Studies, 32(2), 57–​79. Squire, C., Andrews, M., & Tamboukou, M. (2008). Introduction: What is narrative research? In M. Andrews, C. Squire, & M. Tamboukou (Eds.), Doing Narrative Research (pp. 1–​21). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Stevenson, J. & Baker, S. (2018). Refugees in Higher Education: Debate, Discourse and Practice. London: Emerald Publishing. Yanow, D. (2006). Thinking interpretively: Philosophical presuppositions and the human sciences. In D. Yanow & P. Schwartz-​ Shea (Eds.), Interpretation and Method: Empirical Research Methods and the Interpretive Turn (pp. 5–​26). Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe.

Part I

Context and concepts

2 African refugees in Australia Resettlement and representation

Refugees are differentially categorised and assessed as being more or less assimilable into national norms of moral belonging and citizenship. (Aihwa Ong, 2003) 2.1 Introduction Migration is part of the human experience. Africans have always been on the move. More than 300,000 years ago, our common ancestors (modern humans, Homo sapiens) left the Great Rift Valley of East Africa and dispersed across the six continents (Loescher, 2021). In the last 500 years alone, Black Africans have left the continent in three main streams. The first episode of displacement was the transatlantic slave trade. For over 300 years (from the 1500s to the 1800s), Africans were shipped in the chains of slavery to the Americas. During this period, between 15 and 20 million enslaved Africans were transported across the Atlantic. Enslaved Africans worked on plantation farms to produce cash crops that would drive the flow of capital to Europeans. Through time, enslaved Africans formed new societies in the Americas—​the Black African diaspora emerged in North and South America and the Caribbean. The second stream of mobility for Africans was economic migration. Following the decolonisation of the continent in the 1960s, many Africans moved to the Global North in search of better economic opportunities. This second wave of African migration is often linked with economic and political push factors of home countries and immigration policies of host countries. The economic and political instability of African nations created a set of conditions that hindered socioeconomic stability. Only a few African countries have managed to create economic structures that can absorb the emerging educated class. Hence, many educated Africans had to leave their countries of origin in search of better opportunities. Pull factors associated with the immigration policies of developed countries also target a more educated and technically skilled group of individuals to fill labour market demands. As a result, every year, thousands of Africans leave their home countries to resettle in economically advanced nations. For example, according to a report DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-3

18  Context and concepts published by the New York Times, in the last four decades, the U.S. has had more Africans arrive voluntarily than the total who disembarked in chains before the U.S. outlawed international slave trafficking in 1807.1 The third stream of African migration has taken the form of forced displacement; Africans feeling danger also move to the Global North. Starting from the early 1980s, a considerable number of people from Africa left their countries as refugees (forcibly displaced people). At present, there are millions of displaced Africans (UNHCR, 2022). There are a range of causes that contribute to the forced mass displacement of Africans, including secessionist civil wars, religious and tribal conflicts, repressive political systems that have failed to accommodate plurality and protect the civil and human rights of citizens, and natural disasters, including drought and famine (e.g. the 1984 famine in the Horn of Africa). It is also critical to note that underlying these conflicts and the instability in the region are residual effects of colonialism where arbitrary boundaries have split tribal groups and sowed the seeds of animosity within society (Rodney, 2012). However, colonial legacies do not fully explain the trends and conditions of forced migration in Africa. For example, at present, two of the top countries of origin for African refugees are Ethiopia and Liberia—​the only two African countries that were not formally colonised by Europeans. Civil war, political instability, and poverty make many people flee these countries. Against the backdrop of the global refugee regime and Australia’s history and politics of migration, this chapter briefly discusses the resettlement and representation of African refugees. The remainder of this chapter begins with the global refugee regime and migration policy in Australia and proceeds to briefly discuss the history of the resettlement and integration of African refugees in Australia. 2.2 Resettlement The history of forced human displacement goes as far back as the establishment of political communities. However, the notion of “refugee” as we know it today is a modern construct of a European origin. Between the late fifteenth and early twentieth centuries—​following prolonged religious wars, political revolutions, nation-​state formation, and the rise of excessive nationalism—​ mass expulsion of ethnocultural minorities and political dissents became common in the region (Loescher, 2021). During this period, millions left their homes to escape persecution, violence, or famine. In fact, the term refugee was first used to describe the Huguenots (Protestants) who fled France in 1685 to resettle in Britain (Loescher, 2021). Natural disasters and economic depression also contributed to the problem of mass displacement. Forced displacement remains one of the main challenges of modern societies. What makes the current era different is perhaps the presence of a global refugee regime. There exists a collective response to forced displacement that involves flight across national borders.

African refugees in Australia  19 The right to seek asylum and protection is well aligned with our shared sense of humanity and basic human rights, championed in liberal political philosophy and practices. Seen from this perspective, it is only natural that “the boundaries of our moral community go beyond those of our political community, including towards refugees” (Betts & Collier, 2017, p. 100). In most cases, national governments have shared obligations to provide displaced people with refuge. As Betts and Collier (2017) noted, “At its core, refuge entails the principle that when people face serious harm at home, they should be allowed to flee and receive access to a safe haven, at least until they can go home or be permanently reintegrated elsewhere” (p. 4). In resettling refugees, governments commit to providing the necessary protection and assistance. This section of the chapter focuses on three themes: global responses to refugee crises, history and policies of refugee resettlement in Australia, and the arrival of African refugees in Australia. 2.2.1  Global initiatives

Following the end of World War I, the U.S. and its European allies, mainly through the League of Nations, formulated the first collective response to the needs and conditions of forcibly displaced people in Europe. For many observers, although the League of Nations failed in numerous aspects of its mandates (e.g. maintaining peace within member states), its work for refugees during the 1920s was one of its great successes (Loescher, 2021). During the interwar years, the tight immigration restrictions of the U.S. and European countries impeded millions of Jews from leaving Nazi Germany. Even so, the foundations of international laws and institutions directed at refugees were laid during this period (see Table 2.1 for specific refugee agencies in the last 100 years). Commenting on the lasting and important legacy of the interwar international initiatives on refugees, Loescher (2021) noted: Twenty years of organisational growth and interstate collaboration had firmly established the idea that refugees constituted victims of human rights abuses for whom the world had a special responsibility. Moreover, the first international cooperative efforts on behalf of refugees and the establishment and evolution of the international refugee agencies of the period provided the foundations on which successor institutions would be built. (p. 93) In the aftermath of World War II, with the collapse of multiethnic empires, the rise of nationalism, and the consolidation of communism, an estimated 60 million people found themselves uprooted and in need of a safe haven. Against this backdrop, leaders of independent nations of the world created the United Nations Organisation (in 1945). In 1946, the UN created the International Refugee Organization, and in 1948, it adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights to guarantee those fleeing persecution the right

20  Context and concepts to request asylum in another country. Article 14 of the Declaration stated that everyone has “the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution” (UN, 1948/​2015). Further, in 1950, the UN created the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) with a mandate to ensure protection for refugees as well as work with governments to find a solution to their plight. In 1951, the UN established the Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees (also referred to as the Geneva Convention, or the Refugee Convention), whereby it specifically called upon member states to settle displaced people on a humanitarian basis (UN, 1951). The Convention obliges signatory states to extend asylum and protection to those facing persecution on the grounds of religion, race, nationality, or political opinion. Under Article 1 of the Convention, the term refugee is defined as any person who: owing to well-​founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality and is unable or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country; or who, not having a nationality and being outside the country of his former habitual residence as a result of such events, is unable or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to return to it. The Convention also provides a set of rights for refugees, most fundamentally the right of non-​refoulment—​the right not to be forcibly repatriated to their country of origin (p. 33). Even so, like other legal instruments that came before it (e.g. the Convention Relating to the International Status of Refugees of 1933, and the Convention of 1938 Concerning the Status of Refugees Coming from Germany), the 1951 Convention was Eurocentric in its scope (Ferris & Donato, 2020). The Convention was framed by the U.S. and its European allies. As such, its coverage was limited to displaced Europeans (Loescher, 2021). The Convention targeted refugees by country of origin or nationality, focusing on specific ethnocultural groups, such as Jews, Russians, and Germans, affected by events before 1951. On the other hand, forced displacement of people continued outside Europe; the partition of the Indian subcontinent, the formation of Israel, the Korean War, and liberation movements and conflicts in Africa displaced millions of people. It was therefore urgent to expand the reach of the Convention, and the UN ratified the 1967 Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees. The 1967 Protocol acknowledged that “new refugee situations have arisen”, making it “desirable that equal status should be enjoyed by all refugees covered by the definition in the Convention, broadening limits on time, cause or location of displacement”.2 In addition to these global instruments, there have also been regional strategies, including the 1969 Convention Governing the Specific Aspects of Refugee Problems in Africa and the 1984 Cartagena Declaration on Refugees (Central America, Mexico, and Panama). These regional instruments played

African refugees in Australia  21 Table 2.1 The evolution of the global refugee regime Key refugee organisations

Date of establishment

High Commissioner for 1921 Refugees (HCR) High Commissioner for Refugees from Germany (HCRG)

1933

Intergovernmental Committee on Refugees (IGCR)

1938

United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Agency (UNRRA)

1943

International Refugee Organization (IRO) Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR)

1946 1950

Main mandates •  providing travel documents to designated groups of displaced people •  directing relief efforts to respond to the growing famine in Russia •  repatriating those who were forced to flee Nazi Germany (Jews and other minorities) •  investigating settlement opportunities across the world •  administering intergovernmental efforts to resettle refugees from Nazi Germany •  overseeing repatriation of “displaced persons” from Central Europe and other areas to their home countries •  providing temporary emergency assistance for the millions of displaced persons •  facilitating overseas resettlement of refugees and displaced persons •  providing protection, assistance, and permanent solutions (e.g. repatriation and resettlement) to refugees and internally displaced persons

Source: Compiled by the author.

key roles in expanding the evaluative spaces of refugee status. Guided by the provisions of the Convention and the Protocol, the UNHCR assisted millions of refugees fleeing fascism, communism, and civil war. The UNHCR had a modest origin, with a staff of only a few hundred and an annual budget of US$300,000. At its creation, it had an uncertain future. But in its over seven decades of existence, the agency has become a truly global organisation. With over 16,000 staff and an annual budget of US$8.6 billion, the UNHCR has successfully resettled over 50 million refugees.3 In more recent years, due in part to increased violence and crisis in Africa, the Middle East, and South America, the number of forcibly displaced people has reached a new height (IOM, 2020; OECD, 2019; UNHCR, 2020). The UNHCR’s 2021 report on global trends of forced displacement shows that, at the end of 2021, there were close to 90 million forcibly displaced people, including over 27 million refugees and 53 million internally displaced persons (UNHCR, 2022). The report also shows that only a very small proportion of refugees have been resettled in economically advanced and politically stable countries (in 2020, the U.S., Canada, and European countries collectively

22  Context and concepts resettled only 30,400 refugees). Even so, the integration outcomes of refugees remain a critical concern in destination countries. In response to the global mass displacement, there have been international efforts to meet the complexity of the economic, social, and educational needs of refugees. Especially following recent mass displacement in parts of Africa, the Middle East, and Latin America, the UN initiated a global effort to support refugees. Subsequently, in September 2016, the UN convened its first ever Global Summit on Refugees and Migrants. All 193 member states of the UN unanimously adopted the New York Declaration for Refugees and Migrants (UN, 2016). The Declaration specifically aimed to widen refugees’ access to social and economic opportunities. Signatory governments expressed their commitment to widening educational opportunities for refugee children and youth. Further, under the Global Compact on Refugees, the United Nations General Assembly emphasised that integration necessitates “preparedness on the part of refugees to adapt to the host society” as well as “a corresponding readiness on the part of host communities and public institutions to welcome refugees and to meet the needs of a diverse population” (UNGA, 2018, para. 98). Likewise, the 2018 Kolkata Declaration4 on the state of the global protection system for refugees and migrants stated that any humanitarian protection framework “must combat discrimination based on race, religion, caste, ability, sexuality, gender and class that affect rights and dignity of all human beings”. Notwithstanding international calls for effective refugee resettlement and integration (e.g. OECD & EU, 2018; UNGA, 2018; UNHCR, 2019), forcibly displaced people still face visible and invisible barriers. 2.2.2  Australian context

Australia is a country of migrants (see the epigraph of Chapter 7). Since 1948, on average, the nation has resettled around 100,000 migrants annually (see Figure 2.1). Australia’s migration programme has two components targeting (a) skilled and family entrants and (b) humanitarian entrants. Between 1947 and 1951, within the framework of the International Refugee Organisation (IRO), the Australian government resettled close to 184,000 European refugees (Loescher, 2021). In the last 75 years, Australia has resettled on average around 12,000 refugees annually, including those from sub-​Saharan African countries (DOHA, 2019a). The government spends millions of dollars supporting refugee resettlement and integration. Refugees have access to socioeconomic resources and, over time, they become citizens. However, for many refugee groups, officially swearing the oath of citizenship does not necessarily entitle them to full membership in society. Australia prides itself on its successful migration programme, which consists of two main streams: the Migration Programme for skilled and family entrants, and the Humanitarian Programme (established as a separate migration stream in 1977) for refugees and those in refugee-​like situations. Following the end of World War II, Australia desperately needed to boost its population for both

African refugees in Australia  23

Figure 2.1 Australia’s net overseas migration, 1861–​2021. Source: ABS (2021); provided under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International licence.

economic and political reasons (Hirst, 2016). Economically, the government was keen to increase the population in order to stimulate post-​war economic development by attracting a qualified labour force. Politically, the government wanted to boost the number of people able to defend the country in the event of another war. With the emergence of powerful nations in the region (e.g. the rise of Japan), there was a concern about the possibility of foreign military invasion. Populating the continent was seen as a critical measure “to boost Australia’s population and economy so that it could better defend itself against the ‘yellow peril’ in the next Pacific war” (Hirst, 2016, p. 129) and this was done around the slogan of “populate or perish”. These economic and political factors—​the need for skilled labour force, and the sense of isolation and fear of the nearby aliens—​were captured in a parliamentary statement of the first minister of immigration Arthur Calwell: The call to all Australians is to realise that without adequate numbers this wide brown land may not be held in another clash of arms, and to give their maximum assistance to every effort to expand its economy and assimilate more and more people who will come from overseas to link their fate with our destiny. (1946, p. 2) Against the backdrop of a limited number of British immigrants willing to resettle in Australia, the government had to reassess its migration policy. In 1947, in light of its own national interest, Australia introduced the Displaced Persons Scheme to resettle Europeans displaced by the war. At first, a

24  Context and concepts humanitarian settlement was left to nomination by family members who lived in Australia (Calwell, 1946). In 1947, during his visit to Europe, Arthur Calwell met with representatives of the IRO and agreed to consider immigration to Australia from the displaced persons camps in Europe. In the same year, Australia introduced the Displaced Persons Scheme, whereby the government agreed to resettle 12,000 displaced persons each year (DIBP, 2015). In the first year, 839 physically strong and young migrants from the Baltic states of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania came to Australia under the Displaced Persons Scheme (DIBP, 2015). In the subsequent two decades, there were a total of 170,000 European humanitarian immigrants from the Baltic states, Poland, Ukraine, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and Yugoslavia (DIBP, 2015; Hist, 2016). After ratifying the 1951 United Nations Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees in 1954 and the 1967 Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees in 1973, Australia started resettling humanitarian entrants through the UNHCR (Koser, 2015). The offshore resettlement component offers resettlement in Australia to those currently overseas. It consists of two categories of visa: Refugee visas (for offshore people identified as refugees under the Refugee Convention and referred to Australia for resettlement by the UNHCR) and Special Humanitarian Programme visas—​introduced by the Fraser government in 1981, this visa category benefits people living outside their home country who are subject to substantial discrimination amounting to gross violations of human rights in their home country. The onshore component offers protection to asylum-​seekers arriving in Australia who are found to be refugees, as defined by the Refugee Convention. Asylum-​seekers can include those who arrive in Australia on a valid visa and subsequently apply for protection and those who arrive without a valid visa. In the last 75 years, Australia has resettled more than 900,000 refugees and other displaced people (DOHA, 2021); that is, on average, over 12,000 refugees have arrived each year. At present, measured in per capita terms, Australia has one of the most generous refugee resettlement programmes in the world. However, two caveats are in order here, as will be discussed in subsequent chapters. First, how—​and who—​ the government includes as part of their annual refugee intakes remains contentious. Second, refugee integration outcomes remain poor for some cultural communities and groups. Even so, it is imperative to note that, for decades, permanent immigration was restricted to those of British, or at least European, descent. One of the first Commonwealth laws passed after the Federation was the Immigration Restriction Act 1901. The Act provided the legal framework for the White Australia policy and a “dictation test”, which precluded people from Africa and Asia from applying for immigration. Under Section 3(a) of the Act, an immigrant with “questionable” physical features had to sit for a dictation test whereby 50 words in any European language could be dictated by customs officials. If the immigrant failed to write the 50 words, they would be declared a prohibited immigrant, sentenced to short-​term imprisonment, and prevented from entering Australia (Ward, 1977). Further, the 1901 parliamentarian

African refugees in Australia  25 debates on the Immigration Restriction Bill showed that economic agendas and “naked racism” underpinned the establishment of the White Australia policy. As renowned Australian historian Russel Ward wrote: It is true that nearly all speakers on the Bill mentioned the economic threat of cheap coloured labour and the need to protect the high (white) Australian standard of living. Many made much of these arguments; but all speakers, implicitly or explicitly, made even more of racist arguments about the “innate inferiority” of coloured people, the need to guard against “contamination”, preserve “the purity of the blood” and so on. (1977, pp. 33–​35) Up until the 1970s, the selection of refugees for settlement in Australia excluded non-​Europeans, on the pretext of concerns about assimilation. In fact, the history and trends of refugee settlement in Australia was characterised by racial exclusion. In other words, for a long period of time, the migration policy of the government was underpinned by the goal of maintaining racial homogeneity. For example, in 1938, at the Évian Conference (France) that established the Intergovernmental Committee on Refugees (see Table 2.1), the international community gathered to address the problem of German Jews who faced danger and wished to flee racial harassment. Although it eventually agreed to resettle thousands of Jews on humanitarian grounds, the Australian government was reluctant to commit, and its delegate T. W. White was said to have argued, “as we have no real racial problem, we are not desirous of importing one” (Mence et al., 2017, p. 20). In 1946, at the Commonwealth Parliamentary Debate, Calwell, who was “a ferocious defender of the White Australia policy” (Hirst, 2016), commented, “Aliens are and will continue to be admitted only in such numbers and of such classes that they can be readily assimilated. Every precaution is taken to ensure that they are desirable types” (Calwell, 1946, pp. 1–​ 2). The economic agendas and racist underpinnings of the Displaced Persons Scheme are expressed in another statement by Calwell, regarding the profile of the first European refugees who were assisted in settling in Australia in 1947: We would bring one shipload with nobody under fifteen and nobody over thirty-​five, all of whom had to be single …. Many were red-​headed and blue-​ eyed. There was also a number of natural platinum blondes of both sexes. The men were handsome and the women beautiful. It was not hard to sell immigration to the Australian people once the press published photographs of that group. (DIBP, 2015, p. 28, emphasis added) However, with strong pressure from the UN and other internal political dynamics, Australia was eventually forced to abandon its racist immigration policy. To begin with, the introduction of the Migration Act 1958 replaced the old Immigration Restriction Act of 1901 and repealed the dictation

26  Context and concepts test, thereby dismantling part of the White Australia policy (Ward, 1977). Relatedly, there was a political will to admit immigrants on the grounds of suitability as settlers, which mainly measured the “ability to integrate readily” and possession of valuable qualifications (DIBP, 2015). Hence, in the 1960s, “distinguished and highly skilled non-​ Europeans” (London, 1970) started coming in considerable numbers. Following a review of the restrictive migration policy (the White Australia policy), in 1966, Australia ended official prohibitions on non-​European immigrants. The selection of migrations focused on their (a) suitability to settle, (b) ability to integrate, and (c) professional qualifications, regardless of their race or nationality (Mence et al., 2017). The selection criteria prioritised economic contribution instead of cultural affiliation, allowing non-​White skilled individuals to apply for permanent migration. In 1966, the minister for immigration announced, “Applications for migration would be accepted from well-​qualified people on the basis of their suitability as settlers, their ability to integrate readily and their possession of qualifications positively useful to Australia” (DIBP, 2015, p. 67). As a result, the arrival of non-​European migrants increased significantly (from 750 in 1966 to 2,700 in 1971). The 1970s ushered in a new chapter in Australia’s refugee settlement programme. In 1973, the Whitlam Labor government officially abandoned racial criteria in selection procedures for permanent settlers and, with that, a “long, slow death” of the White Australia policy was concluded (Tavan, 2005). In 1975, after ratifying the United Nations International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (CERD), the government passed the Australian Racial Discrimination Act as a basis for non-​ discriminatory immigration and employment policies and other institutional practices. In articulating his determination to end any form of racial discrimination, Prime Minister Gough Whitlam stated: Just as we have embarked on a determined campaign to restore the Australian Aborigines to their rightful place in Australian society, so we have an obligation to remove methodically from Australian laws and practices all racially discriminatory provisions, and from international activities any hint or suggestion that we favour policies, decrees or resolutions that seek to differentiate between peoples on the basis of their skin. As an island nation of predominantly European inhabitants situated on the edge of Asia, we cannot afford the stigma of racialism. (1997, p. 94) Australia also introduced its specific refugee policy, the Humanitarian Programme, in 1977. The programme was designed to deal with refugee and humanitarian issues, such as the resettlement of Indo-​Chinese refugees. It also established mechanisms to determine onshore protection claims (DIBP, 2015). With these developments, Australia started to widen the scope of its refugee settlement in terms of geographical targets. Consequently, from the

African refugees in Australia  27 mid-​1970s onwards, non-​European immigration grew considerably (Markus et al., 2009). As is outlined in the founding document (Galbally, 1978), one of the guiding principles of Australia’s multiculturalism was that “every person should be able to maintain his or her culture without prejudice or disadvantage and should be encouraged to understand and embrace other cultures” (p. 4). As time went by, deep-​seated anxieties about an Asian invasion that informed the White Australia policy gave way to economic and political optimism that underpinned the multicultural agenda. In the late 1970s, in response to the arrival of a considerable number of non-​ European immigrants, Australia adopted multiculturalism as an official policy (see Chapter 7). Following the abandonment of the White Australia policy, Australia settled thousands of refugees from Central and South America, Lebanon, and Vietnam. From the 1980s onwards, Australia’s Humanitarian Programme reached a global scope, receiving humanitarian settlers from Africa and the Middle East who were affected by famine, civil war, and political unrest. The next section focuses on African refugees. 2.2.3  The arrival of African refugees

People of African descent have a long history of settlement in Australia. Historical accounts show that at least 11 Black Africans landed with the First Fleet that arrived in Sydney Cove in January 1788, along with more than 1,300 convicts (Pybus, 2006). Although the presence of Black Africans in Australia traces back to the beginning of the colonial settlement, they had to wait until the end of the White Australia policy to immigrate to Australia in considerable numbers. In the years between 1945 and 1975, only 85,000 Africans (mainly from Egypt, Mauritius, South Africa, and other Commonwealth countries) arrived in Australia as permanent settlers. Those settlers accounted for only 2.4 per cent of all settler arrivals during the same period (see Figure 2.2). However, following the abandonment in 1973 of the White Australia policy that prohibited the permanent settlement of non-​ European people, sub-​ Saharan Africans started arriving in considerable numbers as permanent settlers. In 20 years (1975/​76–​1995/​96), a total of over 86,000 sub-​Saharan Africans settled in Australia—​accounting for 4.3 per cent of the total permanent migrant population arriving over the same period. In the next 20 years, the flow of sub-​Saharan Africans to Australia significantly increased. From 1996/​97 to 2016/​17, a total of approximately 269,000 Black Africans resettled in Australia, accounting for over seven per cent of the total 3.7 million people who permanently migrated to Australia. Most immigrants from sub-​Saharan African countries arrived in Australia under skilled and humanitarian visa categories. Those who resettled in Australia under skilled visas originated primarily from South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Kenya. In fact, historical data accessed through the DOHA shows that the figures of sub-​Saharan African permanent migrants in Australia have been dominated by South Africans and Zimbabweans (mainly non-​natives who left

28  Context and concepts

Figure 2.2 African permanent migration to Australia, 1945–​2017. Source: Author, based on data from DOHA (2019b).

former extractive and settler colonies). For instance, according to the 2021 Census, there are close to 400,000 Australian residents born in sub-​Saharan African countries—​over 73 per cent of them came from five countries: South Africa, Zimbabwe, Mauritius, Kenya, and Nigeria. Most of the remaining come from the main countries of origin of African refugees, namely Ethiopia, Sudan, Eritrea, Somalia, South Sudan, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Sierra Leone, and Liberia. A significant number of African immigrants came under permanent humanitarian visas (DOHA, 2019a; Hugo, 2013; Jakubowicz, 2010). As one of the signatories to the United Nations Refugee Convention, Australia resettles thousands of refugees annually. Africa is one of the top priority regions for Australia’s humanitarian migration programme. The first substantial number of African refugees (106 in total, including 96 Ethiopians5) arrived on humanitarian visas and settled in Melbourne in 1984 (RCA, 2016). In the second half of the 1990s, the resettlement of African refugees increased considerably. Between 2000 and 2011, slightly over 20 per cent of all humanitarian stream migrants came from sub-​Saharan Africa (PC, 2016). In the first decade of the century alone, more than 48,000 Africans were settled in Australia under the Humanitarian Programme, and Africa remained one of the three regions targeted as priorities by the DIAC (DIAC, 2010, p. 10). Sudan and Ethiopia are the top two seven countries of origin of African refugees in Australia. The eight MCOAR in Australia are the Democratic Republic of Congo, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Somalia, South Sudan, and Sudan (see Figure 2.3).

African refugees in Australia  29

Figure 2.3 Number of Africa-​born people (from MCOAR) in Australia by census years. Source: Author, based on data from ABS (2022); DOHA (2018); DSS (2013); Jakubowicz (2010).

Africa remains one of the priority regions of Australia’s Humanitarian Programme. During the 2019–​ 2020 Humanitarian Programme, over 30 per cent (or 1,951) of those who received the Offshore Refugee Category Visa were from four African countries: Democratic Republic of Congo, Central African Republic, Eritrea, and Ethiopia. However, refugee-​background African communities live on the fringe of society. The 2016 Census shows that the unemployment rate of refugee-​background Africans was over three times higher than the national average, that is, 6.9 per cent (Molla, 2021a). The group also has low educational attainment and a limited level of social engagement (Molla, 2021b, 2021c). There is, therefore, a need for research and policy attention to understand and improve the conditions of African Australian youth from refugee backgrounds. 2.3 Representation Destination societies make sense of new arrivals (refugees and migrants) through specific frames of reference (see Chapter 9 for details). Moscovici (1988) used social representation theory to explain how people interact with newcomers. Social representations help people make sense of their observations and practices, making social order and communication possible. Moscovici (1988) identified two interdependent processes of representation: objectification and anchoring. Objectification refers to the process of transforming what is held as abstract (e.g. judgements and assumptions about an out-​group) into something concrete (e.g. categorical and shared

30  Context and concepts labels about the group) (Moscovici, 1988). It entails projecting shared images and frames to social groups. For example, in Australia in the 1950s and 1960s, against the backdrop of the widely endorsed White Australia policy of the time, immigrants from southern Europe were devalued as “undesirable” and “semi-​White” (Bottomley, 1995). Objectification works through framing; it employs frames as an instrument of selection and emphasis. Relatedly, as Moscovici (1988) argued, “all representations arise from our need to turn the strange into something familiar” (p. 234). Anchoring refers to this process of placing the unfamiliar within the existing frames of reference. To illustrate, in the 1980s and 1990s, refugee-​background Vietnamese youth in Australia were framed as “dangerous gangs” (Cunneen, 1995; White, 1996). In the late 1990s and the early 2000s, that label was used for newly arriving young people of Middle Eastern origin (Al-​Natour, 2017; Poynting, 2002; Randa, 2007). In their insightful book Framers, Cukier et al. (2021) characterised frames as “mental models” that “simplify, fortify, and amplify how we conceive the world so we can act in it” (p. 57). That is, framing is a means to an end. For example, as is shown later, racial objectification or framing is often used as an instrument of racial marginalisation. Social actors “see nothing but the object or being that they have in mind” (Moscovici, 1988, p. 230). Focusing on the interaction of migrants and destination societies, Deaux (2006) described social representations in terms of “the shared images” that people have of newcomers. As is empirically illustrated below, the formation and circulation of such images are heavily associated with media and political discourses that shape the views and conceptions of individuals. In destination societies, refugees are routinely securitised. Governments focus on assimilability of refugees (see Ong’s words in the epigraph of this chapter). Media commentators and politicians securitise refugee resettlement, conceiving them as threats to national security and cultural identity. As a result, providing refuge for persecuted populations has increasingly become an arduous political decision. An issue is securitised when it is presented as “an existential threat, requiring emergency measures and justifying actions outside the normal bounds of political procedure” (Buzan et al., 1998, p. 24). For many in destination societies, refugees represent the “great unknown” and trigger fear (Bauman 2004); they bring the “discomfort of strangers” (Noble, 2005). The arrival of the “stranger” at the national border and in the neighbourhood activates insecurity and creates a condition of discomfort. Refugees are inevitably objects of suspicion, which can be associated with identity politics or just basic human psyche—​a desire for stable familiarity. For example, Bauman (2016) noted that some people in refugee-​receiving nations suffer from mixophobia or the “fear of the unmanageable volume of the unknown, untameable, off-​putting and uncontrollable” (p. 15). Even for those who have no such conditions, “strangers tend to cause anxiety precisely because of being ‘strange’—​and so, fearsomely unpredictable, unlike the people with whom we interact daily and from whom we believe we know what to expect” (p. 15). At a much deeper level, refugees are seen as bearers of “ill tidings”:

African refugees in Australia  31 [They] bring home distant noises of war and the stench of gutted homes and scorched villages that cannot but remind the settled how easily the cocoon of their safe and familiar (safe because familiar) routine may be pierced or crushed and how deceptive the security of their settlement must be. (Bauman, 2004, p. 63) In the eyes of the unwelcoming “Other”, refugees are “physically defiled and morally suspect” (Agier, 2008, p. 32). Moral panic is particularly effective when it is attached to societal grievance and anxiety. Woods (2014) observed, “Successful moral panics owe their appeal to their ability to find points of resonance with society’s wider anxieties, suggesting far deeper anxiety such as rapid social change, economic uncertainty, and lifestyle clashes between diverse social groups” (para. 2). When negative effects of globalisation hit their electorates, politicians tend to shift the blame to the powerless, and refugees become a “target for the surplus anguish” in society (Bauman, 2004, p. 63). As explicated below and in Chapter 9, through public discourses and political measures, African refugee youth in Australia are framed as dangerous and undesirable. 2.3.1  Racial prejudice as anchoring

In Australia, Black Africans enter an already racially charged settler society where First Peoples of the land live with legacies of dispossession and discrimination, and other refugee groups are stigmatised along racial or cultural lines. As a result, Black Africans are often anchored to pre-​existing racial frames. They have become subjects of racial prejudice. As E. B. White succinctly put it, “Prejudice is a great time saver. You can form opinions without having to get the facts”.6 When people’s actions and behaviours are guided by racial prejudice, they do not see the person in front of them but the cast of their prejudice. From the onset, Australia’s humanitarian resettlement programme has been characterised by racial discrimination. For instance, in the wake of World War II, Australia’s Displaced Persons Scheme was characterised by explicit racial bias, mainly excluding non-​European refugees. The pretext was (as it is today) concerns over the assimilation of refugees. Those refugees who were not considered “desirable types” (Calwell, 1946) faced objectification in the form of racial epithets. As Bottomley (1995) documented, South European immigrants were described as “cheap black labour” (p. 387). In 1947, in defending his decision to deport Chinese immigrants, Calwell was said to have declared, “Two ‘Wongs’ do not make a White” (Macintyre, 2009, p. 204). In time, the objects of racial framing have shifted. In the 1980s, the targets of crime racialisation were Vietnamese youth (Cunneen, 1995; White, 1996). At the peak of the “Vietnamese crime gangs” narrative, Bob White critiqued: The extra “visibility” of young ethnic minority people feeds the media moral panic over “youth gangs”, as well as bolstering a racist stereotyping based upon physical appearance. It is assumed, for example, that because

32  Context and concepts someone is a Vietnamese youth they must be a troublemaker, a “gangster” type looking to commit a crime. Rarely are such young people considered to be “victims” or rights-​holders with a legitimate stake in Australian society—​ the predominant image is one of deviance and criminality. (White, 1996, pp. 306–​307) In the late 1990s and the early 2000s, it was Arab-​background youth who were anchored to categories of violence and undesirability (Al-​Natour, 2017; Poynting, 2002; Randa, 2007). Starting from the mid-​2000s and throughout the 2010s, people of “African appearance” have become objects of a racist gaze (Macaulay & Deppeler, 2020; Majavu, 2020; Molla, 2021a, 2021c; Windle, 2008). What White noted 25 years ago about Vietnamese youth rings true now to the circumstances of Africans. In the last two decades, with the arrival of a considerable number of African refugees, Australian conservative politicians and media commentators anchored the newcomers to the existing categories of undesirability, labelling them as “violent gangs” and thereby triggering racial moral panic (see details in Chapters 8 and 9). African youth have been anchored to pre-​existing racial frames and labelled as a “problem group”—​ they have been subject to exaggerated and ideology-​driven moral outrage. As is discussed in Chapter 9, conservative politicians and media personalities routinely conjure up images of menacing Black African youth. As reflected in the epigraph at the beginning of this chapter, public debates in many countries distinguish “good” from “bad” immigrant groups. “Good” groups are characterised as hard-​working and law-​abiding and, hence, deserving of reasonable multicultural accommodations. “Bad” groups may be seen as illegal or lazy, or as prone to crime, religious fanaticism, or political extremism (Banting & Kymlicka, 2006). In this respect, unlike the “good refugees” (Anderson, 2012) who arrived before the end of the White Australia policy in 1973, recent non-​White humanitarian arrivals are often framed as “undesirable immigrants” (Dyrenfurth, 2005). In his 2019 Kep Enderby memorial lecture that marked the anniversary of the Racial Discrimination Act (1975), award-​winning Australian author Thomas Keneally7 noted that, through time, targets of racial stereotyping have shifted from South European immigrants to Asians and Muslims. Sadly, now the hysterical racial attack targets people of African origin. Half a century after the end of the White Australia policy, we continue to witness lingering relics of racial stigma and discrimination. In recent years, the public debate homogeneously depicts Black African youth as dangerous and, hence, undesirable. The social representations of the group as “crime gangs” and “violent thugs” expose people of African descent in society to unjustified distrust, hostility, and stigma. Effects of racial prejudice can be detrimental. For example, when you are judged by the character of others, as a Black person, the price you pay for belonging is far too high. In the face of a widespread racial moral panic, your presence in the public sphere triggers a “presumption of dangerousness”; you walk into shopping centres only to face a suspicious gaze of salespersons; on the train, you notice people prefer standing

African refugees in Australia  33 for tens of minutes rather than sitting next to you. In all these circumstances, your humanity is misrecognised; you are robbed of your dignity. Dealing with all these daily encounters without sliding from your moral ground, or without losing sight of your valued mission in life, demands a high degree of resilience. 2.3.2  From anchoring to Othering

Sustained and negative anchoring can evolve into a more damaging racial vilification and Othering. In destination societies, exaggerated racial prejudice towards visibly different refugee groups can lead to racial moral panic. Sociologist Stanley Cohen popularised the term “moral panic” in the 1970s. Cohen (2011) used moral panic to explain how the media exaggerates events and actors through sensational headlines and melodramatic language, with the consequence of heralding threats to societal safety and thereby instilling fear of the “Other”. He specifically applied the term to explain the interplay of crime representation in the media and social reaction in the UK. Moral panic emerges when “a condition, episode, person or group of persons emerges to become defined as a threat to societal values and interests; its nature is presented in a stylised and stereotypical fashion by the mass media”, which is then echoed by politicians and experts (Cohen, 2011, p. 1). Moral panic creates “folk devils” that pose a threat to the security and values of society (Cohen, 2011). Cohen emphasised that the notion of moral panic does not necessarily imply that a problem is non-​existent; rather, it means that its significance has been exaggerated, often informed by the ideological orientation of the dominant group. Targets of moral panic are labelled with demeaning stereotypes. The politics of racial Othering follows what Chomsky (1989) characterised as the narrative formula of children’s books: “Life is simple when there are heroes to admire and love, and devils to fear and despise” (p. 387). People racialise violence when they frame causes and perpetrators of criminal activities along racial lines, with the aim of (a) Othering members of a specific racial group and (b) triggering xenophobic fears in the wider public. Politicians perform Othering by linking racial minority groups to security, cultural, or economic concerns and thereby triggering grievances in society. Kagedan (2020) argued: The politics of Othering involves a clever weaving of fact (often paltry but exaggerated) and fiction intended to demean a group—​or even to demonise it—​in advance of politicians using fear and dislike of the group to create policies and laws against them. (p. 125) In essence, Othering is a discursive instrument of power; it creates and essentialises the Other who does not fit in. As Staszak (2020) noted, whereas difference “belongs to the realm of fact”, Otherness “belongs to the realm of discourse” (p. 25). In the case of African youth in Australia, the politics of Othering is expressed in the form of racialisation of violence (see Chapter 9).

34  Context and concepts Racialisation refers to the process of assigning racial meanings to specific undesirable events and phenomena; it includes the practice of centring race as a key factor in defining and explaining social problems, such as violence, pandemic, and poverty (Murji & Solomos, 2005). Politicians and media personalities on the political right advance the “African gangs” narrative and thereby sew unfounded fear towards Black youth. The racialisation of violence is by no means unique to Australia. The rise of excessive nationalism that has caused political rupture and racial tensions in many historically liberal democratic societies (Bergmann, 2020; Castells, 2018) means that refugees face hostile resettlement environments. Proponents of the Great Replacement Theory in Europe and the U.S. (Camus, 2012), the Sharia Panic in the U.S. (Serwer, 2011), and the anti-​immigrant paranoia that underpinned Brexit (King, 2020) raise spectres of crisis and danger associated with outgroups—​the Other. For instance, a recent study that covered 12 EU member states concluded “simply ‘being Black’ means often facing entrenched prejudice and exclusion” (EUAFR, 2018, p. 3). The report also highlighted that Black Africans experience racial harassment ranging from offensive non-​verbal cues and offensive comments to threats of violence. However, it is equally imperative to note that not all refugees are the subjects of racial Othering. Writing from the context of Canada, Kumsa (2006) argued that African refugees are seen as “embody[ing] the violence that created them … feared and Othered as though they were that violence itself ” (p. 240). Black people also face racial stigmatisation in China (Castillo, 2016), South Africa (Waiganjo, 2018) as well as Brazil, Israel, and the U.S. (Lamont et al., 2016). In the context of the U.S., Ong (2003) noted, “The tendency to frame ideas about immigrants in terms of a bipolar racial order has persisted, and newcomers are located along the continuum from black to white” (p. 11). In Australia, refugees are divided by a colour line too. Black and White refugees are not treated equally. Drawing on accounts of lived experiences of White Bosnian refugees in Western Australia, Colic-​Peisker (2005) highlighted how the colour line continues to matter for the integration outcomes of immigrants: In everyday encounters, being [W]‌hite means being “invisible” and thus less likely to experience one’s own otherness through being exposed to prejudicial gazes in shops, public transport and on the street. Being “invisible” is an advantage in relevant social interactions such as gaining employment and housing and establishing social networks. (p. 621) Further, although every new immigrant is likely to face discrimination, the case of Black African youth is different from that experienced in the history of other refugee groups who were able to shade the status of Otherness in a generation by picking up the accent and/​or Anglicising their names. In the U.S., as Ignatiev (1995) showed, Irish immigrants were anchored to existing anti-​Black racist categories; they were called “niggers turned inside out” before they “became White”.

African refugees in Australia  35 In Australia, unlike the Italians, Bosnians, Greeks, or Arabs before them, Black Africans do not have the proximity to Whiteness to ease their ways to integration. Many scholars have studied the negative representation of African youth. Through an analysis of media reporting, Windle (2008) mapped patterns of racialising frames about Africans, while Nunn (2010) explored the racialisation of youth violence and its negative implications for integration outcomes of African refugees. Likewise, against the background of the politics of belonging, Nolan and his colleagues problematised racialised framing of Sudanese youth in Australian media (Nolan et al., 2016). Other social researchers, including Augoustinos et al. (2015), Macaulay and Deppeler (2020), Majavu (2020), and MacDonald (2017), documented trends of negative media representation of African youth and showed the reproduction of the marginal social position held by the group. Still others studied racial Othering and the essentialisation of skin colour in society (Udah, 2018; Udah & Singh, 2018) as well as racial discrimination in schools (Baak, 2019; Molla, 2021a). What is clear in the accounts of these scholars is that, under the racial moral panic framework, differences in skin colour or cultural practices are transferred into Otherness, creating a hierarchical relationship of Black Africans within the mainstream society. Racial moral panic conditions people to unreflectively attribute imagined identity to someone based on physical traits or their membership in a specific ethnocultural group. The negative meanings associated with people of African descent operate to obscure their actual identity and deprive them of full societal belonging. Those who are subjected to racial stigma and discrimination question whether they can ever become full members of Australian society. A member of the African Australian community expressed this frustration as follows: You start to feel that you have no place in this new land and you wonder what the experiences of your children will be as they grow up, and perhaps also find that the colour of their skin is the only reason that they will not be seen by some as belonging here. This is what I mostly fear. (AHRC, 2010, p. 8) There have been international initiatives to address the problem. In 2001, at the World Conference against Racism, Racial Discrimination, Xenophobia and Related Intolerance, member states of the UN adopted the Durban Declaration and Programme of Action to combat racial discrimination. In 2014, recognising the limited progress in enacting the Declaration, the United Nations General Assembly proclaimed 2015–​2024 the International Decade for People of African Descent. In recent years, with the intensification of populist political movements, racial stigma against Black people and other minorities in predominantly White societies has reached a new height, and it is unlikely that the problem will be solved by 2024 (the end of the International Decade for People of African Descent). The durability of racism and xenophobia underscores the importance of a continued collective commitment to addressing this challenge.

36  Context and concepts 2.4 Conclusion Australia is one of the most culturally diverse nations in the world. African heritage people constitute some of the visibly different minority groups in Australia. In the last four decades, Australia has resettled a considerable number of African refugees. Notwithstanding the availability of resources for refugee resettlement and integration programmes and services, African heritage humanitarian entrants remain on the margin of society. Those on the political right racialise youth violence to attack the nation’s multicultural project and demonise ethnocultural minority communities, including Black Africans. Thinking and acting within the violence narrative, politicians fail to protect equal dignity and overlook socioeconomic challenges of refugee youth. Genuine integration of refugees and other migrants necessitates sustained advocacy work that calls for public action in guaranteeing equal respect and dignifying representation for all. As Loury (2021) noted, “people do not freely give the presumption of equal humanity” (p. 88). Without substantive citizenship that combines legal entitlements, economic opportunities, and cultural recognition, African youth are unlikely to participate meaningfully in their communities. Equal recognition, standing, and opportunities can only be ensured through deliberate political intervention. Disadvantaged ethnocultural minorities require dignified representation if they are to more confidently demand respect, opportunity, and participation. Notes 1 The report can be accessed at www.nyti​mes.com/​2005/​02/​21/​nyreg​ion/​more-​afric​ans-​ enter-​us-​than-​in-​days-​of-​slav​ery.html. 2 See the details at www.unhcr.org/​prot​ect/​PRO​TECT​ION/​3b6​6c2a​a10.pdf. 3 For a brief history of UNHCR, see www.unhcr.org/​en-​au/​hist​ory-​of-​unhcr.html. 4 See the Declaration in full here https://​crs.info.yorku.ca/​kolk​ata-​decl​arat​ion. 5 The presence of Ethiopian heritage people in Australia dates to the mid-​1960s, well before the end of the White Australia policy. The first Ethiopian migrant in Australia, Mr Addis Tamiru, arrived in 1965 as an international student. Mr Tamru has been married to Mrs Lalian Nicholls, the daughter of Sir Douglas Nicholls, a prominent Aboriginal Australian from the Yorta Yorta people and a well-​known politician, athlete, rights and reconciliation campaigner, and pastor. 6 Quoted in www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/​pmc/​artic​les/​PMC​2874​349. 7 Keneally’s lecture can be accessed at https://​huma​nrig​hts.gov.au/​about/​news/​tho​mas-​ keneal​lys-​lect​ure-​aus​tral​ias-​race-​relati​ons-​leg​acy.

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3 Education and refugee integration A capability approach

The capability to read and write and count has powerful effects on our quality of life: the freedoms we have to understand the world, to lead an informed life, to communicate with others, and to be generally in touch with what is going on. (Jean Drèze and Amartya Sen, 2013) 3.1 Introduction Educational capability—​ one’s real opportunity to be well educated—​ foregrounds both the availability of substantive opportunities and the agency of target groups to transform the opportunities into valued outcomes. Education empowers refugees to be and do what they have a reason to value in their lives. For refugees to be economically productive and socially engaged, they need to acquire advanced knowledge and skills. Educational attainment is instrumental for integration and economic independence. Education enlightens refugees, enabling them to learn about themselves and the world around them while striving to rebuild their lives and communities. Educated communities can achieve rapid intergenerational social mobility through their determination, creativity, and idealism. In this respect, forcibly displaced people assign more value to their children’s education than to material possessions (Becker et al., 2020). With learning comes access to opportunities and subsequent self-​ reliance. Conversely, without access to lifelong learning opportunities, refugees are likely to remain vulnerable to fast-​paced changes in the world of work. Every year, the Australian Government spends millions of dollars supporting refugee resettlement and integration. However, since African refugees arrive with complex disadvantages, despite the availability of opportunities, integration outcomes of this group remain limited. This gap between resettlement policy intent and policy outcomes can be attributed to narrow spaces of assessment of disadvantage. Against this backdrop, specifically focusing on educational opportunities of African youth, I argue that improving integration outcomes of refugees necessitates public action informed by a capability approach (CA) to social welfare. Here the conceptual departure is in judging DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-4

Education and refugee integration  43 individual advantages or deprivation by what people can be or do, rather than through more common measures of their available pleasures and utilities or incomes and resources. In policy and research processes, what we find often depends on where we look. Our ability to fully appreciate and address the problem of inequality in part depends on our evaluative space or the informational basis of our judgement. Commonly, the analysis of educational disadvantage focuses on inequality of opportunities (e.g. lack of access to quality education and educational resources, unequal access to well-​ resourced schools, and limited access to high-​demand subjects), inequality of experiences (e.g. lack of access to effective teachers, experiences of racism, diminished sense of belonging in school, and curricular misrepresentation), and/​or inequalities of outcomes (e.g. poor academic results, low economic returns from qualifications). But this line of analysis does not fully acknowledge the less explicit factors underpinning educational disadvantage. To address this limitation, in assessing the educational disadvantage of equity targets such as refugees, we are required to ask: what relevant information should policymakers be looking for? Drawing on the CA to social welfare and justice, this chapter proposes an expansive evaluative framework. The remainder of the chapter is organised into two major sections. The first section elaborates on four elements that define the educational capability of refugee youth. The notion of educational capability underscores the importance of assessing educational equity in four distinctive evaluative spaces: substantive opportunities, conversion abilities, navigational capacity, and conditioned choice. The second section draws key implications of the idea of educational capability for policy, practice, and research. 3.2  Educational capability Disadvantage is multidimensional, and yet, explicitly or implicitly, policy decisions often rely on two competing informational bases: resources and utility. A resources-​based assessment foregrounds policies that tackle disadvantage by making sufficient resources available to target groups (Molla, 2018, 2021). Here, the informational basis of advantage is compared with equality of resources (Dworkin, 2002) or “primary goods” (Rawls, 2001). At the core of utilitarianism is maximising pleasure and avoiding pain. Bentham (1780/​2007) defined utility as “that principle which approves or disapproves every action whatsoever, according to the tendency which it appears to have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose interest is in question” (p. 4). Utilitarian policymakers assess well-​being and advantage in terms of preference satisfaction (Goodwin, 1995; Mulgan, 2007). The essential informational basis is happiness or desire fulfilment of the individual. In response to what he saw as key limitations of these two evaluative spaces, renowned economist and philosopher Amartya Sen developed a capability-​based assessment of well-​ being and disadvantage in society (Sen, 1987, 1992, 2003, 2009, 2017). The CA

44  Context and concepts has been subsequently elaborated by many scholars, such as Nussbaum (2011, 2019), Alkire (2002), and Robeyns (2017). As a normative evaluative framework, the CA assesses human well-​being (or quality of life) in terms of what options people have to be and do rather than what resources they have access to or the level of satisfaction they are able to attain. People are capable when they have true opportunities for well-​being and agency. For Sen (2003), “If life is seen as a set of ‘doings and beings’ that are valuable, the exercise of assessing the quality of life takes the form of evaluating these functionings and the capability to function” (p. 4). With enlarged freedom, individuals can pursue choices they value. A capability-​based assessment of disadvantage asks: “What are you able to do and be, in areas of importance in your life?” (Nussbaum, 2019, p. 241). The analytical focus is on people’s capability to function: what they can “do and be” as a result of possessing or having access to socioeconomic opportunities such as education. In education policy and practice, the answer to this question centres on the extent to which people have expanded educational capability, when they have the options to be well educated and can thus lead a life they have a reason to value. Refugees have real educational opportunities when they have the capability to be educated to a level allowing them access to the competitive labour market. A CA focuses on “the opportunity to fulfil ends and the substantive freedom to achieve those reasoned ends” (Sen, 2009, p. 234). It calls for removing structural barriers to freedom and widening access to substantive opportunities to address unjust inequality. Education is a foundational capability—​ it underpins vital beings and doings that constitute human well-​being in our time (see, e.g. the epigraph of this chapter, Drèze & Sen, 2013). Educational capability of refugees is a means and a marker of integration because educational attainment generates both intrinsic and instrumental values. It enhances employability and boosts social standing. It provides skills that generate income and paves the way to civic participation. Educational institutions also provide refugee youth with opportunities for contact and interactions with members of local host communities, thereby enhancing integration (Ager & Strang, 2008). Conversely, insufficient support and structural unfreedoms (e.g. racism, stigma, and discrimination) mean that refugee youth might retreat into themselves and become socially and academically disengaged. In assessing the educational capability of refugee youth, it is critical to ask if the unique conditions of the group have been recognised in policy provisions and to examine how life-​course trajectories of the youth might influence their educational aspirations, choice, and navigational capacity (Appadurai, 2013). This allows us to assess the structural and relational barriers that inhibit the refugees’ ability to take advantage of opportunities made available through equity instruments. Refugees have educational capability when (a) they have substantive opportunities to become well educated; (b) their conversion ability is not constrained by internal and external conditions; (c) they can escape the trap of conditioned choices; and (d) they have a strong navigational capacity to

Education and refugee integration  45 read the educational and career terrains in their host society. These four points are discussed here in turn. 3.2.1  Substantive opportunities

At the core of the CA is the claim that unjust inequality deserves public action in the form of equity policies and programmes. The ability of refugees to successfully integrate with the destination society mainly depends on the availability of substantive opportunities. For Sen (1999), there exists “a deep complementarity between individual agency and social arrangements” (p. xii). Society needs to provide substantive opportunities to those who are unfairly disadvantaged. When it comes to social arrangements (Sen, 2009), at least in democratic societies, citizenship comes with both rights and responsibilities. Seen from the CA vantage point, “all entitlements have an economic and social aspect, and that there is no coherent way of separating duties of justice from duties of material aid” (Nussbaum, 2019, pp. 236–​237). The availability of resources is directly linked with existing social arrangements, including public policies, programmes, and services. What refugees see as valuable and what they are able to achieve in education and in other spheres of life heavily depend on the social arrangements put in place to support them. Addressing educational disadvantage, for instance, necessitates public action (e.g. policy recognition of the unique challenges faced by refugee youth). A policy commitment to providing substantive educational opportunities to disadvantaged groups starts with recognising “the social causes of individual deprivation” (Sen, 2000, p. 8). To quote former U.S. President Harry S. Truman: If the ladder of educational opportunity rises high at the doors of some youth and scarcely rises at the doors of others, while at the same time formal education is made a prerequisite to occupational and social advance, then education may become the means, not of eliminating race and class distinctions, but of deepening and solidifying them. (1947, para. 5) Educational opportunities are substantive when they are sufficient and relevant to the needs and conditions of target groups, enabling them to achieve what they have a reason to value. Sufficiency is about the equitability of opportunities. It presupposes the recognition of the specific sources of disadvantage that require compensatory policy measures if they are to be ameliorated. Equitable educational opportunities are not necessarily equal. Equality assumes similarity of conditions and treatment, while equity calls for a reasonable adjustment to these conditions and treatment to provide compensational opportunities relevant to the conditions and needs of target groups so a level playing field can be realised. As such, the basic criteria of equity policies are “distributional appropriateness and sufficiency” (Gordon, 1999, p. 76). Equity provisions acknowledge that underrepresented groups may face

46  Context and concepts different systemic barriers and, therefore, may require additional support to overcome these barriers. A refugee student with a history of childhood trauma and violence, for example, will need additional resources to achieve the same outcomes as her peers. The policy question is, therefore, how well can people function with the resources they command? Relevance is about the extent to which the opportunities made possible through equity policies can be taken up by the target groups. As such, ensuring the relevance of policy provisions to the needs and conditions of equity targets is critical. Equity instruments in education provide substantive opportunities to the extent they make possible “the removal of various types of unfreedoms that leave people with little choice and little opportunity of exercising their reasoned agency” (Sen, 1999, p. 5). A policy commitment to providing substantive educational opportunities to refugee youth starts with recognising “the social causes of individual deprivation” (Sen, 2000, p. 8). In other words, the notion of substantive educational opportunities points to the dialectical interaction of personal disadvantage and social arrangements—​it entails the readiness of educational systems and institutions to respond to the unique needs of refugee students and provide real choice for success. Educational capability is both a marker and a means of refugee integration. It is only through widening access to substantive opportunities that we can ensure refugees do not become “human waste, with no useful function to play in the land of their arrival” (Bauman, 2004, p. 72). In the case of visibly different refugee groups, substantiveness of opportunities entails equitable access to opportunities as well as equal recognition and representation. One of the markers of the disadvantaged position of African refugees is the problem of racial stigma they face in the public space. The need for respect and dignity is a shared human value. Rawls (2001) identified respect as a form of “primary goods” and argued that, in a just society, individuals “have a lively sense of worth as persons” and are “able to advance their ends with self-​confidence” (p. 59). Conversely, as Sen (2000) noted, people who experience racism and discrimination have diminished “social abilities”—​their substantive freedom “to appear in public without shame” and “to take part in the life of the community” is likely to be circumscribed (p. 13). Racial stigma and Othering constitute a deprivation of personhood and amount to existential inequality, which refers to “the unequal allocation of personhood, that is, of autonomy, dignity, degrees of freedom, and of rights to respect and self-​development” (Therborn, 2013, p. 49). Individuals stunted by humiliations and degradation are unlikely to realise their capabilities or participate actively in the socioeconomic lives of society. The damaging consequences of racial microaggressions (i.e. everyday prejudice and bias based on one’s racial background) include the self-​exclusion of African youth from academic and social activities. The substantiveness of people’s opportunities can be defined derivatively from what they are able to achieve (Sen, 1993). In other words, a capability-​ informed policy analysis moves from considering how well life is going for the community to investigating the opportunities people have had to achieve other

Education and refugee integration  47 alternative life options. Differences in educational attainment tell us little about the issue of disadvantage until we assess the real opportunities people have had and the choices they have made. The analysis of social arrangements moves from what people have achieved to the opportunities they had to achieve what they reflectively see as valuable. The backward analysis from life outcomes to substantive opportunities is instrumental in shedding light on why groups or individuals with similar educational capabilities might end up achieving different outcomes. This variability in conversion rates might be the result of differences in conversion abilities and/​or variability in personal preferences. This implies that an equitable distribution of resources can only take us halfway to addressing inequality. It is equally necessary to tackle factors that impede people’s agency and their ability to act and bring about change. Conversion ability and conditioned choices are discussed in turn below. 3.2.2  Conversion ability

Resources are means to achieve valued ends. Governments may put in place redistributive policy instruments to ensure that disadvantaged people have access to adequate and relevant opportunities. However, what matters is the extent to which policy target groups benefit from these opportunities. Substantive opportunity is not merely about providing access to resources but converting those resources into achievable options. The core assumption is that people’s ability to benefit from policy provisions is mediated by a range of variables and circumstances. In the space of equity policies, conversion factors—​conditions that influence “the degree to which a person can transform a resource into a functioning” (Robyens, 2017, p. 45)—​reflect one’s genuine options and opportunities, including rates of capital interaction. Sen (2009) identifies four categories of conversion factors: personal heterogeneities (e.g. gender, disability, and age), diversities in the physical environment (e.g. climatic circumstance and remoteness), variations in social climate (e.g. public policies, community relationships, and prevalence of violence), and differences in relational perspectives (e.g. factors that affect people’s ability to “appear in public without shame”). Sen stressed that interpersonal variations in conversion opportunities represent “pervasive variations in the human condition and in relevant social circumstances” (2009, p. 261) and “equality of holdings of primary goods or resources can go hand in hand with serious inequalities in actual freedoms enjoyed by different persons” (2017, p. 352). Also, conversion factors can expand or diminish people’s ability to transform resources they have into achievements they value. Seen from the capability perspective, resources are valuable to the extent they can be converted into achievable options and achievements. However, a resources-​based assessment of advantages and disadvantages does not take people’s ability to benefit from such resources into account—​the focus is on distribution, not on its disparate effects. As Sen (1992) argued, “The conversion of goods to capabilities varies from person to person substantially, and the

48  Context and concepts equality of the former may still be far from the equality of the latter” (p. 329). Hence, in concentrating on the distribution of assets, a resources-​based evaluation of well-​being and social justice ignores differences in people’s ability to make use of the resources available to them. People can have equal access to resources and still lead an impoverished life. In objecting to the resources-​ based evaluation of equality and well-​being, Sen (1992) argued: Equality of freedom to pursue our ends cannot be generated by equality in the distribution of primary goods. We have to examine interpersonal variations in the transformation of primary goods (and resources, more generally) into respective capabilities to pursue our ends and objectives. If our concern is with equality of freedom, it is no more adequate to ask for equality of its means than it is to seek equality of its results. Freedom relates to both, but does not coincide with either. (p. 87) Conversion ability refers to the capacity of equity targets to take advantage of the available options and resources. The conversion ability of equity targets, such as refugees, is a function of a range of factors, including personal heterogeneities, relational conditions, and life-​ course trajectories that can influence what people aspire to, choose, or achieve. Possession of resources is crucial, but the assessment of advantage should not stop at that. Sociologically speaking, Bourdieu and Passseron (1990) argued: Those who believe that everyone would be given equal access to the highest level of education and the highest culture, once the same economic means were provided for all those who have the requisite “gifts”, have stopped halfway in their analysis of the obstacles; they ignore the fact that the abilities measured by scholastic criteria stem not so much from natural “gifts” (which must remain hypothetical so long as educational inequalities can be traced to other causes), but from the greater or lesser affinity between class cultural habits and the demands of the educational system or the criteria which define success within it. (p. 22) In other words, a focus on the possession of material commodities neglects crucial personal heterogeneities. As Swartz (1997) noted, “Since there is an unequal distribution of resources for reality construction, not all actors are equally situated to understand and act upon the world in similar terms” (p. 57). For example, the extent to which African refugee youth benefit from HE equity policies is mediated by the group’s English language competence and academic preparation. The refugee youth must also adjust to new cultural settings and cope with the lingering effects of trauma that might have been sustained during forced displacement. Take a plausible scenario: a public university offers to admit refugee-​background students on special consideration. At the same

Education and refugee integration  49 time, the university maintains that it is a requirement for all applicants to have high-​level English language proficiency. Given most African refugees come from non-​English-​speaking countries, the equity provision of this university does not constitute a real opportunity. The refugee youth can hardly make use of this offer. Due in part to differences in conversion ability (associated with personal dispositions and social positions), refugee-​background students with the same amount and form of resources may not value or achieve the same ends. Integration opportunities (including access to education) are substantive to the extent that refugees’ conversion abilities are not constrained by internal and external factors. For instance, in the case of visibly different refugee groups, substantiveness of opportunities entails equitable access to opportunities as well as equal recognition and representation. Racial stigmatisation amounts to what Therborn (2013) called “existential inequality”, which refers to “the unequal allocation of personhood, i.e., of autonomy, dignity, degrees of freedom, and of rights to respect and self-​development” (p. 49). Individuals stunted by humiliations and degradations are unlikely to realise their capabilities and participate actively in socioeconomic lives in society. One of the markers of the disadvantaged position of African refugees is the problem of racial stigma they face in the public sphere. The need for respect and dignity is a shared human value. Rawls (2001) identified respect as a form of “primary goods” and argued that, in a just society, individuals “have a lively sense of worth as persons” and are “able to advance their ends with self-​confidence” (p. 59). A society that tolerates racial discrimination in schools and beyond cannot realise genuine equality. Notwithstanding the availability of educational opportunities, racialised youth may not be able to benefit from the opportunities these resources might otherwise provide. The idea of conversion ability shifts our attention from the availability of integration opportunities to the capacity of refugees to take up these opportunities. Here the argument is that, since people’s ability to convert opportunities into outcomes may vary due to external and internal conditions, equality in opportunities cannot be a reliable measure of equity. This tension means that it is critical to take both sides of the equation (opportunities and outcomes) as foci of analysis. 3.2.3  Navigational capacity

To locate resources and convert them into valued outcomes, people need to be able to navigate the education system. Navigational capacity refers to the ability to explore current opportunities to achieve a valued goal in the future (Appadurai, 2013). It combines a capacity to aspire and a strategic readiness to realise aspirations. Navigational capacity is activated and sustained by economic, cultural, and social resources. Appadurai (2013) stressed that the capacity to aspire is socially embedded—​it is “formed in interaction and in the thick of social life” (p. 187) and “the more privileged in any society simply have used the map of its norms to explore the future more frequently and more

50  Context and concepts realistically, and to share this knowledge with one another more routinely than their poorer and weaker neighbors” (p. 188). Socioeconomically disadvantaged individuals (e.g. African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds) are less likely to realistically connect immediate opportunities with future possibilities and seize the opportunities for realising their aspirations. While resources are important, what equally matters is the genuine freedom each person has to convert their bundle of resources into valued doings (e.g. studying for HE qualifications) and beings (e.g. being able to appear in public without shame or fear). Having a strong social network, occupational socialisation at home, and role models in the community play critical roles in broadening the aspirational horizons of young people. Given most African refugees in Australia are recent arrivals, they are unlikely to have an extended social network to rely upon, and relevant information about education and employment may not always be in the language they understand. As a result, they may find it difficult to realistically connect immediate opportunities with future possibilities and seize these opportunities to realise their goals. Disrupted educational trajectories, diminished social networks, and limited English language proficiency mean that they have limited “archives of experience” (Appadurai, 2013) to deploy as they explore the complex terrain of the Australian education system. In other words, our aspirations are necessarily intertwined with our opportunities, but our opportunities are also limited by the narrow horizons set when we do not understand the available pathways to our aspirations. Appadurai (2013) aptly explained this interaction: The capacity to aspire provides an ethical horizon within which more concrete capabilities can be given meaning, substance, and sustainability. Conversely, the exercise and nurture of these capabilities verifies and authorises the capacity to aspire and moves it away from wishful thinking to thoughtful wishing. (p. 193) Left simply as personal trouble, an individual’s inability to navigate opportunities results in self-​exclusion and disengagement from society. People’s means to achieve (resources) are distinctly different from their freedom to achieve (capability) and their actual achievements (functionings). Hence, the purpose of equity policy should be to enhance the capability of individuals by removing “various types of unfreedoms that leave people with little choice and little opportunity of exercising their reasoned agency” (Sen, 1999, p. xii). It is imperative to ask whether social arrangements provide the disadvantaged with “opportunities to navigate the social world as they see fit” (Claassen, 2017, p. 1291). Although disadvantaged individuals tend to have diminished “anticipatory dispositions” (McNay, 2008), there is room for schools to play positive roles in cultivating responsive aspirations for education and training. Navigational capacity grows, and the capacity to aspire flourishes, in time

Education and refugee integration  51 through exposure to genuine opportunities (Appadurai, 2013). Educational institutions can also play critical roles in tackling epistemic misrepresentation, promoting intercultural understanding, and equipping African youth with strategies and accurate, critical lenses that enable them to make sense of their aspirations, opportunities, and experiences. In Australian HE, “raising aspiration” of disadvantaged youth has been a key policy agenda (Bradley et al., 2008; Gale & Parker, 2014). Nonetheless, the “raising aspiration” policy discourse overlooks the fact that disadvantaged groups such as refugee youth do not necessarily lack aspiration for education—​ in fact, the value placed on education for upward mobility is often high among African refugee youth. What are not properly appreciated in the equity policy discourse are the differences in navigational capacities experienced by refugee youth when compared with other young people. Even though going to university might not be a desired future for all refugee African youth, secondary schools need to ensure that (a) these young people fully understand the value of university qualification; (b) they are aware that HE opportunities are available to them; and (c) they are able to effectively navigate alternative pathways to HE. Refugee youth develop a strong navigational capacity when they are able to evaluate opportunities, negotiate risk, make informed decisions, and respond to emerging possibilities and challenges. Providing timely and relevant information about available options is one way of enabling refugee youth to explore the education system effectively in destination societies. Most of these refugees come from countries where English is not the official working language, so low English language proficiency is another barrier to jobs and HE. Hence, enhancing the English language proficiency of refugee students is another way to expand their navigational capacity. 3.2.4  Conditioned choice

A capability-​based assessment of disadvantage and opportunity foregrounds the ability of people to exercise choices and enhances their freedom to act in the light of these choices. But choice is not solely personal; it is a function of socialisation. Bourdieu (1990) holds that individuals internalise objective contexts (rules, norms, expectations, values) through a gradual process of socialisation and form subjective conditions that define them as individuals. These internalised structures, in turn, form generative dispositions that function as schemes of perception and action, including preference formation, aspirations, and educational choice. That is, preference formation (such as setting agency goals and making choices) involves “an unconscious calculation of what is possible, impossible, and probable for people in their specific locations in a stratified social order” (Swartz, 2002, p. 64S). Specifically, when durable dispositions are accrued in the context of disadvantage, people tend to lower their “subjective expectation” of opportunities and “objective probability” of success (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1990, p. 156). Put differently, people’s choice in part reflects their lived experiences. Our disposition to act

52  Context and concepts in a particular way is derived from the internalisation of opportunities and constraints. For the disadvantaged, as Bourdieu (1984) noted, choice is often “produced by conditions of existence which rule out all alternatives as mere daydreams and leave no choice but the taste for the necessary” (p.178). In other words, people often tend to form adaptive preferences. When dispositions and preferences are accrued in the context of disadvantage, these tend to generate modulated aspirations; without intervention to disrupt the condition, deprived people tend to develop a sense of “putting up with fate” and conform to conditions of unjust inequality. In his critique of the utilitarian logic of subjective perception of preference satisfaction, Sen (2009, 2017) underscored that deprived people often adjust their aspirations to their situations and scale down their expectations. For Sen, proponents of utilitarianism overlook the impact of conformity in agency goal formation. Measuring individual advantages and disadvantages based solely on the subjective perception of the individual is problematic mainly because: Deprived groups may be habituated to inequality, may be unaware of possibilities of social change, may be hopeless about upliftment of objective circumstances of misery, may be resigned to fate, and may well be willing to accept the legitimacy of the established order. The tendency to take pleasure in small mercies would make good sense given these perceptions, and cutting desires to shape (in line with perceived feasibility) can help to save one from serious disappointment and frustration. The deprivations may, thus, be muted in the metric of happiness or desire fulfilment. But the real deprivations are not just washed away by the mere fact that in the particular utilitarian metrics of happiness and desire-​fulfilment such a deprived person may not seem particularly disadvantaged. (Sen, 1987, pp. 9–​10) This does not mean that a person’s perceptions are not important. Rather, the point is that the informational bases of disadvantage and well-​being should not be limited to subjective perceptions, because objective conditions are equally important. People tend to avoid unrealisable hopes and dreams. Disadvantaged people in particular may narrow their object of desire or their “slate of options” (Bandura, 1995) and defensively adjust their expectations to match what appears possible. In taking “pleasure in small mercies” (Sen, 2009), disadvantaged people avoid bitter disappointments—​they circumvent “cruel optimism” (Berlant, 2011). As such, the utilitarian emphasis on desire fulfilment can be misleading and unfair because: … our mental make-​up and desires tend to adjust to circumstances, particularly to make life bearable in adverse situations. It is through “coming to terms” with one’s hopeless predicament that life is made somewhat bearable by the traditional underdogs, such as oppressed minorities in intolerant communities, sweated workers in exploitative industrial arrangements,

Education and refugee integration  53 precarious share-​croppers living in a world of uncertainty, or subdued housewives in deeply sexist cultures. (Sen, 2009, pp. 282–​283) Choice can be dispositional, enacted without conscious calculation. Exposure to adverse environmental and socioeconomic conditions accumulates over time, and those with a disadvantaged biography are most likely to experience subsequent disadvantageous life trajectories. The state of being a refugee itself may create constraints internal to the individual (subjective conditions). Such constraints manifest in conditioned perceptions and scaled-​down aspirations. Hence, in the context where people from disadvantaged positions defensively adjust their expectations and scale back their aspirations, the achievement of agency goals, set in the context of deprivation, may not be indicative of equity in actual opportunities. As such, for policymakers, “the fulfilment of … disciplined desires is not a sign of great success” (Sen, 1987, p. 11). The CA emphasises people’s freedom to achieve (capabilities or substantive opportunities) over their achievement (functionings, outcomes) mainly based on the argument that a person can have a genuine advantage and still “muff ” them or sacrifice one’s well-​being for other goals (Sen, 1999). Still, translating aspirations into achievements is not solely informed by the past or “archives of experience” (Appadurai, 2013; Gale & Parker, 2015). The present equally matters. What we aspire to be and do is directly linked with the form and level of opportunities we have at our disposal. People make choices mainly in relation to what is available: “One does not choose between an abstract apple and an abstract orange, but rather between this apple and this orange at this time under these conditions” (Freese, 2009, p. 100). A person’s aspirations reflect “what an individual desires and what society can offer” (MacLeod, 2009, p. 7). Here, what society can offer can be a subjective evaluation or an objective reality. In some cases, “depressed aspirations” (MacLeod, 2009) can be a result of realistic assessment of one’s opportunities and natural assets, or a pragmatic decision to prioritise other goals. This implies that it is problematic to assess educational advantages and disadvantages based solely on what people have achieved vis-​à-​vis the available social arrangements. Inequality of functionings (e.g. transition to HE) do not necessarily imply inequality in opportunities (e.g. equity provisions)—​it can be the result of conditioned choices. Although not all people from disadvantaged backgrounds necessarily lack aspirations for education (Gale & Molla, 2015; Molla, 2021), individuals with past deprivation, regardless of their present opportunities, tend to have restrictive aspirations aligned with their experiences of disadvantage (Appadurai, 2013; Elster, 1983). Hence, in assessing educational inequality, we should be mindful of the contexts of aspiration formation and decision-​making as well as of disadvantaged individuals’ tendency to have diminished “anticipatory dispositions” (McNay, 2008). Without the right context for aspiration, as Appadurai (2019) noted, disadvantaged people lack “the privilege of risk-​taking”.

54  Context and concepts 3.3  Implications for policy, practice, and further research What should be our informational bases of judgement as policymakers and researchers in assessing educational disadvantage, opportunity, and outcomes of equity groups? Commonly, in policy reviews and scholarly analysis, the assessment of educational inequality focuses on the availability of equitable opportunities. In this theoretical chapter, I have argued for an expanded informational basis of equity assessment. Through expanding evaluative spaces of disadvantage, we can overcome the limits of assessing educational equity solely on the basis of equal access to opportunities. The analytical focus should be expanded to include both the availability of opportunities for disadvantaged people to become well educated (capabilities) and their actual achievement of being well educated (functionings). In other words, genuine equity requires considerations beyond making resources available to (or measuring the level of preference satisfaction of) target groups. Providing substantive educational opportunities to refugees necessitates acknowledging specific contexts of disadvantage and removing structural unfreedoms that might inhibit equity target groups from transforming opportunities into valuable outcomes. Context matters. The educational disadvantage of refugee students should not be studied in isolation from events and relations in other domains of life across their lifespans. Researchers and policymakers need to account for contextual factors that shape the agency and aspiration formation of the group. We need to account for life-​course trajectories and appreciate the cumulative effect of difficult life experiences on the group’s educational choice and experience. For instance, disrupted educational trajectories and associated effects of forced displacement (e.g. trauma and isolation) mean that, for refugee-​background students to succeed in education, institutions need to provide extra academic support. Unequal social and political circumstances (in matters of both redistribution and recognition) lead to unequal chances and capacities for decision-​ making. When this happens, it is our collective responsibility to redress unjust inequalities by providing targeted substantive opportunities. Seen from the capability perspective, grasping contexts of disadvantage necessitates two actions. First, in assessing educational disadvantage in relation to specific social arrangements (e.g. equity provisions), we should be mindful of the positionality of the policymakers. Sen (2009) pointed out that, in policy decisions, key actors need to be conscious of their “positional illusions” that may narrow the informational basis of their evaluations of public concerns. Second, policymakers need to take public consultation very seriously. One way of ensuring the relevance and sufficiency of educational opportunities to the needs and conditions of refugees is through public consultation. Broad-​ based community consultation enables governments to understand the specific conditions and needs of equity target groups, such as girls in rural areas, students with disability, and learners from historically marginalised ethnic groups. Clarity on these issues, in turn, makes it possible for policymakers to ensure educational opportunities are adequate, relevant,

Education and refugee integration  55 and convertible. However, the challenge with “public reasoning” (Sen, 2009) is that it presupposes a democratic political culture where people freely and reflectively express their wishes. In reality, as Sen (2009) noted, “the way people read the world in which they live” can be obscured by the relational and structural factors around them. For instance, due in part to political, cultural, and social barriers, people in less democratic countries may not be completely free to articulate their needs and aspirations during public consultation. Hence, public consultation needs to be complemented with policy research that both documents the specific challenges of target groups and outlines alternative possibilities. Disadvantage is plural (Wolff & de-​Shalit, 2007)—​it takes different forms and is caused by multiple factors. Social disadvantage entails “a range of difficulties that block life opportunities and which prevent people from participating fully in society” (Vinson et al., 2015, p. 19). The difficulties can be associated with structural, relational, and personal factors. People are disadvantaged when they lack the economic resources to meet their needs, are in poor health, lack education and training, or are subjected to discrimination (or inequitable treatment). In other words, key aspects of social disadvantage include poverty, deprivation, and exclusion (Saunders, 2011). And yet, explicitly or implicitly, policy decisions rely commonly on two competing informational bases: resources and utility. Resources-​ based assessment of advantages foregrounds policies that tackle disadvantages through making resources available to target groups. Here, the informational basis of advantage is compared with equality of resources (Dworkin, 2002) or “primary goods” (Rawls, 2001). A resources-​based evaluation of equity concentrates on the distribution of assets. In so doing, it ignores differences in people’s ability to make use of the resources available to them. For people to effectively make use of the resources at their disposal, they need conversion abilities. Equality of resources does not necessarily equate with equality of capabilities. On the other hand, as noted above, utilitarian-​based policymaking assesses well-​being in terms of preference satisfaction. The core informational basis is the happiness or desire fulfilment of the individual. The utilitarian approach to policy evaluation prioritises promoting the maximum total of utilities and preference satisfaction. Sen (2004) pointed out that a utilitarian approach to assessing human disadvantage is misleading because deprived people often adjust their aspirations to match their situations and therefore scale back their expectations to avoid bitter disappointments. People make choices in the space of “conditioned perceptions”. As such, “the fulfilment of … disciplined desires is not a sign of great success” (Sen, 1987, p. 11). Sen developed the CA as an alternative evaluative framework since it addresses the limitations of the conventional utilitarian and resources-​based accounts of equality and well-​being. Acknowledging one’s positional illusion and understanding the contexts of disadvantage helps to devise relevant equity instruments. Equality implies having the same rights, opportunities, and responsibilities. Whereas equity concerns fairness that may, in fact, lead to preferential treatment until a level

56  Context and concepts playing field is achieved. In essence, equity is distinct from equality in that it acknowledges that underrepresented groups may face different systemic barriers and therefore may require additional support to overcome these barriers. For instance, African refugees have arrived with a level of disadvantage not previously experienced by other cohorts of refugees. Before they resettle in Australia, most of them have spent years in temporary refugee camps and arrive in Australia with disrupted educational trajectories and have had experiences of trauma and isolation. The timing of risk experiences equally matters. Experience of deprivation and stress in early life has implications for lifelong trajectories—​it affects social integration and economic well-​being in adulthood (Wilkinson & Pickett, 2009). Hence, the first step towards providing substantive educational opportunities to refugees is the recognition of their unique life-​course trajectories and conditions. Equity policy provisions represent an act of balancing rights and responsibilities. Individual agency is an expression of the extent to which rights are protected and responsibilities are met. Rights ensure individuals have fair access to economic opportunities and social goods, while obligations require individuals to commit to mutual responsibility, including accountability for one’s actions and inactions and obeying the law. In other words, there is no self without the social, and there are no rights without responsibilities and vice versa. Both Rawls (1971) and Sen (2009) saw rights and obligations as core elements of social justice. Justice necessitates fairly assigning “rights and duties in the basic institutions of society” and carefully defining “the appropriate distribution of the benefits and burdens of social co-​operation” (Rawls, 1971, p. 4). Seen from the capability perspective of “ethical reasoning”, the idea of obligation underscores the importance of considering seriously “what one can reasonably do to help the realisation of another person’s freedom” (Sen, 2009, p. 372). In highlighting the interplay between rights and obligations, Sen (2009) noted, “If freedoms are seen as important, people have reason to ask what they should do to help each other in defending or promoting their respective freedoms” (p. 372). Genuine equity in education cannot be achieved without society accepting obligations to support the disadvantaged. Governments use policies to balance “burdens and benefits among particular categories of people” (Offe, 1984, p. 105). It is therefore imperative to constantly question whether the balance is fair, especially concerning the most disadvantaged members of society. One way of ensuring the rights of disadvantaged members of society is through removing structural unfreedoms. Seen from the CA perspective, widening evaluative spaces of educational disadvantage means broadening the informational focus in judging and comparing opportunities and outcomes across different target groups. It “gives a central role to a person’s actual ability to do the different things that she values doing” (Sen, 2009, p. 253). As Sen (2009) pointed out, in policy decisions, key actors need to be conscious of their “positional illusions” that may act to narrow the informational basis of their evaluations of public concerns. They need to recognise that genuine

Education and refugee integration  57 equity requires considerations beyond making resources available to target groups. It is equally critical to broaden the evaluative space of disadvantage to include personal heterogeneities, relational factors, and life-​course trajectories. For instance, the state of being a refugee itself may create constraints internal to the individual. Such constraints manifest in conditioned perceptions and scaled-​down aspirations. Hence, for refugee youth, the substantive opportunity to be well educated is concerned with what they can be and do as a result of possessing resources; the emphasis is on both (a) the relevance of the opportunities in question to the needs and conditions of the refugees and (b) the ability of the group to benefit from what is on offer (Molla, 2020). An African Australian student who grew up in a refugee camp will be less likely to take advantage of equal HE opportunities than would his Australian-​born peer from an urban centre. As is discussed in the second half of this chapter, effective equity provisions account for personal, relational, systemic, and institutional factors that mediate the target group’s ability to be well educated. The CA to social justice holds that inequality of outcomes is unjust if it is a consequence of differences in conditions—​if people are not equally positioned to take advantage of opportunities made available through policy provisions and support services. In this respect, a resources-​based evaluation of equity overlooks the importance of people’s ability to benefit from opportunities. As a result, in the words of Sen (2017), “Equality of holdings of primary goods or resources can go hand in hand with serious inequalities in actual freedoms enjoyed by different persons” (p. 352). People are capable when they have genuine opportunities for being and doing what they have a reason to value, including the option to be well educated. The concept of conversion ability shifts our attention from the availability of educational opportunities to the interaction of internal and external forces that influence how, and the extent to which, equity groups take up these opportunities. Providing substantive opportunities necessitates taking personal heterogeneities into account, removing obstacles from people’s lives, and ensuring that the resources and opportunities are relevant to the needs of the target groups. At a policy level, reframing disadvantage as capability deprivation points our attention to the social abilities of the refugee youth—​including their substantive freedom “to appear in public without shame” and “to take part in the life of the community” (Sen, 2000, p. 13). Expanding refugees’ educational capability entails removing structural unfreedoms such as racial vilification in the public sphere. To promote the educational attainment of refugee youth, it is imperative to enhance the navigational capacity of equity targets, including African refugees. Here, navigational capacity refers to the ability to evaluate opportunities, negotiate risk, make an informed decision, and be responsive to emerging possibilities and challenges (Appadurai, 2013). Providing timely and relevant information about available options is one way of enabling refugee youth to explore effectively, and to benefit from, existing opportunities, including alternative pathways to HE. In secondary schools, targeted educational and career advice services can also be instrumental in changing the conditioned

58  Context and concepts preferences of youth and in helping them to make informed choices. As O’Shea (2019) noted, transitioning into university is a form of “boundary-​crossing”. It necessitates resources that enable young people to move into and through the HE system. Making relevant educational information and support available at the early stage of settlement can help African refugees effectively navigate their way to HE, allowing them to take advantage of equity opportunities and seek help when necessary. Finally, in comparing inequalities in outcomes, it is imperative to consider how disadvantaged people can make their own educational choice without their preferences having been adjusted to their circumstances. The notion of conditioned choices suggests that it is problematic to assess educational advantages and disadvantages based solely on what people have achieved vis-​ à-​vis the available social arrangements. Due to their life-​courses and educational trajectories, African refugee youth may develop narrow aspirations that limit their options or “doxic aspirations” (Zipin et al., 2015) that cannot be realised. But as dispositions underpinning choices are changeable, educational institutions can play critical roles in supporting those with disadvantaged backgrounds to develop responsive aspirations for education and career. Without intervention to disrupt adaptive preferences, deprived people are more likely to develop a sense of “putting up with fate” and, thus, conform to conditions of unjust inequality. 3.4 Conclusion This chapter outlines a capability-​based analytical framework for assessing educational disadvantage, opportunity, and outcomes of refugees. In policy reviews and scholarly analysis, the assessment of educational inequality often focuses on the availability of equitable opportunities. In this chapter, I argued that, in assessing educational disadvantages and opportunities, our informational basis of judgement should include accounts of who gets what and within which condition. Genuine equity in education necessitates providing substantive opportunities, identifying subjective and objective obstacles to the conversion of these opportunities into valued outcomes, reorienting conditioned aspirations, and expanding agency and choice. A capability-​based assessment of disadvantage and opportunity foregrounds the ability of people to exercise choices and the freedom to act in accordance with these choices. As such, it is deficient to assess educational advantages and disadvantages based solely on what people have chosen to be and do, given the available social arrangements they face. Resources are a means to achieve valued ends. The amount and structure of resources refugees can access depend on policy provisions and other structural factors that define their objective context. One of the insights of the CA is that equalisation of resources does not equate to equalisation of real opportunities. Equitable distribution of resources takes us only halfway to addressing inequality; it is equally necessary to tackle factors that impede

Education and refugee integration  59 the agency of people to make these choices and their ability to act and bring about change. Only convertible resources constitute substantive opportunities. Genuine equity in education necessitates providing substantive opportunities, identifying subjective and objective obstacles to the conversion of these opportunities into valued outcomes, reorienting conditioned aspirations, and expanding agency and choice. When refugees are able to be and do what they reflectively value and are able to use the resources at their disposal, we say they are capable and agentic. Inequalities in educational outcomes are unjust if these are the consequence of differences in such conditions. As the majority of African refugees arrive in Australia at a young age, widening access to education to this group will provide the maximum benefit at both individual and societal levels. It supports both the social mobility of refugee-​background communities and improves the human capital pool of the nation. Improved higher educational attainment does not just boost the employability and income of African refugee youth, it also equips them with the necessary skills and confidence to meaningfully engage in the political and cultural lives of the community. Conversely, without substantive educational opportunities, structural barriers are likely to permanently leave African communities on the fringe of Australian society. In a fair society, such as Australia, the lasting marginal existence of any group is detrimental to the nation as a whole. It works to undermine economic prosperity, democratic order, and social cohesion. References Ager, A. & Strang, A. (2008). Understanding integration: A conceptual framework. Journal of Refugee Studies, 21(2), 166–​191. https://​doi.org/​10.1093/​jrs/​fen​016 Alkire, S. (2002). Valuing Freedoms: Sen’s Capability Approach and Poverty Reduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Appadurai, A. (2013). The Future as Cultural Fact: Essays on the Global Condition. London: Verso. Appadurai, A. (2019). Traumatic exit, identity narratives, and the ethics of hospitality. Television & New Media, 20(6): 558–​565. https://​doi.org/​10.1177/​15274​7641​9857​678 Bandura, A. (1995). Exercise of personal and collective efficacy in changing societies. In A. Bandura (Ed.), Self-​ efficacy in Changing Societies (pp. 1–​ 45). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bauman, Z. (2004). Wasted Lives: Modernity and Its Outcasts. Cambridge, MA: Polity. Becker, S. O., Grosfeld, I., Grosjean, P. A., Voigtländer, N., & Zhuravskaya, E. (2020). Forced migration and human capital: Evidence from post-​ WWII population transfers. American Economic Review, 110(5), 1430–​1463. https://​doi.org/​10.1257/​ aer.20181​518 Bentham, J. (1780/​2007). An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation. New York: Dover Publications. Berlant, L. (2011). Cruel Optimism. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

60  Context and concepts Bourdieu, P. & Passeron, J.-​C. (1990). Reproduction in Education, Society and Culture, Second edition. New York: Sage. Bradley, D., Noonan, P., Nugent, H., & Scales, B. (2008). Review of Australian Higher Education: Final Report. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. http://​hdl.voced. edu.au/​10707/​44384 Claassen, R. (2017). An agency-​based capability theory of justice. European Journal of Philosophy, 25(4), 1279–​1304. https://​doi.org/​10.1111/​ejop.12195 Drèze, J. & Amartya Sen, A. (2013). An Uncertain Glory: India and Its Contradictions. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Dworkin, R. (2002). Sovereign Virtue: The Theory and Practice of Equality. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Elster, J. (1983). Sour Grapes: Studies in the Subversion of Rationality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Freese, J. (2009). Preferences. The Oxford Handbook of Analytical Sociology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gale, T. & Molla, T. (2015). Social justice intents in policy: An analysis of capability for and through education. Journal of Education Policy, 30(6), 810–​830. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1080/​02680​939.2014.987​828 Gale, T. & Parker, S. (2014). Navigating change: A typology of student transition in higher education. Studies in Higher Education, 39(5), 734–​753. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1080/​03075​079.2012.721​351 Gale, T. & Parker, S. (2015). Calculating student aspiration: Bourdieu, spatiality and the politics of recognition. Cambridge Journal of Education, 45(1), 81–​96. https://​doi. org/​10.1080/​03057​64X.2014.988​685 Goodwin, R. (1995). Utilitarianism as a Public Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gordon, E. (1999). Education and Justice: A View from the Back of the Bus. New York: Teachers College Press. MacLeod, J. (2009). Ain’t No Makin’ It: Aspirations and Attainment in a Low-​Income Neighbourhood, Third edition. Boulder, CO: Westview Press.. McNay, L. (2008). Against Recognition. Cambridge, MA: Polity. Molla, T. (2018). Higher Education in Ethiopia: Structural Inequalities and Policy Responses. Singapore: Springer. Molla, T. (2020). Why we need more African refugees in TAFE. Australian TAFE Teacher, 54(1), 18–​21. www.aeu​fede​ral.org.au/​news-​media/​the-​aus​tral​ian-​tafe-​teac​her Molla, T. (2021). African refugees in Australia: Social position and educational outcomes. Journal of Immigrant & Refugee Studies, 19(4), 331–​348. Mulgan, T. (2007). Understanding Utilitarianism. London: Routledge. Nussbaum, M. C. (2011). Creating Capabilities: The Human Development Approach. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Nussbaum, M. C. (2019). The Cosmopolitan Tradition: A Noble but Flawed Ideal. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Offe, C. (1984). Contradictions of the Welfare State. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. O’Shea, S. (2019). Crossing boundaries: Rethinking the ways that first-​in family students navigate “barriers” to higher education. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 41(1), 95–​110. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​01425​692.2019.1668​746 Rawls, J. (1971). A Theory of Justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rawls, J. (2001). Justice as Fairness: A Restatement. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Education and refugee integration  61 Robeyns, I. (2017). Wellbeing, Freedom and Social Justice: The Capability Approach Re-​ examined. Cambridge: Open Book Publishers. Saunders, P. G. (2011). Down and Out: Poverty and Exclusion in Australia. Bristol: The Policy Press. Sen, A. (1987). The Standard of Living: The Tanner Lectures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sen, A. (1992). Inequality Re-​examined. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sen, A. (1993). Capability and wellbeing. In M. Nussbaum & A. Sen (Eds.), Quality of Life (pp. 30–​53). Oxford: Clarendon Press. Sen, A. (1999). Development as Freedom. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sen, A. (2000). Social Exclusion: Concept, Application, and Scrutiny. Social Development Papers No.1. Manila: Asian Development Bank. Sen, A. (2003). Development as capability expansion. In S. Fukudo-​Parr & A. K. S. Kumar (Eds.), Readings in Human Development (pp. 41–​58). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Sen, A. (2004). Capabilities lists and public reason. Feminist Economics, 10, 77–​80. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​1354​5700​4200​0315​163 Sen, A. (2009). The Idea of Justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Sen, A. (2017). Collective Choice and Social Welfare: An Expanded Edition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Swartz, D. (1997). Culture and Power. The Sociology of Pierre Bourdieu. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Swartz, D. (2002). The sociology of habit: The perspective of Pierre Bourdieu. Occupational Therapy Journal of Research, 22(1 suppl.), 61S–​69S. Therborn, G. (2013). The Killing Fields of Inequality. Cambridge, MA: Polity. Truman, H. S. (1947, December 15). Statement by the president making public a report of the Commission on Higher Education. The American Presidency Project. www. pre​side​ncy.ucsb.edu/​docume​nts/​statem​ent-​the-​presid​ent-​mak​ing-​pub​lic-​rep​ort-​the-​ com​miss​ion-​hig​her-​educat​ion Vinson, T. & Rawsthrone, M., with Beavis, A. & Ericson, M. (2015). Dropping Off the Edge 2015. Persistent Communal Disadvantage in Australia. Richmond: Jesuit Social Services. Wilkinson, R. & Pickett, K. (2009). The Spirit Level: Why More Equal Societies almost always Do Better. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Wolff, J. & de-​Shalit, A. (2007). Disadvantage. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zipin, L., Sellar, S., Brennan, M., & Gale, T. (2015). Educating for futures in marginalized regions: A sociological framework for rethinking and researching aspirations. Educational Philosophy and Theory, 47(3), 227–​246. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1080/​00131​857.2013.839​376

Part II

Educational attainment

4 School education Aspirations, engagement, and transition

Give people light, and they will find a way. (Ella Baker in Ransby, 2005) 4.1 Introduction For refugee youth, schooling is a critical gateway to learning the culture of their new home and to successful resettlement. At school, they acquire the knowledge and skills needed to meaningfully integrate into society. The value of schooling is particularly important for African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds (AHAY-​R) who arrive at a young age with limited educational attainment. Forced displacement represents a moment of great change, uncertainty, and vulnerability. African refugees arrive with a level of disadvantage not previously experienced by other cohorts of refugees. Before they settled in Australia, most had spent years in temporary refugee camps and arrived in Australia with disrupted educational trajectories as well as experiences of trauma and isolation. There is a growing body of academic work that explores refugees’ access to education (e.g. Ferede, 2018; Naidoo et al., 2018; Naylor et al., 2019; Stevenson & Baker, 2018) and students’ learning experiences (e.g. Matthews, 2008; Student et al., 2017).1 This chapter focuses specifically on the educational experiences of African heritage students from refugee backgrounds. The analysis reported here is based on qualitative data generated through semi-​structured interviews with AHAY-​R and career advisors from nine public secondary schools located in five suburbs in Melbourne, where most African communities live. Six of the nine schools have a score lower than 1000 in the Index of Community Socio-​ educational Advantage (ICSEA) and are therefore considered disadvantaged. A score of 1000 places the school at the median of all Australian schools. As indicated by their ICSEA value of (1011), (1029), and (1030), the other three schools were not significantly different from the six schools designated below-​ average. These schools also have a diverse student population; for example, the proportion of students from non-​English speaking backgrounds ranges from 91 per cent at one school to 33 per cent at another. DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-6

66  Educational attainment The interview data were complemented by a review of policy documents from the Victorian government, namely the Inquiry into Career Advice Activities in Victorian Schools (EEJSC, 2018), Government Response to the Parliamentary Inquiry into Career Advice Activities in Victorian Schools (Victorian Government, 2018a), and Victorian African Communities Action Plan: Working Together Now and Over the Long Term, 2018–​2018 (Victorian Government, 2018b). In light of the conceptual framework (Chapter 3) and using thinking tools drawn from sociology (Bourdieu, 1990) and social welfare theory (Sen, 2009, 2017), the chapter explicates how the interplay between subjective conditions and objective contexts affects the aspirations of African youth for transition to HE. The aim of the chapter is to juxtapose persisting disadvantages associated with forced displacement with the substantiveness of educational opportunities following resettlement. The chapter is structured in four major sections. The first discusses the educational aspirations of AHAY-​R, followed by a second section on their school engagement. The third covers the transition of AHAY-​R from school to further education or employment. The final section articulates persisting challenges that impede this group of students from fully benefiting from schooling. 4.2 Aspirations Educational aspirations (i.e. the academic goals that one sets to achieve) reflect an individual’s view of his or her own chances of getting ahead. Educational and career aspirations grow in part from imagining the future with intent and clarity. According to Sen (1995), “Considerations of ‘feasibility’ and of ‘practical possibility’ enter into what we dare to desire and what we are pained not to get” (p. 15). In some cases, “depressed aspirations” (MacLeod, 2009) can be a result of a realistic assessment of one’s opportunities and natural assets, or a pragmatic decision to prioritise other goals. In other cases, educational aspirations may not be concrete, especially when a student mimics the dominant theme of going to college but may not actually show a strong investment in learning. During the interview, many AHAY-​R expressed a range of career aspirations: they aspired to be a real estate agent, a writer, an agricultural scientist, a medical doctor, and so on. But translating aspiration into outcomes requires, among other things, sociocultural resources, self-​efficacy, and parental engagement. A person’s aspirations also reflect “what an individual desires and what society can offer” (MacLeod, 2009, p. 7). What society can offer will be a subjective evaluation or objective reality. Our preferences, decisions, and opportunities are intrinsically influenced by the social contexts in which we are located. It is evident in the experiences of AHAY-​ R that, with appropriate social arrangements, aspirations for educational attainment can be attuned to emerging opportunities. They are aware of the significance of knowledge and skills for economic well-​being and social integration. A firm belief in the value of education is demonstrated by high educational aspirations. Almost all participants in the study expressed a strong ambition to achieve higher-​level qualifications.

School education  67 Self-​interest to outperform in education is seen as a key driver for success. High aspiration for education in part stems from imagining the future with intent and clarity. Some of the participants reported they were eager to realise self-​worth, status, and success in society. In the words of three of the interviewees: All the time you will be doing a manual job. And, in my head, I said I have to get something. … I have to use my brain to elevate. And I need to have that title [PhD in agriculture] so that I will compete with others. (Male from DR Congo) I think in Australia you have three choices. If you want to learn, you can learn. If you want to work, you can work. If you want to spoil yourself, even you can spoil yourself. I prefer to study and just change my life. (Male from South Sudan) I feel like we need to think about the future because most of us—​I see a lot of young girls getting pregnant, they just stay at home because Centrelink is helping them. I always tell myself—​what if there’s no Centrelink. What would happen? What if two years from now, robots are invented for cleaning jobs. I always think about what if. So that pushes me more to want to get a HE and stuff. (Male from Ethiopia) The stories of the refugee youth showed a strong sense of optimism that motivated them to persist in the face of hardships they encountered. Almost all participants expressed their hope (at least at some point in their life) to become university-​qualified professionals. Those AHAY-​R who were in HE expressed their ambition to succeed. This might not come as a surprise because “for people who have lost all their other assets, education represents a primary survival strategy” (Flukiger-​Stockton, 1996, p. 3). In Australia, “raising aspiration” among equity groups has been a key HE policy agenda (Bradley et al., 2008; Gale & Parker, 2014). But disadvantaged groups, such as refugee youth, do not necessarily lack aspiration for education; for instance, the value placed on education as a means for upward mobility is often high among many African refugee youth and their parents. What is not properly appreciated in the equity policy discourse is the differences in the navigational capacities of refugee youth. The life experiences of refugees often include war trauma, disrupted educational pathways, negative stereotypes, racial discrimination, and financial hardship. As a result, they often have “limited archives of experience” (Gale et al., 2013) that they can draw on to explore their way towards their aspirations. Low parental educational attainment and language barriers also negatively impact the educational engagement of refugee youth. In other words, accounts of African refugee youth suggest that HE participation requires more than educational optimism and aspirations.

68  Educational attainment The capacity to aspire is positional in the sense that it is oriented by one’s social location and associated “cultural and ethical visions of the future” (Fischer, 2014, p. 6). People form their preferences based on the subjective assessment of their objective situations. Aspiring entails imagining one’s future possibilities and developing a concrete plan to achieve the desired goals. What we aspire for and whether we believe our aspirations can be realised depends, in turn, on our social position. Drawing on a large-​scale empirical study in the U.S., Cerulo and Raune (2020) argued: One’s social location shapes the seemingly private life of our minds. We are all free to dream. Yet, … our dreams are restricted in ways of which we are not fully aware. Our social location seeps into our mind’s eye, quietly influencing what and how we dream, whether we embrace dreaming or simply give up on it, whether we believe our dreams—​whether realistic or ­fantastical—​can come true, and whether we try to make them come true. (p. 4) Sociologically speaking, the practice of taking up opportunities and making choices predicates on “the conjunction of disposition and position, subjective capacity and objective possibility” (Wacquant, 2014, p. 5). Bourdieu (1990) holds that individuals internalise objective contexts (rules, norms, expectations, values) through a gradual process of socialisation. These internalised structures, in turn, form generative dispositions that function as schemes of perception and action, including preference formation and educational choice. When durable dispositions are accrued in the context of disadvantage, people tend to lower their “subjective expectation” of opportunities and “objective probability” of success (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1990, p. 156). For example, Cerulo and Raune’s (2020) findings showed that “people from different social classes favored different dream themes” and socioeconomically advantaged people “reported increasingly more diverse and short-​term dreaming, a greater reluctance to give up on dreams, and a greater belief that one’s dreams would come true” (p. 13). Although disadvantaged students may form “conditioned aspirations” (Molla, 2021a), as is evident in the stories of AHAY-​R in this study, there is room for schools to play positive roles in cultivating responsive aspirations for education and training. A person’s aspiration is responsive when s/​he, against the backdrop of emerging opportunities or challenges, redefines what s/​he sees as a feasible option. That is to say, individuals with responsive aspirations are disposed to adapt to evolving social arrangements and emerging possibilities. In the context of new opportunities and options, people tend to deliberate on their values and future goals—​they develop responsive aspirations that align with emerging opportunities. In policy terms, it is imperative to ask whether social arrangements provide the disadvantaged with “opportunities to navigate the social world as they see fit” (Claassen, 2017, p. 1291). For instance, even though going to university might not be a desired future of all AHAY-​R, secondary schools need to make sure that (a) they fully understand the value of

School education  69 university qualification; (b) they are aware that HE opportunities are available for them; and (c) they are able to effectively navigate alternative pathways to HE. Cost is not a major factor. Like other domestic students, refugees have access to an income-​contingent loan scheme. 4.3 Engagement School engagement refers to the extent to which students value education and learning, feel a sense of belonging to the school, and participate in academic and non-​academic activities. Leading scholars in the field (e.g. Fredricks et al., 2019; Reschly et al., 2020) view school engagement as a marker of emotional, cognitive, and behavioural investment in schooling more generally. It is expressed in how students feel, think, and act in relation to schoolwork; it has academic and social dimensions. The academic aspect of school engagement includes positive feelings about schooling, self-​regulated learning, regular attendance, and active participation in learning activities. The social dimensions of school engagement entail meaningful relationships with others and a sense of relatedness (King & West, 2015). The literature on youth belonging (e.g. Halse, 2018) suggests that when students feel they fit in, they are more likely to be invested in schoolwork and achieve academic success. Many African refugees are young when they arrive in Australia, and they come with limited educational attainment, and at school, they are at a high risk of disengagement. School disengagement of AHAY-​R manifests in a low level of school attendance, disruptive classroom behaviours, limited engagement in schoolwork, and risk of dropping out. In Victoria, schools with the largest number of African students face high levels of absenteeism. A single school study in Melbourne (Urban, 2018) showed that in 2017 the attendance level of African students (mostly from refugee backgrounds) was as low as 46 per cent, compared to the national average government school attendance rate of over 91 per cent (ACARA, 2017). During my visits to the nine secondary schools in Victoria, interview participants noted that AHAY-​R tended to skip classes and disrupt learning activities. They were underrepresented in the advanced curricula that leads to professional courses and qualifications. Many refugee-​ background African students struggled academically in the last two years of secondary school education (Years 11 and 12). School staff complained that members of these groups did not listen to what teachers said and made disruptive noises in classrooms. With the end of automatic progression at Year 10, AHAY-​R struggled to cope with the academic rigour and specialisation required of them in the final two years of schooling. One career advisor stressed, “We are finding our students from African refugee backgrounds really struggling with the rigour, and the content knowledge is just at times beyond them”. Another careers and pathways coordinator recounted: So, when I work with them, sometimes I ask, “Well, can you open emails? Can you write an email to an employer, for example?” And then they open

70  Educational attainment the email and I think the highest of unread emails are somewhere in the thousands on their school email account. And I said, “Are you not checking what your teachers are sending?”. “Oh, it’s too many emails so I won’t look”. So, they don’t engage with assignments, projects, etc. One of the key indicators of the early disadvantage of African refugee youth is disruptions in educational trajectories due to violence and displacement. The problems of “disrespect” and “disengagement” were commonly cited by school personnel. Career advisors from a secondary school in south-​east Melbourne said that poor learning outcomes of these students could be attributable to limited academic engagement. They reported that students from this group were more likely to be found loitering outside classrooms during learning hours. As a result, they missed the opportunity to engage in learning processes. There also exists an interplay between social and academic aspects of school engagement. For instance, having a positive sense of being a valued member of the school community has direct implications for academic engagement, achievement, and success. The experience of early educational disadvantage can give rise to disengagement and poor learning outcomes at a later stage. Specifically, young people who have had disrupted educational trajectories and faced multiple forms of disadvantage at an early stage of life are more likely to need extra support in their educational progression, transition, and pathways. In other words, a lack of enriched educational opportunities and experiences at an early stage of life means that refugee youth may not possess the necessary academic skills for engagement and success later at school. Schools often see African refugee students as “extra problems” and have little or no resources or, indeed, the skills required to provide targeted support to the group. However, the trend is changing. In Victoria, through the Victorian African Communities Action Plan, the state government aims to ensure that young Africans “stay in education and reach their potential” (Victorian Government, 2018b, p. 27). Subsequently, to promote educational engagement of African heritage students, the state government has supported the employment of African heritage multicultural education aides (Victorian Government, 2018b). Five out of the nine schools included in this study had employed African liaison (community engagement) officers. The schools used equity-​related government funding to employ these liaison officers. African parents tend to have limited contact with schools. One career advisor (public secondary school, south-​east Melbourne) noted, “What we find is that often with African parents, we don’t see them until there’s a problem”. Hence, one of the responsibilities of African liaison officers is to support families to understand the education system and connect with schools. The officers play critical roles in facilitating smooth communication with parents and students. Another career coordinator (public secondary school, western Melbourne) observed that parental engagement improved after the school employed a Sudanese social worker: “I’m having a lot more success in having the family understand that there are other options”. As cultural barriers often exist

School education  71 between career practitioners and refugee-​background students (EEJSC, 2018), for African students, the presence of those officers in the schools creates a sense of relatability. In the words of two community liaison officers: You should have seen the first day when [African students] saw us here, they were so shocked to see us and happy at the same time, and then you can just see the whole mood changing. They feel uplifted. And from the first day until now, it’s different. (Female officer) The whole energy is different … they felt like we cared because they could relate to us. They were happy to see people that looked like them and who could relate to them. There are a lot of things they shy away from, and there are a lot of cultural parameters and stuff. They can ask us anything they want without us judging them. (Male officer) What the African community engagement officers bring to schools is relatability to African students and families. Relatability is a crucial factor in nurturing trust and promoting the academic engagement of minority students, such as African students (Harper, 2009). African-​background liaison officers not only counsel students on curricular trajectories, pathways to HE, and career options, but they also call parents and do house visits when necessary. The officers are instrumental in maintaining effective communications between school communities and families. Liaison officers in the study reported they were able to deliver culturally sensitive services without stepping over a boundary. School engagement is also influenced by what happens in students’ lives outside school. Educational values and the engagement of parents play critical roles in enhancing school engagement (Antony-​Newman, 2019; Wilkinson et al., 2017). Parental involvement in their children’s learning greatly influences school engagement. Ongoing positive interaction between parents and children at home is crucial for “the ‘osmotic’ transmission of aspirations, values, and tastes” (van Zanten, 2015, p. 32). Parents’ idea of a good life and their view of their children’s chances of success in society informs the extent to which they engage with schools and support their children’s learning. In this respect, although it is known that African parents hold high expectations for their children’s learning (Molla, 2021b), how they go about conveying these aspirations at home, and the extent to which schools recognise or take advantage of African parental resources to support student engagement, remains an unexplored theme in the Australian context. Academic engagement is also strongly associated with biographical contexts: life-​course trajectories of students, gender, educational and career aspirations, friendship preferences, and a “sense of fit” in the school (King and West, 2015; Roschly et al., 2020). For instance, because of the age-​based placement policy, many African refugee youth either do not qualify for school attendance or find it difficult to succeed due to the considerable gaps that exist between the age level they are assigned to and their academic preparation. Those who arrive as teenagers struggle to cope with the senior curriculum.

72  Educational attainment Even so, it is important not to equate all disengagement with alienation and failing; disengagement may be an expression of agency in terms of placing values on non-​academic activities. 4.4 Transition In Australia, preparing school students for the transition to HE, technical training, or work is a priority on the policy agenda (e.g. COAG, 2019; Education Council, 2020; Victorian Government, 2018b). Schools play critical roles in facilitating student transitions by a variety of means, including establishing partnerships with HE institutions and employers, familiarising students with academic experiences, integrating work placements with curricula, and widening access to career planning and support services. A recent Australian study has shown that school-​based academic support is instrumental in facilitating the transition of students from disadvantaged backgrounds (Vernon et al., 2019). Through career planning services, schools advise students about alternative pathways for transitioning, which subjects lead to which university or TAFE courses, and which Australian tertiary admissions rank (ATAR) score they will need to gain entry to these courses. As one career advisor put it, the purpose of the career plan is to “allow them to see that that [a university degree] is not the only thing in the world”. At the end of Year 10 and the beginning of Year 12, coordinators discuss with students their career options and pathways. The career plan aims at balancing student interests with the options available to them. Regarding the sorts of advice students receive, one career advisor offered an example: If you’re trying to seek an occupation like that, like a lawyer, you should probably work hard, like really work hard; and spend more time reading and doing homework, asking teachers questions, following up on all the homework. Accounts of lived experiences documented in this study show that without concerted efforts to expand “archives of experiences”, AHAY-​R are likely to operate upon their own prior perceptions rather than the actual opportunities available to them. For example, AHAY-​R4 (male from Somalia) was fortunate to be able to attend a high SES school which drew upon its resources to establish connections with many universities in Victoria and also attract outstanding teachers who are able to inspire young people to do well in their studies and in life in general. He reported, “I had very good teachers that have been—​ that have put in me a liking for the subjects, so like physics and chemistry. I had wonderful teachers; the love that they created for the subject”. Refugee-​ background African youth with strong navigational capacity take advantage of the available flexible pathways to HE. However, the educational trajectories of AHAY-​R are often very challenging. Refugee youth experience disrupted education. With such backgrounds, those AHAY-​R who were in HE during

School education  73 this study reported they had used alternative pathways to go to university. They found the pathways to HE helpful and responsive to their preferences. The alternative pathways to university provided for this group recognised the disrupted education they had experienced through forced migration. As many African youth spent years in refugee camps, often they found it difficult to fit into the Australian school system, which operates on age cohorts. As one participant noted, outreach programmes and flexible pathways were instrumental for transitioning to HE. We had universities come into our school and give us presentations about their courses and what they had to offer. So, starting from Year 10 there was that awakening, and that sense only grew as the years progressed. … The visit of university students helped me. Initially, I didn’t want to go to tertiary education, I didn’t see myself in university, but the pathway towards that and how I could do it and all of those things were cleared up by the school introducing these things. (Male from Somalia) Without these outreach activities, students—​ like AHAY-​ R4—​ would have seen the possibility of going to university as something that is “not for the likes of us” (Bourdieu, 1990, p. 17). People make expectations and aspirations in light of “the objective probabilities for success or failure common to the members” of the same social group. In deciding on whether to go to university, as Bourdieu (1990a) noted, “In light of their cultural capital and socialisation, individuals engage in ‘strategic calculation’ ” (p. 53). On the other hand, the stories of the four AHAY-​R who had not transitioned to HE show that the availability of timely and valuable information plays a key role in one’s ability in being able to choose to transition to HE. They reported that they did not know where to start in their journey to HE. The differences in the navigational capacities of AHAY-​R are also linked to differences in priority. For instance, three participants reported that, as they were expected to support their extended families, they had to secure a paid job for a few years before they could decide if they would search for pathways into a university education. AHAY-​R2 explained, “When I came, first I wanted to work. I had to earn enough to support my family. I worked in an abattoir for six years”. Unlike those in mainstream Australia who emphasise individual autonomy and independence, people of African origin often hold a collectivist view, placing emphasis upon their interdependence with family members. The purpose of career planning activities is to help students better understand their own interests, strengths, skills, values, and aspirations and how these relate to the world of work. However, state-​wide reviews of career education (DandoloPartners, 2017; EEJSC, 2018) show that some career practitioners maintain stereotypical views about which students have which career options based upon student characteristics. During fieldwork, I noted clues of career practitioners offering stereotypical career advice: “For [African students] we

74  Educational attainment get the nurses, social work, etc., that is realistic I think”. People who internalise low expectations are more likely to give up in the face of hardship. Conversely, career practitioners can play critical roles in promoting the self-​ efficacy of disengaged students. Through timely advice and relevant feedback, they can encourage students to overcome challenges, imagine a new future, and be resilient. As Bandura (1995) noted, “After people become convinced they have what it takes to succeed, they persevere in the face of adversity and quickly rebound from setbacks” (p. 3). Refugee-​background African youth have vast experiences in overcoming hardship. With an appropriate level of support, they can get back to their education and career track. Timely access to relevant career advice is instrumental in preparing young people to cope with constraints, adjust to changing situations, and take advantage of emerging opportunities. 4.5  Persisting challenges Opportunities such as academic support and career advice notwithstanding, AHAY-​R faced persisting challenges associated with sectoral, institutional, parental, and personal factors that undermined their ability to transition to HE. At a sectoral level, the key challenge refugee youth face relates to age-​ based school placement. Further, most refugees from Africa arrive at a young age with little or no basic education. In most cases, at the time of resettlement, African heritage students from refugee backgrounds aged 16 and above have the educational levels of much younger students. However, many of them do not fit Australia’s age-​structured schooling system or fall outside the national school compulsory age (5/​6–​16/​17). The challenge is twofold. On the one hand, secondary schools often have difficulty in placing AHAY-​R in an appropriate year level as they do not have the academic skills to cope at senior levels. During the interviews for the study that informed this book, AHAY-​R expressed dissatisfaction with the age-​based school placement policy. In their view, the policy did not consider their prior educational attainment, English language skills, or current learning capacity. In an extensive review of the school experiences of refugee students, the Victorian Foundation for Survivors of Torture (2007) argued: Many humanitarian entrants have spent a long time in refugee camps or in a country of first asylum and/​or received little schooling. This contributes to difficulties in settling into Australian schools and classrooms. Many of the young new arrivals of refugee backgrounds cannot write their own name, have limited English proficiency, and struggle to understand their new school structure and environment, as well as coming to terms with the traumas of their refugee experience …. As a result of their pre-​arrival experiences and education levels, these students need more time and resources to reach similar educational standards to their Australian peers. (p. 13)

School education  75 On the other hand, using refugee students’ educational level to place them with significantly younger children results in unintended negative consequences on their socialisation and self-​esteem. In either situation, the refugee student can easily become disengaged from the school system (Victorian Foundation for Survivors of Torture, 2007). Sectoral policies do not recognise these challenges. The problems refugee students face remain invisible. States and territories (in consultation with the Commonwealth) could provide additional resources to help schools support this cohort of students. The responsibility of the education sector to provide equitable outcomes for refugee young people represents a commitment to providing both the necessary skills as well as clear pathways to further education, training and employment. Traditional pathways will not meet the needs of some groups of refugees, such as those with a learner profile of interrupted schooling. These students need more flexible learning programs that can combine work and study and contextualise learning and curriculum. (Victorian Foundation for Survivors of Torture, 2007, p. 37) Institutional culture and practice equally matter. In educational institutions where African youth face racial stigma, educational engagement is likely to be obstructed. In the case of AHAY-​R, the damaging consequences of racial microaggressions are also linked with derogatory epistemic misrepresentation whereby Black people are stigmatised in pedagogical practices, curricular representation, and other knowledge production and dissemination processes (Kubota, 2019). Accounts of students and liaison officers indicate that derogatory terms used to refer to Black people produce pedagogic practices of teachers that can inferiorise students of African background. A participant recounted her experience of racialised representation in her learning experiences as follows: In history class, I think it was a lesson on the Civil Rights movement in the U.S., the teacher would read out loud the word “negro”. He was so insensitive about how what he said might affect someone from the same racial background, African background. After the class, the kids that didn’t know better would pick up that and use it around jokingly. That really affected me negatively. I couldn’t concentrate [on my studies]. (AHAY-​R from South Sudan) In one school, I asked the school community liaison officer about issues affecting the educational engagement of Black African students. He highlighted a range of issues, and among those were teachers’ racial insensitivity in the classroom: There’re issues where students have been called the “N” word pretty much …. They’ve been called the “N” word or even used the “N” word in their text. And so, the student approaches the teacher and tells them, “I don’t want

76  Educational attainment the ‘N’ word to be used because the students read it out loud.” However, the teacher says, “It’s part of the educational process; this is what we were learning, so we kind of have to say it”, which is ridiculous. As the story of the student in the history class above suggests, the racial insensitivity of teachers leads to mocking and scorning beyond the classroom. For instance, a community liaison officer from a school on the western side of Melbourne described an incident where a White student said to his Black African classmate, “Oh you nigger; can I just have a nigger day-​pass today; it is my birthday, can I call you nigger today?” Experience of such derogatory labelling and racial stereotypes constitutes capability deprivation and is an indicator of injustice. Rawls (2001) identified respect as a form of “primary goods” and argued that, in a just society, individuals “have a lively sense of worth as persons” and are “able to advance their ends with self-​confidence” (p. 59). Conversely, as Sen (2000) noted, people who experience racism and discrimination have diminished “social abilities”—​their substantive freedom “to appear in public without shame” and “to take part in the life of the community” are likely to be circumscribed (p. 13). Sustained exposure to racism affects the way young people perceive themselves (Loury, 2021; Ogbu, 1995; Steele, 2010) triggering stress that inhibits learning (Levy et al., 2016; Sapolsky, 2004). Sustained exposure to racism has lasting effects. As one Sudanese-​background student commented, “If you get punched multiple times by racism, you’re bruised. You keep getting bruised. You keep getting hurt. You don’t have time to heal. You become weak, and at some point, you are not able to fight back” (Macaulay, 2019, para. 2). In stressing how racial bias at school can lead to self-​relegation and academic disengagement, a female participant from Sierra Leonean background noted that teachers’ racist attitudes “makes you not want to be around them”. Experiences of racial discrimination and stigmatisation inhibit the sense of belonging and safety, constraining meaningful engagement in learning. An extension of the problem of racial stigma is teachers’ low expectations towards African heritage students. African communities complain that teachers maintain low expectations towards Black students who, as a result, do not “feel understood by teachers in class” and are often “forced to choose subjects that do not align with their career aspirations” (Victorian Government, 2018b, p. 50). The African heritage youth who participated in the study informing this book underscored that, in many cases, their teachers encouraged them to take “easier” alternative pathways. Some of them specifically mentioned that they were encouraged to take up courses that lead to vocational qualifications rather than those qualifying them for academic studies at university. Recounting her experience, lawyer and human rights advocate Nyuon (2017) commented: I was discouraged from taking certain subjects because I was new to the country. Instead, I was encouraged to take “easy” subjects, the assumption

School education  77 being that I would struggle if I took on something that was more challenging. I suspect that the teacher meant well, and I assume that they did not want me to struggle in school. But this approach meant that I was not evaluated individually, and it meant that any strength I had was overlooked. Despite this, I managed to get a score that qualified me for a position at Victoria University where I completed a Bachelor of Arts in 2009. (pp. 17–​18) As Oliver (2012) noted, “secondary schooling places high demands on humanitarian entrants who arrive with low levels of prior education”, and the refugee youth “encounter these demands when they are already facing challenges presented by adolescence, the refugee experience, migration, and acculturation” (p. 151). Relatedly, low expectations and constant pressure to take the vocational pathway may result in what Bandura (1995) referred to as “scholastic anxiety”—​a condition whereby negative feedback weakens one’s efficacy and leads to anxiousness about the demands of academic subjects. Even though going to university might not be the desired future for all refugee-​background African students, secondary schools need to make sure that (a) the students fully understand the value of university qualification; (b) they are aware that HE opportunities are available for them; (c) they can effectively navigate alternative pathways to HE; and (d) they are fully informed that they are responsible for the results they realise through the opportunities available to them. Options without relevant information are of little value. In this respect, schools must be reflexive about their practices (e.g. career advice activities) and the affects these have upon different social groups. The educational experiences of African refugee youth are mediated by a myriad of factors associated with societal views, sectoral policies, institutional practices, parental support, and personal attributes (see Figure 4.1). How refugees are represented and viewed in society affects how they interact with their peers at school and beyond. The societal layer foregrounds cultural inclusivity and political responses to the disadvantages of refugees. Sectoral contexts primarily concern the policy visibility of refugees. That is, whether equity provisions exist that target refugee youth. Recognition of the educational disadvantage of African refugees means that schools receive the necessary resources to provide compensatory academic support. Beyond sectoral policy, institutional practices and values of schools also matter. For example, school leaders with strong social justice dispositions are more likely to translate sectoral equity policies (Molla & Gale, 2019) into the context of their schools. Parental engagement and expectations play significant roles in raising young people’s aspirations for HE. Conversely, parental misconceptions about qualifications can hinder students’ academic progress and attainment. The Longitudinal Surveys of Australian Youth (LSAY) report concludes, “Students whose parents want them to attend university are 11 times more likely to plan to attend university, and four times more likely to plan to complete Year 12” (Forrest & Scobie, 2019, p. iii). Conversely, when parents hold

78  Educational attainment

Figure 4.1 Contexts that mediate school experiences of refugee students. Source: Author.

strong misconceptions about qualifications and jobs, it can have detrimental effects on what students aspire to and work towards. In Australia, there is a misconception about specific postsecondary courses and qualifications. For example, a recent inquiry into career advice activities at Victorian schools noted, “Many schools, parents and students have an unwarranted poor perception of vocational education and training and consider it inferior to university study” (EEJSC, 2018, p. 97). The problem is pronounced among African parents. In a secondary school in Melbourne’s west, a career advisor stressed, “I think there’s often a misconception within the African community about the value of doing VCAL [Victorian Certificate of Applied Learning] or VET [vocational education and training] studies at TAFE”. Another participant (in a secondary school, north Melbourne) spoke of an African father who got upset because TAFE options were offered to his son. Another career advisor explained the extent to which African families resist non-​academic options: The father … probably wants his kid to achieve what he couldn’t. And then the kid rejects what the father wanted. And the kid’s like, “Dad, I can’t be a doctor.” Then the father pretty much says, “I didn’t come to Australia, so my son can be something other than a doctor or engineer.” (emphasis added)

School education  79 The career coordinators underscored that many parents seemed to be unaware of the association between academic achievement and access to prestigious courses, such as medicine, law, and engineering. For many African students with refugee backgrounds, it can be impossible to remain unperturbed when their academic outcomes are insufficient to go to university, given the expectations of their families. Unrealistic parental expectations have an undesirable influence on student choices for pathways into HE. African parents are often “headstrong about the career paths the young person should take” (Victorian Government, 2018b, p. 51). However, there is often a significant gap between parental expectations and student academic engagement and outcomes (Molla, 2020a). When parents come to realise that their children are unable to meet their expectations or when the children reject the imposed aspirations, the outcome is discord at home and disengagement at school. One career advisor summarised the predicament in this way: If they have the expectation at home that you have to get a 98 to become a doctor or lawyer and the kids know that they’re not getting there, they know they’re not getting there, so they have to—​they just start playing up, start being disengaged. On a personal level, most of the AHAY-​R who participated in the study grew up in refugee camps with little or no education. This disadvantage at a critical period of their development reproduced disadvantages in the post-​resettlement period. Sustained exposure to adverse environmental and socioeconomic conditions accumulates over time, and those with a disadvantaged biography continue to experience subsequent disadvantageous life-​course trajectories. After resettlement, refugee youth start formal education without having the advantage of the early development of cognitive, social, or emotional skills that make learning efficient and easy. Refugee youth may not form their educational aspirations based upon a genuine assessment of viable opportunities or a preparedness to take advantage of future possibilities. What people see as “possibilities” can in part be informed by internalised dominant assumptions and views in society. Drawing on Bourdieu’s theory of social practice, Zipin et al. (2015) coined the concept of “doxic aspirations” to refer to the tendency of the disadvantaged to spontaneously internalise “the realisable achievements of those with more powerful inheritances of accumulated capitals” (p. 232). During the interviews, career practitioners highlighted aspects of the doxic aspirations that acted as barriers to African youth taking advantage of more realistic options. In the accounts of the careers and pathways coordinators interviewed for this research, many African-​background students hold high (and often unrealistic) educational and career aspirations. As one career practitioner put it: “[African-​background students] are a little bit unrealistic, so in the past, I’ve had students say they want to, for example, be an accountant, but they haven’t got the drive for it”. Doxic aspirations are expressed as “impulses to pursue out-​of-​reach dreams” (Zipin et al., 2015). Many also aspire to be

80  Educational attainment engineers without understanding what an engineer does, without having the required level of academic preparedness, or without taking the required sequences of subjects. One career educator reported her conversation with an African-​background student as follows: With a 29 ATAR, none of the pre-​requisites met, but you’re looking at me like, “I want to be an engineer”; I’m going to look at you like—​“I want to be the miracle worker who’s going to find you an advanced diploma at RMIT.” As an act of balancing improbable expectations and possible destinations, career advisors allow the students “a couple of unrealistic dream courses at the top” as long as they make sure “they’ve got something down the bottom that they can get into” (career advisor at one secondary college). However, it is imperative to note that high aspiration is not unique to African students. The career advisors noted that many families expect their child or children will do better than them. What is unique to the group is the gap between aspiration and academic preparation. For many refugee-​background Africans, getting to the end of high school can be seen as a short way away from becoming a doctor. As stated above, realistic aspirations and navigational capacity are positional attributes. Unlike their low SES peers, young people from socioeconomically advantaged backgrounds are more likely to form realistic aspirations and have the necessary navigational capacity to realise their goals. For Appadurai (2013), this is mainly because the more privileged in society have opportunities to experiment with aspirations in the past, and as a result, they “have a bigger stock of available experiences of the relationship of aspirations and outcomes” (p. 188) and use these “archives of experiences” as a map to orient their imagination and explore the future (p. 213). Conversely, people from disadvantaged backgrounds lack the necessary “map” to realistically imagine their futures. In aspiration formation, as Fischer (2014) noted, “The will is important, but there also has to be a way” (p. 6, original emphasis). An academically disengaged young African refugee may aspire to be a doctor without necessarily understanding what is required to realise her dream. Hence, career advisors and teachers need to be mindful of how the life-​courses of refugee-​ background African students influence their life-​chances: how experiences of forced displacement influence educational disadvantage or opportunity. Low self-​ efficacy is another barrier that impacts the educational attainment of African refugee youth. Bandura defined self-​ efficacy as “beliefs in one’s capabilities to organise and execute the courses of action required to manage prospective situations” (1995, p. 2). Self-​ efficacy constitutes personal agency and confidence, and it influences “how people think, feel, motivate themselves, and act” (p. 2). In his social cognitive theory, Bandura (1997) outlined four sources of self-​efficacy beliefs: mastery experiences, vicarious experience, social persuasion, and psychological arousal. Individuals develop self-​efficacy when they have experiences that are successful for them, applying the knowledge and skills they acquire

School education  81 through reflective engagement with these experiences. The notion of vicarious experiences highlights how students can grow in confidence through observing others in practice and learn from the success of others who can then serve as models for them. Social persuasion entails parental and peer influence in what students choose to do, offering constructive feedback for a future course of action. Lack of personal efficacy was one of the recurring themes during the interviews. A career and pathway coordinator at a school in Melbourne’s south west emphasised, “With the African students, I find that sometimes their feeling of self-​worth is not there. They don’t believe that they can do it”. Another career educator elaborated: So, these kids come from probably the most horrifying situations. They come here, and I think they deserve all the help they can get because the trauma these kids have gone through to come here is beyond most people’s imagination. But I’m having to think because they get so much help, I think the kids—​some have developed this concept of learned helplessness. They’re very, very capable kids but they’re just used to, someone will do it for me. … I had many, many meetings, and they have no idea what they want to do. They are very open about the fact that they don’t really want to do anything. Students develop self-​efficacy when they have ongoing learning opportunities that evoke psychological arousal in the form of interest and curiosity towards experimenting with new ideas and strategies. That is, exposure to new knowledge and skills can motivate African students to try new things in their academic engagement. Although the strength of the relationship varies cross-​culturally, personal efficacy correlates with academic achievement (Oettingen, 1995). For example, Elias and Macdonald (2007) showed that self-​efficacy accounted for about 22 per cent of the variance in academic achievement in HE. Bandura (1995) specifically noted, “Efficacy beliefs predict vocational considerations when variations in actual ability, prior level of academic achievement, and vocational interests are controlled” (p. 24). Self-​efficacy affects career pursuits by (a) determining “the slates of options”, (b) fostering the development of interests in specific careers, and (c) supporting perseverance in academic fields of study (pp. 23–​24). Even so, low self-​efficacy is not a permanent condition. It can be enhanced. Developing a sense of efficacy through mastery experiences is not a matter of adopting ready-​made habits. Rather, it involves acquiring the cognitive, behavioural, and self-​regulatory tools for creating and executing appropriate courses of action to manage ever-​changing life circumstances (p. 3). The issue of low self-​efficacy among many African students can be related to a lack of occupational socialisation and the absence of role models at home and in the community. Seen from the life-​course perspective, low self-​efficacy can also be a result of early disadvantage that constrains the ability to adapt later in life. What AHAY-​R often lack are the symbolic resources that can expand their aspirational horizons. These include a strong social network, occupational socialisation at home, and role models in the community. In the first few years

82  Educational attainment following their arrival, refugees may find it difficult to realistically connect immediate opportunities with future possibilities and seize the opportunities to realise their goals. Disrupted educational trajectories, weak social ties, and inadequate English language proficiency mean that they have limited “archives of experience” to explore the complex terrain of education systems that exist in the destination societies in which they find themselves. As part of the effort to improve African heritage students’ transition to further education or employment, schools should actively engage African parents in career conversations. Parents are the most important influencers of their children’s career decisions. But their views can be outdated or incomplete. For example, during the fieldwork, a career practitioner recounted an incident where an African parent told her that he did not come to Australia for his son to do a vocational qualification. Schools need to address pervasive misconceptions about the value of non-​university, vocational qualifications. Career conversations offer an ideal forum to do that. Sustained career discussions can overcome parental misconceptions about qualifications and future job prospects. African youth also complained about teachers’ low expectations about what they could be and do. Conversely, career practitioners are worried that African parents hold “unrealistic” expectations about the academic and career destinations of their children. Both strands of expectations can cause unintended negative consequences. Low expectations can weaken self-​efficacy and lead to anxiousness and withdrawal from academic work. Likewise, there is a downside of being headstrong about the career paths of children; what parents want and what students value can often misalign. A mismatch between parental expectations and student aspirations can, in turn, lead to frustration at home and disengagement in school. As one career advisor put it, “If they have the expectation at home that you have to get a 98 to become a doctor or lawyer, and the kids know that they’re not getting there, they just start playing up, start being disengaged”. Engagement in career conversations is valuable because informed parents are more likely to hold their children to high expectations while at the same time providing the necessary support that enables them to achieve what they have a reason to value. For AHAY-​R to participate in society on a par with their better-​off peers, educational institutions can play critical roles. At the school level, early awareness about university education and adequate information on the available pathways to HE qualifications can help the group develop responsive educational aspirations and build their navigational capacity. 4.6 Conclusion The future is uncertain. It holds opportunities and risks. In the age of fast-​ paced technological changes, economic success and meaningful social participation necessitate an advanced level of knowledge and skills. As is captured in Baker’s words in the above epigraph, education gives light to one’s journey in life. Schools play a critical role in equipping young people with adaptive

School education  83 strategies that enable them to maximise gains and minimise pitfalls. In preparing students for transitions to work, training, or education, one needs to consider factors beyond the school compound. In preparing African students from refugee backgrounds for transition to work, training, or university, schools need to understand how their life-​course trajectories and sociocultural backgrounds may affect their engagement, decisions, and outcomes. In other words, if transition to, and progression through, HE necessitates substantive freedom to be and do what one has a reason to value, it is imperative to understand the personal characteristics, social conditions, and historical experiences that inform what one has a reason to value (Sen, 2003). In order to have a complete view of the transition patterns and experiences of refugee-​background African students, there is a need for further study that involves young people, their parents, and their teachers. Career advisors and community engagement officers interviewed for this research noted a gap between parental expectations and student preferences with student preparedness regarding post-​school destinations. As such, it is timely and important to raise African parents’ awareness about the Australian labour market and the value of vocational qualifications. In its African Communities Action Plan, the Government of Victoria rightly stresses, “Young people should not be subjected to feeling the need to fulfil their parents’ goals in terms of career progression” (Victorian Government, 2018b, p. 51). Schools should also be supported to promote positive cultural identities of African students, build their personal efficacy, and meaningfully tackle the problem of racism. The chapter also argued that disadvantages associated with life-​course trajectories, doxic aspirations and low self-​efficacy, parental misconception about qualifications, and teachers’ low expectations all negatively impact educational aspirations, experiences, and the attainment of African refugee youth. Early educational disadvantage, parental misconception about vocational and academic qualifications, racial stigma and low expectations of teachers, and doxic aspirations and low self-​efficacy of students were among the key challenges faced by African students in their school education. Even so, in the State of Victoria, African-​background liaison officers in the five schools consistently reported successful engagement with African students. This implies that schools with a significant number of African-​background students might benefit from employing community engagement officers from the same cultural group. However, we should be cautious not to fall into the trap of attributing the educational outcomes of refugees to cultural and racial differences. The focus should be on the life-​courses of the youth and the life-​chances they currently have. The educational disadvantage of this group should not be studied in isolation from other aspects of their lives. Finally, career advice enables parents and students to make informed decisions about study pathways and work options. This outcome is particularly critical now because the future of work is changing at a rapid pace. We are entering the age of Industry 4.0, in which economic productivity heavily relies on advanced levels of knowledge and skills. It is well documented that parental

84  Educational attainment involvement and clarity about career options are critical for student motivation and engagement. With timely and relevant career guidance, students are more likely to be motivated for learning, knowing what needs to be done to realise their aspirations. Our children should be encouraged to take the future into their own hands. As parents, we need to be well prepared to make that possible and provide them with the necessary career advice at home. School-​based career activities and consultations can prepare us for that role. With the right level and form of support, our children can become adaptable and thoughtful risk-​takers. It is critical that schools ensure access to career services is equitable and that parents from culturally diverse, disadvantaged communities are actively engaged with such services. Note 1 The list of other scholars who closely examined the issue of refugee education include Dryden-​Peterson (2016); De Haene et al. (2018); Joyce et al. (2010); King and Owens (2018); Koyama (2013); Naidoo (2009, 2015); Oliver and Hughes (2018); Ramsay and Baker (2019); Sladek and King (2016); Sidhu and Naidoo (2018); Unangst (2019); Willems and Vernimmen (2018); WUSC (2019); Zeus (2011).

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5 Higher education opportunities Policy visibility of refugees

Choosing to be accountable for the whole, creating a context of hospitality and collective possibility, acting to bring the gifts of those on the margin into the center—​these are some of the ways we begin to create a community of citizens. (Peter Block, 2018) 5.1 Introduction Education is a foundational capability; it empowers people to be and do what they have a reason to value in their lives. For refugees, meaningful engagement with the host society necessitates knowledge, skills, language proficiency, and confidence. All these valuable attributes are gained mainly through education. However, globally, refugee education remains underfunded (Ferede, 2018). The United Nations Refugee Agency specifically noted that even though young people (between 18 and 24 years of age) account for a significant portion of the refugee population, as of late 2018, only three in 100 refugee youth were enrolled in higher education (HE). Successful refugee integration “depends on the policies and attitudes held by the dominant society, and whether acculturating individuals prefer strategies that correspond to these views in the larger society” (Berry, 1992, p. 74). At the core of both aspects of integration is public action in the form of social services during and after settlement and the readiness of refugees to learn the culture and values of the destination society. Destination societies are expected to put in place institutional and social mechanisms with the potential to transform refugees into citizens, both in political and cultural terms. Without timely access to relevant resources, refugees are destined to be permanently excluded. This durable marginal position further circumscribes their access to social rights and opportunities, leading to the reproduction of disadvantage in society. The state regulates access to rights, resources, and opportunities. In so doing, it draws a distinction between citizens and non-​citizens through retributive, distributive, and recognitive instruments (e.g. legal actions, policy provisions, and political discourses). Belonging needs to be intentionally nurtured through policy and practice (see Block’s words in the epigraph above). For DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-7

90  Educational attainment instance, timely and relevant educational opportunities enhance the integration outcomes of refugees. With a focus on HE opportunities for African refugee youth, this chapter problematises the extent to which refugees are recognised as targets of equity provisions. To understand the extent to which Australia supports HE participation of refugees, this chapter analyses recent equity policy provisions. The aim is to understand whether HE equity policies in Australia have established boundaries that exclude refugees. The analysis is guided by the following research question: To what extent has refugee status been recognised as a category of disadvantage in Australian HE? In answering this question, this chapter is informed by critical policy research (Molla, 2021a; Prunty, 1985; Savage et al., 2021). As an analytical framework, critical policy scholarship aims to understand the framing of the problem, illuminate who is systematically privileged or excluded, and analyse the hidden structure of power in policy discourses (Ball, 1997; Gale, 2001). It is “anchored in the vision of a moral order in which justice, equality, and individual freedom are uncompromised by the avarice of a few” (Prunty, 1985, p. 136). Critical policy analysis draws our attention to the openness of policy texts for interpretation and translation in the context of practice, underscoring who defines the boundaries in the constructions of “social exclusion” and “social inclusion” in education systems and with what consequences. It uncovers the governing beliefs in policy provisions and statements while problematising what can be said vis-​à-​vis what is said about equity targets, including refugees. Bearing this theoretical stance in mind, I set out to analyse equity responses to emerging educational disadvantages associated with refugees in Australia. Key policy documents reviewed for the chapter include the national Multicultural Statement (Australian Government, 2017), the Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide (Australian Government, 2018), the Alice Springs (Mparntwe) Education Declaration (COAG, 2019), the Higher Education Participation and Partnerships Program (Australian Government, 2012), and the Higher Education Standards Framework (DET, 2015). I also reviewed admission policies and the Diversity and Inclusion statements of individual universities as well as major commissioned reports across the sector. The five universities that participated in the study were purposefully selected based on the number of students they enrolled from equity groups and their willingness to participate in the research. The interviews focused on institutional responses to the equity needs of refugee-​background students. At the analysis stage, I closely read the policy texts and transcripts, identified meaningful segments of the texts, highlighted relevant themes, and mapped out emerging patterns. Finally, by combining related themes, I constructed categories that capture key findings of the analysis. However, the datasets are not without limitations. As noted below, policies represent intents, and policy translation is essentially a contextual process. In other words, policy text analysis only gives us a partial view of reality, mainly because textual statements do not necessarily reflect actions on the ground or the outcomes of those actions.

Higher education opportunities  91 The remainder of the chapter is organised into four major sections. The first section presents national initiatives that could expand refugees’ access to education. The second section narrows the discussion to the HE sector. It reviews major equity policies and programmes, with a focus on refugee status as a category of disadvantage. The third section covers the institutional translation of sectoral policies. It specifically sheds light on how universities maintain a balance between compliant enactment of sectoral programmes and responsive adjustment of equity targets for the benefit of refugees. The final section problematises the representation of refugees as equity groups, highlighting sectoral misalignment and policy misframing. The chapter closes with concluding remarks. 5.2  National initiatives At a national level, there are broad initiatives relevant to the educational opportunities of refugees. In the latest national Multicultural Statement (Australian Government, 2017), the Commonwealth government aimed to extend services and programmes that meet the needs of people from diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds while at the same time ensuring the shared values of mutual respect, equality, and freedom are upheld by all Australians. Subsequently, in the Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide, the Australian Government (2018) underscored the importance of ensuring “equality of opportunity and equity of outcomes for all Australians” (p. 5). To this end, the policy specifically calls for government agencies and departments to be responsive to the unique conditions and needs of culturally diverse communities, including “refugee and humanitarian entrants” and “visibly different migrants”. The Policy Guide states: … we live in a multicultural society and that there is an obligation on Australian Government departments and agencies to ensure their programmes and services are accessible by all eligible Australians, responsive to their needs, and deliver equitable outcomes for them, regardless of their cultural and linguistic backgrounds. (p. 3, emphasis added) Although the government’s “investing in refugees” agenda falls short of fully acknowledging the educational disadvantage of humanitarian entrants (see Australian Government, 2019; Shergold et al., 2019), there is a general consensus on the need for improving the educational attainment of this group. Through the Alice Springs (Mparntwe) Education Declaration (COAG, 2019), the Australian government agreed to provide targeted support for disadvantaged groups, including refugees. One of the key goals of the Declaration is to ensure that “the Australian education system promotes excellence and equity” (p. 5) through inter alia “supporting all young Australians at risk of educational

92  Educational attainment disadvantage” (p. 9). The Commonwealth, state, and territory governments agreed that: Targeted support can help learners such as those from low socio-​economic backgrounds, those from regional, rural and remote areas, migrants and refugees, learners in out of home care, homeless young people, and children with disability to reach their potential. This means tailoring to the needs of individuals across a system that prioritizes equity of opportunity and that supports achievement. (p. 17, emphasis added) How has the HE sector (as part of the federal Department of Education) responded to this call? That is, how well are equity policies in the HE sector aligned with the above national initiatives? In this chapter, my analytical interest is twofold. First, I examine the representation of refugee status in HE equity policies. Second, I explore how universities have responded to the equity needs of refugee-​background students. The main argument of the chapter is that HE equity policies are not well aligned with multicultural and refugee-​related national initiatives. Even so, in translating sectoral policies, many universities have made responsive adjustments to target refugee-​background students. Other comparable refugee destination countries are more specific in their equity focus and provision than is the case in Australia. Following the 2015 refugee crisis, many European countries introduced equity policies aiming to widen refugees’ access to HE. The Eurydice report shows that, while countries such as Portugal legally protect refugees’ right to HE as local students, Germany’s response to the HE needs of refugees is comprehensive, ranging from prior learning recognition to bridging courses and fee exceptions (European Commission et al., 2019). The same report notes that in Italy and France, governments have made financial support available to cover refugee-​ focused scholarships and institutional integration programmes. 5.3  Sectoral policies Following the introduction of A Fair Chance for All in 1990, the Australian government identified six equity groups that were underrepresented in the sector. The policy aimed to provide people with opportunities based on disadvantage or hardship due to circumstances beyond their control (DEET, 1990; NBEET, 1996). The six equity groups represented subcategories of the society that were “significantly under-​represented” in Australian HE and regarded as deserving preferential provisions: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, women (in non-​traditional courses and postgraduate studies), people from low socioeconomic backgrounds, people with disabilities, people from NESB, and people from rural and isolated areas (DEET, 1990). The Higher Education Support Act (2003) established the expectations of a quality and equitable HE system (Section 2.1). However, notwithstanding such equity initiatives,

Higher education opportunities  93 inequality persisted in the sector. In response, in 2008, the Commonwealth government initiated a sector-​wide review. The outcome of the review, commonly known as the Bradley report, found that low SES background students remained underrepresented in Australian HE (Bradley et al., 2008). The report triggered a swift policy reaction. In 2009, the Australian government (DEEWR, 2009) set specific targets: 40 per cent of 25–​34-​year-​olds to have attained a bachelor’s degree or above by 2025; and 20 per cent of undergraduate enrolments to be from low socioeconomic backgrounds by 2020. To this end, the government introduced three major equity instruments: (a) the Higher Education Participation and Partnerships Program (2010), (b) the Demand-​ Driven System (DDS), and (c) the Higher Education Standards Framework (2015). I will briefly discuss each of these instruments here. First introduced in 2010, the Higher Education Participation and Partnerships Program (HEPPP) provides funding to universities to undertake activities and implement strategies that improve access to undergraduate courses for people from low SES backgrounds to improve their retention and completion rates. The HEPPP aims at raising aspirations for HE, widening pathways to university education, and improving engagement and attainment of equity groups (Australian Government, 2012). The programme has three components that specifically focus on student equity. The Participation component of the HEPPP provides funding to universities to increase the participation of domestic students from low SES backgrounds in accredited undergraduate qualifications and support the retention and success of those students. Under this component, providers receive funds based on their respective share of the indicator of domestic undergraduate students from equity groups. Funding is allocated to universities by a formula based on the number of equity group students enrolled at each university. The Partnerships component of the HEPPP provides funding to universities to raise the aspirations and build the capacity of people from low SES backgrounds to participate in HE through effective outreach and partnership activities with schools and other tertiary education providers. The third component of the HEPPP, the National Priorities Pool Program, provided funding for projects that develop an evidence base for future equity policy and equity programme delivery to maximise opportunity and outcomes for low SES people in HE. The HEPPP provides supplementary funding to universities “to undertake activities and implement strategies that improve access to undergraduate courses for people from low SES backgrounds and improve their retention and completion rates” (Australian Government, 2012, Section 1.40.1). In the last 11 years (2010–​2020), the federal government allocated over 1.3 billion dollars under the HEPPP. During the same period, the five public universities included in this study received, on average, over four million dollars per year for equity activities (Australian Government, 2020). Under Section 1.50.10 of the HEPPP guidelines, within the demographics of the low SES student population, universities can use HEPPP funding to tailor their programmes to “address the specific disadvantage” of their low SES student population.

94  Educational attainment Typically, funds are used to broaden access, run outreach programmes, and support existing students. In 2012, the government introduced the DDS. The core purposes of the policy were to expand Commonwealth-​supported places for all domestic undergraduate students and widen the participation of disadvantaged groups (PC, 2019). Under the new system, government-​supported undergraduate university places were uncapped; everyone with the required preparation and willingness could attend university. As a result, although its equity effect remains unclear, the policy boosted HE participation—​the number of domestic undergraduate students increased from 469,000 in 2009 to an estimated 577,000 in 2013 (PC, 2019). Following the 2017 end of the DDS, in 2019 the Commonwealth government introduced the performance-​ based funding (PBF) model for universities (Tehan, 2019). The model includes equity as a key indicator of performance. The Wellings Report (Wellings et al., 2019), upon which the PBF scheme was designed, calls on the government to set a sector-​wide threshold for equity group participation rates (Recommendation 14). Finally, the Higher Education Standards Framework (2015) stresses the significance of accommodating diversity and ensuring equity. Under Section 3.1 of the Framework (2015), “Students have equivalent opportunities for a successful transition into and progression through their course of study, irrespective of their educational background, entry pathway, mode or place of study” (emphasis added). In light of these HEPPP provisions, under Section 2.2, the framework stipulates that universities must devise policies and strategies to “accommodate student diversity”, promote HE participation of Indigenous Australians, and monitor participation, progression, and completion by students from equity groups. Nonetheless, it is imperative to note that none of these sectoral equity initiatives recognise refugee status as a category of educational disadvantage. This misframing (exclusion from consideration) has had direct implications for the HE participation of refugees. Without a sector-​wide equity provision, institutional arrangements remain incoherent and insufficient to the needs of students with this background. As a result, refugee-​background students continue to face structural barriers for entry to, and progression within, HE institutions (Naylor et al., 2019). For instance, notwithstanding institutional equity arrangements (see Section 5.4), HE participation and completion rates of African refugee youth remain very low (see Chapter 6). 5.4  Institutional translation In Australian HE, sectoral policies define equity targets and outline broad guidelines, while universities are required to comply with national legislation relating to diversity and equity. This section focuses on how universities translate sectoral equity policies (including the Higher Education Standards Framework and the HEPPP). Ball et al. (2011) discussed policy translation as “a process of invention and compliance” (p. 630). Enacting nationally defined equity policies is a situated process; it is “contextually mediated and

Higher education opportunities  95 institutionally rendered” (Ball et al., 2012, p. 142). Actors in the field of practice “read” a policy with special attention to its viability within their social and institutional contexts. At an institutional level, policy enactment entails contestation, compromise, and compliance (Molla & Gale, 2019). In other words, doing policy in context shifts the focus from the goals of policymakers to the positionality and agency of actors in the field of practice. As Ball et al. (2012) noted, policy texts “cannot simply be implemented! They have to be translated from text to action—​put ‘into’ practice—​in relation to history and context, with the resources available” (p. 3). Translation involves repackaging policy into artefacts, events, and guidelines to realise policy objectives. In translating a policy, key agents in the context of practice engage in framing the meaning of policy ideas and in devising strategies to realise the framing. The institutional translation of sectoral equity policies in Australian universities is characterised by stances of compliant enactment and responsive adjustment. The notion of compliant enactment underscores why institutional actors may show readiness to act as officially prescribed, mainly because the task asks them “to be no more and no less than [they are] prepared to be” (Goffman, 2017/​1961, pp. 188–​189). From this perspective, equity provisions can be seen as “readerly policies” in the sense that actors in the context of implementation are expected to “read” and “perform” the policies (Ball et al., 2012). For example, the HEPPP guidelines specify examples of acceptable activities that universities use to promote participation, including outreach activities, awareness-​raising activities for parents and students, inclusive entry processes, transition programmes to support cultural and geographical issues of inclusion, academic preparation, mentoring and tutorial support, and institutional scholarship opportunities. The equity activities cover the complete life-​cycle of the students, from access (pre-​entry and admission) to participation (transition, progression, and retention), and attainment (successful completion and graduate employment). In light of the guidelines, all five universities included in this study put in place a range of equity strategies: partnership and outreach activities, special entry access schemes, alternative pathways, equity scholarship programmes, and mentoring services. Students who miss direct entry to a university degree (even with adjustment points) can still enrol in bridging programmes as a pathway to destination courses. In bridging programmes, students commonly study first-​year university degree subjects along with courses designed to prepare them in academic writing and research skills. The programmes are characterised by intensive learning support. On completion of these pathway courses (diploma or associate degrees), students can get up to one year of credit towards a range of undergraduate degree programmes. Relatedly, to attract and retain students from socioeconomically disadvantaged backgrounds, Australian universities have also put in place equity scholarship programmes. Some universities offer equity scholarships fully funded by internal resources, whereas others use the HEPPP funds. In one university that was included in the study, equity scholarship opportunities were offered to students from non-​ English-​ speaking

96  Educational attainment backgrounds, refugee backgrounds, and those who were first in their family to go to university. The scholarship ranged from a one-​off cash payment at the beginning of the academic year to the provision of a laptop and ongoing financial support. One of the critical dilemmas universities face is maintaining a balance between equity and excellence. On the one hand, through bridging courses and equity adjustment, they attract low ATAR (academically underprepared) students. On the other hand, universities should meet expectations of excellence, quality, and graduate outcomes as outlined in the Higher Education Standards Framework (DET, 2015) and the PBF (Wellings et al., 2019). Against the background of this tension, universities use proactive measures to support students who are at risk of disengagement or dropping out (Naylor et al., 2019), especially those who enter the university on special consideration or through alternative pathways. For instance, all institutions included in this study had mentoring support in place to ensure retention and successful completion by students from equity groups. Two equity managers from two public universities further noted that students who benefited from equity scholarships and other support services were more likely to seek support if they struggled in their studies. The universities paid attention to a range of red flags that students might create for themselves, including not accessing learning management systems in time. At one institution, depending on their activities in the learning management system and assessment results in core subjects, the university tracked and provided outreach to the students to discuss mentorship options and other support services available to them. Equity managers interviewed for the study also highlighted that, while academic development advisors play critical roles in quickly picking up struggling students, student well-​being and counselling offers are equally important in stabilising overwhelmed students. All these equity instruments and practices are in line with the HEPPP guidelines. Translating equity provisions also entails responsive adjustment. The policy sociology literature suggests that policy actors in the field of practice are not necessarily “naïve readers” who uncritically conform to what is in an official document (Ball et al., 2012; Bowe et al., 1992; Molla & Gale, 2019). As Ball (1994) argued, policies “do not normally tell you what to do, they create circumstances in which the range of options available in deciding what to do are narrowed or changed, or particular goals or outcomes are set” (p. 19). In enacting equity policies, actors in HE institutions engage in tactical “secondary adjustment”, which “represents ways in which the individual stands apart from the role and the self that were taken for granted for him by the institution [or system]” (Goffman, 2017/​1961, p. 189). Here, policy actors are involved in accommodative adjustment rather than uncritical conformity or outright contestation. Lipsky (2010) claimed that, in their direct interaction with policy targets, “street-​level bureaucrats” such as equity managers make “acceptable compromise” between “policy as written” and “policy as performed”. They balance the need for meeting external expectations and what is desirable and

Higher education opportunities  97 doable within one’s context of practice. In spaces of practice, “as autonomy increases, the refraction effect grows, and the agents tend to divert, translate and interpret external phenomena in terms of the stakes, logics, and beliefs specific to the field and the positions they occupy within it” (Hilgers & Mangez, 2015, p. 7). In lower policy sites, adjustment can be seen as a form of coping mechanism. As noted above, universities in the study largely complied with the sectoral expectation in terms of specific equity strategies that support student access, transition, and success. Even so, universities had the flexibility to target their activities towards the equity groups that were most relevant to their circumstances. That is, there existed significant divergences in defining equity beneficiaries. The sectoral equity policies and programmes (e.g. HEPPP and the National Priorities Pool Program [NPPP]) name three equity target groups: people from regional and remote areas, low SES backgrounds, and Indigenous persons (DESE, 2020). Refugees remain invisible in the Australian HE policy space (Harvey & Leask, 2020; Molla, 2021b, 2021c; Sladek & King, 2016). Notwithstanding the invisibility of refugees in sectoral policy, equity strategies of many universities target refugee students. For instance, special university entry schemes (i.e. Universities Equity Scheme in South Australia; University Access Pathways in Western Australia; Educational Access Scheme in Queensland; Educational Access Scheme in New South Wales and ACT; Special Entry Access Scheme in Victoria; and Access, Participation, and Partnership in Tasmania) provide preferential admission points that benefit students from “disadvantaged backgrounds”. However, at least in the 2010s, only university admission centres in the states of Victoria and NSW include refugee status as a category of disadvantage. This accommodative adjustment can be attributed to the fact that most recent refugees (including Africans) have resettled in the two states (DOHA, 2018). Further, many universities have equity scholarships for refugees. In 2019, over half of Australia’s 37 public universities offered scholarships for refugees and asylum-​seekers (e.g. humanitarian scholarship programmes at the University of Adelaide, the University of Canberra, Griffith University, Macquarie University, the University of Melbourne, and the University of Technology Sydney). Three out of five universities that participated in this research had scholarship programmes that specifically targeted refugee-​ background students. This was especially true of one university that had a well-​ defined strategy to target refugee students for scholarship and grant opportunities. At the start of each semester, equity personnel of the university contacted refugee students with a note explaining the equity scholarship opportunities available. However, outreach activities and alternative pathways of the five universities included in this study do not mention refugee-​background students as targets for support. Asked if they target refugees for outreach and mentoring services, the equity manager at one university responded, “We don’t have a program for refugee only students”. Still, while none of the universities included in this

98  Educational attainment study had strategies to target refugees for alternative pathway courses, refugee-​ background students are not discriminated against. They are eligible to apply for those courses. In fact, many refugee-​background African students enter HE through “alternative pathways” (Molla, 2019). In other words, refugee status has been only partially found to be a category of disadvantage in the institutional translation of equity programmes within the sector. Responsive adjustment is a constitutive feature of policy work. Ball et al. (2012) saw policy enactment as a creative process that involves “the translation of texts into action and the abstractions of policy ideas into contextualised practices”. In the words of Majone and Wildavsky (1984), “When we act to implement a policy, we change it” (p. 177); as such “literal implementation is literally impossible” (p. 178). In other words, the alignment between what a policy intends to solve and what policy actors manage to solve remains inexact. Relatedly, the extent to which universities support refugees cannot be fully explained by the economic positions of the institutions. The HEPPP guidelines allow flexible use of equity funding, and the programme has made vital resources available for universities to target disadvantaged groups, such as refugees. Divergencies in institutional translation within the same state (e.g. Victoria) can be explained in terms of institutional ethos and the social justice dispositions of university leaders. 5.5  Problematising the equity provisions Through representing issues in a particular way, policy defines who gets what in society. How a policy represents the problem to be addressed reveals the assumptions and values of the policymakers. In her deconstructionist approach to policy analysis, Bacchi (2009) argued, “Since how you feel about something determines what you suggest doing about it, it is equally true to say that looking at what is proposed as a policy intervention will reveal how the issue is being thought about” (pp. 2–​3). The way a policy problem is framed determines what strategies are selected, who the potential beneficiaries are, and ultimately the likelihood of addressing the problem. Using Fraser’s notion of misframing and a multiscalar view of policy work as an analytical lens, this section sets out to analyse equity responses to refugees’ educational disadvantages. In so doing, it assesses the policy visibility of humanitarian entrants. The findings reveal scalar misalignments. That is, although national educational and multicultural initiatives recognise refugee status as a category of disadvantage, refugees remain hidden within the sectoral policy view. However, in translating sectoral policies, many universities have managed to maintain a balance between compliant enactment of equity strategies and a responsive adjustment of equity targets. The chapter also highlights instances of policy misframing—​that is, where equity provisions that target refugees are characterised by issue omissions and deficit accounts (see Figure 5.1). Relatedly, policy actions can be sorted according to their scale of operation, and these scales can be distinctive in scope and degree of influence. That is to

Higher education opportunities  99

Figure 5.1 Key aspects of structural factors that mediate refugees’ higher education opportunities: Scalar misalignment and policy misframing. Source: Author.

say, the operational scales—​in this case, national, sectoral, and institutional policy arenas—​have interactive relationships defined by legislative and financial arrangements. For instance, institutional HE policy translation is informed by other policy sites (e.g. national and sectoral) where economic resources and political power necessary for university operation reside. What does this scalar view of policy mean for equitable HE opportunities of refugees? As noted above, there are generic national policy statements that could potentially widen the HE opportunities of refugees in Australia. However, the policy scales are generally not well aligned when it comes to refugee education. The three key themes worth highlighting here are disconnection, omission, and distortion. 5.5.1  Disconnection: Scalar misalignment

The scalar perspective holds that policy actions and inactions can be sorted according to their scale of operation (Brenner, 2001). It recognises the positionality of actors and the multiplicity and interaction of scales of action. Here, a policy scale can be defined as “a level at which particular kinds of institutions and actors concentrate—​and from there seek to organise or govern social, political and economic activity” (Robertson & Dale, 2017, p. 869). That is, scales represent hierarchically positioned spaces of policy activities. The assumption is that policies with the same goals and target groups can be enacted at different scales of operation. For instance, in Australia, refugee-​ focused education policy provisions and enactment can be assessed at three

100  Educational attainment scales: national (e.g. policies and initiatives by the federal government or intergovernmental forums, such as the National Federation Reform Council that has replaced the Coalition of Australian Governments), sectoral (e.g. equity policies and programmes in the HE sector), and institutional (e.g. specific equity strategies and outreach activities of universities). As sites of policy actions, national initiatives, sectoral programmes, and institutional practices are hierarchically interrelated; the national policy space is conceived here as the top regulatory scale, while the sectoral and institutional spaces, respectively, represent the middle-​and low-​level sites of action. Each policy scale can be operationally distinctive, with a varying scope of authority. At different levels of hierarchy, there exist different ways and rationales of policy translation. Relatedly, although policy is viewed as a continuous process, it is possible to draw lines of distinction between contexts of broad initiatives and contexts of action. Further, notwithstanding formal rules and regulations, positions in the spaces of practice influence agents’ tactics of engagement. The responses of institutional equity practitioners to external expectations, including equity policy provisions, are a function of their values and the structure of capital at their disposal. As Bourdieu (2015) noted, “the true principle of the functioning of the institution” manifests in the “unconscious adjustment of positions and dispositions” (p. 314). That is, what equity practitioners do (or do not do) concerning the policy pronouncement at a sectoral level depends in part on institutional resources and personal social justice dispositions of key actors in the field (Molla & Gale, 2019). Having said that, it is important to note that the focus of the present analysis is on scalar policy targets rather than the scale itself. The scalar view does not only refer to the spatial-​legal jurisdictions in terms of the relationship between the federal government and its state and territory counterparts. The focus is on interrelated scales of policy action directly associated with the federal government, which has the primary responsibility for funding and governance of the HE sector. Understanding scalar (mis)alignment necessitates paying attention to the way issues are framed at distinctive policy scales. The scalar analysis highlights disconnection between the policy sites. That is, although nationally refugee status has been recognised as a category of disadvantage, refugees remain invisible in equity policies across the HE sector. Policy enactment is a multisite process. The translation of nationally defined agendas, such as the Multicultural Access and Equity Policy, involves ensembles of sectors, agencies, and institutions—​here referred to as policy scales. The concept of scalar misalignment is used specifically to refer to the issue of omission within a policy scale as well as disconnections of equity agendas and targets across different policy sites. The key measure of scalar alignment I have used in this chapter is the extent to which refugee status has been recognised as a category of disadvantage at national, sectoral, and institutional levels of practice. It has been found that, in terms of targeting refugee-​background students, the HE sector is not well aligned with (a) national multicultural inclusion statements and (b) institutional equity policies and programmes

Higher education opportunities  101

Figure 5.2 Scalar misalignment: The recognition of refugee status as a subcategory of disadvantage across three policy scales. Source: Author.

(see Figure 5.2). The Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide (Australian Government, 2018) requires all government departments and agencies to be responsive to the specific needs and conditions of “refugee and humanitarian entrants” and other “visibly different migrants”. Likewise, the latest intergovernmental declaration on education (COAG, 2019) underscores the importance of recognising refugee status as a category of disadvantage. However, at the sectoral level, refugees remain invisible. They are omitted. The current equity programme (i.e. HEPPP) narrows down the number of equity groups from six to three: “those students who are Indigenous, who come from a low SES background, or who have a disability” (Australian Government, 2012, Section 1.5.1). Similarly, the current PBF scheme recognises only three equity categories: people from Indigenous backgrounds, low SES, and regional and remote locations (Tehan, 2019; Wellings et al., 2019). As a result, the HE sector has not been responsive to the national agendas of multicultural inclusion and the educational needs of refugee-​background communities. This implies that, although policy alignment might not necessarily result in improved outcomes (Savage & O’Connor, 2019), misalignment of equity targets across

102  Educational attainment hierarchically positioned policy sites surely risks excluding the disadvantaged from consideration for preferential allocation of resources. But all is not lost. Institutional translation of sectoral policies partially addresses the equity needs of refugees. Under the HEPPP legislation, Australian universities have the flexibility to target their activities towards the equity groups that are most relevant to their circumstances. Many universities participate in special consideration schemes and support refugee students on an ongoing basis. Further, in light of the national Higher Education Standard Framework, the Diversity and Inclusion statements of many Australian universities underline the importance of fostering pedagogic inclusiveness and curricular representation. Substantive institutional equity work necessitates culturally responsive pedagogy and curricular transformation to reflect refugee-​ background students’ “multiple ways of knowing” (Harris et al., 2015). However, in practice, the Diversity and Inclusion statements seem to be tokenistic. Equity interventions focus on limited cultural attributes and groups. Two of the universities I visited during the fieldwork emphasised the urgency of making “reasonable adjustments” to ensure “substantive equality” or “equal opportunity” for disadvantaged groups. However, a closer analysis of specific equity instruments of the two institutions revealed that refugees were not among the equity target groups. Divergences in the extent to which universities target refugee-​background students highlight the importance of understanding the contextual forces that mediate policy translation. 5.5.2  Omission: Policy silence

At the intersection of scalar misalignment and policy misframing is issue omission, or specifically the exclusion of refugees as policy targets (see Figure 5.1). In the original framing, the NESB equity group was represented as people with “educational disadvantage arising from their immigration circumstances” (Martin, 2016, p. 31), and the category primarily referred to students from “Middle Eastern, Italian, Maltese and Yugoslav backgrounds” (DEET, 1990, p. 35). When the equity policy statement called for attention to the underrepresentation of NESB students, there were not many Africans in Australia at the time. Over 80 per cent of sub-​Saharan Africans arrived in Australia as permanent migrants after the mid-​1990s. Further, there existed considerable variations within the NESB category in terms of economic status, parental level of education, and cultural characteristics. The category includes “children of middle-​class, highly educated, entrepreneurial migrants who are competently bilingual” (Lingard et al., 2012, p. 322). Not all non-​ English-​speaking families are equally educationally disadvantaged. In most cases, economic immigrants are well-​educated professionals, whereas African refugees from refugee camps arrive in Australia with little or no education. What the policy framing (i.e. the equity groupings) overlooked was the magnitude of differences between the two groups of families, especially in terms of cultural, economic, and social resources available to the children to mobilise

Higher education opportunities  103 in their learning. In the eyes of those policy actors who enact the equity categories, children from these two different families within the NESB group are similar: they were born overseas, and they speak a language other than English at home. Even so, in successive reviews of equity arrangements of the government (e.g. Bradley et al., 2008; James et al., 2004; Lomax-​Smith et al., 2011; NBEET, 1996), the relevance of NESB as an equity group has been de-​emphasised. In response, the Australian government has adjusted the focus of equity programmes. For example, the HEPPP aims to “assist with overcoming barriers to access and participation by domestic undergraduate students in HE, in particular, those students who are Indigenous, who come from a low SES background, or who have a disability” (Australian Government, 2012, Section 1.5.1, emphasis added). With the government’s decision to abandon the NESB equity category in 2012, in university-​level equity practices, refugee groups are subsumed under the low SES background category. The majority of Africans with refugee backgrounds might still benefit under the low SES equity target group, given that the median income of Africans is much lower than that of the general Australian population (DOHA, 2018; DSS, 2013); however, the category reduces overlapping factors of disadvantage to financial hardship. In so doing, it homogenises equity targets and overlooks the complexities of conditions and intersectionality of factors of disadvantage faced within this group. Although the HEPPP guideline allows universities to “tailor their programs to address the specific disadvantage, as appropriate, to the demographics of their low SES student population and applicants” (Section 1.50.10), institutions lack a shared frame of reference with which to classify and respond to the needs of refugee-​background students. In equity policy spaces, invisibility is not a virtue. Going “universal” or unseen does not do justice to those who face cumulative disadvantages. For people on the social margins, invisibility can be “a byword for exclusion, alienation, and subjection …. It allows entire communities to be ignored” (Busch, 2019, p. 15). Policy invisibility of refugee students at a sectoral level means that HE institutions lack a shared frame of reference to target the needs of this group. It was clear from the interviews with equity managers that not all universities had services specifically targeting refugee-​background students. Only one of the five universities included in the study had an office specifically devoted to supporting refugee-​background students. In another university, there existed an extensive support mechanism that enabled refugees to “navigate the internal systems of the university”. But at one university, the equity manager stated, “Once the student comes to the university, it becomes quite difficult to target them because so many things are universal”. Another manager from a different university noted, “Refugee students are on our radar if they are on course work scholarships …. But if they are in the mainstream there is a possibility that they may not be located”. The policy invisibility of refugees cannot be fully understood without considering the politics of fear underpinning the immigration debate more

104  Educational attainment broadly (as discussed in Chapter 9). With the arrival of a considerable number of African refugees since the mid-​1990s, scepticism towards the nation’s multicultural policy grew among conservative political forces. The political right routinely racialises youth violence, attacks multiculturalism, and complains that African refugees “have the challenges of resettling” in Australia, and that it was a “false compassion to keep allowing” them into the society (Harrison, 2007). This is an expression of racial stigma. Glasgow (2009) noted, “Just as an utterance can express disrespect, so can a policy”—​“a state can disrespect its non-​white citizens by exclusively banning non-​white immigrants from entry” (p. 86). Further, in the last five years, following incidents of street violence that involved some African youth, Australian conservative politicians and media personalities raised spectres of “African crime gangs” and made the phrase “of African appearance” synonymous with criminality (Macaulay & Deppeler, 2020; Majavu, 2020; Molla, 2021b). As noted in the last theme of the following section, all these racism-​infused narratives and measures have implications for the educational opportunities and experiences of refugee youth. 5.5.3  Distortion: Issue misframing

The state regulates access to rights, resources, and opportunities through policy actions and inactions—​through framing and misframing. Governments use policy as a political instrument for allocating values and resources (Stone, 2011). However, often the logic of citizenship rights and the needs of refugees are not necessarily well-​ aligned. In this regard, as Fraser (2013) argued, framing is a consequential political decision mainly because it can wrongly exclude some deserving members of society from consideration for parity in participation. In her principle of parity of participation, Fraser (2008) argued that justice demands social arrangements, such as education policies and programmes “that permit all to participate as peers in social life” (p. 405). In framing a policy agenda, decision-​makers not only describe a problem and justify why the problem is worthy of public attention, but they also specify targets and instruments of action. From Fraser’s perspective, within the economic sphere, social justice concerns with (mal)distribution of resources, such as employment and educational opportunities. In the cultural domain of life, injustice occurs when there is deprivation of dignity based on such identity categories as gender, race, and religion. The third strand of justice concerns the question of (mis)representation in politics and policy. In Nash and Bell (2007), Fraser identified two levels of misrepresentation associated with “political voice” and “symbolic framing” (p. 76). The first level of misrepresentation results from “political decision rules” that wrongly deny some members of society from participating on a par with others (Fraser, 2013, p. 196). This form of misrepresentation foregrounds people’s ability to have a voice in what they reflectively see as valuable. Fraser referred to the second level of political injustice as misframing, which occurs “when questions of justice are framed in a way that wrongly excludes some from consideration” (2013, p. 197).

Higher education opportunities  105 Concentrating mainly on undesirable consequences of globalisation, Fraser (2013) used the notion of misframing to explain the tendency of governments to misrepresent “what are actually transnational injustices as national matters” (pp. 13–​14). In this respect, Fraser (2008) described misframing as a “meta-​ injustice” in the sense that “unjustly framed” social arrangements can deprive people of participatory parity by hoarding opportunities, legitimising unequal treatment, and/​or excluding people from decision-​making procedures. She emphasised that frame-​setting constitutes “both members and non-​members in a single stroke”, and in so doing, it “effectively excludes the latter from the universe of those entitled to consideration within the community in matters of distribution, recognition, and ordinary-​political representation” (Fraser, 2013, p. 197). The representation of refugees in Australian HE shows how policy misframing interacts with questions of maldistribution and misrecognition. To begin with, the equity framing in Australian HE groups refugees in a single category of low SES. This framing overlooks complex non-​economic factors of disadvantage that refugees face and inhibits institutions from running resource-​ intensive programmes tailored to benefit the specific needs of this group. The criteria for equity consideration also overlook complexities. In deciding who deserves special consideration for entry through reasonable adjustment, many universities outside Victoria and NSW foreground the SES background of schools. However, this does not recognise that low SES families might also live in pockets of affluent suburbs. Hence, given increased social heterogeneity of suburbs of major metropolitan centres of Australia, the use of SES of geographic locations as the main measure of educational disadvantage is problematic (KPMG, 2015; Teese, 2007). The equity manager at one public university explained why the low SES category restricted their ability to target refugees and other disadvantaged groups: I think we’re all a little bit constrained by the postcode measure to identify low SES, by having a geographic marker, if you like, for what is essentially an individual characteristic that attributes to a person and a child to their family situation. The problem of inequality in HE is also primarily framed as a lack of access. Defining the educational disadvantage of refugees as a lack of access ignores the intersectional factors of inequality the group face. Originally, Crenshaw (1989) used the concept of intersectionality to describe how the convergence of gender and racial identity resulted in the prejudicial treatment of African Americans. The concept has been since broadly applied to explain how identity-​based attributes, historical experiences, SES, and geographical location interact and overlap to influence the position and positionality of individuals in society. Intersectionality is not merely about having multiple identities but about how that multiplicity determines the extent to which one is afforded or denied opportunities and recognition. Providing substantive opportunities

106  Educational attainment starts with recognising the unique conditions of refugee youth and how these conditions affect their educational outcomes. Finally, when refugees are visible in equity strategies of universities, the focus is often on what sort of support mechanisms are needed to bring them in. Refugee-​background students are depicted as “problems” who need “help”. This framing is problematic because it represents refugees in deficit terms. This framing is not limited to the HE sector. For example, in schools, refugee students are often misrecognised—​ they are seen “through a prism of vulnerability” (Sidhu & Naidoo, 2018, p. 179) that essentialises and homogenises difference and marginality (Keddie, 2012, p. 1308). Through homogenising differences within equity groups and representing educational disadvantage in deficit terms, sectoral and institutional policies misframe questions of equity—​which is a form of issue distortion. Fraser (2013) stressed that misframing constitutes injustice when “questions of justice are framed in a way that wrongly excludes some from consideration” (p. 197). To reiterate, in Australian HE, refugee status is not formally recognised as a category of disadvantage. This misframing (the exclusion of refugees as legitimate targets of preferential support) reproduces injustice in three ways. First, by the denial of targeted policy provisions, refugees lack the necessary institutional support to succeed in their studies (maldistribution). Second, with the racialisation of violence in the public sphere, some refugee groups (e.g. those from sub-​Saharan African countries) continue to experience racial biases and are construed in deficit terms (misrecognition). Finally, policy invisibility of refugees can imply limited involvement of the group in equity-​related policy debates and decisions (which constitutes ordinary political misrepresentation). Ensuring refugees’ participatory parity in Australian HE demands transformative equity instruments (Fraser, 2013) that address structural factors underlying socioeconomic, cultural, and political problems the group encounters. In the words of Bozalek and Boughey (2012), “Struggles against misrecognition and maldistribution cannot succeed unless they are joined in a struggle against misframing” (p. 698). That is to say, the policy response needs to be holistic in approach. 5.6 Conclusion The chapter set out to examine the representation of refugee status as a category of disadvantage in Australian HE. While national educational and multicultural initiatives of Australia recognise refugees as targets of equity actions, the group remains invisible in equity programmes within the HE sector. However, at an institutional level, some Australian universities have managed to maintain a balance between compliant enactment of equity strategies and responsive adjustment of equity targets. The analysis also revealed that, when it comes to the issue of targeting refugees, there are scalar misalignments and policy misframing. As is evident in the case of refugees, the persistence of the problem of inequality in the sector might in part be linked to policy silences, scalar misalignment, and problematic issue framing.

Higher education opportunities  107 The chapter unmasks policy silences, highlights the homogenising effects of equity categories, and calls for a recognition of refugee status as a category of educational disadvantage. Refugees from African countries arrive with a complex level of disadvantage. For this group, homogeneous resettlement and integration opportunities may not be sufficient. Targeted education provision is necessary. The policy implication is that refugee status needs to be recognised as a category of disadvantage in the HE sector. As Chapter 2 argued, putting resources in place is not a sufficient measure of equity as people are differently positioned to transform such opportunities into valued outcomes. Resource-​ based accounts of equity in education assume that everyone is equally positioned to use resources without impediment. Although the Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide (Australian Government, 2018) requires all government departments and agencies to be responsive to specific needs and conditions of “refugee and humanitarian entrants” and other “visibly different migrants”, at the time of writing, the HE sector appears to be reluctant to comply with such expectations. Systemic and institutional student equity programmes rarely reflect a commitment to multicultural access and inclusion. Notwithstanding intersecting factors of disadvantage faced by refugees on their way to and within HE, refugees remain hidden from view. The policy debate overlooks the interplay of objective structures and subjective conditions that circumscribed the ability of refugee youth to benefit from equity provisions. Also, in the HE sector, the current equity grouping has a homogenising effect. The low SES equity category reduces overlapping factors of disadvantage to financial hardship. In so doing, it overlooks cumulative disadvantages within the group. It is therefore imperative to question whether the equity work of universities can be responsive and adaptive without a common frame of reference at a national level. For Australia to fully integrate humanitarian entrants, there is an urgent need for streamlined policy responses directed towards meeting the educational needs and aspirations of refugees. National initiatives need to be translated through sectoral and institutional policies and practices. References Australian Government. (2012). Higher Education Support Act 2003—​ Other Grants Guidelines (Education) 2012 [replaced: The Other Grants Guidelines (Education) 2010]. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Australian Government. (2017). Multicultural Australia: United, Strong, Successful. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​mca/​Sta​teme​nts/​ engl​ish-​multic​ultu​ral-​statem​ent.pdf Australian Government. (2018). The Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide. for Australian Government Departments and Agencies. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​mca/​PDFs/​multic​ultu​ral-​acc​ess-​equ​ity-​pol​icy-​ guide.pdf Australian Government. (2019). Australian Government’s Response to the Report Investing in Refugees, Investing in Australia: The Findings of a Review into Integration,

108  Educational attainment Employment, and Settlement Outcomes for Refugees and Humanitarian Entrants in Australia. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Australian Government. (2020). 2010–​ 2020 Higher Education Participation and Partnerships Program (HEPPP) Participation Allocations. www.dese.gov.au/​heppp Bacchi, C. (2009). Analysing Policy: What’s the Problem Represented To Be? Melbourne: Pearson. Ball, S. (1994). Education Reform: A Critical and Post-​Structural Approach. Buckingham: Open University Press. Ball, S. (1997). Policy sociology and critical social research: A personal review of recent education policy and policy research. British Educational Research Journal, 23(3), 257–​274. Ball, S., Maguire, M., Braun, A., & Hoskins, K. (2011). Policy actors: Doing policy work in schools. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 32(4), 625–​ 639. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​01596​306.2011.601​565 Ball, S., Maguire, M., & Braun, A. with Hoskins, K. & Perryman, J. (2012). How Schools do Policy: Policy Enactments in Secondary Schools. Abingdon: Routledge. Berry, J. W. (1992). Acculturation and adaptation in a new society. International Migration, 30(s1), 69–​85. https://​doi.org/​10.1111/​j.1468-​2435.1992.tb00​776.x Block, P. (2018). Community: The Structure of Belonging. Oakland, CA: Berrett-​ Koehler Publishers. Bourdieu, P. (2015). Men and machines. In K. Knorr-​Cetina & A. V. Cicourel (Eds.), Advances in Social Theory and Methodology: Toward an Integration of Micro and Macro-​Sociologies (pp. 304–​317). Abingdon: Routledge (first published in 1981). Bowe, R. & Ball, S. with Gold, A. (1992). Reforming Education and Changing Schools: Case Studies in Policy Sociology. London: Routledge. Bozalek, V. & Boughey, C. (2012). (Mis)framing higher education in South Africa. Social Policy & Administration, 46(6), 688–​703. https://​doi.org/​10.1111/​ j.1467-​9515.2012.00863.x Bradley, D., Noonan, P., Nugent, H., & Scales, B. (2008). Review of Australian Higher Education: Final Report. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Brenner, N. (2001). The limits to scale? Methodological reflections on scalar structuration. Progress in Human Geography, 25(4), 591–​614. https://​doi.org/​10.1191/​030​ 9132​0168​2688​959 Busch, A. (2019). How to Disappear: Notes on Invisibility in a Time of Transparency. New York: Penguin Press. Council of Australian Governments [COAG]. (2019). Alice Springs (Mparntwe) Education Declaration. Canberra: Education Council. Crenshaw, K. (1989). Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex: A Black feminist critique of antidiscrimination doctrine, feminist theory and antiracist politics. University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989(1), 139–​167. http://​chi​cago​unbo​und.uchic​ ago.edu/​uclf/​vol1​989/​iss1/​8 Department of Education, Employment and Training [DEET]. (1990). A Fair Chance for All: National and Institutional Planning for Equity in Higher Education. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations [DEEWR]. (2009). Transforming Australia’s Higher Education System. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia.

Higher education opportunities  109 Department of Education, Skills and Employment [DESE]. (2020). Job-​Ready Graduates: Higher Education Reform Package 2020. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Department of Education and Training [DET]. (2015). Higher Education Standards Framework. Canberra: DET. Department of Home Affairs [DOHA]. (2018). Multicultural Affairs—​Community Information Summaries. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​about-​us/​our-​por​tfol​ios/​multic​ultu​ ral-​affa​irs/​commun​ity-​info​rmat​ion-​summar​ies/​coun​try-​list-​of-​summar​ies Department of Social Services [DSS]. (2013). Settlement Services. www.dss.gov.au/​ our-​respo​nsib​ilit​ies/​set​tlem​ent-​servi​ces/​progr​ams-​pol​icy/​a-​multic​ultu​ral-​austra​lia/​ progr​ams-​and-​publi​cati​ons/​commun​ity-​info​rmat​ion-​summar​ies/​the-​ethio​pia-​born-​ commun​ity European Commission, EACEA, & Eurydice. (2019). Integrating Asylum Seekers and Refugees into Higher Education in Europe: National Policies and Measures. Eurydice Report. Luxembourg: Publications Office of the European Union. Ferede, M. (2018). Higher Education for Refugees. Background Paper Prepared for the 2019 Global Education Monitoring Report. Paris: UNESCO. Fraser, N. (2008). Abnormal justice. Critical Inquiry, 34(3), 393–​422. Fraser, N. (2013). Fortunes of Feminism from Women’s Liberation to Identity Politics to Anti-​Capitalism. London: Verso. Gale, T. (2001). Critical policy sociology: Historiography, archaeology and genealogy as methods of policy analysis. Journal of Education Policy, 16(5), 379–​393. https://​ doi.org/​10.1080/​026809​3011​0071​002 Glasgow, J. (2009). Racism as disrespect. Ethics, 120(1), 64–​93. https://​doi.org/​10.1086/​ 648​588 Goffman, E. (2017/​1961). Asylums: Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates. London: Routledge. Harris, A., Marlowe, J., & Nyuon, N. (2015). Rejecting Ahmed’s “melancholy migrant”: South Sudanese Australians in higher education. Studies in Higher Education, 40(7), 1226–​1238. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​03075​079.2014.881​346 Harrison, D. (2007, October 4). African refugees face integration issues: Andrews. The Age. theage.com.au/​national/​african-​refugees-​face-​integration-​issues-​andrews-​ 20071004-​ge5yt2.html Harvey, A. & Leask, B. (2020). At the policy margins: People from refugee backgrounds in Australian higher education. In L. Unangst, H. Ergin, A. Khajarian, T. DeLaquil, & H. de Wit (Eds.), Refugees and Higher Education: Trans-​ National Perspectives on Access, Equity, and Internationalization (pp. 193–​205). Leiden: Brill/​Sense Publishers. Hilgers, M. & Mangez, E. (2015). Introduction to Pierre Bourdieu’s theory of social fields. In M. Hilgers & E. Mangez (Eds.), Pierre Bourdieu’s Theory of Social Fields (pp. 1–​36). Abingdon: Routledge. James, R., Baldwin, G., Coates, H., Krause, K., & Mcinnis, C. (2004). Analysis of Equity Groups in Higher Education 1991–​2002. Canberra: Department of Education, Science and Training. Keddie, A. (2012). Pursuing justice for refugee students: Addressing issues of cultural (mis)recognition. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 16(12), 1295–​1310. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​13603​116.2011.560​687

110  Educational attainment KPMG (2015). Evaluation of Bridges to Higher Education—​Final Report Prepared for the Bridges to Higher Education Management Committee. Sydney: KPMG. www. voced.edu.au/​cont​ent/​ngv%3A91​718 Lingard, B., Creagh, S., & Vass, G. (2012). Education policy as numbers: Data categories and two Australian cases of misrecognition. Journal of Education Policy, 27(3), 315–​333. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​02680​939.2011.605​476 Lipsky, M. (2010). Street-​Level Bureaucracy: Dilemmas of the Individual in Public Services, 30th anniversary expanded edition. New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Lomax-​Smith, J., Watson, L., & Webster, B. (2011). Higher Education Base Funding Review: Final Report. Canberra: Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations. Macaulay, L. & Deppeler, J. (2020). Perspectives on negative media representations of Sudanese and South Sudanese youths in Australia. Journal of Intercultural Studies, 41(2), 213–​230. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​07256​868.2020.1724​908 Majavu, M. (2020): The “African gangs” narrative: Associating Blackness with criminality and other anti-​Black racist tropes in Australia. African and Black Diaspora: An International Journal, 13(1), 27–​39. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​17528​631.2018.1541​958 Majone, G. & Wildavsky, A. (1984). Implementation as evolution. In J. L. Pressman & A. Wildavsky (Eds.), Implementation. How Great Expectations in Washington Are Dashed in Oakland, Third edition (pp. 163–​ 180). Berkeley: University of California Press. Martin, L. (2016). Framing the framework: The origins of A Fair Chance for All. In A. Harvey, C. Burnheim, & M. Brett (Eds.), Student Equity in Australian Higher Education: Twenty-​Five Years of A Fair Chance for All (pp. 21–​38). Singapore: Springer. Molla, T. (2019). Educational aspirations and experiences of refugee-​ background African youth in Australia: A case study. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 25(8), 877–​895. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​13603​116.2019.1588​924 Molla, T. (2021a). Critical policy scholarship in education: An overview. Education Policy Analysis Archives, 29(2). https://​doi.org/​10.14507/​epaa.29.5655. Molla, T. (2021b). Racial moral panic and African youth in Australia. International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 84, 95–​106. https://​doi.org/​10.1016/​j.ijint​ rel.2021.07.005 Molla, T. (2021c). Refugee education: Homogenised policy provisions and overlooked factors of disadvantage. International Studies in Sociology of Education. https://​doi. org/​10.1080/​09620​214.2021.1948​892 Molla, T. & Gale, T. (2019). Positional matters: School leaders engaging with national equity agendas. Journal of Education Policy, 34(6), 858–​876. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​ 02680​939.2018.1556​811 Nash, K. & Bell, V. (2007). The politics of framing: An interview with Nancy Fraser. Theory, Culture and Society, 24(4), 73–​86. https://​doi.org/​10.1177/​02632​7640​7080​097 National Board of Employment, Education and Training [NBEET]. (1996). Equality, Diversity and Excellence: Advancing the National Higher Education Equity Framework. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. Naylor, R., Terry, L., Rizzo, A., Nguyen, N., & Mifsud, N. (2019). Structural inequality in refugee participation in higher education. Journal of Refugee Studies, 34(2), 2142–​ 2158. https://​doi.org/​10.1093/​jrs/​fez​077 Productivity Commission [PC]. (2019). The Demand Driven University System: A Mixed Report Card. Productivity Commission Research Paper. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia.

Higher education opportunities  111 Prunty, J. (1985). Signposts for a critical educational policy analysis. Australian Journal of Education, 29(2), 133–​140. https://​doi.org/​10.1177/​000​4944​1850​2900​205 Robertson, S. & Dale, R. (2017). Comparing policies in a globalizing world: Methodological reflections. Educação & Realidade, Porto Alegre, 42(3), 859–​875. https://​doi.org/​10.1590/​2175-​623670​056 Savage, G., Gerrard, J., Gale, T., & Molla, T. (2021). The politics of critical policy sociology: Mobilities, moorings and elite networks. Critical Studies in Education, 62(3), 306–​321. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​17508​487.2021.1878​467 Savage, G. C. & O’Connor, K. (2019). What’s the problem with “policy alignment”? The complexities of national reform in Australia’s federal system. Journal of Education Policy, 34(6), 812–​835. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​02680​939.2018.1545​050 Shergold, P., Benson, K., & Piper, M. (2019). Investing in Refugees, Investing in Australia: The Findings of a Review into Integration, Employment and Settlement Outcomes for Refugees and Humanitarian Entrants in Australia. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​repo​rts-​and-​pubs/​ files/​rev​iew-​inte​grat​ion-​emp​loym​ent-​set​tlem​ent-​outco​mes-​refug​ees-​human​itar​ian-​ entra​nts.pdf Sidhu, R. & Naidoo, L. (2018). Educating students from refugee backgrounds: Ethical conduct to resist the politics of besiegement. International Studies in Sociology of Education, 27(2–​3), 166–​183. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​09620​214.2018.1445​004 Sladek, R. M. & King, S. M. (2016). Hidden from view? Bringing refugees to the forefront of equity targets in Australian higher education. International Studies in Widening Participation, 3(1), 68–​77. Stone, D. (2011). Policy Paradox: The Art of Political Decision Making, Third edition. New York: W.W. Norton. Teese, R. (2007). Time and space in the reproduction of educational inequality. In R. Teese, S. Lamb, M. Duru-​Bellat, & S. Helme (Eds.), International Studies in Educational Inequality: Theory and Policy (pp. 1–​22). Dordrecht: Springer. Tehan, D. (2019, October 2). The Future of Australian Universities Focuses on Achievement. Ministers’ Media Centre. https://​minist​ers.dese.gov.au/​tehan/​fut​ure-​aus​ tral​ian-​unive​rsit​ies-​focu​ses-​achi​evem​ent Wellings, P., Black, R., Craven, G., Freshwater, D., & Harding, S. (2019). Performance-​ Based Funding for the Commonwealth Grant Scheme: Report for the Minister for Education. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia.

6 Higher education participation Access, experience, and success

Inclusion in equitable quality education in national systems contributes to resilience, prepares children and youth for participation in cohesive societies and is the best policy option for refugees, displaced and stateless children and youth and their hosting communities. (UNHCR, 2019) 6.1 Introduction High educational attainment is a “fertile achievement” because it opens the door to a range of socioeconomic opportunities. Participation in HE provides even broader private and public benefits for refugees. Empirical evidence from the European context shows that improved access to, and success in, HE promotes social integration and economic mobility of refugees (Cerna, 2019; Crul et al., 2017; Lenette, 2016). High educational attainment enables young people to effectively navigate socioeconomic opportunities and thereby escape the permanency of a refugee identity. In the 2018 Settling In report, the OECD and EU (2018) further stressed that, with the necessary support, most migrants are dedicated “to fulfill their aspirations for a better future” and can be a productive force for the nation (p. 9). For people who left many of their valuable possessions behind, education is an empowering opportunity; in fact, it is “a primary survival strategy” (Flukiger-​Stockton, 1996, p. 3). Conversely, low educational attainment and slow social integration “can lead to significant economic costs in terms of lower productivity and growth. It also entails political costs and instability, and more generally negatively affects social cohesion” (OECD & EU, 2018, p. 10). In attending university, displaced youth can also acquire a new sense of belonging: unlike the identity of a refugee, which is “heavy with loss”, the identity of a student is positive, it is “hopeful with possibility” (Ferede, 2018, p. 8). By way of widening access to paid jobs and enhancing economic independence, success in education fosters refugees’ sense of belonging and dignity. It supports the social mobility of refugee-​background communities and improves the human capital pool of the nation. Improved HE attainment does not just boost the employability and income of refugee youth; it also equips them with DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-8

Higher education participation  113 the necessary skills and confidence to meaningfully engage in the political and cultural lives of the community. Conversely, without substantive educational opportunities, structural barriers may permanently leave African communities on the fringe of Australian society. In a society that aspires to be fair and inclusive, a lasting marginal existence of any group is detrimental. It undermines economic prosperity, democratic order, and social cohesion. This chapter reports on HE participation and success of African heritage Australian youth from refugee background (AHAY-​R). The existing scant academic literature on HE participation of refugee youth is mostly generic in scope (e.g. Naidoo et al., 2018; Perales et al., 2022; Stevenson & Baker, 2018; Terry et al., 2016). When researchers specifically explore HE participation of African refugee youth, their focus is often upon the availability and effectiveness of academic support mechanisms (e.g. Earnest et al., 2010; Harris et al., 2013; Harris & Marlowe, 2011). The purpose of this chapter is to map trends of HE enrolment and completion among refugee-​background African youth and reflect on practical strategies for expanding the educational capabilities of refugee youth. In this chapter, the term higher education broadly includes vocational training and university-​level education. The findings show that although AHAY-​R have benefited from alternative pathways to HE, they continue to experience institutional barriers, and their success rate remains very low. For African refugees, a lack of advanced level of knowledge and skills leads to limited job opportunities, low income, and weak social engagement, which then cumulatively result in poor integration outcomes. Addressing the educational disadvantage of refugee youth necessitates policy recognition of systemic factors of inequality, including subtle institutionalised impediments that deprive individuals of respect and recognition and prevent them from “participating on a par with others” (Fraser, 2010). For Black African students, to be recognised can mean to be accepted for who they are as they name themselves and to become worthy members of the school/​university communities. The policy implication is that disadvantage is multidimensional and multidirectional. As such, policy responses to the educational disadvantage of refugees need to be sensitive to the life-​course trajectories of the group and the convertibility of opportunities. The remainder of the chapter is organised into four main sections. The first briefly discusses trends of access to HE. Using statistical data, it maps HE enrolment among refugee students. The second focuses on HE experiences of AHAY-​R, followed by a section on completion rates of the group. The final section outlines overlooked factors of disadvantage that continue to impact HE participation of AHAY-​R. The chapter closes by reiterating some of the key points covered in these four sections. 6.2 Access African refugees’ access to HE is differentiated by sector. In the vocational education sector, the group performs relatively better. Australia’s vocational

114  Educational attainment education and training (VET) sector is praised for being responsive to demographic shifts and skills demand. The sector has a long history of supporting the economic and social goals of the nation. Despite limited educational attainment upon arrival, Africans from refugee backgrounds have improved access to VET programmes. People from the MCOAR (i.e. Democratic Republic of Congo, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Somalia, South Sudan, and Sudan) have considerably benefited from the VET sector. In fact, they are overrepresented in VET courses. In the 2016 Census, people born in these countries accounted for less than 0.3 per cent of the total population of Australia. But the group represented about 1.3 per cent of the total enrolment in funded VET programmes and courses in five years (2015–​2019). In 2016, there were close to 1,000 Africans from refugee backgrounds in the VET sector compared to less than 500 in the university sector (see Figure 6.1). However, it is important to note that students can enrol in multiple courses and can be counted multiple times. The VET sector also provides refugee youth with an equity pathway to university. For many students from a refugee background, low academic results at school mean a direct transition to university remains challenging. The majority of African youths interviewed for the project came to the university sector through VET, using the Technical and Further Education (TAFE) pathway. They reported that passing through TAFE helped them develop their navigational capacity and their ability to plan and work towards future goals. They specifically noted that the supportive learning environment in TAFE institutes prepared them for independent learning. It set them up for success in university. VET courses also give AHAY-​R a second chance. They attend vocational courses

Figure 6.1 HE participation among refugee-​background African Australians, 2016. Source: Author, based on data from DET (2019); NCVER (2020).

Higher education participation  115

Figure 6.2 Percentage of young adults (18–​30 y/​o) attending university or other (non-​ TAFE) tertiary institution during the census years. Source: Author, based on data from ABS (2019).

as mature-​age students. For example, over the five-​year period between 2015 and 2019, in the general Australian population, the largest age group enrolled in VET courses was 15–​19-​year-​olds, whereas for refugee-​background Africans, the largest age group enrolled in VET courses was 30–​39-​year-​olds (Molla, 2020). For disadvantaged refugees with disrupted educational trajectories, Australia’s VET sector has been a great equaliser that supports social mobility. Within the first five years of their arrival, African refugees have limited access to university. From 1991 to 2016, the percentage of young people from the MCOAR who had no degrees and were not attending university barely changed (see Figure 6.2). The trend has not changed much since the mid-​1990s. The census data show that in 1991, 84 per cent of young people from MCOAR did not have a university degree and were not studying for such qualifications within the first five years of their arrival in Australia. In 2006, the proportion reached 89 per cent before it slightly declined to 85 per cent in 2016. In other words, whereas the percentage of young Australians attending university or other tertiary (non-​TAFE) institutions doubled in the last 25 years, the percentage of young people from MCOAR countries attending university or other tertiary institutions within the first five years of their arrival in Australia slightly declined over the same period. Given the majority of African youth arrive in Australia with a primary level of educational attainment (DSS, 2013), it might not come as a surprise that only a few of them are able to transition to university within the first five years of settlement. They might not qualify for HE courses within such a short period. Many young refugee-​background Africans who arrived in Australia have limited opportunities to attend HE within the first five years of their arrival

116  Educational attainment

Figure 6.3 HE participation of young people (18–​30 y/​o) from MCOAR countries, by census years. Source: Author, based on data from ABS (2019).

(see Figure 6.3). In other words, African refugee youth transition to adulthood without an adequate level of education, and they are unlikely to go to university once they have established their own family. For African refugees, a lack of advanced level of knowledge and skills means they have limited job opportunities and a low income, which results in slow social integration. For African Australians, HE attainment is closely associated with migration status. Compared to non-​refugee African migrants, refugee-​background African youth are less likely to transition to university within five years of their arrival in Australia. The trend has barely changed over the last 25 years (see Figure 6.4). The stark difference between the two populations relates, to some degree, to the limited educational attainment African refugee youth possess when they arrive in Australia. In 2016, for example, the percentage of Australian youth aged 15 years and older without any educational qualifications was only 8.5. At the same time, for non-​refugee African youth, the rate was only marginally higher at 10 per cent. However, for African refugees aged 15 years and over, a significant 19 per cent had no qualifications. Even so, it is imperative to note that when we remove the timeframe of “within five years of arrival”, tertiary education participation of Africana refugees improves. For instance, in 2016, students born in the MCOAR accounted for 0.59 per cent of the domestic student population. In the same year, people born in those African countries represented 0.25 per cent of the Australian population. However, in interpreting this latter figure, one should bear in mind three points. First, not all HE students from the MCOAR countries are of refugee backgrounds. Second, the age distribution of MCOAR is very different from that of the general population—​the proportion of young

Higher education participation  117

Figure 6.4 Percentage of young Africans (18–​30 y/​o) who have no degree and are not attending university within five years of their arrival. Source: Author, based on data from ABS (2019).

people is higher for African refugees. This makes widening access to university for the group even more crucial. Third, the enrolment and completion data refer to the period total. As such, the rising enrolments can be due to multiple entries of the same students into the HE system. Through the HEPPP, the Australian government has encouraged universities to establish partnerships with schools and undertake activities that improve access to undergraduate courses for people from low SES backgrounds. Although the HEPPP does not specifically target them, refugee-​background students are among the key beneficiaries of the HEPPP. The policy covers three broad areas: (a) raising aspirations for HE, (b) widening pathways to university education, and (c) improving engagement and attainment of equity groups (Australian Government, 2012). As a result, students who miss direct entry to a university degree (even with adjustment points) can still enrol in bridging programmes where students study first-​year university degree subjects along with courses designed to prepare them in academic writing and research skills. The programmes are characterised by intensive learning support. On completion of the pathway courses (diploma or associate degrees), students can get up to one year credit towards a range of undergraduate degree programmes. In explaining why many African students might benefit from alternative pathways to university, a career practitioner in one P–​12 college noted: Getting to university is difficult unless the student is very, very dedicated, and prepared almost to work twice as hard as the other students in the class because they’ve got to make up twice the lost ground. If they’re not

118  Educational attainment prepared to do that, they’re not going to be given that ticket to the university straight away. They’ll have to go through a pathway, through a TAFE pathway or something like that. From the career educators’ perspective, alternative pathways can be a compromise between parental “unrealistic” expectations and student effort and ability. Further, through career guidance and other enriching activities, schools expand “archives of experiences” of refugee youth and thereby nurture responsive aspirations for qualifications and careers. Without those services, some AHAY-​R would have seen the possibility of going to university as something that is “not for the likes of us” (Bourdieu, 1990a, p. 17). People make expectations and aspirations in light of “the objective probabilities for success or failure common to the members” of the same social group. In deciding on whether to go to university, as Bourdieu (1990b) noted, “In light of their cultural capital and socialisation, individuals engage in ‘strategic calculation’ ” (p. 53). Recounting how he decided to go to university, one African youth stated: “I had very good teachers that have been—​that have put in me a liking for the subjects, so like physics and chemistry. I had wonderful teachers; the love that they created for the subject”. Expanding the navigational capacity of refugee youth means helping them to effectively explore the opportunities they need to achieve valuable outcomes in their lives. In this respect, one of the vital means of enhancing the navigational capacity of refugee youth is the availability of relevant and timely information about educational opportunities and requirements. In the absence of timely guidance, refugees are likely to misperceive the cost and benefits of education in their new host country. Educational options without relevant information are of little value for the youth who live on the margin of society. Even though going to university might not be a desired future of all AHAY-​R, secondary schools need to make sure that youth (a) fully understand the value of a university qualification, (b) are aware that HE opportunities are available to them, (c) can effectively navigate alternative pathways to HE, and (d) are fully informed that they are responsible for the results they realise through the opportunities available to them. Refugee-​background African youth with strong navigational capacity have taken advantage of the available flexible pathways to HE. There exist institutional arrangements that can support the navigational capacity of students from disadvantaged backgrounds. For instance, through outreach and partnership activities, universities send student ambassadors to secondary schools. The outreach activities involve low SES schools, as measured by the Index of Community Socio-​ educational Advantage (ICSEA). Universities can identify schools with an ICSEA value below 1000 with the use of My School website. The activities involve orientations on career management, study skills, goal-​setting, and time management. Partnership officers also explain how to apply for special consideration through the Victorian Tertiary Admission Centre (VTAC) and other scholarship opportunities. Some universities run mentoring programmes for Year

Higher education participation  119 11 and 12 students “to really make sure they’re preparing themselves for university” (Rosa, Uni3). The aim is to demystify the links between school, HE, and professional careers. As part of the widening participation agenda, in making selection decisions, universities offer adjustment points to students from disadvantaged backgrounds so that they can have a higher selection rank for admission to a specific course. A selection rank is a combination of the Australian Tertiary Admissions Rank (ATAR) score and adjustment points. As the main basis of admission to most university courses, the ATAR represents a student’s position relative to all the students in her age group (16–​20-year-​olds); it is not a mark. Some universities also offer equity adjustment points to partner schools. For example, RMIT University’s Schools Network Access Programme (SNAP), the Monash Guarantee, and the La Trobe Priority Access Programme offer priority entry (i.e. at a lower ATAR) to students in underrepresented or disadvantaged schools. Universities also invite school students for a campus visit and information session on access and financial support options. As part of their partnership programme, universities also consider additional entry adjustment factors for students from “underrepresented schools” (Monash University), “priority schools” (La Trobe University), and schools participating in the university’s Schools Network Access Program (RMIT University). In the State of Victoria, the Special Entry Access Scheme supports equity groups under four categories: personal information and location, difficult circumstances, disadvantaged financial background, and disability or medical condition. In most cases, refugee-​background students can apply for equity consideration under the “difficult circumstances” category. The aggregate points that special consideration applicants can receive vary across universities: from 27 points at Deakin University to 10 at Monash University. Once students from equity groups are admitted for courses, many universities take proactive measures to support those “identified as being at risk of failing subjects or withdrawing from studies” (Naylor & Mifsud, 2019, p. 4). Some of the institutional responses to such issues include peer mentoring, academic literacy programmes, student well-​being and learning advice, bridging/​foundational courses, and equity scholarships and bursaries. In enacting such interventions, the universities aim to demystify HE, raise aspirations, build academic skills, and support academic engagement and progression. Transitioning to university is a form of “boundary-​ crossing” (O’Shea, 2019)—​it necessitates a strong navigational capacity that enables students to move into and through university. Raising aspirations for HE per se is not enough; it is equally important that equity target groups are able to navigate the complex terrain of the sector effectively. As noted in Chapter 3, navigational capacity entails the ability to evaluate opportunities, negotiate risk, make an informed decision, and be responsive to emerging possibilities and challenges. For refugee youth who face multiple and complex factors of disadvantage, navigational capacity does not come easily. Public action is needed to enable the group to navigate their way to university effectively.

120  Educational attainment 6.3 Experiences AHAY-​R represent a unique group in the Australian education system. The experiences of forcible displacement meant that the AHAY-​R who participated in the study faced a profound loss of personal, material, social, cultural, and economic resources. They endured the trauma of civil conflicts, violence, family separation, and the breakdown of their communities. Before they settled in Australia, most AHAY-​R had spent months or years in temporary refugee camps and arrived in Australia with disrupted educational trajectories. Fragmented educational experiences mean refugee youth enter the Australian educational system with limited academic skills (DOHA, 2018), needing tailored support to reach the level of education appropriate to their age group. Accounts of the educational experiences of AHAY-​R present a mixed picture of optimism and desperation. Most participants who pass through the VET sector attribute their success to the level and quality of support they received. In the university sector, the story of African refugees is starkly different. Among other things, AHAY-​R mentioned how the stress of racism negatively impacted their academic and social engagement. Race becomes a category of inequality when it is used as a classificatory framework providing unfair resource distribution, unequal political relations, and exclusionary cultural practices (Omi & Winant, 2014; Winant, 2004). According to the Australian Human Rights Commission, racism can occur at a systemic or institutional level through policies, conditions, or practices that disadvantage certain groups and can take different forms, including “jokes or comments that cause offence or hurt, sometimes unintentionally; name-​ calling or verbal abuse; harassment or intimidation, or comment in the media or online that inflames hostility towards certain groups” (AHRC, 2012, p. 3). Racial discrimination is illegal under national (e.g. the Racial Discrimination Act 1975) and state (e.g. the Equal Opportunity Act 2010) laws. However, in practice, racism is a prevalent problem that affects many ethnocultural minority groups, including Black Africans (Vergani & Navarro, 2020). In particular, African youth are being racialised in public discourses, including media representations and political debates. As documented in the annual Mapping Social Cohesion survey (Markus, 2016), racism is a prevalent problem in Australia, especially for African-​background youth. Likewise, in a national study on immigrant youth social networks and belonging, Mansouri and Skrbis (2013) reported that African-​origin young people experience “exclusionary practices”, ranging from “explicit racism” to “implicit discrimination”. Racism has been a widespread problem, specifically in the Australian education system (Halse, 2017; Jakubowicz, 1988; Windle, 2008). Racism is violence, but its damage is often invisible. Sociological analysis of racism and social interaction shows that members of minoritised racial groups “are fully aware of all negative stereotypes existing about them in society at large” (Lieberson, 1982, p. 48). The stress of racism stems from this awareness of what others think of one’s racial group; it has inhibiting effects

Higher education participation  121 on how the latter interacts with members and institutions of the dominant group. Most of the participants in this research reported experiences of racism in educational institutions. Participants encountered a “singular categorisation” relating to the colour of their skin. As is echoed daily in the media, Black African youth are often represented as “dangerous” and “undesirable”. Participants recounted incidents of racial microaggressions. Social psychologist Derald Wing Sue defined microaggressions as “the everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional, that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalised group membership” (Sue, 2010, p. 3). During my fieldwork, participants reported a disturbing level of racial vilification and verbal abuse in their daily life interactions as well as in educational settings. The level of stress stemmed from perceived or actual racial mistreatment is evident in the following excerpts: I know back in high school, there were some naughty black kids, but there were also some naughty white kids as well. But it was mainly the black kids’ problems—​the black kids’ trouble-​making that was out there more, and they pretended not to see others. … As soon as [teachers] see a black person, they automatically think that the person is a criminal, steals things, bad, and all that. You can tell when someone is racist to you. The things they would say to you, you would just know that the person doesn’t like you, and if they hate you and you haven’t done anything to them, you would just assume that it’s because you are black … I just felt like it’s just heartbreaking—​teachers that you don’t know well, or you haven’t done anything to them, they don’t know you outside of school, you don’t know them outside of school, they just pick on you. It makes you not want to be around them. (Congolese background female, university student) I don’t fit into groups. Simply because when you need to join a group, the group don’t want to join with you. They quit grouping with you. (South Sudanese male, university student) In educational contexts, cultural misunderstanding can cause prejudice and discrimination, which in turn may complicate matters for refugee-​background African students who are already struggling with language barriers and other socioeconomic challenges in their new environment. The last statement in AHAY-​R5’s excerpt is particularly instructive: “It makes you not want to be around [teachers]”. Her experience shows how the stress of racism inhibits academic engagement. The negative association between stress and learning is well warranted in the literature. Stanford neuroscientist Robert Sapolsky explained how sustained stress inhibits learning: it impairs the proper functioning of the frontal cortex, disrupts working memory, information retrieval and rational thinking, affects impulse control, and results in irrational outbursts (Sapolsky, 2004). In an in-​depth review of racism and academic achievement published

122  Educational attainment in the American Psychologist, Levy et al. (2016) argued that students who experience stress associated with perceived or real racial discrimination tend to achieve lower grades and have less academic motivation. They documented how psychological responses to perceived or actual racial prejudice among Black and Latino students negatively affected their sleep, memory, ability to think, and, ultimately, their learning. The authors argued that, by way of impacting cognitive functioning and academic performance, psychological and biological responses to experiences of racism contribute to achievement gaps between disadvantaged racial minorities and their White peers (Levy et al., 2016). The stress of racism in educational settings means that, regardless of the availability of flexible pathways to and academic support mechanisms in HE, AHAY-​R are not entirely free to convert these opportunities into achievements that they have a reason to value. Victims of racial discrimination tend to develop “alienative dispositions” that underpin their self-​perception and internalise undesirable external categorisations and see themselves as less than what they are and can be. The South Sudanese heritage student mentioned in Section 6.3 reported that he often worked alone in the classroom because other students often avoided him in group work. It is imperative to note that individuals in schools and universities may not be overtly racist, but when racism takes institutional forms, it operates without racists (Bonilla-​Silva, 2014). This means that, beyond numerical increases, addressing injustice requires challenging subtle institutionalised impediments and discursive constraints that deprive individuals and groups of respect and recognition while preventing them from participating on a par with others in social interactions. Improving HE experiences among African refugee youth necessitates providing transformative equity instruments that recognise the group’s intersectional factors of educational disadvantage and unique biographies underpinned by experiences of forced displacement and disrupted educational trajectories. As Gale (2012) suggested, “A more sophisticated approach to student equity and social inclusion entails the creation of space in HE not just for new kinds of student bodies but also for their embodied knowledges and ways of knowing” (pp. 254–​255). Many AHAY-​R reported a range of challenges that defined their experience in HE. Among those were financial insecurity and precarious family circumstances, lack of academic literacy in English, limited familiarity with pedagogic practices in Australia, and inadequate understanding of expectations of the education system (Windle, 2015). New humanitarian entrants are offered up to one year in an intensive language school, which offers immersive English language teaching before students transition into “mainstream” schooling (Stevenson & Baker, 2018)—​but the service is barely sufficient and not available in every local area. 6.4 Success Although refugee students can take advantage of alternative pathways to HE and the opportunity to transition into a university with low admission scores,

Higher education participation  123 successful completion of a degree is still a challenge. Between 2015 and 2019, over 91,000 people from the MCOAR enrolled in VET courses. During the same period, over 20,000 of them completed their VET courses—​that is, a period total completion rate of just over 21 per cent. In the university sector, the group lags well behind the general population in terms of undergraduate course completion. For example, in 18 years (2001–​2017), only a little over 17 per cent of refugee-​ background African students who were enrolled in undergraduate degrees were able to complete their courses. Nationally, 46 per cent of domestic students who commenced undergraduate courses in 2009 completed their degrees in four years; when the cohort length was increased to nine years, completion rates improved by 74 per cent for undergraduates. Comparable data for the HE attainment of the group in other major refugee-​recipient countries such as Canada, the U.S., and the UK was not easy to come by. The existing scant literature shows that Canada provides better HE opportunities for refugees in general (see, e.g. Shizha et al., 2020; Streitwieser et al., 2019), but evidence from the U.S. and the UK contexts (Hailu et al., 2021; Morrice et al. 2020) and the European higher education area (Kalocsányiová et al., 2022) portrays a mixed picture. There is also a marked variation in the completion rate at undergraduate and postgraduate levels (see Figure 6.5). But a caveat is in order here. The enrolment and completion figures represent the period total data. As such, some of the enrolments may not be represented in the completions data, and vice versa, because in the first year (2001), some had not yet enrolled, and in the final year (2017), some had only just enrolled. The marked difference in completion rates at undergraduate and postgraduate levels might be attributed to mature-​age students’ determination to get relevant qualifications and familiarity with the HE system. Finally, it is worth noting that, for AHAY-​R, the

Figure 6.5 African refugee youth in Australian HE, 2001–​2017. Source: Author, based on data from DET (2019).

124  Educational attainment total number of completions for all HE courses was almost equal to the sum of undergraduate and postgraduate completions (see Figure 6.5). This might be because either non-​degree course completion was very small or the DET did not record such completions in full. The problem of a low completion rate can, in part, be linked to parental misconceptions about qualifications (discussed in Chapter 4). Many African parents tend to push their children to go to university regardless of their preparedness or interest. The outcome is dispiriting. Most students drop out and leave university without a degree. Completion outcomes of AHAY-​R have implications for institutional support mechanisms and the help-​seeking behaviour of African students. The low success rate of refugee youth can also be linked with the policy invisibility of the group (Molla, 2021a, 2021b). As noted earlier (see Chapter 5), refugees in Australia lack substantive HE opportunities in the sense that their unique conditions of educational disadvantage and experience are overlooked, while their needs are misframed as merely those associated with poverty. Low success rates of AHAY-​R show that simply admitting disadvantaged students to university does not produce equal outcomes or support equity. Refugee students may experience culture shock upon entering universities. Even worse, as is evident in accounts of the youths in my research, racial stigma reinforces AHAY-​R’s feelings of alienation. This is akin to experiences of what Jack (2019) referred to as the “privileged poor” (students from low socioeconomic backgrounds in elite universities) who often lack the necessary scholarly habitus to succeed in selective educational institutions. For refugee students, equity in access to opportunities (or equality in outcomes) necessitates more than admission to a university. In Australian HE, retention and success rates are lower for students from disadvantaged backgrounds than for other students (Naylor & Mifsud, 2019; PC, 2019). In the case of African refugees, the problem is even more pronounced. For African refugee youth, low educational attainment is more likely to causally generate other deprivations in the economic and social realms of life. As is shown in the following chapters, low HE attainment means refugee-​background Africans are positioned far behind the general population in terms of access to HE and professional occupations. A within-​group comparison shows that communities with a greater percentage of people with higher qualifications have (a) better employment rates, (b) improved access to skilled and professional occupations, and (c) higher weekly income. In 2016, 19 per cent of people (aged 15 years and over) born in the MCOAR had no qualifications, compared to 10 per cent of non-​refugee Africans and 8.5 per cent of the total Australian population. The problem warrants policy attention. 6.5  Overlooked factors of disadvantage Refugees are resourceful. Displaced from their home, they step into the unknown with hope and determination to recreate their lives. Refugees are risk-​takers. Most of them escaped war and overcame loss and adversity. They

Higher education participation  125 are resilient. However, to be a refugee is to be uprooted from the familiar, to be detached from valued connections and possessions. Refugees leave their homes under immense distress and arrive at host countries with considerable material losses and emotional scars. They endure political violence, social fragmentation, and cultural dislocation. After resettlement, refugees face a range of challenges, including limited educational attainment. The UN Refugee Agency underscored that the educational attainment of refugees supports personal resilience and societal cohesion (see the epigraph above). In the case of refugees in Australia, the persistence of low educational attainment is attributable to the invisibility of the group in the equity policy space (see Chapter 5). Accounts of university equity managers, school career advisors, and AHAY-​R suggest that educational institutions do not often recognise the unique challenges students from refugee backgrounds face. Educational disadvantage—​ as assessed in terms of who gets access to what kind of education and with what experiences and outcomes—​is intricately connected with political, economic, cultural, and social positions of individuals and groups. Refugee-​background African Australian youth and their peers in the mainstream society with high SES backgrounds are not equally positioned to transform equal resources (e.g. the option to go to university) into valued outcomes (e.g. transition to HE, successful degree completion, and subsequent paid employment). The educational disadvantage of refugees persists in part when its causes and consequences are overlooked or misframed in the policy space. For instance, the exclusion of refugees as equity targets means that intersectional factors of inequality associated with the life-​ course trajectories of the group are discounted. In the absence of targeted policy provisions, refugees lack the necessary institutional support to navigate opportunities and succeed in their studies. Further, with the prevalence of negative stereotypes towards some refugee groups in the public sphere as a background, refugee students continue to experience racial bias at the institutional level and are construed in deficit terms. Against the backdrop of the representation of the problem of inequality, and in considering the experiences of African Australian youth, this section of the chapter specifically highlights four overlooked issues in equity provisions in Australian HE: early disadvantage, navigational capacity, adaptive preferences, and racial stereotypes. These themes are discussed in turn. Early disadvantage. The sociological life-​ course literature shows that exposure to adverse environmental and socioeconomic conditions accumulates over time, and those with disadvantaged biography tend to experience subsequent disadvantageous life-​ course trajectories (Mayer, 2009). It is critical to recognise the unique predicaments of refugee youth. As writer Nadia Hashimi (2015) succinctly put it, “Refugees didn’t just escape a place. They had to escape a thousand memories until they’d put enough time and distance between them and their misery to wake to a better day” (p. 259). The timing of risk experiences equally matters. Young people with disrupted educational trajectories and who faced multiple disadvantages at an early stage of life are more

126  Educational attainment likely to need extra support in their educational engagement, progression, and transition. For instance, African refugee youth have generally spent years in temporary refugee camps and arrived in Australia with disrupted educational trajectories as well as experiences of trauma and isolation. As a result, it is unlikely for them to have enriched educational opportunities and experiences. A resources-​based assessment of disadvantage foregrounds the distribution of assets. But from the capability perspective, people are disadvantaged when circumstances beyond their control (e.g. refugee status and associated disruption in educational trajectories) circumscribe their access to opportunities, including resources, recognition, and representation. To be disadvantaged is to lack real opportunities to lead the kind of life one has a reason to value (Sen, 2009). The notion of substantive opportunities refers to the availability and sufficiency of social arrangements that support target groups. Providing substantive opportunities starts with recognising unique conditions of refugee youth and how that affects their educational outcomes (Gale & Molla, 2015). In this respect, African refugees in Australia lack substantive HE opportunities mainly because they are not recognised in equity policy debates. Inequalities in educational outcomes are unjust if these are consequences of differences in conditions; that is, if people are not equally positioned to take advantage of educational opportunities made available through equity provisions. Accounting for life-​course trajectories means (a) appreciating the cumulative effect of these experiences on the group’s educational choice and experience and (b) providing compensatory educational opportunities that enable the refugee youth to overcome effects of early disadvantage. Limited navigational capacity. Navigational capacity refers to the ability to explore current opportunities in order to achieve a valued goal in the future (Appadurai, 2013). It combines a capacity to aspire and a strategic readiness to realise the aspirations. Navigational capacity grows and the capacity to aspire flourishes in time through exposure to genuine opportunities (Appadurai, 2013). It is activated and sustained by economic, cultural, and social resources. Those with socioeconomically privileged positions in society use “the map of its norms to explore the future more frequently and more realistically, and to share this knowledge with one another more routinely than their poorer and weaker neighbors” (Appadurai, 2013, p. 188). Conversely, socioeconomically disadvantaged individuals with a social network to rely on are less likely to realistically connect immediate opportunities with future possibilities and seize the opportunities to realise their goals. When this is the case, even though HE opportunities might exist for all, inequality in navigation capacity mean disadvantaged groups, such as refugees, might not benefit from such policies. Many refugees are people in a foreign land with no “map”. As such, transformative equity provisions start with making the relevant information available to the target groups (e.g. through building bridges and links between the newcomers and the host communities and providing culturally relevant information on the availability of educational pathways and destinations). With the relevant information, the educational map becomes navigable. Refugee

Higher education participation  127 youth would know that detours exist; failure to achieve their desired pathway would not be a terrifying setback. Conversely, lack of appropriate guidance means the newcomers would see each hurdle as a dead end. Left simply as personal trouble, an individual’s inability to navigate opportunities results in self-​exclusion and reproduces inequality in society. Adaptive preferences. Our social position influences what we aspire for in life. Bourdieu (1990a) holds that individuals internalise objective contexts (rules, norms, expectations, values) through a gradual process of socialisation. These internalised structures, in turn, form generative dispositions that function as schemes of perception and action, including preference formation and educational choice. When durable dispositions are accrued in the context of disadvantage, people tend to lower their “subjective expectation” of opportunities and “objective probability” of success (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1990, p. 156). The social welfare literature also suggests that disadvantaged people may defensively adjust their expectations; they narrow their object of desire to avoid bitter disappointments (Sen, 1992), to circumvent “cruel optimism” (Berlant, 2011). They tend to develop a sense of “putting up with fate” and conform to conditions of unjust inequality (Teschl & Comim, 2005). Hence, from a policy perspective, “The fulfilment of … disciplined desires is not a sign of great success” (Sen, 1987, p. 11). Experiences of refugee-​background African youth suggest that low HE participation does not necessarily imply a lack of access. It can be a result of underpreparation (due to early disadvantage), limited navigational capacity, or adaptive preferences. Hence, it is deficient to assess educational advantages and disadvantages based solely on what people have chosen to be and do (or not) vis-​à-​vis the available social arrangements. In assessing the educational disadvantage of a specific social group, it is imperative to take note of personal and relational factors that mediate the ability of such groups to take advantage of equity provisions. At a school level, early awareness about university education and adequate information on the available pathways to HE qualifications can help refugee students develop responsive educational aspirations and build their navigational capacity. For disadvantaged youth to reformulate their preferences, they need to be nudged in directions that will improve their lives. For instance, educational institutions can help refugee students make useful choices by ensuring that the information about various options is presented in an accessible, comprehensible, timely, and positive manner. Making relevant educational information and support at the early stage of settlement can help refugees effectively navigate the education system, take advantage of equity opportunities, and seek help when necessary. Explaining the changing nature of the labour market, the relevance of university education, and how other comparable groups succeeded in the sector counts as a nudge. Disparaging vocational qualifications or a narrative of the failure of others from comparable groups does not. Racial stigma. Following street violence and other incidents of robbery that involved some African youth, conservative politicians and media outlets

128  Educational attainment resorted to racialised labelling. For many Black African youth, the colour of their skin has become a marker that defines their “collective fate”. They are routinely demonised as belonging to “crime gangs” or as “violent thugs”—​ they are derided as dangerous and undesirable. Frames such as “African gangs” and “crime thugs” are not just words. Those are rather “ideological scripts of Othering” that frame African youth as an “enemy within” and thereby stoke anxiety and resentment towards this group. The phrase “of African appearance” is often invoked as synonymous with criminality; Black African youth are represented as inherently violent and dangerous. Racial stigma reproduces educational disadvantage because the politics of racial Othering and social stereotypes of Black African youth in the public sphere spills over into the classroom and negatively affects their academic and social engagement. Given the racialisation of youth violence in public, Black African students are more likely to be seen as inherently violent and disruptive at school. Further, teachers use derogatory terms to refer to Black people, and this racial insensitivity of teachers leads to mocking and scorning beyond the classroom. Sustained exposure to racism also affects the way young people perceive themselves (Loury, 2021; Steele, 2010) and triggers stress that inhibits learning (Levy et al., 2016). Finally, as noted in Chapter 9, thinking and acting within a narrative of violence, politicians may overlook socioeconomic challenges underpinning the educational and social disengagement of refugee youth. In his essay “Words That Wound”, legal scholar and critical race theorist Richard Delgado (2013) argued that, in a racially oppressive society, words can be used as a means of degradation and exclusion. 6.6 Conclusion This chapter set out to understand how African refugee youth are faring in HE participation. Using deidentified datasets accessed for the first time, the chapter showed that in the last 25 years, only a small portion of African refugee youth transitioned to HE in the first five years following their arrival, and of these, very few completed their studies. In other words, notwithstanding the availability of generic equity opportunities, HE participation of AHAY-​R is minimal. African refugees face mutually reinforcing mechanisms of disadvantage, including disrupted educational trajectories and racial stigma. The stress of perceived or enacted racism impairs their learning and, more broadly, inhibits refugee youth’s productive social engagement. This warrants the urgency of two institutional measures. First, universities need to create a more culturally inviting learning environment that explicitly engages students and staff with diversity, race, culture, and equity. It is imperative to foster the racial literacy of students and staff and help them understand how racism operates at relational, institutional, and societal levels. Intercultural understanding makes possible respectful interactions and relations. Importantly, we should ask whether racism is an expression of individual prejudice or a collective problem infused within institutional practices and systemic arrangements. Clarity on this

Higher education participation  129 problem would influence the relevance of our policy responses. Second, educational institutions should work on developing coping strategies of AHAY-​R so that they are well equipped with accurate, critical lenses with which to make sense of their aspirations, opportunities, and experiences. For Australia to live up to its multicultural promise and support the successful integration of refugees, it is critical for (a) politicians to avoid racial dog-​whistling against Black Africans and (b) educational institutions to create a more culturally inviting learning environment that explicitly engages students and staff with issues of diversity, race, and equity. When it comes to refugee students, an equity policy that defines the educational disadvantage of refugee youth as merely due to a lack of access is likely to fall short of achieving its goal because it overlooks intersectional factors underpinning the problem. Beyond the availability of educational opportunities, we should pay attention to the interaction of personal conditions and external contexts that influence how, and the extent to which, equity groups take up the opportunities. In a fair society, such as Australia, the lasting marginal existence of any group is detrimental. It undermines economic prosperity, democratic order, and social cohesion. In the post-​COVID-​19 world, Australia’s success will largely depend on the adaptability and responsiveness of its education system. Hence, governments, education providers, and employers will have to re-​envision the purposes and processes of learning. Importantly, it is critical to ensure that disadvantaged members of society do not slip through the policy cracks. Improved HE attainment does not just boost the employability and income of African refugee youth; it also equips them with the necessary skills and confidence to meaningfully engage in the political and cultural spheres of life. However, without substantive educational opportunities, structural barriers may permanently leave African communities on the fringe of Australian society. Finally, improving data collection and monitoring the outcomes of refugee students is equally vital. At present, statistical analysis of educational outcomes of people from refugee backgrounds is severely constrained by data limitations and inconsistencies. Without reliable data on the challenges, opportunities, and outcomes of the refugee youth, it is challenging to design and enact equity policies that can tackle persisting inequalities. Even so, I recognise that accounts of enrolment and completion presented in this chapter show only part of the problem. An in-​depth understanding of the educational inequality of AHAY-​ R necessitates examining systemic, relational, and institutional dimensions of their experiences. References Appadurai, A. (2013). The Future as Cultural Fact: Essays on the Global Condition. London: Verso. Australian Bureau of Statistics [ABS]. (2019). Population Censuses, 1991 to 2016 (personal data request).

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132  Educational attainment Molla, T. (2021a). African refugees in Australia: Social position and educational outcomes. Journal of Immigrant & Refugee Studies, 19(4), 331–​348. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1080/​15562​948.2020.1801​942 Molla, T. (2021b). Refugees and equity policy in Australian higher education. Policy Reviews in Higher Education, 5(1), 5–​27. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​23322​ 969.2020.1806​727 Morrice, L., Tip, L. K., Brown, R., & Collyer, M. (2020). Resettled refugee youth and education: Aspiration and reality. Journal of Youth Studies, 23(3), 388–​405. Naidoo, L., Wilkinson, J., Adoniou, M., & Langat, K. (2018). Refugee Background Students Transitioning into Higher Education: Navigating Complex Spaces. Singapore: Springer. National Centre for Vocational Education Research [NCVER]. (2020). VET Enrolment of People from Selected African Countries (personal data request). Naylor, R. & Mifsud, N. (2019). Structural Inequality in Higher Education: Creating Institutional Cultures That Enable All Students. Perth: National Centre for Student Equity in Higher Education, Curtin University. www.ncs​ehe.edu.au/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ ads/​2019/​09/​Naylo​rMif​sud-​FINAL.pdf Naylor, R., Terry, L., Rizzo, A., Nguyen, N., & Mifsud, N. (2019). Structural inequality in refugee participation in higher education. Journal of Refugee Studies, 34(2), 2142–​ 2158. https://​doi.org/​10.1093/​jrs/​fez​077 Omi, M. & Winant, H. (2014). Racial Formation in the United States: From the 1960s to the 1980s, Third edition. New York: Routledge. Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development [OECD] & European Union [EU]. (2018). Settling in 2018: Indicators of Immigrant Integration. Paris: OECD Publishing. O’Shea, S. (2019). Crossing boundaries: Rethinking the ways that first-​in family students navigate ‘barriers’ to higher education. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 41(1), 95–​110. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​01425​692.2019.1668​746 Perales, F., Xiang, N., Hartley, L., Kubler, M., & Tomaszewski, W. (2022). Understanding access to higher education amongst humanitarian migrants: An analysis of Australian longitudinal survey data. Higher Education, 84(2), 373–​397. https://​doi.org/​10.1007/​ s10​734-​021-​00772-​x Productivity Commission [PC]. (2019). The Demand Driven University System: A Mixed Report Card. Canberra: PC. www.pc.gov.au/​resea​rch/​comple​ted/​uni​vers​ity-​ rep​ort-​card/​uni​vers​ity-​rep​ort-​card.pdf Sapolsky, R. (2004). Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers, Third edition. New York: Henry Holt. Sen, A. (1987). The Standard of Living: The Tanner Lectures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sen, A. (1992). Inequality Re-​examined. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Sen, A. (2009). The Idea of Justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Shizha, E., Abdi, A. A., Wilson-​Forsberg, S. , & Masakure, O. (2020). African immigrant students and postsecondary education in Canada: High school teachers and school career counsellors as gatekeepers. Canadian Ethnic Studies Association, 52(3), 67–​86. Steele, C. M. (2010). Whistling Vivaldi and Other Clues to How Stereotypes Affect Us. New York: W.W. Norton. Stevenson, J. & Baker, S. (2018). Refugees in Higher Education: Debate, Discourse and Practice. London: Emerald Publishing.

Higher education participation  133 Streitwieser, B., Loo, B., Ohorodnik, M., & Jeong, J. (2019). Access for refugees into higher education: A review of interventions in North America and Europe. Journal of Studies in International Education, 23(4), 473–​496. Sue, D. W. (2010). Microaggressions, marginality, and oppression: An introduction. In D. W. Sue (Ed.), Microaggressions and Marginality: Manifestation, Dynamics, and Impact (pp. 3–​24). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Terry, L., Naylor, R., Nguyen, N., & Rizzo, A. (2016). Not There Yet: An Investigation into the Access and Participation of Students from Humanitarian Refugee Backgrounds in the Australian Higher Education System. Melbourne: Melbourne Refugee Studies Program, The University of Melbourne. Teschl, M. & Comim, F. (2005). Adaptive preferences and capabilities: Some preliminary conceptual explorations. Review of Social Economy, 63(2), 229–​247. https://​doi. org/​10.1080/​003467​6050​0130​374 United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees [UNHCR]. (2019). Refugee Education 2030. Geneva: UNHCR. www.unhcr.org/​en-​au/​publi​cati​ons/​educat​ion/​5d65​1da8​ 8d7/​educat​ion-​2030-​strat​egy-​refu​gee-​educat​ion.html Vergani, M. & Navarro, C. (2020). Barriers to Reporting Hate Crime and Hate Incidents in Victoria: A Mixed-​Methods Study. Melbourne: Centre for Resilient and Inclusive Societies, Deakin University. https://​stat​ic1.squa​resp​ace.com/​sta​tic/​5d48c​b4d6​1091​ 1000​11ed​ed9/​t/​5f443​a5fa​ea4d​a79d​71a7​99c/​159830​6921​664/​Barri​ers+​to+​report​ing+​ hate+​crime​s_​fi​nal.pdf Winant, H. (2004). The New Politics of Race: Globalism, Difference, Justice. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Windle, J. (2008). The racialisation of African youth in Australia. Social Identities, 14(5), 553–​566. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​135046​3080​2343​382 Windle, J. A. (2015). The education of refugee-​background students in Australian schools. In M. Crock (Ed.), Creating New Futures: Settling Children and Youth from Refugee Backgrounds (pp. 213–​225). Annandale: Federation Press.

Part III

Integration outcomes

7 Multiculturalism and refugee integration

We are an immigration nation, multicultural, as new as the baby receiving her citizenship in the arms of her migrant mother. And we are as old as our First Australians’ 60,000 years of continuous civilisation here in their ancestral land, which we all share and call Australia. (Malcolm Turnbull, 2020) 7.1 Introduction Multicultural societies are generally seen as ideal for successful refugee integration. While some degree of structural assimilation is unavoidable, multiculturalism celebrates cultural diversity. Refugee integration rests on mutual accommodation; it is not a one-​way process. Reciprocal adjustment is critical. Refugees and receiving societies need to make changes to make interaction meaningful and productive. As is elaborated in various parts of this book, the integration of refugees can be assessed in the domains of educational attainment, labour market participation, civic engagement, and cultural representation. In other words, integration outcomes of refugees are mediated by individual characteristics of the newcomers and socioeconomic arrangements of the destination societies (including opportunities and outcomes in the areas of education, employment, housing, and health). Governments can promote refugee integration through enacting relevant policies and legislation that provide opportunities, protect rights, and address problems of discrimination and racism. Most refugees are determined to start again, to adopt and fulfil their aspirations for a better life. With the right level and forms of support, they can become productive members of society. In a multicultural society, such as Australia, formal integration occurs when members of different cultural and ethnic groups “cooperate in accordance with institutionally defined social roles” and when members of such groups “occupy all roles in enough numbers that roles are not racially identified” (Anderson, 2010, p. 116). Lack of integration endangers social cohesion and economic productivity. In the Settling in 2018 report, the OECD and EU further stressed, “A lack of integration can lead to significant economic costs in terms of lower DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-10

138  Integration outcomes productivity and growth. It also entails political costs and instability, and more generally negatively affects social cohesion” (2018, p. 10). Despite the global initiatives towards improved refugee resettlement and integration, refugees continue to face enduring barriers or walls of exclusion. Measured in per capita terms, Australia has one of the most generous refugee resettlement programmes in the world (although how and who they include as part of their annual intakes remains contentious). In the last 75 years, Australia has resettled close to 900,000 refugees and other displaced people (DOHA, 2019). Starting from the 1990s, African refugees have been among the main beneficiaries of Australia’s humanitarian migration programme. As a result of the nation’s migration programme (including humanitarian resettlement), cultural diversity has become a defining feature of Australia. The 2021 Census shows that close to 30 per cent of the population were born overseas, and Australians speak over 300 languages at home (ABS, 2022). Over 60 per cent of the population growth is attributed to immigration from all over the world (Simon-​Davies, 2018). But the political response to this level of cultural diversity has not always been consistent and accommodative. Drawing on the immigrant acculturation and integration literature, this chapter sheds some light on multidirectional and multidimensional aspects of refugee integration in a multicultural society and documents the emergence of multiculturalism as a political strategy for managing cultural diversity. Whereas multicultural policy recognises refugee status as a category of disadvantage, humanitarian entrants remain invisible in equity programmes in the HE sector. It is argued that, although the multicultural framework promotes a positive view of diversity in society, the racialised moral panic in the public sphere vilifies Black African youth and pushes them further to marginality. Taking African refugee youth as an empirical case, this chapter explores the contradiction between Australia’s multicultural political project and the representation and position of refugees. The remainder of the chapter is organised into three main sections. Drawing on John Berry’s theoretical contributions to migrant integration models, the first section discusses multiculturalism as a strategy of integration. The second section focuses on multiculturalism as a political project in Australia and draws implications for refugee integration policies and practices. The third section briefly outlines the walls of exclusion that African refugees face against the backdrop of Australia’s multicultural policy. The chapter closes with a call for substantive opportunities to ensure the cultural citizenship of refugees. 7.2  Multiculturalism as a strategy of integration Multiculturalism is an ambiguous term. In its everyday descriptive usage, multiculturalism refers to the fact of ethnocultural diversity in a given society. In its political usage, Miller (2006) distinguished between the normative meaning of multiculturalism (a political position that “attaches positive values” to ethnocultural diversity) and the practical facet of multiculturalism, expressed in “a

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  139 set of policies that are designed to help cultural minorities, materially or symbolically” (p. 327). Following Miller (2006) and Moran (2017), in this chapter, multiculturalism is conceived as a descriptor of the reality of ethnocultural diversity and a political position that accords equal recognition to diverse cultural groups and provides specific policies that respond to such demands. A multicultural society presents an ideal condition for refugee integration mainly because it recognises differences while requiring all to subscribe to the shared values of society. In a multicultural society, mutual accommodation is the norm, and when refugees see integration as a valued acculturation strategy, they actively seek relationships with the host society without shedding their cultural heritage (Berry, 2001). While some degree of structural assimilation is unavoidable, multiculturalism celebrates cultural diversity. Ethnocultural minority groups can maintain their cultural identities while, at the same time, participating in the larger society. The expectation is that immigrants “adopt the basic values of the receiving society”, and the receiving society is prepared “to adapt national institutions” to meet the needs of new members (Berry, 2001, p. 619). In multicultural societies, regardless of their background, people “live, work, learn and socialise together, based on shared rights, responsibilities and opportunities” (UK Home Office, 2019, p. 11). Genuine integration is reciprocal—​ both new arrivals and hosting societies should make efforts towards mutual acculturation. Berry (2001) defined acculturation in terms of changes that arise from contacts between individuals and groups of different cultural backgrounds. In successive studies that informed the acculturation framework, Berry (1992, 2001) showed that the extent to which migrants integrate with destination societies heavily depends on responses of the latter to the following two questions (1997): 1 Is it considered to be of value to maintain one’s cultural identity and characteristics? and 2 Is it considered to be of value to maintain relationships with others in society? For members of the destination society, if the answer is “Yes” to both questions, they are champions of multiculturalism (quadrant I in Figure 7.1). If they say “No” to both questions, they are segregationists (quadrant IV). If they answer “Yes” to question 1 and “No” to question 2, they favour exclusion (quadrant II). Finally, if they answer “No” to question 1 and “Yes” to question 2, they see a melting pot as a desirable condition (quadrant III). In other words, Berry identified four acculturation strategies of destination societies: multiculturalism, segregation, exclusion, and melting pot. Berry’s research shows that there is a correspondence between the acculturation strategies of refugees and destination societies. Refugee integration is more likely to be effective in a host society that values multiculturalism. Integration is understood differently in different contexts. Anderson (2010) defined integration in terms of intergroup cooperation “on terms of equality

140  Integration outcomes

Figure 7.1 Matrix of acculturation strategies of destination societies. Source: Author, based on Berry (1992, 2006).

and mutual regard in all institutions of civil society” (p. 95, emphasis added). As a social process, integration is multidirectional—​it involves mutual accommodation of both refugees and destination societies. The level of integration of refugees depends on “the policies and attitudes held by the dominant society, and whether acculturating individuals prefer strategies that correspond to these views in the larger society” (Berry, 1992, p. 74). Refugees also need to be willing to actively participate in the economic, social, cultural, and political lives of the host society. Within the multicultural framework, for integration to be realised, the newcomers need to adapt to the shared norms and values of the destination society. Depending on the level of relationships they seek with the larger society and the extent to which they wish to maintain their culture and identity, acculturation outcomes for refugee groups include separation, assimilation, marginalisation, or integration. For refugees, integration is an ideal acculturation strategy because it offers them the opportunity to actively participate in the socioeconomic lives of the society without shedding their culture or identity. A shared sense of belonging is necessary for integration to be successful. According to Berry (2001):

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  141 [integration] requires immigrants to adopt the basic values of the receiving society, and at the same time the receiving society must be prepared to adapt national institutions (e.g., education, health, justice, labor) to better meet the needs of all groups now living together in the larger plural society. (p. 619) Integration is also multidimensional. It depends on multiple factors, including access to resources and opportunities (UK Home Office, 2019). Given the magnitude of disadvantage refugees face, successful integration requires strong political commitment. Adapting institutions means making sure refugees have access to relevant opportunities and resources to rebuild their lives. At the core of these aspects of integration is public action in the form of provision of social services during and after settlement. Intensive initial support and continuing attention in areas of cultural adaptability and socioeconomic participation are instrumental in promoting refugee integration. Integration of ethnocultural minority groups can be assessed in the areas of shared language, social mixing, educational attainment, employment outcomes, sense of safety and belonging, and active participation in civic and social spheres of life. In a study that informed the UK Home Office’s Integration Framework, Ager and Strang (2008) identified four domains of refugee integration: makers and means (i.e. resources and attainments that are necessary for, and signals of, integration, including work, housing, education, and health services), social connections (e.g. engagement with community and institutions), facilitators (i.e. factors that assist integration, such as language, culture, and safety), and foundation—​rights and responsibilities set by the broader social system. Drawing on Ager and Strang’s categories and focusing on refugee-​background Africans in Australia, this chapter identifies four indicators of integration: cultural adaptation, educational attainment, economic participation, and social engagement. Multiculturalism recognises the cultural values of the new arrivals. At the core of both aspects of integration is public action in the form of social services during and after settlement and the readiness of refugees to learn the culture and values of the destination society. Genuine integration is reciprocal—​both new arrivals and hosting societies need to make efforts towards cultural adaptation. In essence, refugees and destination societies are, to borrow words from Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from the Birmingham Jail (16 April 1963), “caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly” (King & West, 2015, p. 229). For refugees, integration is a preferred acculturation strategy because it allows them to maintain their cultural identities, to stay in touch with their past and tradition. It is impossible for adult refugees to completely detach themselves from the past, from their origin and tradition. Upon his return to America after a long self-​imposed exile in Europe, essayist James Baldwin reflected: “I am not certain that anyone ever leaves home. When ‘home’ drops below the horizon, it rises in one’s breast and acquires the overwhelming power

142  Integration outcomes of menaced love” (1998, p. 778). Baldwin is right. Especially for many refugee-​ background Africans, the trauma of separation remains too fresh to forget their home of origin. Integration necessitates not only removing barriers to full socioeconomic participation of refugees but also extending equal respect and recognition. Integration requires intergroup interaction and equal group status. In his classic work, The Nature of Prejudice, social psychologist Gordon Allport (1954) posited that as contact increases between social groups, prejudicial attitudes diminish. Using a study on the long-​term impact of education on political attitudes, Hayes et al. (2007) extended Allport’s work by arguing: “The impact of contact on intergroup relations may not only vary significantly in terms of the nature of the contact situation but also in terms of the societal status of the groups involved” (p. 454, emphasis added). Put differently, contact does not necessarily lead to the reduction of racial prejudice. Concerted efforts are needed to achieve genuine inclusion. 7.3  Multicultural Australia One can claim that Australia has been multicultural from its inception as a settler society. The European settlers lived alongside the First Peoples of the land. There were people of African and Jewish descent in the First Fleet (Grassby, 1973). Migration has further significantly transformed Australia. In 2020, 30 per cent of Australia’s population were born overseas, and the nation’s population increased by 194,400 people due to net overseas migration (ABS, 2021). In fact, the number of migrants living in Australia in 2020 (7.6 million) was slightly higher than the total population of Australia in 1945 (7.4 million) (Mence et al., 2017). Cultural diversity has become a defining feature of Australia. The 2016 Census shows that Australians speak over 300 languages at home (ABS, 2017). In 2013, almost half of the population had at least one parent born overseas (PC, 2016), and over 60 per cent of the population growth is attributed to immigration from all over the world (Simon-​ Davies, 2018). In his 2020 book, A Bigger Picture, former Australian prime minister Malcolm Turnbull wrote: Australia is the most successful and most harmonious multicultural society in the world. There is no comparable country with as large a percentage of its citizens and residents born from outside its shores with such a diverse cultural mix of peoples. None of us, no one of us can look in the mirror and say, “All Australians look like me.” Australians look like every race, like every culture, like every ethnic group in the world. (p. 320) In terms of the ethnocultural diversity of the Australian population, the country’s post-​World War II migration policy is seen as a watershed. Australia started resettling non-​English-​speaking Europeans on a humanitarian basis.

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  143 But the political response to this level of cultural diversity has not always been consistent and accommodative. From the mid-​1940s to the mid-​1970s, the national policy towards non-​English-​speaking European immigrants was assimilation. The new arrivals were expected to adjust to “the Australian way of life” (Jupp, 2011; Zubrzycki, 1964). Starting from the mid-​1960s, a political movement developed encouraging the maintenance of ethnocultural identities, as long as the minority groups gave their first allegiance to Australia and were willing to learn the English language. If so, they were tolerated. But the 1970s brought significant changes. In 1971, to accommodate minority European immigrant groups, Canada adopted multiculturalism as a public policy (Glazer, 1997; Jedwab, 2011). In Australia, the then exclusive migration policy was increasingly seen as culturally racist and economically restrictive. Hence, in 1973, the Australian government officially abandoned the White Australia policy that prohibited the entry of non-​European people (Galbally, 1978; Jakubowicz, 1981). Following this policy shift, the ethnocultural composition of migrant intakes of Australia dramatically changed and the concept of multiculturalism entered the policy lexicon. The concept of Australia as a “multicultural society” was first mentioned in 1973 in a speech by the minister for immigration Al Grassby titled “A Multicultural Society for the Future”. In his speech, Grassby (1973) noted, “The increasing diversity of Australian society has gradually eroded and finally rendered untenable any prospects there might have been twenty years ago of fully assimilating newcomers to the ‘Australian way of life’” (p. 3). Within two years of Grassby’s speech, following the ratification of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination in 1975, the government passed the Racial Discrimination Act 1975. Following the arrival of a considerable number of non-​European immigrants in subsequent years, multiculturalism became a viable political project. In April 1978, in his response to Galbally’s review of Post-​arrival Programs and Services for Migrants, then prime minister Malcolm Fraser noted that the government agreed with the conclusion of the review that “Australia is at a critical stage in developing a cohesive, united, multicultural nation” (Fraser, 1978, p. 2). In the ensuing years, the government put in place services and programmes to the benefit of new immigrants and refugees. Consequently, Australia has become one of the most diverse societies in the world (see Malcolm Turnbull’s words in the epigraph of this chapter). Australia is one of the top 10 destinations of international migration (OECD, 2020), and it has one of the highest shares of a foreign-​born population as a portion of its total population. According to the 2021 Census, the proportion of Australian residents who were born overseas (first generation) or had a parent born overseas (second generation) reached over 51 per cent (ABS, 2022; see also Figure 7.2). In Australia, multiculturalism is officially defined as a form of public policy “for managing the consequences of cultural diversity in the interests of the individual and society as a whole” (Office of Multicultural Affairs, 1989, p. 1).

144  Integration outcomes

Figure 7.2 The proportion of Australian residents who were born overseas or had a parent born overseas. Source: ABS (2022); provided under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International licence.

Multiculturalism is widely seen as an integration policy that recognises, tolerates, honours, and promotes cultural diversity and its benefits (Moran, 2017). It is a political response to cultural pluralism. As is outlined in the founding document (Galbally, 1978), one of the guiding principles of Australia’s multiculturalism was that “every person should be able to maintain his or her culture without prejudice or disadvantage and should be encouraged to understand and embrace other cultures” (p. 4). In a multicultural society, mutual accommodation is the norm. Proponents of the programme reject assimilative policies towards minority groups, instead advocating for a social arrangement whereby each ethnocultural group maintains its distinctiveness (Glazer, 1997). But this does not mean everyone is happy with this level of diversity and the political response to the situation. In the mid-​1990s, with the prominence of conservative political forces in the national political space, scepticism towards the multicultural agenda increased. The One Nation party and the Conservative government of John Howard openly rejected multiculturalism and advocated for a more assimilative position (Jupp, 2011). On the political right, multiculturalism is seen as destructive of Australian national identity and cohesion. For instance, the Howard government slashed the intake of African refugees on the pretext that the group was unable to integrate into society. Then immigration minister Kevin Andrews defended the measure by stressing that African refugees “have the challenges of resettling in a culture which is vastly different” and it was “false compassion to keep allowing” them into the society (Harrison, 2007). The minister’s racist framing echoed the infamous ruling of the U.S. Supreme Court (1857) that in part read: Black people “had for more than a century before been regarded as beings of an inferior order, and altogether unfit to associate with the white race, either in social or political relations” (para. 59, emphasis added). The conservative political elite has continued to be sceptical about the value of multiculturalism.

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  145 In practice, the translation of Australia’s multicultural policy was far from perfect. People from visibly different and minoritised ethnocultural backgrounds continue to struggle to find their place in society. Consider one case example. Mr Jason Tamiru has a mixed heritage. His father, Mr Addis Tamiru, is of Ethiopian heritage. Addis came to Australia in 1965 as an international student (under the Colombo Plan). Mr Jason’s mother, Mrs Lalian Nicholls, is the daughter of Sir Douglas Nicholls, Australia’s first Indigenous state governor from the Yorta Yorta people and an athlete, pastor, and rights and reconciliation campaigner. Jason reflects on his struggle to “fit in”: I had an interesting upbringing—​interesting in the sense that, like any child or any kid, I was trying to find out who I was and how I fit into the world …. As a young boy, I had ups and downs, that is for sure. A lot had to do with fitting in society. I really didn’t know who I was. My identity being Indigenous or the First Nations of Australia—​that is one side of my identity, from my mother; and of course, from my father, being Ethiopian. Having these two identities inside me, externally, it was difficult to navigate in my life because the world was not set up for someone like me. (Emqueaud, 2022, emphasis added) Even so, multiculturalism has not completely lost its political appeal. Against the backdrop of the consolidation of cultural pluralism, the multicultural project has been revived. Drawing on a series of national surveys, Markus (2011, 2021) noted that the majority of Australians value cultural diversity, but there is limited support for governmental commitment to the cultural maintenance of migrants. In 2017, the Commonwealth government introduced a national multiculturalism statement where it reaffirmed its commitment to “a multicultural Australia, in which racism and discrimination have no place” (Australian Government, 2017, p. 2). In his foreword for the national multicultural statement, then prime minister Malcolm Turnbull declared, “Australia is the most successful multicultural society in the world” (Australian Government, 2017, p. 3; see also Mr Turnbull’s statement in the epigraph of this chapter). The new policy aimed to extend services and programmes that meet the needs of people from diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds, while also ensuring that shared values of mutual respect, equality, and freedom are upheld by all Australians (Australian Government, 2017, 2018). In the 2017 national Multicultural Statement, the Commonwealth government aimed at extending services and programmes that meet the needs of people from diverse cultural and linguistic backgrounds, while at the same time ensuring that shared values of mutual respect, equality, and freedom are upheld by all Australians. The Multicultural Statement further emphasises: Regardless of cultural background, birthplace or religion, everyone in Australia or coming to Australia has a responsibility to engage with and

146  Integration outcomes seek to understand each other, and reject any form of racism or violent extremism. (Australian Government, 2017, p. 15) Subsequently, in the Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide, the Australian government underscored the importance of ensuring “equality of opportunity and equity of outcomes for all Australians” (2018, p. 5). To this end, the policy specifically calls for government agencies and departments to be responsive to the unique conditions and needs of culturally diverse communities, including “refugee and humanitarian entrants” and “visibly different migrants”. The Guide states: The policy acknowledges we live in a multicultural society and that there is an obligation on Australian Government departments and agencies to ensure their programmes and services are accessible by all eligible Australians, responsive to their needs, and deliver equitable outcomes for them, regardless of their cultural and linguistic backgrounds. (p. 3, emphasis added) The political right uses the “African crime gangs” narrative to attack the nation’s multicultural project and its proponents. Malcolm Turnbull, then prime minister of Australia, accused his immigration minister Peter Dutton of instigating such a moral panic in society by echoing the “African gangs” narrative (Turnbull, 2020). As is the case in other liberal democracies, often political opposition to multicultural policies is triggered by immigrants and refugees who are seen as undesirable or dangerous: Public debates in many countries distinguish “good” immigrant groups, who are seen as hard-​working and law-​abiding and hence deserving of reasonable multicultural accommodations, from “bad” immigrant groups, who may be seen as illegal or lazy, or as prone to crime, religious fanaticism, or political extremism. (Banting & Kymlicka, 2006, p. 8) In his insightful analysis of the integration of Polish immigrants in Britain, Zubrzycki (1956) identified three stages of adjustment: conflict, accommodation, and assimilation. Zubrzycki elaborated the distinction as follows: The stage of conflict is one where the minority group is regarded as and feels itself to be alienated from the native society. Members of the minority group are subjected to deprivation at various levels of social life. In the extreme case such conflict may express itself in physical violence between the two groups. The main characteristics of this stage of adjustment are discrimination operated by the socially, economically, politically dominant group against the immigrant minority group. The extreme form of positive

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  147 adjustment will be termed assimilation which can be defined as the condition which obtains when the immigrant group is so completely incorporated into the society to which it has attached itself that its separate identity may be completely lost. An assimilated immigrant group ceases to be thought of as an out-​group and becomes incorporated in a common cultural life of the native society. Between the two extreme stages of adjustment conflict and assimilation is a stage of accommodation. In this stage the minority group still retains its separate identity and may not enjoy complete acceptance by other members of the native community. There may, in fact, be widespread prejudice of a mild character and occasional examples of discrimination in employment and in other fields. The minority group is tolerated as long as it does not intrude itself too openly into the life of the main community. (pp. 75–​76) The conflict and accommodation stages of interaction are readily evident in the accounts and experiences of African refugee youth; however, the assimilation stage has little relevance to the present discussion for two reasons. First, refugee integration in multicultural societies does not necessarily entail assimilation as an outcome. The normative expectation is that, within the multicultural policy framework, refugees can adapt to the shared values and norms of destination societies without shedding their heritage culture. In a truly just and multicultural society, all ethnocultural groups “can enjoy freedom to make their own distinctive contribution to the family of the nation” (Grassby, 1973, p. 9). Second, for visibly different minority groups, such as Black youth in a predominantly White society, assimilation is unattainable. Some markers of identity (e.g. skin colour) make complete blending unlikely. However, Australia’s refugee resettlement and integration programmes and services focus on the newcomers’ ability to speak English and secure jobs. Integration outcomes of refugees are often conceived as labour market participation. This narrow framing does not recognise social interactions and political discourses that undermine the relational well-​being and cultural citizenship of refugees. 7.4  Walls of exclusion The national multicultural policy identifies refugees and other “visibly different migrants” as equity targets. Even so, as is exemplified by the experiences of African youth in my study, refugees have limited opportunities for meaningful integration. In Australia, unlike the “good refugees” (blonde and blue-​eyed displaced persons from Europe) (Anderson, 2012) who arrived before the end of the Immigration Restriction Act, recent non-​White humanitarian arrivals (from Asia, Africa, and the Middle East) are often framed as “undesirable immigrants” (Dyrenfurth, 2005). The trend has not changed—​the negative representation of visibly different minorities is evident in the social stigma attached to Black African youth.

148  Integration outcomes Populists value communal allegiance over civic membership. They conceive nationalism primarily in terms of ethnicity and culture rather than membership in society with common civic norms, rules, and responsibilities (e.g. shared respect for human rights, freedom, merit, diversity, and the rule of law). They depict refugees from different ethnocultural backgrounds as threats to national cohesion and security. As a result, the racially Other becomes a target of xenophobic discrimination. In this chapter, I use “wall” as a metaphor to capture mechanisms of exclusion that exist at systemic and institutional levels. Refugees face walls everywhere. They face three forms of walls. The first is the physical wall in the form of border fences. Following the 2015 so-​called refugee crisis, from the U.S. to Hungary, populist political leaders have erected physical border walls to stop the flow of refugees. Australia has not built a physical wall along its national borders. Hence, here I focus on “the border within” (Watson & Thompson, 2022), examining the policy and cognitive walls—​the invisible barriers associated with anti-​ immigrant policies and xenophobic views in society—​that stigmatise and marginalise visibly different refugee groups. Policy wall. Policy walls represent legal documents that restrict the right to move freely and access rights and opportunities the state reserves for its citizens (Wyman, 1968), as well as a lack of legislative provisions in relation to access to resources and opportunities. The policy wall of exclusion is expressed in the invisibility of refugees in equity policy provisions (as noted in Chapter 5). Like other refugees, African humanitarian entrants arrive in Australia with a right to permanent residence and, after at least four years, they apply for citizenship by conferral. They become legally included—​they become legal subjects of the state. As legal citizens, they have access to welfare benefits and can exercise their voting rights. In reality, they continue to face policy walls—​their unique and intersecting disadvantages remain invisible in the policy space. Policymakers often fail to recognise enduring consequences of forced displacement associated with low educational attainment, limited economic participation, and increased social disengagement of refugee youth. As a result, they wrongly frame the problem as an inherent characteristic of the group. It is also about policy invisibility in terms of being targeted for equity provisions (see Chapter 5) and a willingness to put the necessary legislation in place to address the racialisation of violence and its impact on Black youth. Due mainly to discriminatory practices that inhibit their cultural citizenship, refugee-​background Africans still live on the margin of society, separated by walls of exclusion. Breaking the walls of exclusion and misrepresentation necessitates policy actions that guarantee substantive opportunities and ensure the cultural citizenship of refugees. These two points are briefly discussed here. To begin with, meaningful youth engagement necessitates substantive opportunities in the form of education and employment. The Geneva Convention defines a refugee as a person who left their country of origin due to a well-​ founded fear of persecution (UNHCR, 1993). To be a refugee is to be uprooted from the familiar, to grapple with one’s place in society, and to be detached from valued connections and possessions. Writing amidst the Holocaust and

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  149 the mass displacement of European Jews in the 1940s, political philosopher Hannah Arendt had this to say about the predicaments of refugees: We lost our home, which means the familiarity of daily life. We lost our occupation, which means the confidence that we are of some use in this world. We lost our language, which means the naturalness of reactions, the simplicity of gestures, the unaffected expression of feelings. We left our relatives in the Polish ghettos and our best friends have been killed in concentration camps, and that means the rupture of our private lives. (1943, p. 69) Genuine multiculturalism requires breaking down the walls of exclusion that deprive refugees of equal recognition and equitable access to resources. Breaking the policy wall means recognising the unique educational needs of refugees and providing them with substantive (i.e. relevant and sufficient) opportunities. In the face of challenges of such magnitude, refugees need extra support to re-​establish their lives in their destination. In the last few years, with the increasing complexity of the economic, social, and educational needs of refugees, there has been a call for concerted political efforts to promote the integration of new arrivals (UNHCR, 2019). The notion of substantive opportunity underscores an expansive view of disadvantage. For Australia to fully integrate humanitarian entrants, there is an urgent need for streamlined policy responses to the educational needs and aspirations of refugees. Relatedly, breaking the mental wall means safeguarding the cultural citizenship of refugee youth. Citizenship concerns formal membership in a political community and associated rights and responsibilities the membership entails. Beyond a claim to socioeconomic and political rights, cultural citizenship is “a claim to full societal belonging” (Beaman, 2016, p. 852). Warranting cultural citizenship of refugees starts with recognition, which involves “calling attention to, if not performatively creating, the putative specificity of some group, and then of affirming the value of that specificity” (Fraser, 1995, p. 74). Mental wall. Even more insidious than the policy wall is the mental wall that refugees encounter within the destination society. The mental wall of exclusion and segregation results partly from the “principles of vision and division” that “the state constructs and imposes on agents” as categories of perception (Bourdieu, 2008, p. 168). This invisible wall—​an unseen barrier—​ stands on cultural grounds and is expressed in the racialised moral panic that is discussed in Chapters 8 and 9. The mental wall can also be internalised by individuals who are subject to discrimination. Internal mental walls represent walls of perception and dispositions that lead to self-​exclusion. Pervasive exposure to racial Othering results in conflict and confusion that, in turn, lead to what social psychologists refer to as acculturative stress—​anxiety and depression due to negative experiences of acculturation (Berry et al., 2002). Acculturative stress generates self-​alienation. Cultural invisibility, misrepresentation, and loss of identity epitomise diminished cultural citizenship and

150  Integration outcomes disempowerment. A mental wall is a “wall of perception”, but its impact is practical because it nurtures a sense of alienation and results in exclusion from symbolic and material resources. Underscoring the power of a mental wall, Ahmed (2017) wrote: A wall can be how you are stopped from residing somewhere. Or a wall can be what you experience once you get here. We could think of whiteness as a wall. You know that experience: you walk into a room and it is like a sea of whiteness. A sea: a wall of water. It can feel like something that hits you. It is not just that you open the door and see whiteness but that the door feels as if it is slammed in your face, whether or not it is. It is not always that you are not allowed in. You might even be welcomed; after all, you would promise to add diversity to an event. But you would feel uncomfortable. You would stick out like a sore thumb. So you might leave the situation voluntarily, because it would be too uncomfortable to stay. When you leave, you leave whiteness behind you. For those who are not white, whiteness can be experienced as wall: something solid, a body with mass that stops you from getting through. Whiteness can be like that crowd: many as momentum, many as movement. Things are fluid if you are going the way things are flowing. If you are not going that way, a flow acquires the density of a thing, something solid. What one body experiences as solid, another might experience as air …. When you bring up walls, you are challenging what lightens the load for some; you are questioning how space is occupied as being for some. You become a threat to the easing of a progression when you point out how a progression is eased. (p. 147) For Black Africans in racially stratified societies, the colour of their skin triggers a wall of Othering. Although African refugees manage to pass through the narrow gate of Australia’s unbuilt border wall, the “everyday bordering” (Yuval-​Davis et al., 2018) in the form of racist public representation of the group constitutes a mental wall that inhibits refugee youth from developing a sense of belonging and participating in socioeconomic activities (see Chapters 4, 6, 8, and 9). Negative valuation of Africans in Australia has persisted. For example, the latest instalment of the Scanlon Foundation annual survey (Markus, 2021) showed that negative feelings towards Ethiopians increased from 12 per cent (in 2010) to 35 per cent (in 2020). In November 2020, negative feelings towards people of Sudanese background also reached 56 per cent; this was the highest score for any national group included in the survey. The survey also highlighted a key contradiction: on the one hand, about 80 per cent of respondents supported multiculturalism; on the other, 63 per cent of respondents opposed government support for cultural maintenance of ethnic minorities. In fact, the public opposition to government support towards cultural maintenance of minority groups is not new (Markus et al., 2009). The persistent discourse of “Othering” and public vilification might force African

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  151 youth to question whether they can ever belong to society. There is an urgent need to move from seeing Africans as a problem group to recognising the potential of African youth. For governments, promoting cultural citizenship of the group and demolishing hierarchies of belonging in the society necessitates “choosing to be accountable for the whole, creating a context of hospitality and collective possibility, acting to bring the gifts of those on the margin into the center” (Block, 2018, p. 178, emphasis added). Under the multicultural framework, at the core of the integration of refugees and other immigrants is the opportunity of minorities to maintain their culture while adapting to the values of mainstream society. As “a blockage point”, symbolic walls are often invisible. Ahmed (2014) argued such walls become apparent only through direct experiences: “To those who do not come against it, the wall does not appear: the institution is experienced as yes, as open, committed, and diverse” (p. 146). For refugees, officially swearing the oath of citizenship represents only one aspect of their membership in the receiving society. People enjoy their cultural citizenship when they are accepted for who they are as they name themselves, and they know they are worthy members of communities. The importance of culture cannot be overstated: it provides a “context of choice”, governs “the boundaries of the imaginable”, and affords “an anchor for self-​identification and the safety of effortless secure belonging” (Kymlicka, 1995, p. 89). Disadvantaged ethnocultural minorities with assured cultural citizenship are more likely to confidently demand respect, dignity, opportunity, and participation. As visibly different minorities, compared to their non-​Black peers, Black African refugees are more likely to experience discrimination in the labour market (Abur, 2019; Colic-​Peisker & Tilbury, 2007; Harvey et al., 2020), in educational settings (Molla, 2021a, 2021b; Watkins et al., 2019), and property rental market (Heagney, 2020). They are also portrayed in the media as dangerous (Molla, 2021c; Windle, 2008). Overall, the experiences of African youth suggest multiculturalism is not necessarily a policy work. Nyadol Nyuon, a refugee-​ background South Sudanese Australian lawyer and human rights advocate, expressed integration as an “intuitive act of reciprocity and necessity”: I struggle to understand those people who write and lecture about their fears of refugees and immigrants. I do not understand their fear of the “foreigner” because if they looked closely, just beyond the skin, they would see that there is no us and them. And to see beyond the us and them is how multiculturalism works …. By coming to a new country, you change. As I have. You learn to love that country. As I have. You learn to struggle to hold on to that love, and your idea of your place in that country, in the face of racism and discrimination. As I have. It is all a process of becoming Australian. (2021, para. 5) Seen from the capability perspective, removing the two walls of exclusion means providing substantive opportunities to the extent they effectuate “the

152  Integration outcomes removal of various types of unfreedoms that leave people with little choice and little opportunity of exercising their reasoned agency” (Sen, 1999, p. 5) and ensuring the social abilities of the refugee youth, including their substantive freedom to “appear in public without shame” and “take part in the life of the community” (Sen, 2000, p. 13). The multicultural statement further notes: “Our success as a multicultural society is due to a balance of rights and responsibilities that ensure a stable, resilient and harmonious society where we seek to give everyone the opportunity to contribute to—​and benefit from—​our prosperity” (Australian Government, 2017, p. 9). What is needed is not another policy provision, but a political commitment to translating this national multicultural statement into practice. 7.5 Conclusion This chapter discussed Australia’s multicultural promise and its implications for the integration outcomes of African refugees. At the policy level, the national multicultural statement recognises refugee status as a category of disadvantage and calls for government agencies and institutions to be responsive to specific needs and conditions of humanitarian entrants. With the rise of ethnocultural diversity, multiculturalism is a widely supported project. In Australia, officially, cultural diversity is valued and respected. Extending equal respect and recognition to the cultural values and identities of minority groups is seen as beneficial for all. However, in practice, for those to the right of the political spectrum, multiculturalism is seen as a threat to the “primordial” Australian identity. Critics of multiculturalism racialise youth violence and stigmatise Black Africans as inherently dangerous and, hence, undesirable. Especially in this age of collective anxieties and excessive nationalism, to paraphrase Bauman (Bauman & Donskis, 2013), the politics of fear lubricates the wheels of populism and helps to keep its champions in power. Those who contest ideas and ideals of multiculturalism see negatively labelling visibly different minority groups as a “technology of control of diversity” (Yuval-​ Davis et al., 2018, p. 229). The lines of argument of conservative politicians and media personalities imply that the “crime gang” framing aims to funnel fear in society. For instance, in October 2016, Andrew Bolt—​one of the leading mouthpieces of the political right who campaigned against Australia’s “inclusive” migration programme and the multiculturalism policy more broadly—​ reported on a robbery by a group of young people who completely disguised themselves: Our refugee program has put Australians in danger. The latest victims are the checkout staff of several Melbourne supermarkets who have been robbed at knifepoint by gangs of what appears to be Africans …. These youths are almost certainly refugees or the children of refugees from Africa. (2016, paras 1, 9)

Multiculturalism and refugee integration  153 The policy invisibility of refugees and the pervasive negative portrayal of African refugees in public and political discourse is antithetical to promises of multiculturalism and demands of integration. Limited integration outcomes of African heritage youth from refugee backgrounds expose the limitations of the policy. For a genuine multicultural society to flourish, tolerating differences is not sufficient. Without equal recognition (including the right to dignified representation) and equitable access to socioeconomic opportunities, refugees cannot become full members of society. Rather, they are destined to remain on the margin of society. Changing this scenario necessitates evidence-​based sustained advocacy work guided by the theoretical resources of critical scholarship. Such work should call for dignified representation of all individuals and be a political act of all citizens. Critical scholarship is ideal for reimagining an alternative to existing unfair arrangements. As the author of Caste, Isabel Wilkerson, emphasised: “The price of privilege is the moral duty to act when one sees another person treated unfairly” (Wilkerson, 2020, p. 386). In fact, if respect and dignity of human beings is at the core of liberalism, should we not all oppose the misrepresentation of Black Africans in our society? For those who feel invisible, inaudible, unvalued, and excluded, the demand for recognition and cultural citizenship is a call for respect and justice. The critical question we need to entertain is whether visibly different refugee groups are able to achieve an equal footing with other members of society. For Black Africans in predominantly White societies, the exclusion caused by the colour line is particularly durable. Without sustained advocacy work and public action, meaningful integration is unlikely to be realised. In line with the promise of multiculturalism, ethnocultural minorities should be able to maintain their identities while sharing core values and fully participating in the socioeconomic and cultural life of society. It is critical to demolish hierarchies of belonging and recognise “the gifts of those on the margin”. References Abur, W. (2019). A New Life with Opportunities and Challenges: The Settlement Experiences of South Sudanese-​Australians. Juba: Africa World Books. Ager, A. & Strang, A. (2008). Understanding integration: A conceptual framework. Journal of Refugee Studies, 21(2), 166–​191. https://​doi.org/​10.1093/​jrs/​fen​016 Ahmed, S. (2014). The Cultural Politics of Emotion. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Ahmed, S. (2017). Living a Feminist Life. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Allport, G. (1954). The Nature of Prejudice. Boston, MA: Addison Wesley. Anderson, E. (2010). The Imperative of Integration. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Anderson, Z. (2012). Borders, babies, and “good refugees”: Australian representations of “illegal” immigration, 1979. Journal of Australian Studies, 36(4), 499–​514. https://​ doi.org/​10.1080/​10314​61X.2018.1479​438 Arendt, H. (1943). We refugees. Menorah Journal, 31(1), 69–​77.

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Multiculturalism and refugee integration  157 UK Home Office. (2019). Indicators of Integration Framework, Third edition. London: UK Home Office. https://​ass​ets.pub​lish​ing.serv​ice.gov.uk/​gov​ernm​ent/​uplo​ ads/​sys​tem/​uplo​ads/​atta​chme​nt_​d​ata/​file/​1074​688/​home-​off​i ce-​ind​icat​ors-​of-​inte​ grat​ion-​framew​ork-​2019-​horr​109.pdf United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees [UNHCR]. (1993). Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees. Geneva: UNHCR. www.unhcr.org/​en-​ au/​pro​tect​ion/​basic/​3b6​6c2a​a10/​con​vent​ion-​proto​col-​relat​ing-​sta​tus-​refug​ees.html United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees [UNHCR]. (2019). Stepping Up: Refugee Education in Crisis. Geneva: UNHCR. https://​www.unhcr.org/​ste​ ppin​gup/​ U.S. Supreme Court. (1857). Dred Scott v. Sandford (1856), No. 38. FindLaw. https://​ case​law.find​law.com/​us-​supr​eme-​court/​60/​393.html Watkins, M., Noble, G., & Wong, A. (2019). It’s Complex! Working with Students of Refugee Backgrounds and Their Families in New South Wales Public Schools. Surry Hills: New South Wales Teachers Federation. Watson, T. & Thompson, K. (2022). The Border Within: The Economics of Immigration in an Age of Fear. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Wilkerson, I. (2020). Caste: The Lies That Divide Us. London: Allen Lane. Windle, J. (2008). The racialisation of African youth in Australia. Social Identities, 14(5), 553–​566. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​135046​3080​2343​382 Wyman, D. S. (1968). Paper Walls: America and the Refugee Crisis 1938–​ 1941. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press. Yuval-​Davis, N., Wemyss, G., & Cassidy, K. (2018). Everyday bordering, belonging and the reorientation of British immigration legislation. Sociology, 52(2), 228–​244. https://​doi.org/​10.1177/​00380​3851​7702​599 Zubrzycki, J. (1956). Polish Immigrants in Britain: A Study of Adjustment. Dordrecht: Springer. Zubrzycki, J. (1964). Settlers of the Latrobe Valley: A Sociological Study of Immigrants in the Brown Coal Industry in Australia. Canberra: Australian National University.

8 Economic participation, social engagement, and cultural citizenship

We have a duty to help refugees rebuild their lives …. We heal together when we all get the care we need. We learn together when we are all given the chance to study. We shine together when we play as a team and respect everyone. (Antonio Guterres, 2021) 8.1 Introduction Australia’s refugee resettlement and integration programmes and services focus on the newcomers’ ability to speak English and secure jobs (Australian Government, 2019; Shergold et al., 2019). Integration outcomes of refugees are often conceived in terms of labour market participation. This narrow framing does not recognise the role of economic opportunities, social interactions, and political discourses that promote or undermine the relational well-​being freedom of refugees. It is, therefore, critical to recognise that refugee integration is a long-​term process; it often extends to second and third generations (ECRE, 2002). Integration is also multidimensional in the sense that it requires participation in the socioeconomic and cultural lives of destination societies. The European Council on Refugees and Exiles also emphasised that, as a two-​ way process, integration requires both refugees and receiving societies to be accommodating: From a refugee perspective, integration requires a preparedness to adapt to the lifestyle of the host society without having to lose one’s own cultural identity. From the point of view of the host society, it requires a willingness to adapt public institutions to changes in the population profile, accept refugees as part of the national community, and take action to facilitate access to resources and decision-​making processes. (ECRE, 2002, p. 4) In other words, as much as refugees adapt to shared values without losing their own, destination societies need to offer necessary opportunities for the refugees to re-​establish their lives. Ensuring full inclusion of migrants (forced as well as DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-11

Economic, social, and cultural participation  159 voluntary) depends in part on equal right to respect and recognition (including dignified representation in the public sphere). Integration rests on the refugees’ ability to fully participate in the host society’s social, economic, cultural, and political lives without shedding cultural values and roots. However, in reality, refugees continue to face socioeconomic and cultural barriers to integration. As Dina Nayeri, a former refugee and Iranian American writer, noted: To be a refugee is to grapple with your place in society, attempting to reconcile the life you have known with a new, unfamiliar home. All this while bearing the burden of gratitude in your host nation: the expectation that you should be forever thankful for the space you have been allowed. (2020, para. 2) Globally, refugees live on the margin of host societies and have limited access to social opportunities, including HE (OECD & EU, 2018; UNGA, 2018; UNHCR, 2019). Although international legal frameworks play a critical role in settling refugees in a host country, the responsibility of providing social opportunities lies with the national state. In the context of Australia, the availability of substantive opportunities for integration, and the extent to which the group has benefited from such opportunities, remains understudied. This chapter aims to address this knowledge gap by exploring economic participation, social engagement, and cultural citizenship of refugee-​background AHAY-​R. This chapter focuses on three indicators of refugee integration: economic participation, social engagement, and cultural citizenship. The economic participation of African refugees is assessed in terms of employment rates and occupational status. Using census data and other relevant sources, the chapter documents the employment outcomes of people from the MCOAR in Australia. As a measure of refugee integration, social engagement foregrounds abstention, distrust, antisocial behaviours, and imprisonment rates. Social engagement is made possible through meaningful connections and interactions with people of different backgrounds as well as with institutions, including government services. The chapter also explicates why the cultural citizenship of the group remains an unfulfilled dream. People enjoy their cultural citizenship when they are accepted for who they are, as they name themselves, and know that they are worthy members of communities. Reflective of their low educational attainment, refugee-​ background Africans in Australia are positioned far behind the general population in terms of employability. Low educational attainment of young people also has strong implications for their social engagement. In the case of African refugee youth, with limited educational attainment and high unemployment rates, social disengagement is a serious problem. Factors of “lifetime disadvantage” are interactive and interrelated. Tanton et al. (2021) wrote: Disadvantage can be passed from one generation to another. Low incomes mean wealth is not transferred to future generations; the importance of

160  Integration outcomes education may not be passed on to children; or working multiple jobs may mean children suffer from social isolation. (p. 23) The remainder of the chapter is organised into four main sections. The first section covers the economic participation of African refugees in Australia. The section on social engagement shows that with limited educational attainment and high unemployment rates, social disengagement is a serious problem among African youth. Here, social disengagement is discussed mainly in relation to incidents of antisocial behaviour and imprisonment rates of people from the MCOAR. The third section highlights cultural citizenship as an expression of integration. The fourth section briefly reiterates intersectional factors of disadvantage that specifically affect AHAY-​R. The chapter closes with concluding remarks. 8.2  Economic participation Refugees are commonly seen as a burden to the host society. This prevailing view, however, overlooks the economic opportunities and cultural wealth refugees bring to their destination. In the short term, refugees may incur costs and compete with locals for jobs, but in the longer term, refugees are economically productive. As former Australian prime minister Malcolm Fraser (2009) put it: “People who are prepared to pull up stakes and go to a new land—​that is clearly going to be different for them—​are resourceful and enterprising and will make good citizens for their new country” (p. x). Whether they arrive with limited educational attainment or HE qualifications, they positively contribute to their host countries’ economies. In a study that investigated how refugees contributed to advanced economies, Legrain (2016) noted: Some refugees do dirty, difficult, (relatively) dangerous and dull (4D) jobs that locals spurn, such as cleaning offices and caring for the elderly, which is the fastest area of employment growth in advanced economies. This 4D dividend enables locals to do higher-​skilled and better-​paid jobs that they prefer …. Higher-​skilled refugees (and refugees’ highly skilled children) can provide a deftness dividend. Their different and complementary skills can fill gaps in the labour market and enhance locals’ productivity. (pp. 7–​8) Legrain’s study also highlighted the economic contributions of humanitarian entrants in a range of other areas. For example, “Enterprising refugees start new businesses that create wealth, employ locals, make the economy more dynamic and adaptable, and boost international trade and investment” (Legrain, 2016, p. 8). Through the process of culture learning and interaction within diverse

Economic, social, and cultural participation  161

Figure 8.1 Unemployment rate: People from the MCOAR, 2016. Source: Author, based on data from DOHA (2018).

groups, refugees and their children can also help spark new ideas and technologies that drive economic productivity and growth. For refugees to stand on their feet, they need to have economic security. At its core, economic participation of refugees is their employability. In Australia, the critical driver of youth unemployment is low educational attainment (OECD, 2018). Compared to other migrants, humanitarian entrants to Australia experience high socioeconomic disadvantage, including in the labour market. This has in part to do with significant impediments, including language, education, and discrimination (Hugo, 2013). In the case of African refugees, the problem is marked. Reflective of their low educational attainment, refugee-​background Africans in Australia are positioned far behind the general population in terms of employability (see Figure 8.1). In 2016, the average unemployment rate of people from the MCOAR was as high as 22.4 per cent. This is over three times higher than the national average of 6.9 per cent (DOHA, 2018; DSS, 2013). The group also had low access to professional occupations (22 per cent), compared with 49 per cent for the general population. An intragroup comparison showed that communities with a higher percentage of people with higher qualifications had (a) better employment rates, (b) improved access to skilled and professional occupations, and (c) higher weekly incomes. In communities where the proportion of people with higher-​level qualifications declined between 2011 and 2016 (e.g. Congolese and Eritrean communities), the unemployment rate rose at a higher rate than the national average. It is imperative to note that the poor employment outcomes of refugee-​ background African communities is not solely associated with low educational

162  Integration outcomes attainment. Refugee-​background Africans face systematic but invisible barriers when looking for employment (Abur, 2019; Harvey et al., 2020). Further, the high unemployment rate among refugees is attributable to a lack of recognition of credentials brought from their home country (ECCV, 2014). When members of the community manage to access the job market, they are overrepresented in low-​skilled, low-​status occupations. African refugees are more likely to experience “occupational skidding”, meaning they are unable to get jobs commensurate with their qualifications and skills (Hugo, 2013). In fact, in 2016, the participation of people from the MCOAR countries in skilled and professional occupations declined compared to the previous census year, with the exception of those from Somalia and Sudan (such inequalities in employment outcomes within refugee-​background Africans can be attributed to differences in HE attainment). The concentration of refugees (including African refugees) in low-​status jobs has also, in part, to do with what anthropologist Aihwa Ong (2003) referred to as the “calculated kindness” of governments. At times, refugee settlement policies can be motivated by local needs for low-​skilled workers. The humanitarian policy has an economic intent—​refugees fill less-​ skilled low-​paying jobs. In the words of Ong (2003), “Refugee training not only prepared refugees for low-​level jobs as janitors, hotel maids, and domestic workers, in an effort to tailor (Taylor?) their training to the needs of economic restructuring at home” (p. 65). However, such stratified educational and occupational expectations simply signify political short-​sightedness. In the age of Industry 4.0 (Molla & Cuthbert, 2019), with high educational attainment, refugee-​background youth can become not only self-​reliant citizens but also a force of productivity for the nation. On the other hand, a lack of advanced level of knowledge and skills means limited job opportunities, low income, and social disentanglement. For refugees, meaningful engagement with the destination society necessitates knowledge, skills, language proficiency, and confidence. All those valuable attributes are gained mainly through education. The pattern of economic participation reflects the educational attainment of the group. Most young people from the MCOAR arrive with low educational attainment and do not participate in HE during their first five years of resettlement (see Figure 6.4 in Chapter 6). Without sector-​wide equity provision, institutional arrangements remain incoherent and insufficient to support African refugee youth who have experienced considerable educational disruption. As a result, African refugee youth transition to adulthood without an adequate level of education, making them unlikely to go to university once they have established their own family. Improved HE attainment does not just boost the employability and income of African refugee youth; it also equips them with the necessary skills and confidence to meaningfully engage in the political and cultural life of the community. Labour market integration prospects for refugees depend, as for other migrant groups, on educational attainment. On average, better-​educated individuals have much better employment prospects than those with only basic

Economic, social, and cultural participation  163 education (OECD, 2018). Unemployment is a measure of economic hardship, with the negative impacts of unemployment showing on refugee youth’s social engagement. The following section briefly elaborates on this point. 8.3  Social engagement For immigrants, social engagement is a key measure of meaningful interaction with the larger society. It is made possible through connections with people from different backgrounds as well as with institutions, including government services (UK Home Office, 2019). People with high educational attainment and active economic participation are more likely to interact significantly with different sections of society. Conversely, with limited educational attainment, acculturative stress, and high unemployment rates, social disengagement is a serious problem among African youth. An Australian study shows that the disengagement of about 42 per cent of young people (aged 17–​24) from low SES backgrounds was due to poor educational attainment (CEDA, 2015). Economic insecurity fractures social bonds and results in social ills, including youth disengagement and racial stigma towards visibly different minority groups. Here, social disengagement is expressed in abstention, distrust, antisocial behaviours, and subsequent imprisonment rates. Crime rates and prison admission are key indicators of social disengagement and disadvantage. Crime rates are frequently higher in disadvantaged communities with areas of poverty and unemployment. However, individuals living in disadvantaged locations are also more likely to be stopped, searched, and arrested, which can cause an increase in recorded crime (Tanton et al., 2021). With low educational attainment and high unemployment rates, African heritage youth disproportionately engage in antisocial behaviour, as measured by the level of contact with the justice system. Nationally, African-​ born youth—​like their Indigenous counterparts—​have one of the highest imprisonment rates in the country (see Figure 8.2). For example, although Indigenous youth accounted for six per cent of the Australian population aged 10–​17, they represented 50 per cent (or 410 of 819) of all young people in detention on an average night in the June quarter 2021 (AIHW, 2021). Likewise, in 2018, the imprisonment rate of the Sudan-​born population (946 per 100,000 adult population) was over four times higher than the national average (ABS, 2018). In the State of Victoria, young Africans are overrepresented in the youth correction centres. In 2017, African-​background young people accounted for 19 per cent of the total population in youth justice in the state (Victoria State Government, 2018); yet, in 2016, the African-​background population accounted for 1.5 per cent of the state’s population (Department of Premier and Cabinet, 2018). In the absence of timely and relevant support for effective integration, the possibility of reversing this trend remains a mirage. There is little doubt that African heritage youth have been disproportionately represented in criminal activities. In 2015, Sudan-​ born Australians accounted for just 0.11 per cent of Victoria’s population, but in the same year,

164  Integration outcomes

Figure 8.2 Imprisonment rates in Australia in 2018 (per 100,000 adult population, by country of birth). Source: Author, based on data from ABS (2018).

they were responsible for about 14 per cent of aggravated robberies in the state (Dinham & Kwakwa, 2017). However, care is needed in interpreting the graph (Figure 8.2) and understanding the crime data in general. Although the group might have been disproportionately represented in violence and juvenile justice, data from the Crime Statistics Agency show that, for the year ending September 2017, Sudanese-​background youth accounted for only one per cent of the total crime in Victoria (CSA, 2018). In 2018, the Herald Sun dubbed Victoria “a state of fear”; however, it is also imperative to note that, despite this hyperbolic reporting and political race-​baiting, the crime rate in the State of Victoria was lower than what was recorded in other comparable states. When the politics of “African crime gangs” reached its peak, according to the ABS (2020), the number of youth offenders was 17,972 in NSW, 11,699 in Queensland, and 8,182 in Victoria (where over 60 per cent of African refugees reside). If anything, the racial moral panic exposed Africans to racist attacks. In the last few years, against the backdrop of inflammatory statements by politicians and race sensationalism in the media, race-​related discrimination increased considerably. The Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission reported that, in 2018, race-​related Enquiry Line reports increased by 34 per cent (from 470 in 2016/​17 to 630 in 2017/​18), and formal complaints jumped by 76 per cent (from 77 to 136) over the same period (VEOHRC, 2018). Social disengagement of African youth can also be seen as a part of the adverse effects of forced displacement. In this respect, African refugees face a

Economic, social, and cultural participation  165 disjuncture of worlds. Most of them move from a culture of strong customary laws and collective existence to a society of civil laws and individualism built on the principles of liberal democracy. The shocks and disorientation associated with resettlement can result in disgruntlement and depression, leading to increased social disengagement. African youth also live in between cultures. Although uprooted from their own culture, African parents endeavour to live up to their values and norms, mostly meeting the expectations of the host society without compromise. However, often the youth resemble their parents only in their skin colour. Their values are more Australian than African. This generational gap often leads to familial discord. Young people learn their obligations at home. Young people who grow up in a cohesive and functioning family are more likely to be productive in society. When young people disengage from their families, they are more likely to develop distrust towards institutions and disengage from school and the broader community. Racial prejudice also inhibits meaningful social engagement at school. In a racially charged social environment, African youth are constantly minoritised or rendered invisible. Majier (2017) recounted her experience as the only Black African student in her school: It was difficult being the only dark-​skinned African at the school. I made a group of friends who were of Southeast Asian backgrounds however most of the children did not know how to socialise with me. I was the new kid at school who had a different accent and I looked drastically different … I was stared at every day and was always made aware that I was different. (p. 23) Superficial approaches to address the problems associated with youth violence will only further stigmatise these groups as inherently problematic. It is common knowledge that youth disengagement and related problems are primarily caused by a lack of social opportunities, including education and training. In highlighting the role of education for effective integration of youth, Victorian Premier Daniel Andrews made the point: “If we want to have a proper discussion about youth crime or crime in any sense you can’t ignore there is a need to invest in TAFE and the education system” (Australian Associated Press, 2018, para. 6). The Victorian Labor government has also taken practical steps to tackle anti-​Black racism in schools. These are commendable measures. 8.4  Cultural citizenship African refugee youth live between cultures—​fully integrated neither here nor there. In an exclusive society, racial bias is used as a means of legitimising the vilification and marginalisation of cultural and ethnic minorities. In such a society, as sociologist Zygmunt Bauman (1993) observed, “If the stranger cannot be made non-​existent, he can at least be made untouchable” (p. 66).

166  Integration outcomes What has been done in the public discourse regarding the African youth is just that—​depicting them as dangerous and, hence, undesirable. The arrival of the “stranger” at the national border and in the neighbourhood triggers fear and insecurity from the side of the natives. Instead of working towards debunking unfounded assumptions and stereotypes underpinning such anxiety and unease, politicians (the conservative brand in the main) exploit the situation to build political capital. For Bauman (2004), human suffering in the form of mass displacement and uncertainty is a product of globalisation, but instead of addressing the problem in a fundamental way, politicians simply shift the blame from the powerful to the powerless: Uncertainty cannot be defused or dispersed in a direct confrontation with the other embodiment of extraterritoriality: the global elite drifting beyond the reach of human control. That elite is much too powerful to be confronted and challenged point-​blank, even if its exact location was known (which it is not). Refugees, on the other hand, are a clearly visible, and sitting, target for the surplus anguish. (p. 63) In any organised society, political membership is accompanied by responsibility and privilege; the state regulates access to rights, resources, and opportunities through policy actions or inaction. However, the logic of citizenship rights and the needs of refugees are not necessarily well aligned. Refugees are an “alien nearby”—​they are often “subordinated by the politics of belonging” (Pinson & Arnot, 2007, p. 400). They represent the “great unknown”, triggering fear and resentment. Citizenship is a foundation domain of refugee integration (Ager & Strang, 2008). Commonly, citizenship concerns formal membership in a political community and the associated rights and responsibilities that the membership entails. However, political citizenship cannot guarantee full participation in society. It needs to be complemented by cultural citizenship. With the rise of what Stevenson (2003) referred to as the “cultural society”, ensuring cultural citizenship needs to be a critical measure of democratic systems. For refugees, officially swearing the oath of citizenship represents only one aspect of their membership in the receiving society. In this chapter, deprivation of cultural citizenship is primarily concerned with discursive mechanisms of exclusion, with special attention to the racialisation of youth violence. The cultural citizenship of refugees is often weighted against their skin colour or country of origin. Cultural membership is of equal importance. Rosaldo (1994) defined cultural citizenship as “the right to be different … without compromising one’s right to belong” (p. 57). It signifies the freedom of ethnocultural minorities to maintain their identities while fully participating in the socioeconomic and cultural life of society. Cultural citizenship is realised when ethnoculturally distinctive groups are accepted for who they are as they name themselves, and they know that they are worthy

Economic, social, and cultural participation  167 members of the host society. Cultural versions of citizenship concern “who is silenced, marginalised, stereotyped and rendered invisible” (Stevenson, 2003, p. 336). As a marker of integration, the cultural citizenship of minority groups is about the extent to which they maintain their heritage culture and receive positive recognition by the destination society. Cultural adaptation of refugees is expressed in their competence in the common language of the host society and their sense of belonging and safety. But cultural adaptation is often slow and partial. Pakulski (1997) usefully distinguished three elements of cultural citizenship as the right to (a) “symbolic presence and visibility (vs marginalisation)”, (b) “propagation of identity and maintenance of lifestyles (vs assimilation)”, and (c) “dignifying representation (vs stigmatisation)” (p. 80). In Australia, historically, inequality in public visibility has been a critical issue. In 1973, in what he referred to as a “conspiracy of silence”, then minister for immigration Al Grassby questioned the invisibility of non-​British immigrants in the Australian media and entertainment outlets. He asked: How often do our television screens reflect anything like the variety of migrant groups encountered in a real-​life stroll through our city streets, or particularly our near-​city suburbs? … Where is the Maltese process worker, the Finnish carpenter, the Italian concrete layer, the Yugoslav miner or—​ dare I say it—​the Indian scientist? Where do these people belong, in all honesty, if not in today’s composite Australian image? Are they to be non-​ people despite their indispensable economic contribution to our well-​being? (1973, p. 2) Much has changed since the early 1970s. Ethnocultural groups from non-​ English-​ speaking backgrounds have, among other things, publicly funded media—​the Special Broadcasting Services (SBS) which runs programmes in 68 community languages. The multicultural framework of Australia does not require migrants (forced or voluntary) to assimilate with the host society. Migrants are not expected or required to cast away their language and customs in favour of the “core culture” of the destination society. They have the right and the opportunity to maintain and celebrate their cultural heritage. They can gather at their places of worship and can celebrate and display their cultural activities in public spaces. African refugee youth do not only participate in Australian rules football, but also form sports clubs to play soccer and other team games. Integration without assimilation necessitates refugees’ readiness to learn the English language to enable meaningful communication and adapt to the core values of the destination society (e.g. individual liberty, mutual respect, and a “fair go”). The destination society needs to create an environment where the newcomers feel a sense of belonging and safety. Beyond securing socioeconomic and political rights, cultural citizenship is a claim to full societal belonging. As proponents of multiculturalism note, culture provides a “context

168  Integration outcomes of choice” that governs “the boundaries of the imaginable” and affords “an anchor for self-​identification and the safety of effortless secure belonging” (Kymlicka, 1995, p. 89). However, for African heritage people in Australia, Pakulski’s third strand of cultural citizenship, namely the need for dignified representation in the public sphere, remains an unfulfilled promise. As will be noted in Chapter 9, African youth are often homogeneously anchored to existing stereotyped categories. They are stereotyped as threatening and every day face the sting of disrespect. In the wake of incidents of street violence that involve youth of African heritage, Australian politicians and media personalities raised spectres of “African crime gangs”, “the African problem”, “African predators”, “migrant thugs”, and so on. Negative representation in the public space and racial microaggressions at the personal level deprive people of their dignity and result in emotional ill-​being (Sue, 2010, 2018). For the young Africans who participated in the study, the burden of presumptive guilt was emotionally taxing. At every step of their move in the public sphere, they knew that their actions and behaviours would be interpreted in relation to the demeaning stereotypes held about them as a group. In expressing the emotional cost of negative racial stereotypes, the interviewees used terms such as “feel embarrassed” and “feel disappointed”. Sustained exposure to disrespect generates feelings of low self-​worth and self-​exclusion from opportunities. African youth who participated in this research recounted how they felt when they encountered incidents of racial microaggressions: Being a Black young person is challenging. Right now, they identify us with criminal activities. Your skin colour makes you a target …. Even when you go shopping, someone is always following you. They think you would steal; you don’t have money. That happened to my friend and me at Coles. When you know that someone is following you while you’re shopping, you feel embarrassed. But what can you do? (Male from Congolese background youth, university student) One day, on my way to school, I was sitting on the train. Nobody sat next to me. Everybody walked away. That really made me feel embarrassed. (Male from South Sudanese background youth, high school graduate) Being a young African person, I have always been judged by the character of someone else, not mine. I can catch the train or walk into any shopping centre; people will be staring at me, looking at me as being part of what they call African gangs. People don’t think I’m a responsible person. I really don’t like it when I’m not being treated according to my own character. (Male from South Sudanese background youth, recent university graduate)

Economic, social, and cultural participation  169 As a Black person, people see you with suspicion; this is mainly because the media labelled African communities as criminals. That blocks our opportunities in terms of finding jobs so on and so on. (Female from Sudanese background youth, high school graduate) It is not that Australians are disrespectful, but I just feel some people don’t respect others; they don’t appreciate that we are all human beings regardless of where we came from or what skin colour we have … yeah, sometimes I feel disappointed. (Female from South Sudanese background youth, university student) Racial stigma is depreciative. When refugee-​background youth feel estranged from the host society, they develop affective dissonance that destabilises their sense of self-​worth and security (Ogbu, 1995). Reflecting on accounts of South Sudanese-​background refugees, Losoncz (2019) argued that the experience of disrespect is “psychologically injurious as it impairs the person’s positive understanding of self—​an understanding acquired through mutual recognition and approval” (p. 64). The cumulative effects of the inability to appear in public without fear and lack of genuine options for belonging and participation include self-​isolation and antisocial behaviours. Negative racial encounters are consequential. Racial stigmatisation deprives people of the basic freedom to appear in public without shame or fear. For visibly different minority migrants, displacement signifies “a shift of representational fields”—​a change in shared understandings about themselves and their position in society (Deaux & Wiley 2017, p. 10). Continual exposure to racial stigmatisation constitutes violence and generates stress. Sustained stress causes an array of deleterious changes in a person. Stanford neuroscientist Robert Sapolsky showed that chronic stress shuts the proper functioning of the frontal cortex and disrupts learning while also affecting human well-​being more broadly. In Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers, Sapolsky (2004) wrote: Stress, particularly in the form of extremes of lack of control and outlets, causes an array of deleterious changes in a person. Cognitively, this involves a distortive belief that there is no control or outlets in any ­circumstance-​learned helplessness. On the affective level, there is anhedonia; behaviorally, there is psychomotor retardation. On the neurochemical level, there are likely disruptions of serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine signaling …. Physiologically, there are alterations in, among other things, appetite, sleep patterns, and sensitivity of the glucocorticoid system to feedback regulation. (p. 157) People enjoy their cultural citizenship when they have the right to be different without compromising their right to belong (Rosaldo, 1994)—​when they know they are worthy members of communities. Dignified representation follows

170  Integration outcomes recognition of difference. For Fraser (1995), “Recognition claims often take the form of calling attention to, if not performatively creating, the putative specificity of some group, and then of affirming the value of that specificity” (p. 74). 8.5  Intersectional disadvantage The notion of intersectionality explains how identity-​based attributes, historical experiences, SES, and geographical location interact and overlap to influence the position and positionality of individuals in society (Crenshaw, 1989). Intersectionality is a way of seeing and accounting for the causes and consequences of social inequality. It refers to the way socially constructed categories of identity (e.g. race, ethnicity, gender, and class) interrelate with each other on multiple levels, creating axes of power that reproduce disadvantage in society (Cho et al., 2013). Intersectionality addresses the question of how multiple forms of disadvantage and identity interrelate in different contexts and over time. Educational, economic, social, and cultural factors of inequality do not operate in isolation—​they overlap and interact to generate structural inequality. For example, limited educational attainment impedes economic participation, and poor economic participation diminishes meaningful social engagement. Disadvantages in economic participation and social engagement also have a direct bearing on the cultural citizenship of refugees. As such, I argue that understanding and addressing structural factors of disadvantage necessitates a critical gaze on systematically related forces that restrict members of specific groups from fully participating in society. In this respect, the marginal existence of African refugees can be illustrated by Frye’s (1983) birdcage metaphor: If you look very closely at just one wire in the cage, you cannot see the other wires. If your conception of what is before you is determined by this myopic focus, you could look at that one wire, up and down the length of it, and be unable to see why a bird would not just fly around the wire any time it wanted to go somewhere. Furthermore, even if, one day at a time, you myopically inspected each wire, you still could not see why a bird would have trouble going past the wires to get anywhere. There is no physical property of any one wire, nothing that the closest scrutiny could discover, that will reveal how a bird could be inhibited or harmed by it except in the most accidental way. It is only when you step back, stop looking at the wires one by one, microscopically, and take a macroscopic view of the whole cage, that you can see why the bird does not go anywhere; and then you will see it in a moment. It will require no great subtlety of mental powers. It is perfectly obvious that the bird is surrounded by a network of systematically related barriers, no one of which would be the least hindrance to its flight, but which, by their relations to each other, are as confining as the solid walls of a dungeon. (p. 5)

Economic, social, and cultural participation  171 A sense of belonging is a feeling of being at home. It is characterised by a sense of security and confidence. But as Siegel (2012) observed, “We are all outsiders when we travel. Whether we go abroad or roam about our own city or country, we often enter territory so unfamiliar that our frames of reference become inadequate” (p. 10). As such, we need to learn about our new contexts so we can meaningfully engage with others. This is particularly the case for people who are forcibly displaced from their homes and have, as a result, lost their symbolic and material resources. But there can be no sense of belonging and well-​being without economic security and meaningful interaction with others. In her theory of justice as parity of participation, Fraser (2007) noted: … people can be impeded from full participation by economic structures that deny them the resources they need in order to interact with others as peers; in that case, they suffer from distributive injustice or maldistribution. On the other hand, people can also be prevented from interacting on terms of parity by institutionalised hierarchies of cultural value that deny them the requisite standing; in that case they suffer from status inequality or misrecognition. (p. 20) The 2021 Scanlon Foundation report showed that perception of racism had reached an all-​time high in Australia—​over 60 per cent of respondents of the national survey indicated racism was a big problem (Markus, 2021). As a system of exclusion, racism causes “avoidable and unfair inequalities in power, resources, capacities and opportunities across racial or ethnic groups” (Paradies et al., 2015, p. 2). Racism—​perceived or enacted—​diminishes refugee youth’s opportunities for integration with host societies. Experiences of racial stigma and discrimination (re)produces qualitative and quantitative disparities across various domains of life, including employment, education, health, housing, and cultural representation (Elias et al., 2021; Molla, 2021a, 2021b, 2021c; Paradies et al., 2015). In her essay on structural inequality, political theorist Iris Marion Young (2008) associated deprivation of well-​being with injustice: Persons suffer injustice by virtue of structural inequality when their group social positioning means that the operation of diverse institutions and practices conspires to limit their opportunities to achieve well-​being. Persons suffer specifically culture-​based injustice when they are not free to express themselves as they wish, associate with others with whom they share forms of expression and practices. (p. 79, emphasis added) For African refugees in predominantly White societies, “the burden of blackness” (Mapedzahama & Kwansah-​ Aidoo, 2017) is not limited to racial prejudice. It is also associated with the group’s diminished integration outcomes in a range of domains of life, including employment, education,

172  Integration outcomes housing, and health (Fozdar, 2021). Left unaddressed, a stigmatised identity positions target groups on the fringe of society where all sorts of social ills are incubated. Their marginal existence exposes them to further discrimination and public vilification. On the other hand, disadvantaged ethnocultural minorities with assured cultural citizenship are more likely to demand respect, dignity, and opportunity confidently. Hence, the core argument is that a claim for equal respect and dignifying representation is a claim for full citizenship. Genuine equality of refugees necessitates a level playing field: “In order to treat all persons equally, to provide genuine equality of opportunity, society must give more attention to those with fewer native assets and to those born into the less favourable social positions” (Rawls, 1999, p. 86). Without substantive citizenship that combines legal entitlements, economic opportunities, and cultural recognition, African youth are unlikely to become full citizens. Full inclusion and cultural citizenship of African Australian youth requires demolishing hierarchies of belonging. A fair distribution of resources takes us only halfway to addressing inequality; it is equally imperative to appreciate the importance of cultural recognition of visibly different minorities in society. When cultural citizenship of minority groups is ensured, members of such groups feel they belong without shedding their heritage culture. There is no complete belonging; the identities of the displaced are layered and multifaceted. In his autobiography, well-​known lawyer and former child soldier and refugee Deng Thiak Adut reflected: I feel as though I have lived three lives. I have lived as a Dinka, ruled by custom and the big god Nhialic. I have lived life as a soldier ruled by maniacs and death. I have also lived life as an Australian, and law, justice and reason rule that life … I am more an Australian, and more a lawyer than I am a soldier or Dinka, but I will also forever be South Sudanese. My skin will never change, and I shall never completely lose my accent. (2016, pp. 286–​287) Finally, another aspect of cumulative disadvantage is teachers’ low academic expectations towards African heritage students. In some instances, AHAY-​ R complained that they were not encouraged to learn to their full potential. They were not encouraged to aspire for academic subjects that could widen their pathway to university. Instead, teachers and career advisors pressured them to take vocational subjects that would mainly lead to non-​university qualifications. Writing in Australian Mosaic, lawyer and human rights advocate Nyadol Nyuon commented: I was discouraged from taking certain subjects because I was new to the country. Instead, I was encouraged to take “easy” subjects, the assumption being that I would struggle if I took on something that was more challenging. I suspect that the teacher meant well, and I assume that they did not want me to struggle in school. But this approach meant

Economic, social, and cultural participation  173 that I was not evaluated individually, and it meant that any strength I had was overlooked. Despite this, I managed to get a score that qualified me for a position at Victoria University where I completed a Bachelor of Arts in 2009. (2017, pp. 17–​18) The problem of marginalisation is cyclical. Negative representation makes Black Africans less adaptive; their marginal existence exposes them to further discrimination and bullying for being different. In the face of racial microaggression, African youth tend to withdraw into themselves and form oppositional attitudes towards the mainstream culture and society. Antisocial behaviour, in turn, leads them to trouble with the law. Breaking this vicious cycle necessitates concerted political measures. Specifically, institutions charged with refugee resettlement and integration need to appreciate the problem of racial Othering that African youth face. For example, education is a critical site of recognition and inclusion. Educational institutions are well positioned to support the access, participation, and empowerment of refugee youth. Also, inclusive education policies can be instrumental in enabling schools to create inclusive learning environments where “differences are valued in such a way that each child is included, not for what they have been defined as being by others, but for who they are in all their distinctiveness” (Veck & Wharton, 2021, p. 220). 8.6 Conclusion This chapter has covered three indicators of refugee integration outcomes—​ economic participation, social engagement, and cultural citizenship—​ and highlighted intersectional factors of disadvantage that AHAY-​R encountered. The analysis shows that Black African youth, with inadequate education, poor job prospects, and deepening stress of racism, remain at the margin of society. Refugees are forcibly displaced from their homes and often resettle in culturally distinctive societies in faraway lands. Without timely public action, refugee-​ background African heritage youth are more likely to continue living in a state of double alienation: alienation from their roots and alienation from the cultural, social, and economic lives of the destination societies. Racialisation of violence and the stigmatised representation of African youth diminishes their capability to have relational well-​being—​their ability to take part in the life of the society and appear in public without shame or fear. Negative representations instil fear and inhibit their ability to participate in the socioeconomic and cultural lives of society. Racialised representation diminishes the cultural citizenship of AHAY-​R. The long-​ held assumption in social sciences is that intergroup contact can reduce prejudice between majority and minority groups. However, when it comes to the interaction of visibly different minorities and culturally distinctive destination societies, intergroup contact is not a sufficient condition

174  Integration outcomes for integration. As Betts (2021) noted, “the relationship between cultural difference and exclusionary attitudes is not inevitable but contingent upon contextual mediating factors such as the media and elite discourse” (p. 55). For example, thinking and acting within the violence narrative, politicians may overlook the socioeconomic challenges of refugee youth and fail to protect equal dignity of visibly different racial groups. Effective refugee integration rests on the availability of substantive opportunities, including access to education and employment, as well as equal respect and recognition. In this respect, transforming disadvantaged conditions of refugee-​background African heritage youth necessitates public actions that remove structural unfreedoms, including inequality and racial vilification. Without a coordinated policy response, consequences of the COVID-​19 crisis are more likely to further diminish educational outcomes of refugees who—​due mainly to their concentration in low-​skilled positions (e.g. cleaning, aged care, and meat processing) that are highly affected by the pandemic—​are vulnerable to financial, health, and psychological stress. As Scanlon (2018) argued, one of the reasons why inequality is morally and politically objectionable is that “it results from violations of a requirement of equal concern for the interests of those to whom the government is obliged to provide some benefit” (p. 9). Especially when refugees continue to experience entrenched disadvantage, the moral claim for equitable social arrangements is even stronger. By voluntarily resettling forcibly displaced people, governments and societies implicitly acknowledge their ethical obligation to provide them with substantive opportunities (see the words of former UNHCR director and current UN Secretary-​General Antonio Guterres in the epigraph). In other words, the receiving state and society are responsible for providing the necessary means for the successful integration of refugees. It is also the responsibility of destination societies and governments to ensure the freedoms of refugees from stigmatisation. Equal recognition, standing, and opportunities are ensured through deliberate political intervention. The enduring marginal existence of any group is antithetical to the fair society Australia aspires to be. For a genuinely multicultural society to flourish, tolerating difference is not sufficient. Advocacy for the dignified representation of all individuals should be a political act of all citizens. If respect and dignity of all human beings is at the core of liberalism, do we not have a duty to oppose the misrepresentation of Black Africans in our society? A national framework for promoting the cultural citizenship of visibly different minorities, such as African heritage migrants, should build on shared values of equality, freedom, fairness, and a “fair go”. Without equal recognition (including the right to dignified representation) and equitable access to socioeconomic opportunities, African refugees cannot become full members of society. Left unaddressed, negative narratives are more likely to keep African communities at the bottom of the social hierarchy where a range of socioeconomic problems are incubated.

Economic, social, and cultural participation  175 References Abur, W. (2019). A New Life with Opportunities and Challenges: The Settlement Experiences of South Sudanese-​Australians. Juba: Africa World Books. Adut, D. T. with Mckelvey, B. (2016). Songs of a War Boy: A Child Soldier, Refugee and Man of Hope. Sydney: Hachette. Ager, A. & Strang, A. (2008). Understanding integration: A conceptual framework. Journal of Refugee Studies, 21(2), 166–​191. https://​doi.org/​10.1093/​jrs/​fen​016 Australian Associated Press. (2018, July 22). Vic Man Charged with Apartment Murder. Western Advocate. www.west​erna​dvoc​ate.com.au/​story/​8066​683/​vic-​man-​char​ged-​ with-​apartm​ent-​mur​der/​ Australian Bureau of Statistics [ABS]. (2018). Prisoners in Australia, 2018. Canberra: ABS. www.abs.gov.au/​AUSST​ATS/​[email protected]/​Deta​ilsP​age/​4517.02018?OpenD​ocum​ent Australian Bureau of Statistics [ABS]. (2020). 519.0—​Recorded Crime—​Offenders, 2018–​19. Canberra: ABS. www.abs.gov.au/​ausst​ats/​[email protected]/​Loo​kup/​by%20Subj​ ect/​4519.0~2018-​19~Main%20F​eatu​res~North​ern%20Te​rrit​ory~14 Australian Government. (2017). Multicultural Australia: United, Strong, Successful. Sydney: Commonwealth of Australia. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​mca/​Sta​teme​nts/​engl​ ish-​multic​ultu​ral-​statem​ent.pdf Australian Government. (2018). The Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide. Sydney: Commonwealth of Australia. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​mca/​PDFs/​multic​ ultu​ral-​acc​ess-​equ​ity-​pol​icy-​guide.pdf Australian Government. (2019). Australian Government’s Response to the Report Investing in Refugees, Investing in Australia: The Findings of a Review into Integration, Employment, and Settlement Outcomes for Refugees and Humanitarian Entrants in Australia. Sydney: Commonwealth of Australia. Australian Institute of Health and Welfare [AIHW]. (2021). Youth Detention Population in Australia 2021. Canberra: AIHW. www.aihw.gov.au/​getme​dia/​63a1f​495-​fbce-​4571-​ bcea-​aae07​827a​fa0/​aihw-​juv-​136.pdf.aspx?inl​ine=​true Bauman, Z. (1993). Modernity and Ambivalence. Cambridge, MA: Polity. Bauman, Z. (2004). Wasted Lives: Modernity and Its Outcasts. Cambridge, MA: Polity. Betts, A. (2021). The Wealth of Refugees. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Cho, S., Crenshaw, K. W., & McCall, L. (2013). Toward a field of intersectionality studies: Theory, applications, and praxis. Signs, 38(4), 785–​810. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1086/​669​608 Committee for Economic Development of Australia [CEDA]. (2015). Addressing Entrenched Disadvantage in Australia. Melbourne: CEDA. www.ceda. com.au/​ C EDA/​ m edia/​ Res​ e arc​ h Cat​ a log​ u eDo​ c ume​ n ts/​ P DFs/​ 2 6005-​ C EDA Addressingentrencheddisad​vant​agei​nAus​tral​iaAp​ril2​015.pdf Crenshaw, K. (1989). Demarginalizing the intersection of race and sex: A Black feminist critique of antidiscrimination doctrine, feminist theory and antiracist politics. University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1, 139–​167. http://​chi​cago​unbo​und.uchic​ago. edu/​uclf/​vol1​989/​iss1/​8 Crime Statistics Agency, Victoria [CSA]. (2018, January 22). Correction of Country of Birth Data Incorrectly Reported and Attributed to the Crime Statistics Agency. Melbourne: CSA. www.crim​esta​tist​ics.vic.gov.au/​media-​cen​tre/​news/​cor​rect​ion-​of-​ coun​try-​of-​birth-​data-​inco​rrec​tly-​repor​ted-​and-​att​ribu​ted-​to-​the Deaux, K. & Wiley, S. (2017). Moving people and shifting representations: Making immigrant identities. In G. Moloney & I. Walker (Eds.), Social Representations and Identity: Content, Process, and Power (pp. 9–​30). London: Palgrave Macmillan.

176  Integration outcomes Department of Home Affairs [DOHA]. (2018). Multicultural Affairs—​Community Information Summaries. www.home​affa​irs.gov.au/​about-​us/​our-​por​tfol​ios/​multic​ultu​ ral-​affa​irs/​commun​ity-​info​rmat​ion-​summar​ies/​coun​try-​list-​of-​summar​ies Department of Premier and Cabinet. (2018). Victorian African Communities Action Plan. Melbourne: Department of Premier and Cabinet. www.vic.gov.au/​sites/​defa​ ult/​files/​2020-​11/​Victor​ian-​Afri​can-​Comm​unit​ies-​Act​ion-​Plan.PDF Department of Social Services [DSS]. (2013). Settlement Services. Canberra: DSS. www.dss.gov.au/​our-​respo​nsib​ilit​ies/​set​tlem​ent-​servi​ces/​progr​ams-​pol​icy/​a-​multic​ ultu​ral-​austra​lia/​progr​ams-​and-​publi​cati​ons/​commun​ity-​info​r mat​ion-​summar​ies/​ the-​ethio​pia-​born-​commun​ity Dinham, A. & Kwakwa, M. (2017, January 13). Victoria’s peak multicultural agency gets African commissioner. SBS News. www.sbs.com.au/​langu​age/​engl​ish/​audio/​ victo​ria-​s-​peak-​multic​ultu​ral-​age​ncy-​gets-​afri​can-​commi​ssio​ner Elias, A., Mansouri, F., & Paradies, Y. (2021). Racism in Australia Today. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Ethnic Communities’ Council of Victoria [ECCV]. (2014). Qualified but Not Recognised: Discussion Paper. Melbourne: ECCV European Council on Refugees and Exiles [ECRE]. (2002). Position on the Integration of Refugees in Europe. Luxembourg: ECRE. https://​ecre.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2016/​ 07/​ECRE-​Posit​ion-​on-​the-​Inte​grat​ion-​of-​Refug​ees-​in-​Euro​pe_​D​ecem​ber-​2002.pdf Fozdar, F. (2021). Belonging in the land down under: Black Africans in Australia. International Migration, 61(1), 23–​37. https://​doi.org/​10.1111/​imig.12862 Fraser, M. (2009). Foreword. In K. Neumann & G. Tavan (Eds.), Does History Matter: Making and Debating Citizenship, Immigration and Refugee Policy in Australia and New Zealand (pp. iv–​xi). Canberra: ANU E-​Press. Fraser, N. (1995). From redistribution to recognition? Dilemmas of justice in a “post-​ Socialist” age. New Left Review, 212(1), 68–​93. https://​newlef​trev​iew.org/​iss​ues/​i212/​ artic​les/​nancy-​fra​ser-​from-​red​istr​ibut​ion-​to-​reco​gnit​ion-​dilem​mas-​of-​just​ice-​in-​a-​ post-​social​ist-​age Fraser, N. (2007). Re-​framing justice in a globalising world. In T. Lovell (Ed.), (Mis) recognition, Social Inequality and Social Justice: Nancy Fraser and Pierre Bourdieu (pp. 17–​35). Abingdon: Routledge. Frye, M. (1983). Politics of Reality: Essays in Feminist Theory. Freedom, CA: Crossing Press. Grassby, A. J. (1973). A Multi-​cultural Society for the Future. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. www.mul​ticu​ltur​alau​stra​lia.edu.au/​doc/​grassb​ y_​1.pdf Guterres, A. (2021, June 15). Together, “We Learn, Heal, Shine”, Secretary-​General Says, Reiterating Commitment to Displaced People in World Refugee Day Message. New York: United Nations. www.un.org/​press/​en/​2021/​sgsm20​776.doc.htm Harvey, A., Szalkowicz, G., & Luckman, M. (2020). Improving Employment and Education Outcomes for Somali Australians. Melbourne: Centre for Higher Education Equity and Diversity Research, La Trobe University. Hugo, G. (2013). The economic contribution of humanitarian settlers in Australia. International Migration, 52(2), 31–​52. https://​doi.org/​10.1111/​imig.12092 Kymlicka, W. (1995). Multicultural Citizenship: A Liberal Theory of Minority Rights. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Economic, social, and cultural participation  177 Legrain, P. (2016). Refugees Work: A Humanitarian Investment That Yields Economic Dividends. New York: Tent. www.tent.org/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2021/​09/​Tent-​Open-​ Refu​gees​Work​_​VFI​NAL-​sing​lepa​ges.pdf Losoncz, I. (2019). Institutional Disrespect. Singapore: Palgrave Pivot. Majier, A. M. (2017). The untold story of migration. Australia Mosaic, Winter, 47–​49. https://​fecca.org.au/​wp-​cont​ent/​uplo​ads/​2017/​08/​Issue-​46.pdf Mapedzahama, V. & Kwansah-​Aidoo, K. (2017). Blackness as burden? The lived experience of Black Africans in Australia. SAGE Open, 7(3). https://​doi.org/​10.1177%2F2​ 1582​4401​7720​483 Markus, A. (2021, February 9). Mapping Social Cohesion: Scanlon Foundation Surveys 2020. Melbourne: Monash University. https://​scanl​onin​stit​ute.org.au/​sites/​defa​ult/​ files/​2021-​02/​SC2​020%20Rep​ort%20Fi​nal.pdf Molla, T. (2021a). African refugees in Australia: Social position and educational outcomes. Journal of Immigrant & Refugee Studies, 19(4), 331–​348. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1080/​15562​948.2020.1801​942 Molla, T. (2021b). Cultural citizenship and refugee integration: The case of African youth in Australia. In I. Gómez Barreto (Ed.), Handbook of Research on Promoting Social Justice for Immigrants and Refugees through Active Citizenship and Intercultural Education (pp. 37–​54). Pennsylvania, PA: IGI Publishing. Molla, T. (2021c). Racial moral panic and African youth in Australia. International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 84, 95–​106. https://​doi.org/​10.1016/​j.ijint​ rel.2021.07.005 Molla, T. & Cuthbert, D. (2019). Calibrating the PhD for Industry 4.0: Global concerns, national agendas and Australian institutional responses. Policy Reviews in Higher Education, 3(2), 167–​188. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​23322​969.2019.1637​772 Nayeri, D. (2020, October 29). Virtual Book Club—​The Ungrateful Refugee. Public Libraries of Saginaw. Saginaw, MI: PLS. www.sag​inaw​libr​ary.org/​eve​nts/​virt​ual-​ book-​club-​ung​rate​ful-​refu​gee-​dina-​nay​eri Nyuon, N. (2017). From stateless to citizen—​ Settlement through opportunities. Australian Mosaic (pp. 16–​18). Canberra: FECCA. https://​fecca.org.au/​wp-​cont​ent/​ uplo​ads/​2017/​08/​Issue-​46.pdf Ogbu, J. U. (1995). Cultural problems in minority education: Their interpretations and consequences—​Theoretical background. Urban Review, 27(3), 190–​205. Ong, A. (2003). Buddha Is Hiding: Refugees, Citizenship and the New America: Berkley: University of California Press. Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development [OECD]. (2018). International Migration Outlook 2018. Paris: OECD Publishing. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1787/​migr_​outl​ook-​2018-​en Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development [OECD] & European Union [EU]. (2018). Settling in 2018: Indicators of Immigrant Integration. Paris: OECD Publishing. Pakulski, J. (1997). Cultural citizenship. Citizenship Studies, 1(1), 73–​86. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1080/​136210​2970​8420​648 Paradies, Y., Ben, J., Denson, N., Elias, A., Priest, P., Pieterse, A., Gupta, A., Kelaher, M., & Gee, G. (2015). Racism as a determinant of health: A systematic review and meta-​analysis. PLOS One, 10(9), 1–​48. https://​doi.org/​10.1371/​jour​nal.pone.0138​511 Pinson, H. & Arnot, M. (2007). Sociology of education and the wasteland of refugee education research. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 28, 399–​407. https://​ doi.org/​10.1080/​014256​9070​1253​612

178  Integration outcomes Rawls, J. (1999). A Theory of Justice, Revised edition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rosaldo, R. (1994). Cultural citizenship in San Jose, California. PoLAR, 17(2), 57–​63. Sapolsky, R. (2004). Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers, Third edition. New York: Henry Holt. Scanlon, T. M. (2018). Why Does Inequality Matter? Oxford: Oxford University Press. Shergold, P., Benson, K., & Piper, M. (2019). Investing in Refugees, Investing in Australia: The Findings of a Review into Integration, Employment and Settlement Outcomes for Refugees and Humanitarian Entrants in Australia. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia. Siegel, D. (2012). Pocket Guide to Interpersonal Neurobiology: An Integrative Handbook of the Mind. New York: W.W. Norton. Stevenson, N. (2003). Cultural citizenship in the “cultural” society: A cosmopolitan approach. Citizenship Studies, 7(3), 331–​348. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​1362​1020​3200​ 0098​904 Sue, D. W. (2010). Microaggressions, marginality, and oppression: An introduction. In D. W. Sue (Ed.), Microaggressions and Marginality: Manifestation, Dynamics, and Impact (pp. 3–​24). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Sue, D. W. (2018). Microaggression Theory: Influence and Implications. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Tanton, R., Dare, L., Miranti, R., Vidyattama, Y., Yule, A., & McCabe, M. (2021). Dropping Off the Edge 2021: Persistent and Multilayered Disadvantage in Australia. Melbourne: Jesuit Social Services. https://​stat​ic1.squa​resp​ace.com/​sta​tic/​6170c​344c​ 08c1​4655​5a5b​cbe/​t/​61958​bf80​5c25​c1e0​68da​90f/​163719​0707​712/​DOTE​_​Rep​ort+​_​Fi​ nal.pdf UK Home Office. (2019). Home Office Indicators of Integration Framework 2019, Third edition. London: UK Home Office. United Nations General Assembly [UNGA]. (2018). Report of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees: Part II—​Global Compact on Refugees. New York: United Nations. United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees [UNHCR]. (2019). Stepping Up: Refugee Education in Crisis. Genève: UNHCR. Veck, W. & Wharton, J. (2021). Refugee children, trust and inclusive school cultures. International Journal of Inclusive Education, 25(2), 210–​223. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​ 13603​116.2019.1707​304 Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission [VEOHRC]. (2018). Human rights speak to the heart of what it means to be a fair and inclusive community. www.par​liam​ent.vic.gov.au/​file_​uplo​ads/​VEOHRC​_​Ann​ual_​Repo​rt_​2​017-​18_​ M​2Zw6​VBp.pdf Victoria State Government. (2018). Youth Parole Board Annual Report 2017/​18. www. just​ice.vic.gov.au/​sites/​defa​ult/​files/​emb​ridg​e_​ca​che/​emsh​are/​origi​nal/​pub​lic/​2018/​ 09/​11/​83a0d7​b4d/​YPB_​A​nnua​lRep​ort_​2017​_​18.pdf. Young, I. M. (2008). Structural injustice and the politics of difference. In G. Craig, T. Burchardt, & D. Gordon (Eds.), Social Justice and Public Policy: Seeking Fairness in Diverse Societies (pp. 77–​104). Bristol: The Policy Press.

9 Racial Othering

…being a problem is a strange experience. (W. E. B. Du Bois, 1903/​2015) 9.1 Introduction Misguided by disdain and fear of the Other, proponents of excessive nationalism rigidly mark the boundary between those who belong to the nation and those who do not. The typical expression of Othering is racial discrimination. The Other becomes a target of xenophobic discrimination that combines traditional overt racism “based on pseudo-​biological notions of racial superiority” and covert cultural racism “based on the notion of cultural incompatibility” between in-​groups and out-​groups (Clifton, 2013, p. 308). The politics of racial Othering is a double act: portraying the Other as “essentially different” and translating difference into stigma (Krumer-​Nevo & Sidi, 2012). With economic and political interests as a backdrop, the visible differences of minority groups are often seen as a sign of deeper, more fundamental difference in terms of behaviour, moral values, cognitive capacity, and/​ or cultural achievement (Alcoff, 2006). Differences in skin colour, accented English, facial features, or cultural practices are transferred into Otherness, creating a hierarchical relationship between African heritage community members and the rest of the community. However, as Staszak (2008) observed, “Otherness is due less to the difference of the Other than to the point of view and the discourse of the person who perceives the Other as such” (p. 43). Discriminatory worldviews and discourses that inform excessive nationalism are often triggered by the mass arrival of the Other. Google’s Ngram project shows that the frequency that terms such as “refugee”, “nationalism”, and “racism” appear in books published in the last 120 years has been on the rise (see Figure 9.1; also note that, in the last 20 years, the trendlines of the three terms follow the same pattern, implying possible relationships). As Australia resettles more African refugees, the public profile of Black people increases, and this provides some actors incentives to engage in the politics of racial Othering. For example, from the mid-​2000s, Australian politicians DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-12

180  Integration outcomes

Figure 9.1 Frequency of the use of “refugee”, “racism”, and “nationalism” as key terms in the Google corpus of books published since 1900. Source: Author, based on data from Google Books Ngram Viewer.

and media commentators would lapse into a racialised moral panic following street violence and other offences involving some African heritage young people. Populists conceive nationalism primarily in terms of ethnicity and culture rather than membership in a society with shared civic norms, rules, and responsibilities (e.g. shared respect for human rights, freedom, merit, diversity, and the rule of law). Racialisation—​the process of representing individuals or groups through the prism of racial stereotypes—​is particularly damaging to Black African youth. It dehumanises them and restricts their access to substantive opportunities. At a more general level, racism entails naturalising biological and historical differences to justify exclusion and inequality. The Australian Human Rights Commission1 defines racism in terms of “all the barriers that prevent people from enjoying dignity and equality because of their race”. Many scholars have studied this negative representation of African youth. Through an analysis of media reporting, Windle (2008) mapped the patterns of racialising frames about Africans, while Nunn (2010) explored the racialisation of youth violence and its negative implications for the integration outcomes of African refugees. Likewise, against the background of the politics of belonging, Nolan and his colleagues problematised the racialised framing of Sudanese youth in Australian media (Nolan et al., 2016). Other social researchers such as Augoustinos et al. (2015), Macaulay and Deppeler (2020), Majavu (2020), and MacDonald (2017) documented trends of negative media representation of African youth. They showed the reproduction of the marginal social position of this group. Still others studied racial Othering and the essentialisation of skin colour in society (Udah, 2018; Udah & Singh, 2018), as well as racial discrimination in schools (Baak, 2019; Molla, 2021a). This chapter specifically problematises the racialisation of youth violence in Australia and its undesirable impact on African heritage young people. Black African youth are often incorrectly labelled as inherently violent, dangerous, and undesirable. Conservative politicians and media personalities raise spectres of an “African crime gang”

Racial Othering  181 and make the phrase “of African appearance” synonymous with criminality. This negative representation has diminished the ability of Africans to “appear in public without shame” or take part in the life of the community. Taking African refugee youth in Australia as an empirical case, this chapter shows how the racialisation of violence and the politics of Othering undermine the integration outcomes of refugees. It specifically argues that public racial disparagement (a) injures dignity and emasculates self-​efficacy; (b) diminishes people’s sense of belonging, resulting in disengagement; (c) reinforces interpersonal racist prejudice, microaggressions, and discrimination often expressed in the presumption of guilt; and (d) distorts the social cognition of policymakers and thereby perpetuates opportunity hoarding while deepening the socioeconomic disadvantages of the community. The chapter underscores the urgent need to demolish hierarchies of belonging and move from the problems of African youth to the possibilities of African youth. The remainder of the chapter is organised into three main sections. The first section deals with the racialisation of youth violence in Australia. The second section briefly outlines socio-​ cognitive, psycho-​ cultural, politico-​ economic, and historical forces underpinning racial Othering directed towards African refugee youth. The third section explains how racial Othering undermines the integration outcomes of African refugees. The chapter closes with concluding remarks. 9.2  Racialisation of violence Racialisation refers to the act of assigning racial meanings to specific events and situations—​for example, the practice of centring race as a critical factor in defining and explaining a given social problem (Murji & Solomos, 2005). People racialise violence when they frame causes and perpetrators of criminal activities along racial lines, with the aim of (a) Othering members of a specific racial group and (b) triggering xenophobic fears in the broader public. Racialisation is underpinned by racial prejudice. When people’s thoughts and behaviours are guided by racial prejudice, they are incapable of “seeing” the person in front of them, but instead only the cast of their own prejudice. Using specific stereotypes, people “simultaneously generalise, exaggerate and fix certain features of particular individual instances of a category, thereby rendering them necessary, universal and immutable features of the category in question” (Jervis, 1999, p. 8). In effect, racial Othering creates “interior frontiers” that “confer belonging for some, estrangement for others” and mark distinctions between desirable citizens and undesirable subjects within society (Stoler, 2022, p. 8). For instance, by presenting African heritage youth as threats to societal safety, cohesion, and values, the politics of racial Othering solidifies internal and internalised borders of Australian society along the colour lines. The purpose of Othering can be exclusion (distancing from the Other) or incorporation (denying the Other independent existence by forcing them to assimilate) (Jervis, 1999). In both cases, Othering undermines the inclusive agendas

182  Integration outcomes of multiculturalism. In the case of African youth in Australia, the politics of Othering is expressed in the form of racialisation of violence. As Poynting et al. (2004) noted, in Australia, the politics of Othering “involved not just the conflation of diverse groups into a homogeneous category, but also the racialisation of crime and the criminalisation of the various cultures described by that category” (p. 179). Starting from the mid-​2000s, with the arrival of many African refugees, there has been an increased antipathy towards this group. Especially in the wake of the 2016 violent unrest at the Moomba Festival in Melbourne (commonly referred to in the media as the Moomba “riot”) and other subsequent offences of robbery and theft blamed on “gangs involving African youth” across the State of Victoria, the media racialised violence and framed African youth as inherently dangerous. Conservative tabloid personalities, such as the Herald Sun’s Andrew Bolt, and “shock jock” radio hosts, such as Alan Jones, echo this racist “gang” narrative. The following is a sample of media headlines (all accessible online) that typified this framing of African youth: Herald Sun: • Who let [African refugees] in? To terrify checkout staff ? (07 October 2016) • Blind eye to report on growing African gang crime (02 January 2018) • African chaos in Taylors Hill. Residents too scared to go out to restaurants (08 August 2018) • Virus thrives in multiculturalism (13 July 2020) Sky News:

• African gangs scaring Melburnians: Dutton (03 January 2018) • Deradicalisation programs to combat African street gang violence in Victoria (15 January 2018)

• We cannot turn a blind eye to African youth crime (13 November 2018) Channel 7:

• African gang terrifies train passengers (4 October 2018) • Dandenong residents say they’re fed up, claiming gang warfare is out of control, with shopkeepers and students too scared to walk the streets at night (15 July 2019) Daily Mail (Australia):

• Melbourne’s African gang crime hot spots are revealed—​so is your suburb safe? (20 November 2018)

• Gang of 20 African youths terrorise customers in a Melbourne Coles (23 January 2019)

Racial Othering  183

• African youth gangs running riot in Sydney carry out six “blitz-​style” robberies of phone shops (10 June 2019) This media sensationalism distorts public perceptions of people of African origin. It engenders fear, bias, and stereotyping, eventually nurturing forms of Afrophobia in society. The European Network against Racism (Michael, 2015; Nwabuzo, 2015) uses the term Afrophobia to describe “the hostility, antipathy, contempt and aversion” directed at Black Africans in dominantly White societies. It includes racial bigotry, prejudice, violence, and marginalisation directed at people from sub-​Saharan Africa. The phrase “of African appearance” is not simply an ancestral descriptor; it has become a moral framing. This descriptor has created a widespread wariness in the community. However, the act of racist dog whistling is not limited to the media. Politicians and senior government officials have also played critical roles in fearmongering and racial hysteria. The following are snapshots of the representation of African youth by senior officials of the Australian coalition government: So, there is a problem; it’s an African gang problem, and the Victorian socialist government should get real and own up to the fact that there is an African gang problem in Melbourne. (Tony Abbott, former prime minister of Australia, speaking on 2GB Radio, 25 July 2018) There is certainly concern about street crime in Melbourne. There is real concern about the Sudanese gang. (Malcolm Turnbull, then prime minister of Australia, speaking on 3AW Radio, 17 July 2018) The reality is people [in Melbourne] are scared to go out at restaurants of a night time because they’re followed home by these gangs, home invasions, and cars are stolen, … call it for what it is—​of course it’s African gang violence. (Peter Dutton, then federal home affairs minister, speaking on 2GB Radio, 3 January 2018) African youth gangs are out of control … I’ve secured legislation to deport foreign-​born thugs, … I’ve arranged with Minister for Home Affairs Mr Dutton, to have the AFP as part of a National Anti-​Gangs Squad to target violent youth gangs in the south east and western suburbs. (Jason Wood, then assistant federal minister for multicultural affairs, quoted in the Sydney Morning Herald, 29 May 2019) Underpinning these representations is the politics of racial Othering that rests on a flawed notion of cultural incompatibility of the Other (Siebers

184  Integration outcomes & Dennissen, 2015). Not all forms of racial representation are bad or damaging. As Omi and Winant (2014) noted, racial representation is racist and unjustified when it unfairly deprives people of equal opportunities, respect, and recognition. Whether it stems from “the myth of racial inequality” or the misbelief of cultural antagonism (Balibar, 2020), racism puts ethnocultural minorities in a state of collective vulnerability that diminishes their dignity and belonging. In propagating the “African crime gangs” narrative, the media engaged in selective reporting of crime. For example, the street brawl at the 2016 Moomba Festival involved African heritage youth and many other young people from a variety of different ethnocultural backgrounds. Police described those involved in the incident as a “ ‘United Nations’ of Melbourne youth” (Vedelago & Millar, 2021). But the conservative media outlets (e.g. the Herald Sun) chose to frame the incident simply as “African violence”. It is also worth noting that, whereas the criminal activity of some African youth is intensely racialised, racist behaviours perpetrated against Black people in the neighbourhoods, shopping centres, schools, and on public transport are rarely politicised or viewed through the lens of host nation racial intolerance. Still worse, African youth are represented as criminals even when they have been the victims of racist abuse. In 2007, Liep Gony, a Sudanese-​background young person, was murdered in Melbourne’s suburb of Noble Park (Nunn, 2010). In 2009, Alex Ngong Akok, an African-​background youth, was killed in Adelaide (Baak, 2011). In both cases, although the perpetrators were groups of non-​Black Australians, the media and political debate focused on criminalising the victims. 9.3  Roots of racial Othering Through the politics of Othering, familiars are turned into strangers and abominations. As a discursive strategy, Othering produces stereotypes that stigmatise the out-​groups. Starting from the mid-​2010s, the mass displacement of people has resulted in heightened collective anxiety in refugee-​destination countries in the Global North. Racialisation of violence is an expression of racial Othering. Echoing W. E. B. Du Bois’s famous line about race in twentieth-​ century America, powell and Menendian (2016) wrote, “The problem of the twenty-​first century is the problem of ‘Othering’ ” (p. 14). Krumer-​Nevo and Sidi (2012) define Othering as an act of “portraying the other as essentially different and translating this difference to inferiority” (p. 299). As Staszak (2020) noted, whereas difference “belongs to the realm of fact”, Otherness “belongs to the realm of discourse” (p. 2). Othering is a discursive instrument of power; it creates, essentialises, and targets collective identities. Racial Othering can be defined as an act of transferring indicators of differences in physical features and cultural norms into markers of deficit and undesirability. It is a way of representing individuals or groups through the prism of racial stereotypes, with the ascription of negativity and stigma. When it applies to minority groups, Othering can serve

Racial Othering  185 as a mechanism of marginalisation and subordination. Although there is “a human tendency to dislike the unlike” (Kagedan, 2020), the demeaning of the racially Other is often the work of people with political interests. The politics of racial Othering is expressed in public discourses and practices that reinforce the dislike of the racially unlike. The hostility towards visibly different minority groups (such as African heritage youth) can specifically be explained from socio-​cognitive, psycho-​cultural, and politico-​economic and historical perspectives. These themes are briefly discussed in turn. 9.3.1  Socio-​cognitive roots

The socio-​cognitive account of racial Othering emphasises the role of socialisation and modes of thought. What we value to be and do, how we see the world around us, and the way we interact with others in part reflect our socialisation through which we internalise external structures. In the words of Bobbie Harro (2000), “We are born into a world where all of the mechanics, assumptions, rules, roles, and structures of oppression are already in place and functioning, we have had nothing to do with constructing them” (p. 17; see Figure 9.2 for a systematic representation of the cycle of socialisation). Through primary socialisation (e.g. familial interactions) and secondary socialisation (e.g. institutional sanctions and teachings), we learn how to perceive and treat others. Further, in our daily life, we draw on our cognitive schemas to interpret the world around us, including those who are racially or culturally different from us. In making sense of our interactions with others, we rely on our beliefs, assumptions, and knowledge about members of the social group in question. The socio-​cognitive account of racial Othering starts with the assumption that race is a social construction—​a conventional, rather than a biological, category (Loury, 2021). That is, race is not an “entity in the world” but a way of “seeing the world” (Brubaker, 2004, p. 81). People create racial identities by taking note of, and assigning significance to, bodily markings (e.g. skin colour, hair texture, facial bone structures). This process of racialisation classifies people into racial categories, creates Otherness out of physical difference, and informs personal identification and social practices that contribute to maintaining race-​based outcomes in society. Loury (2021) highlighted two processes of racialisation: categorisation and signification. Categorisation is a mode of thought. When we come across unrelated images and words repeatedly grouped together, our brains create mental associations that organise the world in distinct categories (powell, 2012). In so doing, our brains not only save us time and energy but also provide us with mental structures that “mediate how we perceive and interpret the world” (Brubaker, 2004, p. 75). In other words, categorisation enables us to process maximum information with minimal cognitive effort and time and makes social and political simplification possible. To quote Allport (1954), “The human mind must think with the aid of categories …. Once formed, categories are the basis for normal prejudgment. We cannot possibly avoid this process.

186  Integration outcomes

Figure 9.2 The cycle of socialisation. Source: Bobbie Harro (2018); reprinted here with permission from Taylor & Francis.

Orderly living depends upon it” (p. 20). Categorising is unavoidable, but we can choose how we categorise our objects of thought and action. In using race as a mode of classification, for example, people “simultaneously generalise, exaggerate, and fix certain features of particular individual instances of a category, thereby rendering them necessary, universal, and immutable features of the category in question” (Jervis, 1999, p. 8). Racial categorisation includes both mental representations (e.g. personal stereotypes and assumptions) and public framing (embodied in texts, talk, monuments, etc.) that “sustain the vision and division of the social world in racial, ethnic, or national terms” (Brubaker, 2004, p. 79). Racialisation does not stop at sorting and naming racial groups. It also signifies the category in question. Racial signification is “an interpretative act—​one that associates certain connotations, or ‘social meanings’, with the categories” (Loury, 2021, p. xvi). The notion of signification is akin to Moscovici’s (1988)

Racial Othering  187 notion of objectification, which refers to the process of transforming what is held in an abstract (e.g. judgements and assumptions about an out-​group) into something concrete (e.g. categorical and shared labels about the group). Signification involves projecting shared images and frames to social groups (here think of widely shared assumptions and stereotypes associated with Blackness). When it comes to youth violence, racialisation entails assigning racial meanings to specific social problems—​the practice of centring race as a key factor in defining and explaining the problem (Murji & Solomos, 2005). People racialise violence when they frame causes and perpetrators of criminal activities along racial lines, with the aim of (a) Othering members of a specific racial group and (b) triggering xenophobic fears in the wider public. When our actions and behaviours are guided by racial prejudice, all we see is not the person in front of us but the cast of our stereotypes. In racially diverse societies, signification is instrumental for naturalising status differences (Brubakerr, 2004). How we account for inequalities and other problems is often mediated by the social meanings we attach to racial categories. For instance, in predominantly White societies, an anti-​Black racial causal misattribution is not uncommon. In this respect, the racialisation of Black people often manifests in racial stigma (e.g. prejudice and negative representation), racial violence (e.g. unprovoked physical attacks, threats, and verbal abuse and humiliation), and racial discrimination (e.g. unfair exclusion from accessing valuable resources, including education, housing, health care, and employment). Racial cognitive schema is problematic if it unfairly deprives people of equal opportunities and dignity. But tackling racial bias is not easy because racist categories and meanings are constituted and enacted through unconscious processes. As racial stereotypes are “deeply rooted in ordinary cognitive processes”, unlearning them “is effortful and costly” (Brubaker, 2004, p. 73). It is our tendency to frame “information to match strongly held concepts” and refuse “to believe facts that tend to disprove them” (powell, 2012, p. 22). Even explicit intentions to be fair may not translate into fair behaviours. People may still commit racial bias despite good intentions. 9.3.2  Psycho-​cultural roots

Exclusionary ideologies such as racism and xenophobia have also psycho-​ cultural roots. From a psycho-​cultural perspective, racial Othering can be seen as a form of subjectification. That is, as Castoriadis (1997) argued, it is almost impossible to (a) “constitute oneself as oneself without excluding the other” and (b) “exclude others without devaluing and, ultimately, hating them” (p. 23). We develop racial attitudes, beliefs, and prejudice through mythology, stereotypes, ethnic jokes, and labels present in the media, cultural products, official documents, and many social contexts. In so doing, we project our negative feelings and images on the racial Other. Psychoanalysts refer to this condition as “projective identification” (see, e.g. Spillius & O’Shaughnessy, 2011). The unstated intention is to boost self-​identity. In our interactions with Others, we

188  Integration outcomes often draw on distorted messages and frames. In the words of Bourdieu (1993), “Every racism is an essentialism” whereby the dominant ethnocultural group feels “essentially superior” (p. 177). For racists, projecting the undesirable onto the “stranger” can also be a way of dissociating themselves from what is seen as demeaning about themselves or ignoring the reality of inconvenience in collective life. Krzych (2021) posited: The racist subject experiences dissatisfaction, as all subjects do, but translates this dissatisfaction into a narrative of loss in which other people or ethnic groups are blamed for the subject’s experience of loss and lack. The constitutive lack that biases subjectivity is thereby transformed into a fantasy projected onto others, often onto those already living on the societal margins. (p. 80) The resentment towards refugees can also be an expression of basic human psychology—​a desire for stable familiarity. In destination societies, refugees represent the “great unknown” and trigger unfounded fear and resentment (Bauman, 2004). Bauman (2016) noted that some people in refugee-​receiving nations suffer from mixophobia or the “fear of the unmanageable volume of the unknown, untamable, off-​putting and uncontrollable” (p. 15). Even for those with no such conditions, “Strangers tend to cause anxiety precisely because of being ‘strange’—​and so, fearsomely unpredictable, unlike the people with whom we interact daily and from whom we believe we know what to expect” (p. 15). For many in refugee-​destination societies, the arrival of the “stranger” at the national border and in the neighbourhood activates insecurity and creates a condition of discomfort. The discomforted then erects “a cultural fence”. “If the stranger cannot be made non-​existent, he can at least be made untouchable” (Bauman, 1993, p. 166). What has been done in the public discourse regarding the African youth is just that—​depicting them as dangerous and, hence, undesirable. At a much deeper level, refugees are seen as bearers of “ill tidings”: [They] bring home distant noises of war and the stench of gutted homes and scorched villages that cannot but remind the settled how easily the cocoon of their safe and familiar (safe because familiar) routine may be pierced or crushed and how deceptive the security of their settlement must be. (Bauman, 2004, p. 63) Visibly different refugees are ideal targets of externalisation. Unfounded perceptions of threat and collective vulnerability make people combative towards refugees and the ethnoculturally Other. In the context of prevalent anti-​Black racial Othering, the presence of African youth in the public sphere causes discomfort and nuisance. The problem gets even worse when public figures frame members of minority groups as inherently dangerous. In Australia

Racial Othering  189 today, culturally conditioned causal misattributions of violence and other antisocial behaviours nurture stigma and hostility towards Black African youth. Without collective interventions (e.g. in the form of legal provisions and prohibitions), visibly different minorities are destined to face racist exclusion, alienation, and dishonour in their daily lives. Psycho-​cultural roots of racial Othering can also be linked with the decline of religious values that encourage believers to be welcoming and accommodative. For example, as we witnessed in recent years, with the erosion of religious ethical codes and the decline of the moral universalism of liberal democracy, sections of Western societies increasingly become scornful towards strangers. 9.3.3  Politico-​economic roots

The politico-​economic conditions of the destination societies also play prominent roles in how refugees are seen and treated. The politico-​economic explanation underscores that polities tend to emphasise the ethnic conception of the nation and marginalise what they see as Other. In the words of Appadurai (2019), “Insofar as nation-​state ideologies rest on some sort of implicit idea of ethnic coherence as the basis of state sovereignty, they are bound to minoritise, degrade, penalise, or expel those seen to be ethnically minor” (p. 559). The relationship between excessive nationalism and racial discrimination has been evident during the rise of populism in the second half of the 2010s. In fact, as Balibar (Balibar & Wallerstein, 1991) noted, the overlapping of racism and nationalism “goes back to the circumstances in which the nation states, established upon historically contested territories, have striven to control population movements” (p. 48). In the case of Australia, those who advance the politics of Othering seek to maintain a White Australia, a historical legacy of racist nationalism. In 2018, Andrew Bolt, one of the prominent anti-​ immigrant voices in Australia, wrote a highly inflammatory column headlined the “Foreign Invasion”. In it, he encapsulated the anti-​immigration sentiments of the conservative political elite as follows: Australia is being swamped by non-​ English-​ speaking immigrants who refuse to assimilate and accept our values. In the face of this influx, we’re losing our identity. There is no “us” anymore, as a tidal wave of immigrants sweeps away what’s left of our national identity …. Immigration is becoming colonisation, turning this country from a home to a hotel. (Bolt, 2018, paras 1–​2, emphasis added) In the economic domain, refugees are often seen as welfare dependents who have little or no interest in contributing to society. Azmanova (2020) argued that, unlike the old form of xenophobia that rested on the notions of “cultural superiority”, at present, newcomers are seen as threatening in terms of competing for jobs and undercutting the wages of local workers. Populist

190  Integration outcomes politicians misattribute the disappearing sources of livelihood to refugees and other immigrants, thereby nurturing “economic xenophobia”. In this respect, Krzych (2021) framed the politics of racial Othering as an inherent feature of the capitalist political economy: Inverting the structure of the capitalist utopian narrative, where the commodity object is presumed to offer future satisfaction, the notion of the racialised other is pictured, in dystopian rather than utopian terms, as an explanation for what impedes progress toward a better life. (p. 79) In this age of collective anxieties, to paraphrase Bauman (Bauman & Donski, 2013), the politics of fear lubricates the wheels of populism and helps to keep its champions in power. Politicians perform Othering by linking racial minority groups to security, cultural, or economic concerns and thereby triggering grievances in society. The “politics of anxiety” frames members of minority groups as a threat to society. As Kagedan (2020) argued: The politics of Othering involves a clever weaving of fact (often paltry but exaggerated) and fiction intended to demean a group—​or even to demonise it—​in advance of politicians using fear and dislike of the group to create policies and laws against them. (p. 125) Newcomers are also seen as threatening in terms of competing for jobs and undercutting the wages of local workers (Azmanova, 2020). Drawing on evidence from Spain and Italy, Zaviršek (2017) noted that refugees become targets of racism and xenophobia, especially when the host society faces economic uncertainties. Although concerns of employment insecurity and wage depression underlie anti-​immigrant sentiments, the political articulation is still disguised in calls for maintaining national identity and heritage. Beyond labour market competition, refugees are also accused of paying less tax and taking more benefits (Betts, 2021). For the exponents of restrictive immigration policy, migrants and refugees also pose a threat to shared identity that underpins social cohesion (Holtug, 2022). The argument is that ethnic and cultural diversity undermines trust and solidarity, thereby eroding the social basis for redistribution. By way of demonising ethnocultural minority communities, those on the political right attack the nation’s multicultural project. The representation of Black African youth as violent and undesirable mounts the politics of racial Othering. It mainly stems from a bad combination of political expediency and moral fatuousness. The negative racial representation is mobilised primarily by politicians and media personalities for their own self-​interest. The negative representation of African youth usually emerges during election seasons at state and federal levels (Weber et al., 2021). For example, in 2018, the Liberal

Racial Othering  191 Party ran an election campaign on “law and order”, a promise to restore peace for Victorians who supposedly faced African youth violence. However, the party lost the election in the state, and the “African crime” narrative suddenly diminished. 9.3.4  Historical roots

Historically, the racial categorisation of people was tied to slavery and colonialism. Racial prejudice against Black people started with the arrival of Europeans on African shores. In the second half of the 1400s, when Western Europeans shifted their primary source of captive slaves from the Slavic people in the east to Africa, they encountered what they categorised as the Other, Black people (Kendi, 2016). The expansion of trade in enslaved Africans and the colonial exploitation of natives were supported by racist superstitions, religious narratives, and pseudoscientific accounts. In 1453, Gomes Eanes de Zurara published The Chronicle of the Discovery and Conquest of Guinea, documenting the slave-​ trading ventures of Portugal’s Prince Henry (Zurara, 1896/​2010). In the book, Zurara framed Portugal’s slave trade in Africa as a missionary expedition and inaugurated the first anti-​Black racist ideas (Kendi, 2016). He depicted enslaved Africans as culturally barbarians who needed European salvation. Writing about four centuries after Zurara, German philosopher G. W. F. Hegel echoed the same racist views: The peculiarly African character is difficult to comprehend, for the very reason that in reference to it, we must quite give up the principle which naturally accompanies all our ideas—​ the category of Universality. In Negro life, the characteristic point is the fact that consciousness has not yet attained to the realization of any substantial objective existence—​as for example, God, or Law—​in which the interest of man’s volition is involved and in which he realizes his own being. …The Negro … exhibits the natural man in his completely wild and untamed state. We must lay aside all thought of reverence and morality—​all that we call feeling—​if we would rightly comprehend him. There is nothing harmonious with humanity to be found in this type of character. The copious and circumstantial accounts of Missionaries completely confirm this, and Mahommedanism [Islam] appears to be the only thing which, in any way, brings the Negroes within the range of culture. (1956, pp. 93–​94, original emphasis) Hegle’s unlearned generalisation echoes the anti-​ Black racism and misconceptions that prevailed in Europe during his time. What Hegel did not know (or did not care to know) is that, well before the arrival of Islam, African civilisation flourished for centuries. In fact, in the fourth century AD, when his ancestors were categorised as “barbarian groups”, Africans (e.g. the Axumite

192  Integration outcomes Empire of Ethiopia) had already adopted Christianity as a state religion and minted gold coins for international trade. Perhaps to escape the moral dilemma of owning and selling other human beings, Europeans had to search for further justifications. They needed stronger cover for their acts of violence, exploitation, and plundering in the “new” world. To this end, they turned to religion. Against the backdrop of their cruel and inhumane practices, slaveholders tried to take a high Christian moral ground by citing selected biblical texts to their defence; for example, Genesis IX, 18–​27 on “the Curse of Ham” into servitude and Apostle Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians on the importance of absolute obedience to masters (Rae, 2018). Racist theologians labelled Blacks as cursed people who deserved to be enslaved. They asserted that human races were fundamentally different, supporting the claim that “some races were meant by God to rule others” (Graves & Goodman, 2022, p. 5). There was also a pseudoscientific assumption (perpetuated by proponents of the eugenics movement and Social Darwinism) about the “natural” basis of racial hierarchy (Omi & Winant, 2014). For those who advocate racial essentialism, differences between races are immutably based on biological distinctions. In reality, an essentialist representation of race and racial groups is fundamentally flawed. It is an evasion of reality. There is nothing natural about racial groups. Races do not form “discrete genetic categories”, making biogenetic explanation of racial inequality futile (Tsai, 2022). Race is a social construction. Skin pigments (as one example of human variation) mainly reflect the distance of your location from the equator and “arose as a marvellously adaptive feature of human evolution: The closer to the equator, where sunlight is most intense, the darker your skin. The farther from the equator, as you near the poles, the lighter your skin” (Tyson, 2022, p. 117). Skin colour is a physical reality, reflecting one’s latitudinal position (as Tyson noted, one cannot make Santa of the North Pole Black and Jesus of the Middle East White), but racial identity/​categorisation is a human construction, reflecting one’s social position. In other words, there is nothing natural about racial categorisation—​it can be changed and transcended. To say that race is socially constructed is to argue that it is subject to redefinition according to time and place. Those categorised as Black in one place at a particular time can be White in a different context or period. For example, research (see Ignatiev,1995; Omi & Winant, 2014; powell & Menendian, 2016; Roediger, 2006) shows that, in the U.S., people of Irish and Jewish origins were categorised as “Black”, but through time, they have become “White”. Anti-​Black racial Othering originated in historical forces of wealth accumulation that laid the foundation of modern capitalism. Slave trade and coerced native labour under colonisation generated immense wealth for Europeans, but left inedible marks of suffering and stigma on peoples of African heritage. With erroneous cultural assumptions, theological teachings, and pseudoscientific justifications, early capitalists (slave traders, plantation owners, and colonisers) rationalised their exploitative and violent domination in the name of civilisation and commerce. They capitalised on a racist ideology that views

Racial Othering  193 differences in skin colour and physical structure as markers of innate racial hierarchies—​for instance, linking skin pigmentation with mental and physical abilities (Rutherford, 2020). In essence, economic and political interests gave rise to racism and “racism created race” (Graves & Goodman, 2022). As such, unlearning race, if possible at all, requires problematising economic roots of racism. Historical legacies and contemporary sociocultural and politico-​economic agendas have continued to consolidate the faulty foundations of racial categorisation, thereby contributing to “discriminatory policies and practices of immigrant exclusion, naturalisation rights, residential segregation, and forced sterilisation” (Omi & Winant, 2014, p. 117). The politics of racial Othering is often employed to justify subordinate status, unequal treatment, and opportunity hoarding (powell & Menendian, 2016). Due partly to a racially essentialist understanding of the Self and the Other, rights and opportunities are differentially accorded to people based on their race, perpetuating racial hierarchy, and discrimination. Taken separately, none of the four perspectives is sufficient to explain the dynamics and consequences of racial Othering. However, using the four perspectives together enables us to appreciate interlinked mechanisms of racial exclusion fully. For instance, the combination of economic anxiety and cultural estrangement feeds into excessive nationalism that exacerbates existing hierarchies of citizenship and belonging. Through the politics of Othering, familiars are turned into strangers and abominations. The politics of Othering capitalises on cultural differences and economic distress. In a time of economic anxiety and identity politics, exclusionary identity politics rests on constructing imaginary communities that invent false genealogies and build true enmities. The psycho-cultural and socio-cognitive roots of racism underscore that Othering is a condition of every society. As Edward Said (1979) noted, “Each age and society recreates its Others” (p. 322). As a discursive strategy, racial Othering produces stereotypes that stigmatise the out-groups. Finally, clarity on the historical origins of racial hierarchies helps us understand how today’s economic and political arrangements are skewed toward specific groups. 9.4  How racial Othering undermines refugee integration Racism is violence, but its damage is often invisible. Sociological analysis of racism and social interaction shows that members of minoritised racial groups, such as African heritage youth in Australia, “are fully aware of all negative stereotypes existing about them in society at large” (Lieberson, 1982, p. 48). The stress of racism stems from this awareness of what others think about one’s racial group and has inhibiting effects on how the latter interacts with members and institutions of the dominant group. In the context of pervasive racial stigma, Black people face undignifying representation. In societies where racial Othering is routinely performed, inclusion is nominal, creating a “hierarchy of belonging” whereby different categories of people are constructed as having greater or lesser rights to belong. The full inclusion and cultural

194  Integration outcomes citizenship of African Australian youth requires demolishing the hierarchies of belonging and extending equal recognition for all. Recognition and respect constitute vital human needs. At the core of the recognition claim is the assumption that “people’s self-​worth should depend on the fact that they are persons and moral agents, not on the truth of their religions or the achievements of their culture” (Strike & Soltis, 2009, p. 95). Regardless of their race or religion, human beings yearn for recognition. For members of minority groups, recognition means being accepted for who they are, as they name themselves, and becoming worthy members of society. Conversely, in social settings where visibly different refugee groups are publicly vilified and stigmatised, integration is often slow and nominal. The “African crime gangs” narrative can just be a political framing that does not reflect the reality on the ground. But the effect of racialisation of crime is real. In the words of William I. Thomas (1929), “If men [sic] define situations as real, they are real in their consequences” (p. 572). Racial Othering is consequential. The theoretical and empirical literature in sociology, cultural studies, criminology, and social psychology shows that sustained exposure to racial discrimination and stigma undermines people’s ability to engage in the economic, social, cultural, and political domains of life. Racialisation of violence also nurtures exclusivism—​including hoarding opportunities in the areas of employment, education, and housing. Here, I highlight four ways through which racial Othering undermines integration outcomes of visibly different refugee groups, such as those from sub-​Saharan Africa. 9.4.1  Racial Othering results in injury to dignity

Dignity is inherent to being human. Regardless of our skin pigmentation, ethnic origin, cultural background, or religious affiliation, we all yearn for equal respect and recognition. Recognition is about acceptance and respect. In the words of Kateb (2011), “Human dignity is an existential value” in the sense that “worthiness is imputed to the identity of the person” (p. 10). In this respect, racial stigmatisation is a form of misrecognition that unreflectively attributes an imagined identity to someone based on physical traits or their membership in a specific group. The negative meanings associated with people of African descent operate to obscure their actual identity while depriving them of cultural citizenship or full societal belonging. In essence, racial Othering amounts to what Therborn (2013) called existential inequality, referring to “the unequal allocation of personhood, i.e., of autonomy, dignity, degrees of freedom, and of rights to respect and self-​development” (p. 49). Misrecognition and nonrecognition “can be a form of oppression, imprisoning someone in a false, distorted, reduced mode of being” (Taylor, 1994, p. 27). In his classic work on social power, renowned psychologist and civil rights activist Kenneth Clark observed that disadvantaged people “whose daily experience tells them that almost nowhere in society are they respected and granted the ordinary dignity and courtesy accorded to others will, as a matter of course, begin to doubt their own worth” (Clark, 1989, p. 64).

Racial Othering  195 In other words, racial Othering injures dignity because it devalues people, impairs their positive understanding of self, and inflicts a grievous wound on their self-​esteem (Honneth, 2003; Thomas, 2016). Stigmatising experiences lead to a decreased sense of self-​esteem. For example, the negative meanings associated with people of African descent operate to obscure their actual identity and deprive them of full societal membership. In her widely acclaimed book, Being Black, Angel Kyodo Williams succinctly captured the predicaments of Black people in predominantly White societies: It is only natural that as human beings we want to feel happy, satisfied, and secure. But early on, we are given messages that attack our sense of ease with who we are. We are not bright enough, or tall enough. As [B]‌lack people, we learn that our skin color is not right, our hair too kinky or curly, our lips too full and our presence too strong. Sometimes these messages are subtle, and at other times they are harshly direct. We carry all of these lessons inside us everywhere we go. They become the box from which we operate and see ourselves. Inside this box, we become smaller and smaller and forget how amazing we really are. (2000, p. 35) Internalised racial stigma also diminishes the life-​chances of refugee youth. Life is about taking chances, but the freedom to do so can be constrained by internal and external forces. Fear of discrimination may force African youth to minimise what they aspire to in life; it may force them to diminish their desired goals. Preferences and personal agency goals are adaptive. As Nussbaum (2019) argued, “People don’t like too much unrealised longing, so they tailor their expectations to what they think they can reasonably hope to achieve” (p. 239). In calculating practical possibilities, people draw on their lived experiences. For instance, young people who grow up in an environment where there is racial discrimination and hostility may perceive themselves and their place in society negatively. There is a possibility that they might internalise undesirable external categorisations and see themselves as less than what they are and can be. Messages of undesirable Otherness can be seared into their consciousness. When insistently perpetuated, images and feelings of stigma can become internalised. Subsequently, the victims of overt or subtle racism tend to align their aspirations with their interpretations of the conditions they are in. This in effect can lead to self-​relegation and self-​exclusion. Individuals stunted by humiliations and degradations are unlikely to participate actively in the socioeconomic lives of society. 9.4.2  Racial Othering reinforces racial microaggressions

When prominent public figures (e.g. leading politicians or media personalities) propagate negative racial narratives, ordinary citizens find it easy, and

196  Integration outcomes even acceptable, to mistreat members of the racial group in question. In other words, racist representation in the public sphere distorts public perceptions of the targeted groups, engenders fear and bias, and encourages racist behaviour in interpersonal relations and interactions. To put it differently, racialised media framing institutes “racist imaginary” in society (Castoriadis, 1997) and thereby reproduces racism. Loury (2021) described the interplay of systemic racism and interpersonal racial prejudice as follows: As they navigate through the epistemological fog, observing agents find their cognitive sensibilities being influenced by history and culture, by social conditions, and by the continuing construction and transmission of civic narrative. Groping along, these observers—​acting in varied roles, from that of economic agent to that of public citizen—​“create facts” about race, even as they remain blind to their ability to unmake those facts and oblivious to the moral implications of their handiwork. (p. 53) Those who face racial vilification in the media and political debate are more likely to encounter racial microaggressions. Social psychologist Derald Wing Sue (2010) defined microaggressions as the everyday verbal, non-​ verbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults—​whether intentional or unintentional—​that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalised group. In a study that explored resettlement experiences of African migrants in Australia, Ikafa et al. (2021) shed some light on racial microaggressions as a challenge. One participant of their study recounted: Ah silent racism! It’s especially when you go to institutions, you get that silent treatment—​turning heads and treating you like you don’t exist. Though they may not say anything, you can read the disdain in some people’s eyes. That’s threatening and unwelcoming. (p. 8) In her reflection on growing up Black in Australia, African Australian writer Maxine Beneba Clarke described how she was accustomed to being subjected to racial vilification: I was Coon. I was Jungle Bunny. I was Monkey Girl. I was Gorilla. I was Lubra Lips. I was Nigger. I was Blackie, or Golliwog. I was Tar Baby. I was Dog Turd. I was Ape, Baboon or Big Lips. I was Steel Wool, Fuzzy Wuzzy or Camel Girl. I was Choco, Darkie or Jigaboo. I was Donkey Kong. King Kong. Sambo. They called me Knuckle Dragger. Girl Dingo. Kaffir. Or sometimes Cockroach. I was Brownie, or Africana, or often just plain Nostrils. I was Niggie. I was Sooty, Boong, Thick Lips. (Clarke, 2016, p. 155)

Racial Othering  197 In the face of racial microaggression, youth tend to withdraw into themselves. In his essay “Words That Wound” (1993), legal scholar and critical race theorist Richard Delgado argued that, in a racially oppressive society, words can be used as weapons to terrorise, humiliate, and wound the racialised other. But the damage of racial stigma goes beyond verbal epithets; it engenders fear, bias, aversion, and bigotry towards the group. Under racialised stereotypes, Black people are burdened with a presumption of guilt that “attributes to them every violence and vice” (Lewis & Stevenson, 2013). Their collective fate is often defined by the colour of their skin. Here is an example. In September 2017, at a Melbourne park, Sofina Nikat (an Indian-​descent Australian woman) “told police a barefoot man of African appearance who smelt of alcohol had snatched Sanaya [her child] from her pram”.2 Later, she confessed to detectives that she had killed her daughter. Three years later, in May 2020, Amy Cooper (a White woman) called the police to report a Black man who was birdwatching at New York’s Central Park. In her 911 call, she complained that her life was under threat. In actuality, the African American man asked her to leash her dog, according to park rules (Filipovic, 2020). In 2021, the IGA supermarket in Melbourne’s Sunshine West had a sign taped to its cash register that read, “If an African customer comes to the bottle shop presses [sic] the button for assistant immediately! Minimum 2 staffs [sic] in front while we serve Africans” (Taylor, 2021). Following public outrage, the supermarket was forced to issue a statement of apology. At a structural level, what connects the two park stories and the IGA incident is the representation of Black people as crime-​prone and dangerous. In essence, the presumption of guilt deprives African youth of “the basic right to justification” (Forst, 2010) that we owe to one another as rational beings. Disrespectful treatment in public spaces constitutes injustice. 9.4.3  Racial Othering diminishes people’s sense of affiliation and belonging

We are social beings. Our sense of self and security stems mainly from our relationships with others. Regardless of our race or religion, we long for belonging; we value our freedom to live the way we see fit, and we want to be valued and accepted by others. Affiliation—​the ability to have a social base of dignity and self-​respect and engage in meaningful social interactions—​is central to our identity and sense of belonging. It constitutes a core human capability (Nussbaum, 2019). Particularly for people who are forcibly displaced from their familial home and social roots, affiliation within destination societies is of great importance. However, for African refugees, this basic human aspiration has been overshadowed by pervasive racial Othering and stigma. Displacement and resettlement inherently generate conflict and confusion leading to what social psychologists refer to as acculturative stress—​anxiety and depression due to negative experiences of acculturation (Berry et al., 2002). Added to this, explicit racial discrimination creates a hostile social environment that pushes the newcomers to the margin. This stress and fear of being

198  Integration outcomes stereotyped may lead to self-​isolation and disengagement with society. As social psychologist Claude Steele noted, stereotypes can “set up threats in the air that are capable of interfering with actions” (Steele, 2010, p. 43). Stereotype threats, in turn, undermine people’s ability to establish meaningful connections and appear in public without shame. The intense stress of racism means that young people may struggle to concentrate on their learning, effectively navigate socioeconomic opportunities, cross cultural boundaries, or establish meaningful interpersonal interactions. In the face of heightened racialisation of violence and subsequent racial stigmatisation of people of African heritage, at every step of their move in the public sphere, Black youth know that their actions and behaviours are being interpreted in relation to the demeaning stereotypes people hold about them as a group. As such, they must be alert to the suspicion of others; they must avoid conforming to a stigmatising view others hold of them. This alertness to negative views of others towards them, in turn, results in stigma consciousness. This refers to “the awareness that one’s group is negatively valued and that one will, as a result, be likely to experience negative consequences when others recognise that group membership” (Deaux, 2006, p. 85). African youths’ awareness of how they are perceived in public may result in their withdrawal into themselves, perpetuating their Otherness. Experiences of racism affect the way young people perceive themselves and socialise with others, which leads to self-​isolation and disengagement. Youth disengagement may in turn result in the rupturing of social bonds. In a nationally commissioned report on refugee integration in Australia, Shergold et al. (2019) wrote: In many instances refugee youth experience overt, covert or systemic racism. They can be made to feel hopeless and resentful. Self-​esteem is undermined. At the very least, this leads to a tragic waste of skills and the potential contribution that young refugees, with targeted assistance, could make to the economy. More worryingly a lack of engagement can drive youth to anger and anti-​social behaviour. Economic participation is the best investment in integrating young refugees into Australian society. (p. 37) Finally, the dissonance between the way one expects to be treated and the actual treatment one receives also destabilises people’s sense of self-​worth while generating negative emotions, including oppositional attitudes towards mainstream culture and society. This is evident in the disproportionately high imprisonment rates among African youth from refugee backgrounds. In the absence of public action to remove structural unfreedoms, rebellious actions may appear to be the only option. The dissonance might form “a sense of injustice and then a desire to rectify that” (Hemmings, 2012, p. 158). In any social field, “Strategies of subversion are pursued by those who expect to gain little from the dominant groups” (Swartz, 1997, p. 125). This might in part

Racial Othering  199 explain why African youth disproportionately engage in antisocial behaviours and have high imprisonment rates (as discussed in Chapter 8). 9.4.4  Racial stigma distorts social cognition

Racial stigma distorts people’s cognition of specific racial groups. Distorted social cognition refers to the consequential collective cognitive bias that ascribes negative meanings to racial differences (Loury, 2021). Consequences of racially biased social cognition are particularly greatest “when those with a distorted or incomplete vision of social reality … also control powerful levers of institutional discretion” (Loury, 2021, p. 211). Take the case of African Australian youth from refugee backgrounds. The politics of racial Othering is deeply damaging, mainly because it is being propagated by powerful actors with a racially infused cognitive bias towards the group. Here, I would like to highlight three empirical examples of how distorted social cognition may negatively affect African heritage youth in their access to resources and equal respect. First, thinking and acting within the violence narrative, politicians may overlook socioeconomic challenges underpinning the educational and social disengagement of refugee youth. Blyth (2001) argued that, once widely accepted and institutionalised, narratives can function as “cognitive locks” that hinder actors from envisioning more viable policy alternatives. Policymakers whose views are coloured by the “African gangs” narrative are unlikely to come up with transformative policy options that benefit refugee youth. Despite the negative representation of Black African youth, very few members of this group participate in such incidents. Even more importantly, antisocial behaviours of the group are rooted in entrenched socioeconomic disadvantage among refugee-​ background African communities. When government officials maintain that African refugee youth are inherently violent, they are unlikely to appreciate the connection between socioeconomic disadvantage entrenched in the communities and the antisocial behaviours of some youths. For instance, although educational engagement and outcomes of African refugee students have been a critical issue, there has not been a policy response. The issue does not register as a problem that needs fixing; it gets no policy attention. Second, and even worse, policymakers whose views are coloured by racial stigma have taken damaging policy actions against African heritage refugees. In the wake of the 2016 Moomba Festival incident (discussed previously), the Parliament’s Migration Committee announced an inquiry into migrant settlement outcomes, with a particular focus on youth gang activity. The chair of the committee was Jason Wood, a Liberal MP from Victoria. Mr Wood was one of the leading proponents of the “African gangs” narrative (see verbatims under Section 9.2). In its report (PCA, 2017), the committee went so far as to misrepresent crime statistics to convince the public that Africans were behind the “crime crisis” in the State of Victoria. The Inquiry Committee recommended that offenders (including those aged between 16 and 18) have their visas cancelled. In response to the recommendations of the inquiry, the government “noted”

200  Integration outcomes the recommendation and proposed new law—​ the Migration Amendment (Strengthening the Character Test) Bill 2019—​specifying that “a person [who] does not pass the character test—​and may have their visa cancelled or visa application refused—​if they have been convicted of a ‘designated offence’ ” (PCA, 2019, p. 3). Against the backdrop of the “African crime wave” narrative, the government has reduced the number of African refugees who benefit from the Humanitarian Migration Programme. In the mid-​2000s, the Howard government slashed the intake of African refugees on the pretext that the group was unable to integrate into society. With the prevalence of the “African gangs” narrative, the refugee intake from Africa has diminished. For instance, although Africans represented the second highest number of displaced people in the world, in 2015–​2016, Africa-​ born people accounted for the smallest group granted offshore Humanitarian Programme visas, less than 12 per cent (PCA, 2017). Further, in more recent years, although South Sudan has the highest number of refugees in Africa (over 2 million according to UNHCR report), the top recipients of Australia’s Offshore Refugee Category Visa in Africa were from the Democratic Republic of Congo, Central African Republic, Eritrea, and Ethiopia. South Sudan is not among the top 10 Humanitarian Visa recipients. Excluding the members of a specific cultural group from refugee intake consideration (on the pretext of the group’s “failure to fit in” or integrate) constitutes high levels of disrespect and racism. As Glasgow (2009) posited, “Just as an utterance can express disrespect, so can a policy”—​“a state can disrespect its non-​white citizens by exclusively banning non-​white immigrants from entry” (p. 86). It is imperative to note that the recommendations of the parliamentary inquiry and the subsequent Bill simply reflect the wishes of the conservative political bloc that have for a long time campaigned against African refugees. Not only was the inquiry led by one of the main proponents of the “African crime gangs” narrative, but it also cited one of the leading anti-​African voices in the country, namely the Herald Sun’s Andrew Bolt (see the media headlines under Section 9.2). Third, because of the racialisation of violence, African youth have also become subjects of police racial profiling, leading to them being the victims of dehumanising suspicion within society. With the prevalence of the “African gangs” narrative, Black youth are overpoliced. In Melbourne, Black African youth have complained that they are unfairly subjected to selective targeting by police (Molla, 2021b; Weber, 2018). Casting doubt on an entire community for the crime of individual members of that community has become commonplace. The phrase “of African appearance” has become synonymous with criminality as it generates unfounded fear towards people of African heritage. As a result, Black youth live with a sense of unfreedom; they cannot appear in public without fear of being racially targeted. This is disheartening. There is nothing natural about racial hierarchies. If racism appears to be normal, it is because of normalising practices. What is even more worrisome is that, in time, fabricated negative racial labels may become “moral facts” that prescribe how the society views and interacts with members of racialised groups.

Racial Othering  201 9.5 Conclusion Racism persists mainly because ruling elites use policies to rationalise, and thereby perpetuate, racial hierarchy and inequality. As such, addressing racism starts with changing policies. In his book, Stamped from the Beginning, historian Ibram X. Kendi (2016) used the positive outcomes of legislative changes related to school segregation (1954) and interracial marriage (1967) in America to argue that racism is about power and policy, not people. He argued that if you want to change the hearts and minds of people, change policy—​hearts and minds will follow. In a society where racial stigma is propagated from the highest levels of public office, respectability, opportunity, and achievement are more likely to be distributed along the colour line. Policymakers whose views are coloured by the “African gangs” narrative have in recent years excluded selected African countries (e.g. South Sudan) from refugee intake. They are also unlikely to fully appreciate socioeconomic factors underpinning the antisocial behaviours of the youth or envision transformative policy options that would address this problem. The racialisation of youth violence has diminished Black youth’s freedom to appear in public without fear and take part in the social life of their communities. It is argued that racial stigma nurtures exclusivism across a range of domains of life, including employment, education, and housing. Exclusionary sentiments, attitudes, and actions diminish a sense of affiliation and engagement. With Afrophobia in full display in the public sphere, African youth in Australia are likely to remain on the fringe of society. Breaking the mental walls of misrepresentation necessitates policy actions that guarantee substantive opportunities and ensure the full cultural citizenship of refugees. Without such public action, refugees are destined to be permanently excluded. When refugee-​background African youth are marginalised, labelled, and pushed into the periphery by the host society, they resort to self-​alienation and disengagement. Left unaddressed, negative narratives are more likely to keep African communities at the bottom of the social hierarchy where a range of socioeconomic problems are incubated. Without equal recognition and equitable access to socioeconomic opportunities, African refugees cannot become full members of society. With a large flux of immigrants, political opportunists might want us to be intolerant and unsympathetic towards those who need our openness and assistance. But as members of a civil society, we should challenge and reject such expectations. Bearing this point in mind, I would like to close this chapter using the inspiring words of former New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern: The issues we navigate as a society will only intensify. The disinformation will only increase. The pull into the comfort of our tribes will be magnified. But we have it within us to ensure that this doesn’t mean we fracture. (2022, para. 97)

202  Integration outcomes In a democratic and fair society, one should be cheered or jeered for their deeds, not their racial origins, social positions, or cultural affiliations. Notes 1 The full statement can be found at https://​huma​nrig​hts.gov.au/​our-​work/​race-​dis​crim​ inat​ion/​what-​rac​ism. 2 See details at www.sbs.com.au/​news/​mum-​bai​led-​after-​admitt​ing-​she-​kil​led-​baby.

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10 Improving refugee integration Policy ideas

Beloved community is formed not by the eradication of difference but by its affirmation, by each of us claiming the identities and cultural legacies that shape who we are and how we live in the world. (bell hooks, 1995) 10.1 Introduction African refugee youth arrive mostly from non-​English-​speaking countries, having experienced years of disrupted educational trajectories, trauma, and isolation. They continue to face racial stigma and discrimination. In the face of such challenges, general equity provisions in education are less likely to be transformative. Low educational attainment means many refugees are unlikely to escape the poverty trap, and young people who live in poverty on the fringe of society are more likely to disengage. In this closing section of the book, I wish to highlight the positive roles educational institutions can play, the transformative function of critical scholarship, and the importance of inclusive advocacy work in tackling the cycle of marginality. Refugees are not defined by their vulnerability. They are antifragile too. Most of them grow stronger after the shock of displacement, dispossession, and trauma. In what follows, I underscore the importance of (a) expanding evaluative spaces of refugee disadvantage, (b) recognising refugee status as a category of disadvantage in equity policies and programmes, (c) capitalising on the strengths of refugee youth, and (d) promoting cultural capital of ethnocultural minority groups such as African heritage Australians. Each of these points is discussed in turn. 10.2  From vulnerability to antifragility Despite the availability of various refugee resettlement and integration programmes, African youth still struggle to find their place in society. Disadvantage takes different forms and is caused by multiple factors. In this respect, to be a refugee is to be forcibly uprooted from the familiar and DOI: 10.4324/9781003156703-13

208  Integration outcomes detached from one’s valued connections and possessions. The migration experiences of most African refugees are defined by violence that inflicts both physical and psychological wounds. They live with long-​term trauma expressed in hypervigilance, withdrawal, distrust, sensitivity to failure, and other emotional and behavioural problems. Relatedly, forced displacement also robs people of certainty and stability in life. This experience of deprivation and a sense of undesirability limits refugee youths’ agency and their capacity to imagine future possibilities in which they can choose between alternative aims and courses of action. Nyuon (2021) described the predicaments of forced displacement as follows: War first robs you of a home in its physical sense, and then ruthlessly, as years linger on while seeking refuge and asylum, strips you of the confidence and hope that you can change your life. War leaves you with a life lived at the mercy, often the charity, of others. A life waiting for grace. (para. 3) Low educational attainment also means African refugees are less likely to be competitive in the knowledge-​intensive labour market. Underemployment and low employability, in turn, diminish their economic return and social standing. They continue to face psychological stress, social dislocation, and financial hardship. The disruptive behaviours of some refugee youth can be attributed to communication barriers (limited English language proficiency), the stress of racism, impacts of traumatic experiences, and affective dissonance that results from the discrepancy between one’s sense of self and the possibilities for its expression and validation. Affective dissonance might form “a sense of injustice and then a desire to rectify that” (Hemmings, 2012, p. 158). The persistence of refugees’ vulnerability is linked to the policy invisibility of the group. Educational disadvantage—​as assessed in terms of who gets access to what kind of education and with what experiences and outcomes—​is intricately connected with the political, economic, cultural, and social positions of individuals and groups. The problem persists when its causes and consequences are overlooked or misframed in the policy space (Molla, 2021a, 2021b). For instance, the exclusion of refugees as equity targets means that intersectional factors of inequality associated with the life-​course trajectories of the group are discounted. In the absence of targeted policy provisions, refugees lack the necessary institutional support to navigate opportunities and succeed in their studies. Further, with the prevalence of negative stereotypes directed towards some refugee groups in the public sphere as a background, refugee students continue to experience racial bias and are construed in deficit terms at the institutional level. Take the case of HE. High educational attainment is particularly critical for social mobility and the integration of refugee youth. Improved HE attainment does not just boost the employability and potential income of refugee youth; it also equips them with the necessary skills and confidence to meaningfully engage in the political and cultural domains. The immense

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  209 socioeconomic significance of HE accentuates the urgency of ensuring policy visibility of refugees. However, refugees remain hidden from the policy view. Policy invisibility of refugees in HE takes three forms. First, equity categories predating the arrival of African refugees. When the 1990 equity policy statement called for attention to the underrepresentation of NESB students, its focus was on South European and Middle Eastern migrants (DEET, 1990); there were not many African refugees at that time. One of the objectives of A Fair Chance for All was “to increase the participation of people from non-​English-​speaking background groups that are under-​represented in higher education … notably those from Middle Eastern, Italian, Maltese and Yugoslav backgrounds” (DEET, 1990, p. 35). In other words, the initial categorisation of equity groups (Martin, 1994) and subsequent reviews of equity performance in HE did not consider most Africans who arrived in Australia as permanent migrants (both under humanitarian and migration programmes) after the mid-​1990s. Second, the equity grouping had a homogenising effect. Although African refugee youth are subsumed under the NESB (CALD—​culturally and linguistically diverse) equity group, the category is so diverse that no valid generalisable claim can be made regarding the HE participation of members of the group. As an equity group, NESB was operationally defined as people born overseas who arrived in Australia within the previous 10 years and who spoke a language other than English at home (DEET, 1990). In the original framing, the NESB equity group represented people with “educational disadvantage arising from their immigration circumstances” (Martin, 2016, p. 31). Considerable variations exist within the NESB category regarding economic status, parental level of education, and cultural characteristics. The group includes entrepreneurial economic migrants with strong academic and economic capital (Lingard et al., 2012) and refugee families who have spent many years in camps with little or no educational opportunities (Molla, 2021c). Consequently, refugee-​background African youth remain “hidden from view” (Sladek & King, 2016). Categorised under the broad NESB equity group, early disadvantage, social dislocation, and cultural dissonance of AHAY-​R are not given sufficient attention in policy and research. In the context of shrinking public spending on HE, universities have no incentive to engage in social justice work actively, and the most disadvantaged members of society stand to be further marginalised. Relatedly, the equity grouping overlooks non-​ economic challenges. In successive reviews of equity arrangements of the government (e.g. Bradley et al., 2008; James et al., 2004; Lomax-​Smith et al., 2011; NBEET, 1996), the relevance of NESB as an equity group was de-​emphasised and attention was drawn to the disadvantage of people from low SES backgrounds. In response, the Australian government has adjusted the focus of equity programmes. For example, the HEPPP legislation (Australian Government, 2012) aims to “assist with overcoming barriers to access and participation by domestic undergraduate students in higher education, in particular, those students who are

210  Integration outcomes Indigenous, who come from a low SES background, or who have a disability” (Section 1.5.1). With the government’s implicit decision to abandon the NESB equity category, refugee groups are subsumed under the low SES category in university-​level equity practices. Most refugee-​background African youth might still benefit under the low SES equity target group. However, under the HEPPP, universities had the flexibility to target their activities towards the equity groups that were most relevant to their circumstances. Even so, the low SES category reduces overlapping factors of disadvantage to financial hardship. In so doing, it overlooks the complexities of conditions and intersectionality of factors of disadvantage within the group. For AHAY-​R, the permanence of Otherness is another source of vulnerability. In destination societies, African refugees are often permanently categorised as refugees, that is, as Other. Targets of religious intolerance or people of a working-​class origin have some agency to change their position: change their religion or find paths to upward social mobility. But the same cannot be said of the victims of racial bigotry. They can hardly recast their identity. Racism attaches meaning to irreversible physical traits, and as such, “the other is inconvertible” (Castoriadis, 1997, p. 28). This claim is truer for Black Africans in White-​majority society than for any other racial group. In Australia today, the category of Other appears to be particularly rigid for Black Africans. The “stranger” status seems to be permanent. Drawing on the lived experiences of African youth in the state of Queensland, Udah (2018) concluded, “For many of them, Otherness is permanently sealed by their physical appearance, by their skin color, by their ways of speaking, and by their ways of dressing or of doing” (p. 388). Differences in physical features and cultural practices are often transferred into a hierarchy of belonging. Some of the participants complained that, no matter how long they lived here as citizens, they would always be viewed as refugees: Growing up as an African here, everybody sees you as a refugee. You can be here for 25 or 35 years as an Australian citizen; you are seen as a refugee, and this sometimes holds you back. (South Sudanese background, female recent university graduate) It’s hard to be a Black person here. People call you names. You don’t feel you belong to society. You don’t feel like being invited. (South Sudanese background, male university student) Although we grew up here, went to university here, got a job, and integrated with society, we are still labelled as refugees who arrived yesterday. (Congolese background, male university student) The politics of Othering erodes the social base of dignity and self-​respect (Nussbaum, 2019). The accounts of the youth in my study show how the

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  211 permanence of Otherness diminishes people’s affiliations and sense of belonging. No matter how long they have lived here as citizens, they are always considered refugees. Even worse, they are subjected to public racial vilification. For example, the “crime gangs” narrative (see Chapter 9) uses physical and cultural differences to propagate negative stereotypes against African youth. It breeds suspicion towards all Black people. Expressions of negative stereotypes range from the discomfort of sitting close to a Black person on the train to outright racially motivated accusations and attacks. The African youths interviewed for this study reported a belief that the colour of their skin had defined their “collective fate”. The reality created by Australian conservative politicians and media commentators puts the burden of presumptive guilt on Black African youth: Being a young African person, I have always been judged by the character of someone else, not mine. I can catch the train or walk into any shopping centre; people will be staring at me, looking at me as part of what they call African gangs. People don’t think I’m a responsible person. I really don’t like it when I’m not being treated according to my own character. (South Sudanese background, male recent university graduate) Although every new immigrant is likely to face discrimination, the case of Black African youth is different from the history of other refugee groups who were able to shade the status of Otherness after a generation by picking up the accent and/​or anglicising their names. In the U.S., as Ignatiev (1995) showed, Irish immigrants were anchored to existing anti-​Black racist categories; they were called “niggers turned inside out” before they “became White”. Unlike the Italians, Greeks, or Arabs before them, Black Africans in Australia do not have “the proximity to Whiteness” to ease their ways to integration. They cannot change the colour of their skin! They can only hope for changes in the minds and hearts of their fellow citizens. This permanence of Otherness stems from non-​ recognition by mainstream society; it constitutes a deeper form of exclusion—​a denial of equal dignity. In their new home, Black Africans may have narratives but no name; they are known simply as “of African appearance”. But all is not lost. Refugees are not forever defined by their vulnerability. In fact, as refugees embark on agonising journeys with uncertainty and search for “a new beginning”, they demonstrate a strong sense of determination, strength, and resiliency (d’Agnese, 2020). Notwithstanding the many challenges they face during and after displacement, refugees are not solely defined by violent events. Refugees are highly resilient. Most of them escaped war and overcame loss and adversity. Refugees cross cultural and political borders with the determination to recreate their lives and strive in foreign lands. The youth also have strong educational aspirations. Their sense of optimism is instrumental for them to bounce back from hardship and imagine a better life ahead. In fact, in many cases, the experience of displacement and hardship has made African refugees antifragile. Nassim N. Taleb defined antifragility as an ability to grow

212  Integration outcomes stronger after a shock in life—​the ability “to take form after disorder” (2012, p. 21). It is the aptitude to bounce back from hardship and attain a better condition. Taleb (2012) argued, “Antifragility is beyond resilience or robustness. The resilient resists shocks and stays the same; the antifragile gets better” (p. 27). He uses the metaphors of fire and wind to highlight how challenges can enrich life: “Wind extinguishes a candle and energises fire”, and in life, “you want to be the fire and wish for the wind” (p. 26). In other words, antifragile people use challenges in order to learn, adapt, and grow. Antifragility entails both the capacity to bounce back (i.e. resilience) and get stronger as a result of the challenges people encounter. Recognising the antifragility of refugee youth is a form of asset-​framing that challenges our cynical dispositions to define people in terms of their problems. African heritage youth from refugee backgrounds who participated in the study that informed this book suggested that stressors such as targeted racism, discrimination, and financial hardship had empowering effects. These experiences made them determined to find meaning in their past and present experiences and imagine a better life ahead. One participant, who came to Australia as a refugee from Ethiopia, reflected on how his difficult life-​course trajectories have prepared him to succeed in his education and life: When I was in Ethiopia, when I was in grade nine, war broke out between Ethiopia and Eritrea. I quit school and joined the Ethiopian army. And I ended up being a prisoner of war … I was in prison for seven years. But to be honest, that experience made me strong. That experience taught me not to give up easily, and not to lose hope. Just to keep fighting. And so, I use that determination for my schoolwork as well. When I came here, I set a goal for myself. I said to myself, “I want to be not just a good citizen; I want to be a productive citizen of this great nation.” Antifragile individuals do not just withstand disaster but are strengthened by it. Stressors help us learn, adapt, and grow. Speaking metaphorically, Taleb stated that wind extinguishes a candle but energises a fire and added, “You want to be the fire and wish for the wind” (2012, p. 2). Notwithstanding the hurdles they have faced along the way (including educational disruption, family separation, war trauma, financial difficulties and sociocultural challenges, including racism), African refugee youth achieve significant socioeconomic outcomes after settlement. Manifestations of the antifragility of African refugees are evident in their educational attainment, professional career trajectories, and active civic participation. Even so, the story of antifragile refugees should not be used as the sole measure of successful integration. The extraordinary achievements of a few cannot be widely replicated. Commenting on former South Sudanese refugee Peter Bol’s 2020 Olympic achievements, lawyer and human rights advocate Nyadol Nyuon cautioned, “I don’t wish for Bol’s achievements to be the standard one must attain to be accepted into society. We will be equally caged, as we often are, by such a narrative” (Nyuon, 2021, para. 12).

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  213 Individuals such as Albert Einstein, Sigmund Freud, Hannah Arendt, Karl Marx, Leon Trotsky, Karl Popper, Madeleine Albright, Henry Kissinger, Dame Stephanie Shirley, and the current Dalai Lama are among the countless refugees that overcame challenges to make significant contributions to humankind. In Australia, notable people from refugee backgrounds, including Anh Do (comedian), Judy Cassab (artist), Karl Kruszelnicki (scientist), James Spigelman (lawyer), Harry Triguboff (property tycoon), Les Murray (television presenter), and Frank Lowy (businessman), have made immense contributions to the socioeconomic and cultural lives of society. African refugees, like other forcibly displaced people, are resilient. They have escaped war and overcome colossal adversity. They have left their possessions and connections behind with a leap of hope and determination to recreate their lives somewhere else. African heritage refugees have enriched Australian life in various domains. The list of successful African refugees includes Majak Daw (the first Sudanese Australian to be drafted to an Australian Football League [AFL] club in 2009), Aliir Mayom Aliir (South Sudanese-​ origin AFL player), Hussein Haraco (Somali-​origin businessman), Halima Mohamed (Somali-​origin social entrepreneur), Wondimu Alemu and Abera Ayalew (Ethiopian-​origin restaurant owners), Nyadol Nyuon (South Sudanese-​ origin commercial lawyer and human rights activist), Deng Adut (South Sudanese-​origin criminal lawyer and NSW Australian of the Year 2016), Fikre Reta (Ethiopian-​origin taxi owner and widely recognised community leader), Aminata Conteh-​ Biger (Sierra Leonean-​origin philanthropist and performer), and Dr Berhan Ahmed (Eritrean-​origin social activist and Victorian Person of the Year 2009). In short, like other migrants, African heritage Australians are committed to making a niche for themselves by the sweat of their brows. 10.3  Implications for policy and practice As we have witnessed in the last few years, the arrival of refugees at national borders and neighbourhoods triggers a nativist backlash. Often without overt aggression, refugees are often marginalised and derided. Especially when the newcomers are culturally and racially distinctive from the destination society, boundaries of difference emerge everywhere. Those who make a living from societal anxiety criminalise Black African youth and stigmatise them as unsuitable for integration. For them, Black African youth are not just different; they are dangerous and undesirable too. Measured in terms of educational attainment, gainful employment, and substantive opportunities for social engagement and cultural recognition, integration outcomes of African youth remain poor. The moral obligation to care for the disadvantaged partly stems from our shared humanity, international commitments, and political positions. When society is reluctant to provide the necessary resources for meaningful integration, refugee youth are likely to live on the margins where they can grow

214  Integration outcomes desperate and disengaged. The continuing marginalisation of immigrants is a stain on the social fabric and deserves urgent public attention. Improving integration outcomes of the group requires policies that expand their capabilities—​ their ability to be and do what they reflectively value. It is critical to expand educational opportunities, improve access to the labour market (e.g. through recognition of prior learning and qualifications), combat racial stigma, and address other mechanisms of exclusion. Where to from here? What can we do differently to promote the integration of African heritage youth from refugee backgrounds? Without the necessary public action, as Bauman (2004) warned us, refugees are destined to be permanently excluded: to be “human waste, with no useful function to play in the land of their arrival” where their “prospects of being recycled into legitimate and acknowledged members of human society are, to say the least, dim and infinitely remote” (pp. 76–​78). The social justice test of a public policy primarily lies in its ability to benefit the most disadvantaged in society. In this respect, what can be done differently to capitalise on the positive outcomes of Australia’s migration and multicultural policies and support the successful integration of African refugees? The preceding chapters showed that the educational disadvantage of people from refugee backgrounds should not be studied in isolation from events across time and in other domains of life. We need to account for life-​course trajectories and appreciate the cumulative effect of difficult life experiences on the group’s educational journey and attainment. In the remainder of this chapter, I briefly outline a set of ideas that I believe can help enhance the educational attainment and integration outcomes of AHAY-​ R. I specifically call for expanding evaluative spaces of refugee disadvantage, capitalising on the strengths of refugee youth, and promoting cultural citizenship of visibly different ethnocultural groups. 10.3.1  Expanding evaluative spaces of refugee disadvantage

In policy and research processes, what we find often depends on where we look; our informational basis of judgement, in part, determines the kind of problem we respond to. By representing issues in a particular way, policy defines who gets what in society. The representation of the problem to be addressed reveals the assumptions and values of the policymakers. How a policy problem is framed determines which strategies are selected, the potential beneficiaries, and the likelihood of addressing the problem. As Bacchi (2009) argued, “Since how you feel about something determines what you suggest doing about it, it is equally true to say that looking at what is proposed as a policy intervention will reveal how the issue is being thought about” (pp. 2–​3). The framing of public issues conveys at once what is seen as a problem worth addressing and what remains unproblematic. For example, beyond measuring opportunities and outcomes of target groups in education equity research, we need to consider the substantiveness of opportunities as well as the subjective conditions and the objective contexts that mediate how people transform the resources

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  215 available to them into outcomes. Bearing this in mind, this chapter proposes an expanded evaluative framework consisting of five spaces of assessment: position and disposition, capital interaction, capability expansion, conversion ability, and conditioned choices. In designing and enacting refugee resettlement and integration policies and programmes, we need to be mindful of the target groups’ early disadvantages, sociocultural resources, adaptive preferences, and conversion abilities. It is critical to appreciate how societal arrangements, environmental conditions, and personal circumstances mediate one’s ability to take up educational opportunities made possible through equity considerations. As noted in Chapter 3, seen from the capability perspective, the inequality of outcomes is unjust if it is a consequence of differences in conditions (if people are not equally positioned to take advantage of opportunities, including those made available through equity provisions). Hence, in assessing integration outcomes of refugees, the key criteria of evaluation should be people’s capabilities—​the real opportunities people have to be and do what they have a reason to value—​rather than simply the quantity of resources they have access to or their self-​reported happiness. In other words, a person’s capability is measured by the options available to be and do what they reflectively value in life. For instance, while African refugee youth in Australia may or may not transition to HE, the notion of educational capability seeks to capture whether they could transition to HE if that is what they reflectively consider valuable. The focus is on whether people could be well educated. It is concerned with both the availability of educational opportunities and the relevance of the opportunities to the needs and situations of policy targets. An expansive view of the disadvantage of the refugee youth recognises the need for (a) addressing structural factors of exclusion, (b) recognising individual heterogeneities, and (c) providing substantive opportunities that can be converted into valued outcomes. Beyond assessing the availability and sufficiency of social arrangements, it is equally imperative to investigate how refugees negotiate, interpret, and appropriate the conditions of social integration in host societies. Promoting the social integration of refugees also necessitates removing structural unfreedoms, such as the racial vilification of Black Africans in the public sphere. Racialising youth offending generates stress across all African refugee youth, which can impede their learning and social engagement. The inability to “appear in public without shame” is a negative conversion factor that results in capability deprivation. At a policy level, reframing educational disadvantage as capability deprivation directs our attention to the social abilities of refugee youth—​including their substantive freedom “to appear in public without shame” and “to take part in the life of the community” (Sen, 2000, p. 13). Beyond numerical targets, addressing injustice requires challenging subtle institutionalised impediments that deprive individuals and groups of respect and recognition and prevent them from “participating on a par with others” (Fraser, 2001). Educational institutions can also play a pivotal role in promoting cultural awareness inside and outside the classroom. For Black African students, being recognised means being accepted

216  Integration outcomes for who they are as they name themselves and becoming worthy members of the school/​university communities. Relatedly, providing genuine educational opportunities starts with policy recognition of refugees’ disadvantages within and outside educational settings. Specifically, it is timely for HE policymakers to carefully consider the unique life-​courses of the group and recognise refugee status as a category of disadvantage. Policy recognition provides refugee youth who fall outside of the national school compulsory age (5/​6–​16/​17) with a “second chance” for learning. For example, the “catch-​up schooling” offered for young refugees (6–​18 years old) ought to be extended to young adult refugees. Diversifying the existing pathways to HE might also benefit refugee youth. The effective freedom of disadvantaged people depends partly on their ability to use the resources available to them. The notion of conversion factors shifts our attention from the availability of opportunities to the ability of equity groups to take up these opportunities. It helps us not to misread the impact of social constraints by exclusively focusing on subjective attributes, such as grit, aspiration, and choice. Possessing resources is crucial, but the assessment of advantage should not stop there. Disadvantage is not necessarily limited to a lack of material and symbolic resources. People can be disadvantaged when circumstances beyond their control (e.g. being forcibly displaced) circumscribe their ability to access and benefit from opportunities, including resources, recognition, and representation. Conversion ability highlights that people of different social and cultural origins may not benefit equivalently from the “same” provisions of equal access to HE. For instance, a young refugee-​background Ethiopian woman in rural Victoria and a young Australian-​born White man who lives in a high SES Melbourne suburb are not equally positioned to transform the available resources (e.g. the option to go to university) into valued outcomes (e.g. transition to HE, successful degree completion, and subsequent paid employment). In other words, a fair distribution of resources only takes us halfway to addressing inequality. Genuine equity entails access to resources and the conversion of these into valuable and valued outcomes. Transformative refugee resettlement and integration policies and programmes need to nurture responsive aspirations and expand the capacity of newcomers to navigate the complex trains of education and employment in their new homes. A person’s aspiration is responsive when they, against the backdrop of emerging opportunities or challenges, redefine what they see as a feasible option. In other words, individuals with responsive aspirations are disposed to adapt to evolving social arrangements and emerging possibilities. In the context of new opportunities and options, people tend to deliberate on their values and future goals—​they develop responsive aspirations that align with emerging opportunities. That is to say, how refugees form “senses of viable future possibilities” (Zipin et al., 2015) can be shaped by material and symbolic resources. The policy implication is that, beyond measuring the achievement of “agency goals” set in a context of deprivation, equity programmes should

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  217 also consider sociocultural factors that inform the educational preferences and choices of people from disadvantaged backgrounds, including refugee youth. The point is that disadvantaged people can make their own educational choices without adjusting their preferences to their circumstances. Without intervention to disrupt adaptive preferences, disadvantaged people are more likely to develop a sense of “putting up with fate” and conform to conditions of unjust inequality. In preparing young people for transitions, schools need to appreciate their life-​course and the centrality of human agency in directing this course. According to Yang (2014), “People who are inherently disadvantaged in a particular field would naturally adjust their aspirations (one’s embodiment of habitus) and very often turn to self-​elimination without consciously assessing the real chances of success” (p. 1527). In the context of preferences for degrees and institutions, this form of self-​exclusion is expressed in students’ tendency to lower their expectations based on their assessment of what is or is not possible within their own situations. But this group have also arrived in their destination societies with a level of disadvantage not previously experienced by other cohorts of refugees. They have spent years in temporary refugee camps with little or no educational opportunities. They continue to live with experiences of trauma and isolation (Molla, 2021a). As a result, they face unique challenges in fulfilling their aspirations for a better life in their new homeland. In policy terms, beyond the “aspirations-​raising” logic that underpins the equity programme in the Australian HE system (e.g. HEPPP), it is equally imperative to consider generative structures (e.g. disadvantaged life-​ courses and circumstances of preference formation) that might have informed educational choices of equity targets. 10.3.2  Recognising refugees as equity targets

The racialisation of youth violence obscures the socioeconomic factors that underlie refugee youth disengagement and the increased contact they have with the justice system. It is only through unmasking the structural factors of disadvantage, putting refugees on the margin of society, that we can reimagine a fair alternative to these existing arrangements. In this respect, providing genuine educational opportunities necessitates policy recognition of the disadvantages refugees face within and outside educational settings. Specifically, it is time for education policymakers to carefully consider this group’s unique life-​courses and recognise refugee status as a category of disadvantage that deserves public action. The educational capabilities of refugees can be enhanced by public action, since there is “a deep complementarity between individual agency and social arrangements” (Sen, 1999, p. xii). Federal, state, and territory governments must commit to providing economic resources and social opportunities supporting refugee integration. Without substantive educational opportunities, structural barriers may permanently leave African communities on the fringe of Australian society.

218  Integration outcomes Recognising the unique challenges of refugees enables institutions to support the navigational capacity of this group. Providing timely and relevant information about available options enables refugee youth to explore, and benefit from, existing opportunities, including alternative pathways to HE. In secondary schools, targeted educational and career advice services can be instrumental in changing a youth’s conditioned preferences while helping them to make informed choices. The navigational capacity of refugees rests on language competence and the availability of opportunities for them in evaluating options, taking risks, and negotiating pathways. As O’Shea (2019) noted, transitioning to university is a form of “boundary-​crossing”. It necessitates resources that enable young people to move into and through the HE system. Making relevant educational information and support available at the early stage of settlement can help African refugees effectively navigate their way to HE, encouraging them to take advantage of equity opportunities and provide means for them to seek help when necessary. Since most African refugees in Australia are recent arrivals, they are unlikely to have an extended social network to rely upon. Left simply as personal trouble, an individual’s inability to navigate opportunities is likely to result in self-​exclusion and societal inequality. As the majority of African refugees arrived in Australia at a young age, widening access to HE for this group will provide maximum benefits at both individual and societal levels. Widening access supports the social mobility of the refugee-​background communities and improves the human capital pool of the nation. Improved higher educational attainment does not just boost the employability and income of African refugee youth; it also equips them with the necessary skills and confidence to meaningfully engage in the political and cultural lives of the community. Conversely, without substantive educational opportunities, structural barriers may permanently leave African communities on the fringe of Australian society. In a fair society, such as Australia, any group’s lasting marginal existence will be detrimental. It undermines economic prosperity, democratic order, and social cohesion. Transformative integration policies and programmes need to see refugee disadvantage more broadly in terms of capability deprivation rather than lack of resources. Then, efforts to expand African refugees’ capability for integration would provide substantive opportunities matching the needs and conditions of the group while removing unfreedoms (such as racial bias) that constrain their ability to take full advantage of those opportunities. If transitioning into, and progressing through, HE necessitates substantive freedom to be and do what one has a reason to value, it is imperative to understand the personal characteristics, social conditions, and historical experiences that inform what one has a reason to value. Without intervention to disrupt adaptive preferences, deprived people are more likely to develop a sense of “putting up with fate” and conform to conditions of unjust inequality. The government also has an opportunity to ensure that children from refugee backgrounds start school on

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  219 an equal footing, which entails widening access to quality and affordable early childhood education care services. 10.3.3  Capitalising on the strengths of refugees

Migrants bring cultural resources that enable them to adapt to their new homeland and enrich society in general. Like all migrants, Africans bring their own values, language, culture, religion, and experiences with them, enriching Australia’s educational environments and social fabric. Universities should recognise that valuing the cultures and histories of refugees in classrooms enriches the learning experiences for all. Teachers can integrate these positive attributes in ways to design learning experiences that benefit all students. Increased cultural diversity on campus can also attract more students from traditionally underrepresented sections of society. Refugees bounce back from hardship and come with valuable resources that can enrich the destination societies. Pickren (2014) succinctly put it: Every human being grows up in a culture that teaches them, explicitly and implicitly, how to be human, from dietary practices to relational practices to health care, and so on. These are resources with which to engage the world. Immigrants and refugees bring these resources with them, that is, they know how to relate, to self-​care, to be human, reflexively. [They] bring with them resources that can help them adjust to the new society and that will also enrich the host society. (p. 19) Nevertheless, the valuable assets of refugees are often poorly appreciated. The prevalence of the neoliberal logic of individualising risks and opportunities means that, more often than not, we tend to see resilience in isolation from the sociocultural and economic contexts of the person. In reality: … successful integration depends on doing things with them [refugees], recognizing their formidable strengths and aspirations. There exists a mutual obligation. In return for government support in navigating the settlement process, refugees will be empowered to take responsibility for seizing the opportunities provided for economic and social participation. That balance is the key to allowing refugees to take back control of their lives in a new land. (Shergold et al., 2019, p. 73) One way of ensuring the relevance and sufficiency of educational opportunities is through public consultation. Broad-​based community consultation enables governments to understand the specific conditions and needs of refugees. Clarity on those issues, in turn, makes it possible for policymakers to ensure that educational and employment opportunities are adequate, relevant, and

220  Integration outcomes convertible. Left unaddressed, structural barriers may leave African communities on the fringes of society. Capitalising on the strengths of refugees also means considering their diverse perspectives in policy processes. In a truly democratic, just, and multicultural society, members of minority groups participate in the processes by which decisions affecting their lives are made. Australian politician Al Grassby (1973) stressed, “Justice demands that those who obey the rules should have some say in making them” (p. 9). In the final analysis, empowering the disadvantaged is good for all. Think of the African relational moral philosophy of Ubuntu (a Nguni Bantu term for humanness). The philosophy of Ubuntu underscores that people derive their personhood through their relationships to other people. At the core of the philosophy is the assertion: I am because I belong, and what dehumanises others inexorably dehumanises me. In his “Longford Lecture” (London), Desmond Tutu—​the South African archbishop, human rights champion, and 1984 Nobel Peace Prize winner—explained the power of Ubuntu as follows: Ubuntu is the essence of being human. We say a person is a person through other persons. We are made for togetherness, to live in a delicate network of interdependence. The totally self-​sufficient person is sub-​human, for none of us comes fully formed into the world. I need other human beings in order to be human myself. I would not know how to walk, talk, think or behave as a human person except by learning it all from other human beings. For ubuntu, the summum bonum, the greatest good is communal harmony. Anger, hatred, resentment all are corrosive of this good. If one person is dehumanized, then inexorably, we are all diminished and dehumanized in our turn. (Tutu, 2004, para. 13) Capitalising on the strengths of African youth also means using an asset-​ based framing of policies and programmes that target the group. The notion of asset-​based framing emphasises the importance of “supporting people through recognising, valuing, and building strengths, skills and talents, without disregarding the structural, social and economic challenges or circumstances an individual may be confronted with” (Garven et al., 2016, p. 24). It recognises self-​efficacy, aspiration, and confidence as well as the experience, knowledge, skills, and attitudes of refugee-​ background young people. An asset-​ based framing is not blindsided by limitations—​“Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done” (Stevenson, 2014, p. 76). Speaking to Krista Tippett—​ the host of the “On Being” podcast—​social entrepreneur Trabian Shorters described asset-​framing as an act of “defining people by their aspirations and contributions, before you get to their challenges” (Tippett & Shorters, 2022, para. 14). He added: Whatever is going on in someone’s life, you don’t ignore it, but you don’t define them by the worst moment or the worst experience or the worst

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  221 potential; none of that. You have to look past their faults, to see who they really are. (para. 14) Unlike the deficit approach, asset-​based framing does not respond to problems and try to fix people. Asset-​based framing rather identifies the strengths people possess and supports them to develop their potential. By building on what they bring, asset-​based educational policies and practices see young people as resourceful rather than deficit. When our work is guided by an asset orientation, our language does not hint at the assumption of failure or deficiency. It is critical to appreciate the antifragility of refugees. 10.3.4  Promoting cultural citizenship

A multicultural society is thought to be ideal for ensuring cultural citizenship because multiculturalism rests on the principle of mutual accommodation; refugees need to adopt the values and civic norms of the receiving society, and the latter needs to recognise and respect the cultural values and practices of the newcomers. Conversely, racial stigma devalues people and inflicts a grievous wound on their self-​esteem and undermines their self-​efficacy and aspiration for a better future, contributing to low integration. Non-​recognition, disrespect, and racial vilification are particularly injurious because they impair the positive understanding of self. Sustained exposure to humiliation and shame causes the internalisation of low self-​efficacy that limits action even when the original threat is removed. When you receive perpetual messages that attack your sense of ease with who you are, your sense of self-​worth is undermined, and your aspirations are tamed. The resultant effect is emotional ill-​being. In his classic work on social power, renowned psychologist and civil rights activist Kenneth Clark (1989) observed that people “whose daily experience tells them that almost nowhere in society are they respected and granted the ordinary dignity and courtesy accorded to others will, as a matter of course, begin to doubt their own worth” (p. 64). The negative meanings associated with people of African descent obscure their actual identity and deprive them of cultural citizenship and full societal belonging. As discussed in Chapters 2, 8, and 9, AHAY-​R live with a stigmatised identity. They are stereotyped as threatening and face the sting of disrespect on a daily basis. Black African youth are represented as dangerous and undesirable. This pervasive public assault on their worth represents the deprivation of cultural citizenship. The racialisation of violence perpetuates the permanence of Otherness these people face and creates a “hierarchy of belonging” whereby different categories of people are constructed as having greater or lesser rights to belong. A racial stigma is a form of unfreedom—​a barrier to respectful relationships. Without equal recognition (including the right to dignified representation) and equitable access to socioeconomic opportunities, African refugees cannot become full members of society—​they are destined to remain on the margin.

222  Integration outcomes The soothing narrative of multiculturalism and the veneer of normality should not mask the reality of racism. Racism is a widespread problem in Australia (Elias et al., 2021; Markus, 2021; Molla, 2021b; Watkins et al., 2019). Notwithstanding the multicultural statement (outlined in Chapter 5), ethnocultural minorities (including people from Australia’s First Nations and Black African backgrounds) face racial stigmatisation. In August 2018, in his final remark as an Australian Race Discrimination Commissioner, Dr Tim Soutphommasane cautioned: We must remain vigilant because race politics is back …. In one sense, race and racism have never gone away. This is the paradox of our multiculturalism: for all we have been transformed into a diverse and vibrant nation, racism remains alive in our society, and not only as a vestige of an old bigotry and chauvinism. (2018, para. 13) For Black youth, the indignities and wounds of racial Othering are all too common. And yet, even in the context of progressive academics, discussion on and about racism is not encouraged. Racism is a belief system that connects people’s behaviour, social position, and moral characteristics with their biological features, including physical appearance and genetic heritage—​ and it is “more real and harmful when it is imperceptible, when it is a matter of the unsaid” (Taguieff, 2001, p. 43). In most cases, talking about experiences of racism is seen as shaming, accusatory, or divisive. Racism appears to be condoned through silence or avoidance. Promoting cultural citizenship means fully appreciating the damage of the racialisation of violence against people of African heritage. It underscores the urgency of tackling systemic unfreedoms that inhibit African refugees from unleashing their potential. Promoting cultural citizenship of refugees also entails recognising who is silenced, marginalised, stereotyped, and rendered invisible in the current arrangement and removing structural barriers that diminish the agency and freedom of people from minority ethnocultural groups. Cultural citizenship enables people to appear in public without fear and pursue the relational well-​being goals they value (e.g. to connect with others and participate in the community). As a signatory to the New York Declaration for Refugees and Migrants, the Australian government has agreed to support cultural citizenship of refugees. Part of the Declaration reads: We commit to combating xenophobia, racism and discrimination in our societies against refugees and migrants. We will take measures to improve their integration and inclusion, as appropriate, and with particular reference to access to education, health care, justice and language training. We recognize that these measures will reduce the risks of marginalization and

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  223 radicalization. National policies relating to integration and inclusion will be developed, as appropriate. (UN, 2016, p.8) But why do we need to promote the cultural citizenship of refugee groups? Cultural citizenship nurtures what hooks (1995) referred to as a “beloved community”; it strengthens social cohesion. Disadvantaged ethnocultural minorities with assured cultural citizenship are more likely to confidently demand respect, dignity, and opportunity. A claim for equal respect with dignified representation constitutes the basis for full citizenship. Without substantive citizenship that combines legal entitlements, economic opportunities, and cultural recognition, African youth are unlikely to become full citizens. When their cultural citizenship is not fully realised, members of visibly different minority groups are likely to feel unsafe and undervalued. As immigrants, we live an in-​between life: neither here nor there. In the case of forced immigrants, the sense of placelessness is even deeper and more chronic. The Lebanese Australian writer and academic Abbas El-​Zein captured the in-​between life of the immigrant when he wrote about his own experience: “In Lebanon, I was dead because I was no longer present and visible. In Australia, I was invisible despite my presence” (2002, p. 237). He added, “Just as [migrants] need a body to inhabit, they need an identity, a self-​image, to stare at and display” (p. 240). When visibly different minority groups are routinely racialised, meaningful integration remains unattainable. Flawed problem-​framing only leads to more damage. People who believe in absurdities act immorally and cause immeasurable suffering for those living on society’s margins. For instance, in the history of ancient psychotherapy, the practice of trepanation (i.e. the cutting of a hole in the skull) was guided by the assumption that the evil spirit trapped inside the skull caused the problem of mental illness, hence creating an opening would allow it to be released from the head (Foerschner, 2010). In the European Middle Ages, witches were incorrectly believed to cause crop failures and weather irregularities. Based on this incorrect causal belief, women were torched alive. Today, racist nativists in predominantly White societies frame Black youth as inherently dangerous, which threatens community safety and well-​being. Based on this erroneous assumption, racist politicians and media personalities work hard to criminalise, dehumanise, and punish the group. Black youth are wrongly framed as menaces to society. 10.4 Conclusion The policy implications of the discussion covered in Chapters 4–​9 have been summarised under Section 10.3. I would like to close the book with some ideas on the role of critical scholarship, educational institutions, and inclusive advocacy.

224  Integration outcomes It is a social reality that when complexity increases faster than our understanding, we develop cognitive fogginess in our vision of the events and people around us. The fog is expressed in superstitions, stereotypes, biases, and the ideological positions we hold. Critical scholarship raises questions that can help unmask the structural foundations of such beliefs and assumptions that place refugees at the margin of society. Critical scholarship should problematise the gap between the principle of equality of opportunities and the reality of persisting inequalities refugees and other disadvantaged people face. In so doing, critical scholarship helps us reimagine a fair alternative to the existing arrangement. Deficit representations of racialised groups conceal personal heterogeneities and deprive members of equal respect. Sustained advocacy work founded on critical scholarship can contribute to informing policy decisions and nurturing anti-​racist initiatives. The contribution of critical scholarship is particularly significant given that people in a position of disadvantage tend to “misrecognise” the generative mechanisms of their disadvantages as “normal”. As sociologist W. E. B. Du Bois noted over a century ago, seeing oneself through the dehumanising eyes of others—​“measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity”—​generates self-​doubt (Du Bois, 1903/​2015, p. 5). It inhibits people from being and living their true selves. Commenting on how Black Americans were socialised to hate themselves, essayist James Baldwin wrote, “What the world does to you, if the world does it to you long enough and effectively enough, you begin to do to yourself ” (Baldwin & Giovanni, 1973, p. 17). Baldwin has a point. Without critical consciousness of our reality, we are destined to live in a cycle of marginalisation and self-​exclusion. For example, as a result of frequent exposure to racial stigma, the young African Australians I interviewed in the study appeared to have accepted racial stigma and discrimination as inevitable and permanent. They saw their racial experiences as the way things were. In essence, they live in a state of subjective reification, with the tendency to internalise the apparent naturalness of the social order and not to see the systemic roots of their predicaments. Through unmasking the structural sources of youth disengagement and problematising the assumptions and beliefs of Black youth about their conditions and their experiences of racism, critical scholarship can be empowering. It can be instrumental in helping the youth see beneath the surface of naturalised phenomena that define their lives. Educational institutions can play critical roles in tackling epistemic misrepresentation, promoting intercultural understanding, and equipping African youth with accurate, critical lenses that enable them to make sense of their aspirations, opportunities, and experiences. In an inequitable society, Horace Mann, one of America’s leading public school advocates, once said, “Education, beyond all other devices of human origin, is the great equalizer—​the balance-​ wheel of the social machinery” (1848, para. 22). His words remain as true today as they were in the nineteenth century. It is critical that teachers acknowledge the experiences, conditions, values, and stories of individuals from different identity categories, including membership in minority ethnocultural groups.

Improving refugee integration: Policy ideas  225 Such a pedagogy of recognition requires teachers to adopt a rebellious attitude allowing them to denounce injustice. It demands a shift in focus from fixing students to addressing structural and relational disadvantages that push Black students into the shadows where they are only seen when they cause trouble. Equity in opportunities should also include widening disadvantaged students’ access to academically challenging curricula and providing them with enabling courses and other forms of support. Further, being alert to racial injustice (wokeness) entails raising difficult questions. It is important, for example, to ask whether racism is an expression of individual prejudice, or a collective problem infused in institutional practices and systemic arrangements. Educational institutions can also play critical roles in equipping marginalised students with critical hope—​or aspirations informed by a recognition of political, historical, and structural mechanisms underpinning their position in society as well as the possibility of positive change. Critical hope helps students develop the courage to pursue the painful path of bursting through layers of disadvantage and thriving in life (Duncan-​Andrade, 2009)—​just like a rose that grows through cracks in the concrete. It is also vital that our advocacy work is inclusive and collaborative. We (African heritage Australians) should recognise that, as permanent migrants,

Figure 10.1 Walk slowly: A poem. Source: Personal communication with Dr Yirga G. Woldeyes.

226  Integration outcomes we join a colonial settler society where the nation’s First Peoples live with legacies of land dispossession, violence, and racism (Elder, 1988; McGregor, 2002). We should face this uncomfortable reality and support the First Nations Australians’ rightful demand for genuine reconciliation and constitutional recognition. Such allyship is, in turn, possible only when we have a deeper appreciation of the history, culture, resilience, and rights of Indigenous Australians. In an unpublished work (reproduced here with permission), Ethiopian heritage Australian scholar and poet Dr Yirga Gelaw Woldeyes echoes this message of respect and learning in the bilingual (Amharic and English) lines (Figure 10.1). In her widely acclaimed book, Caste, Isabel Wilkerson used an inherited house as a metaphor to emphasise the importance of facing historical legacies of injustice with determination and a sense of responsibility: We in the developed world are like homeowners who inherited a house on a piece of land that is beautiful on the outside, but whose soil is unstable loam and rock, heaving and contracting over generations, cracks patched but the deeper ruptures waved away for decades, centuries even. Many people may rightly say, “I had nothing to do with how this all started. I have nothing to do with the sins of the past. My ancestors never attacked indigenous people, never owned slaves.” And, yes. Not one of us was here when this house was built. Our immediate ancestors may have had nothing to do with it, but here we are, the current occupants of a property with stress cracks and bowed walls and fissures built into the foundation. We are the heirs to whatever is right or wrong with it. We did not erect the uneven pillars or joists, but they are ours to deal with now. (2020, p. 16) Sustaining the old house in good condition rests on our commitment to ensuring justice, freedom, and prosperity for all. It is incumbent on us to challenge the structures of oppression, deprivation, and discrimination in society. Ensuring Australia’s prosperity and cohesion as a family of diverse and harmonious communities rests on our shared dedication to the elimination of removable injustices rather than the utopian aspiration for an ideal world of justice. Seen from the perspective of the Senian comparative view of justice, the priority of equity provisions should be to remove unjust inequalities and unfreedoms from the everyday lives of the disadvantaged. Justice is articulated, normative, and ideal, whereas injustice is lived, practical, and tangible. In policy processes, we engage with the real to achieve the ideal. Public action towards refugee education and integration needs to be viewed from this perspective. The realisation of our aspirations for a prosperous, sustainable, and just society predicates in part on our commitment to protecting the rights of minoritised groups and providing equitable opportunities to those on the margin.

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Index

Note: Figures are indicated by italics. Tables are indicated by bold. Endnotes are indicated by the page number followed by ‘n’ and the endnote number e.g., 20n1 refers to endnote 1 on page 20. A Fair Chance for All 5, 92, 209 Abbott, T. 183 Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander 36n5, 92 Abur, W. 1, 151, 162 academic: assessment 96; development advisor 96; preparation 48, 71, 80, 95; skills 70, 74, 119–​20; support 54, 72, 74, 77 acculturation 77, 138–​41, 149, 197 acculturative stress 149, 163, 197; see also stress adaptive preferences 52, 58, 125, 127–​8, 215, 217–​18 Adelaide 184 Adut, D. T. 213, 172 advocacy 12, 36, 153, 174, 207, 223–​5 affective dissonance 169, 208 African gangs 34, 128, 146, 168, 199–​201; see also crime gangs African heritage Australian youth from refugee backgrounds (AHAY-​R) 50, 65, 129, 172, 214 African migration 17–​18 Afrophobia 183, 201 agency (action) 42, 44–​7, 50–​4, 56, 58–​9, 71–​2, 151–​2, 195, 216–​17 Ager, A. 44, 141, 166 Agier, M. 4, 31 Ahmed, B. 213 Ahmed, S. 150–​1 Akok, A. N. 184 Albright, M. 213 Alcoff, L. M. 179

Alemu, W. 213 Alice Springs (Mparntwe) Education Declaration 90–​1, 101 alienation 2, 71–​2, 103, 124, 149–​50, 173, 189; see also self-​alienation alienative dispositions 122 Aliir Mayom, A. 213 Alkire, S. 44 Allport, G. 142, 185 Al-​Natour, R. 30, 32 alternative pathways 51, 57, 69–​73, 75–​7; 79, 82–​3, 93, 95–​8, 101, 113, 117–​18, 122–​3, 126–​7, 216, 218 Amartya Sen, A. 43 America 141, 184, 201 see also United States (U.S.) anchoring 29–​33 Anderson, E. 137, 139 Anderson, Z. 32, 147 Andrews, D. 165 Andrews, K. 144 Anglicising names 34 antifragility 207–​13, 221 antisocial behaviour 163, 169, 173, 188–​9, 198–​9, 201 Antony-​Newman, M. 71 anxiety 30–​1, 128, 149, 166, 184, 188, 197; politics of 190; see also scholastic anxiety; societal anxiety Appadurai, A. 40, 49–​51, 53, 57, 80, 126, 189 Arab 7, 32, 35, 211 Ardern, J. 201 Arendt, H. 149, 213

Index  231 Arnot, M. 166 Asia 24, 26, 147 Asian 27, 32, 165 aspirations 44, 49–​59, 66–​9, 71, 73, 76–​7, 79–​84, 216–​7, 219–​21, 224–​6; see also raising aspirations assets 48, 53, 55, 66–​7, 126, 172, 219 assimilation 25, 31, 139–​40, 143, 146–​7, 167 asylum-​seekers 24, 97 Augoustinos, M. 35, 180 Australian Associated Press 165 Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) 2, 23, 29, 115–​17, 138, 142–​4, 163–​4 Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority (ACARA) 69 Australian education system 50, 91, 120 Australian Government 90–​3, 101, 103, 107, 117, 145–​6, 152, 158, 209 Australian Human Rights Commission (AHRC) 2–​3, 35, 120, 180 Australian Institute of Health and Welfare (AIHW) 163 Australian Tertiary Admissions Rank (ATAR) 72, 80, 96, 119 Ayalew, A. 213 Azmanova, A. 189–​90 Baak, M. 35, 180, 184 Bacchi, C. 98, 214 Baker, E. 65 Baker, S. 6, 65, 113, 122 Baldwin, J. 141–​2, 224 Balibar, E. 184, 189 Ball, S. 90, 94–​6, 98 Baltic states 24 Bandura, A. 52, 74, 77, 80–​1 Banting, K. 32, 146 Bauman, Z. 30–​1, 46, 152, 165–​6, 188, 190, 214 Beaman, J. 149 Becker, S. O. 42 Bell, V. 104 belonging 32–​5, 69, 112, 120, 140–​1, 150–​3, 166–​72, 180–​1, 193–​4, 197–​202, 210–​11, 221; at university 112–​13, 216–​17; see also affiliation Bentham, J. 43 Bergmann, E. 34 Berlant, L. 52, 127 Berry, J. W. 89, 138–​41 Betts, A. 4, 19, 174, 190

Black Africans 7–​8, 17, 27, 31, 34–​6, 120, 129, 150, 152–​3, 173–​4, 183, 210–​11, 215 Block, P. 89, 151 Blyth, M. 199 Bol, P. 212 Bolt, A. 152, 182, 189 Bonilla-​Silva, E. 122 Bosnian persons 34 Bottomley, G. 30, 51 Bourdieu, P. 48, 51–​2, 66, 68, 73, 79, 100, 118, 127, 149, 188 Bowe, R. 96 Bozalek, V. 106 Bradley report 93 Bradley, D. 51, 67, 93, 103, 209 Brazil 34 Brenner, N. 99 bridging courses 96 bridging programmes 95, 117 Britain 18, 146 British persons 23, 24, 167 Brubaker, R. 185–​7 bursaries 119; see also scholarships Busch, A. 103 Buzan, B. 30 Calwell, A. 23–​5, 31 Camus, R. 34 Canada 21, 34, 123, 143 capabilities 46–​50, 53–​5, 80, 113, 214–​15, 217 career: advice 57, 73–​4, 77–​8, 83–​4, 218; advisor 65, 69–​70, 72, 78–​80, 82–​3, 125, 172; conversations 82; coordinator 70, 79; planning 72–​3; practitioner 71, 73–​4, 79, 82, 117; see also occupation Cassab, J. 213 Castells, M. 34 Castillo, R. 34 Castoriadis, C. 187, 196, 210 categorisation 121–​2, 185–​6, 191–​3, 195, 209 category of disadvantage 90–​1, 97–​8, 100–​1, 106–​07, 138, 152, 207, 216–​17 Central African Republic 29, 200 Central America 20 Central Europe 21 Cerna, L. 112 Cerulo, K. A. 68 Channel 7 182 children 22, 71, 75, 79–​80, 82–​4, 102–​3, 124, 159–​61, 218–​19

232 Index Cho, S. 170 Chomsky, N. 33 Christianity 192 citizenship (substantive) 6, 22, 36, 45, 104, 148–​9, 151, 166, 172, 193, 223; see also cultural citizenship civic: engagement 137; membership 148; narrative 196; norms 148, 180, 221; participation 44, 212; spheres 141 civil: rights 194, 221; war 18, 21, 27 Claassen, R. 50, 68 Clark, K. B. 194, 221 Clarke, M. B. 196 class (social) 45, 48, 102, 170 Clifton, J. 179 Coalition of Australian Governments (COAG) 72, 90–​1, 100–​1 cognitive: bias 199; capacity 179; effort 185; engagement 69; fogginess 224; functioning 122; investment 69; locks 199; processes 187; schema 185, 187; sensibilities 196; skills 79; tools 81; walls 148 Cohen, S. 33 Colic-​Peisker, V. 34, 151 Collier, P. 4, 19 Colombo Plan 145 colonialism 18, 191 Comim, F. 127 Committee for Economic Development of Australia (CEDA) 163 Commonwealth: countries 27; government 2, 75, 91–​4, 145; laws 24; -​supported places 94 communism 19, 21 community 42, 91, 101, 105, 124, 142, 146, 161–​2, 165, 169, 179, 183, 193, 201, 222, 226; African 29, 35, 59, 65, 76, 78, 113, 120, 129, 161, 169, 174, 179, 199–​201, 217–​18, 220 completion: course 3, 93–​6, 117, 123–​5, 216; data 6, 117, 123–​4 conditioned: aspirations 58–​9, 68; choice 44, 51–​3, 58, 215 Congolese 121, 161, 168, 210 Conteh-​Biger, A. 213 Convention Governing the Specific Aspects of Refugee Problems in Africa 20 Convention of 1938 Concerning the Status of Refugees Coming from Germany 20 Convention Relating to the International Status of Refugees 20

Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees 1, 20, 24 conversion ability 44, 47–​9, 57, 215–​16 conversion factors 47, 216 Cooper, A. 197 Council of Australian Governments 72, 90–​1, 101 COVID-​19 129, 174 Crenshaw, K. 105, 170 Creswell, J. W. 4 crime 31–​3, 146, 163–​5, 182–​4, 191, 194, 197, 199–​200; gangs 31–​2, 104, 128, 146, 152, 164, 168, 180–​2, 184, 194, 200, 211 Crime Statistics Agency (CSA) 164 criminal activity 33, 121, 163, 168, 181, 184, 187 criminalisation 182, 184, 213, 223 criminality 32, 104, 128, 181, 200 critical hope 225 Crul, M. R. J. 112 Cukier, K. 30 cultural: adaptation 2, 141, 167; capital 73, 118, 207; citizenship 148–​9, 151, 153, 159, 165–​70, 172–​4, 194, 201, 214, 221–​3; diversity 36, 84, 91, 137–​9, 142–​6, 152, 190, 219; groups 200; heritage 139, 167; identity 30, 83, 139, 141, 158; inclusivity 77; invisibility 149; misunderstanding 121; practices 35, 120, 179, 210; representation 137, 171 cumulative disadvantage 103, 107, 113, 172 Cunneen, C. 30–​1 curriculum 43, 69, 71–​2, 75, 102, 225 Cuthbert, D. 162 Czarniawska, B. 4 Czechoslovakia 24 d’Agnese, V. 211 Daily Mail 182 Dalai Lama 213 Dale, R. 99 DandoloPartners 73 Danermark, B. 6 Daw, M. 213 Deaux, K. 30, 169, 198 decolonisation 17 Delgado, R. 128, 197 Demand-​Driven System (DDS) 93–​4 Democratic Republic of Congo 6, 28–​9, 114, 200 democratic societies 34, 45

Index  233 Dennissen, M. 183–​4 Department of the Attorney General (DAG) 5 Department of Education and Training (DET) 5–​6, 90, 96, 114, 123–​4 Department of Education, Employment and Training (DEET) 92, 102, 209 Department of Education, Employment and Workplace Relations (DEEWR) 93 Department of Education, Skills and Employment (DESE) 97 Department of Home Affairs (DOHA) 28–​9, 97, 103, 120, 138, 161 Department of Immigration and Border Protection (DIBP) 24–​6 Department of Immigration and Citizenship (DIAC) 28 Department of Premier and Cabinet 163 Department of Social Services (DSS) 2, 29, 103, 115, 161 Deppeler, J. 32, 35, 104, 180 de-​Shalit, A. 55 destination societies 29, 82, 89, 137, 139–​41, 147, 149, 158, 162, 167, 173–​4, 188–​9, 197, 210, 213, 217, 219 developed countries 17 dignified representation 36, 153, 159, 168–​70, 174, 221, 223 Dinham, A. 164 diploma 80, 95, 117 disability 47, 54, 92, 101, 103, 119, 210 disadvantaged groups 45, 67, 91, 94, 98, 102, 105, 126 Displaced Persons Scheme 23–​5, 31 displaced persons/​people 18–​22, 24, 42, 138, 174, 200, 213 displacement (forced) 18, 20–​1, 48, 54, 65–​6, 80, 122, 148, 164, 208 dispossession 31, 207, 225 distortion 99, 104–​6 Diversity and Inclusion statements 90, 101–​2 Do, A. 213 Donskis, L. 152 doxic aspirations 58, 79, 83 Drèze, J. 42, 44 Dryden-​Peterson, S. 84n1 Du Bois, W. E. B. 179, 184, 224 Duncan-​Andrade, J. M. R. 225 Durban Declaration and Programme of Action 35 Dutton, P. 146, 182–​3

Dworkin, R. 43, 55 Dyrenfurth, N. 32, 147 early disadvantage 81, 125–​7, 209 early educational disadvantage 70, 83 Earnest, J. 113 Economic, Education, Jobs and Skills Committee (EEJSC) 66, 70–​1, 73, 78 economy 23, 190, 198 Education Council 72 education system 49–​51, 70, 91, 120, 122, 127, 129, 165 Egypt 27 Einstein, A. 213 Elder, B. 225 Elias, A. 171, 222 Elias, S. M. 81 Elster, J. 53 El-​Zein, A. 223 emotion 69, 79, 125, 168, 198, 208, 221 employability 44, 59, 112, 129, 159, 161–​2, 208, 218 employers 69–​70, 72, 129 Emqueaud 145 English language 48–​51, 74, 82, 103, 122, 143, 147, 158, 167, 179, 208–​9, 225; see also non-​English speaking background (NESB) epistemic misrepresentation 51, 75, 224 Equal Opportunity Act 2010 120 equity: policy 50–​1, 56, 67, 93, 100–​3, 126, 129, 148, 209; programmes 98, 103, 106–​07, 138, 209, 216; targets 3, 43, 94, 98, 101–​3, 106, 125, 208, 217–​19; see also educational equity; university, equity group access Eritrea 28–​9, 114, 161, 200, 212–​13 essentialism 188, 192–​3 Estonia 24 Ethiopia 28–​9, 114, 192, 200 Ethiopians 150 Ethnic Communities Council of Victoria (ECCV) 162 ethnic minority 31 ethnocultural: groups 20, 35, 139, 144, 147, 167, 188, 214, 224; minorities 18, 36, 151, 153, 166, 172, 184, 222–​3; minority groups 120, 141, 190, 207 Europe 19–​21, 24, 30, 34, 147, 191 European Commission 92 European Council on Refugees and Exiles (ECRE) 158 European higher education area 123

234 Index European immigrants 31–​2, 143 European Jews 149 European refugees 22, 25 European Union (EU) 22, 34, 112, 137, 159 European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights (EUAFR) 34 evaluative framework 43–​4, 55, 215 evaluative spaces 21, 43, 54, 56, 207, 214–​17 exclusivism 194, 201 existential inequality 46, 49, 194 factors of disadvantage 103, 105, 107, 119, 124–​8, 170, 173, 210, 217 family visas 6 famine 18, 21, 27 fascism 21 federal government 93, 100, 190 Federation 24 fee exemptions 92; see also bursaries; scholarships feedback (academic) 74, 77, 81 Ferede, M. 65, 89, 112 Ferris, E. G. 20 Filipovic, J. 197 financial: hardship 67, 103, 107, 208, 210, 212; insecurity 122; support 92, 96, 119; see also welfare benefits First Peoples 31, 142, 225 first-​in-​family students 96 Fischer, E. F. 68, 80 Flukiger-​Stockton, I. 67, 112 Foerschner, A. M. 223 forced migration 18, 73 Forrest, C. 77 Forst, R. 197 Fozdar, F. 171–​2 France 18, 25, 92 Fraser, M. 24, 143, 160 Fraser, N. 104–​6, 113, 149, 170–​1, 215 Fredricks, J. 69 freedoms 47, 56–​7, 174 Freese, J. 53 Freud, S. 213 Frye, M. 170 functionings 44, 50, 53–​4 Galbally, F. 27, 143–​4 Gale, T. 51, 53, 67, 77, 90, 95–​6, 100, 122, 126 Garven, F. 220 gender 22, 47, 71, 104–​5, 170

Geneva Convention 20, 148 German Jews 25 Germans 20 Germany 92 Giovanni, N. 224 Glasgow, J. 104, 200 Glazer, N. 143–​4 Global Compact on Refugees 22 global initiatives 19–​22, 138 Global North 17–​18, 184 global protection system 22 global refugee regime 18, 21 global trends of forced displacement 21 globalisation 31, 105, 166 Goffman, E. 95–​6 Gony, Liep 184 Goodman, A. H. 192–​3 Goodwin, R. 43 Google Ngram 179 Gordon, E. 45 Grassby, A. J. 142–​3, 147, 167, 220 Graves, J. L. 192–​3 Great Replacement Theory 34 Greeks 35, 211 Guterres, A. 158 habitus 124, 217 Haene, L. De. 84 Hailu, M. F. 123 Halse, C. 69, 120 Haraco, H. 213 Harper, S. R. 71 Harris, A. 102, 113 Harris, V. 113 Harrison, D. 104, 144 Harro, B. 185 Harvey, A. 97, 151, 162 Hashimi, N. 125 Hayes, B. C. 142 Heagney, M. 151 health 55, 137, 140–​1, 171–​2, 174, 187 healthcare 219, 222 Hegel, G. W. F. 191 Hemmings, C. 198, 208 HEPPP guidelines 93, 95–​6, 98 Herald Sun 164, 182, 184 Hesse-​Biber, S. N. 4 heterogeneities 47–​8, 57, 215 hierarchy of belonging 193, 210, 221 High Commissioner for Refugees 21 High Commissioner for Refugees from Germany (HCRG) 21

Index  235 higher education (HE): access 79, 92–​5, 112–​19, 124–​9, 208–​10, 218; experiences 120–​2; qualifications 50, 66–​7, 82, 123–​4, 127, 160–​1; success 122–​4; see also university Higher Education Participation and Partnerships Programme (HEPPP) 90, 93–​8, 101–​3, 117, 209–​10, 217 Higher Education Standards Framework 90, 93–​4, 96, 101 Higher Education Support Act 92 Hilgers, M. 97 Hirst, J. 23, 25 Holocaust 148 Holtug, N. 190 home country 24, 162 homogeneity 25, 32, 107, 168, 182 Honneth, A. 195 hooks, b. 207, 223 host communities 22, 44, 126 housing 137, 141, 171–​2, 187, 194, 201 Howard government 144, 200 Howard, J. 144 Hughes, V. 84n1 Hugo, G. 28, 161–​2 human: capital 2, 59, 112, 218; rights 18–​19, 24, 148, 180 humanitarian entrants 24, 36, 74, 77, 91, 98, 101, 107, 122, 138, 146, 148–​9, 152, 160–​1 humanitarian migration programme 1, 28, 138 Humanitarian Programme 22, 26–​9; visas 24, 200 humanitarian protection framework 22 humanitarian stream migrants 28 humanitarian visa 5–​8, 27–​8 Hungary 24, 148 identity politics 30, 193 Ignatiev, N. 34, 192, 211 Ikafa, I. 196 imagined identity 35, 194 immigration policy 25, 190 Immigration Restriction Act 147 Immigration Restriction Act 1901 24–​5 Immigration Restriction Bill 25 imprisonment 24; rates 2, 159–​60, 163–​4, 198–​9 inclusion 95, 101, 107, 142, 158, 172–​3, 193, 222–​3; statements 9, 100 inclusive education 173

Index of Community Socio-​educational Advantage (ICSEA) 65, 118 Indian subcontinent 20 indicators: of disadvantage 70, 76, 163, 184; of performance 93–​4; of refugee integration 141, 159, 173 Indigenous 7, 94, 97, 101, 103, 145, 163, 210, 225 Indo-​Chinese 26 Inquiry into career advice activities in Victorian schools 78 institutional: cultures 75; 101; practice 26, 75, 77, 100, 128, 225; support 3, 106, 124–​5, 208; translation 94–​8, 102 integration outcomes 24, 34–​5, 42, 113, 135–​8, 152–​3; multicultural Australia 142–​7; multiculturalism as a strategy of integration 138–​42; walls of exclusion 147–​52 intercultural understanding 51, 128, 224 Intergovernmental Committee on Refugees (IGCR) 21 International Decade for People of African Descent 35 international initiatives 19, 35 International Organization for Migration (IOM) 21 International Refugee Organization (IRO) 21–​2, 24 intersectional: disadvantage 7, 170–​3; factors 3, 105, 122, 125, 129, 160, 173, 208 intersectionality 103, 105, 170, 210 interventions 36, 52, 58, 98, 102, 119, 174, 189, 214, 217–​18 Irish persons 34, 192, 211 Islam 191 Israel 20, 34 issue omission 98–​100, 102–​4 Italian 35, 102, 167, 209, 211 Italy 92, 190 Jack, A. A. 124 Jakubowicz, A. 28–​9, 120, 143 James, R. 103, 209 Japan 23 Jedwab, J. 143 Jervis, J. 181, 186 Jewish persons 19–​21, 25, 142, 149, 192 jobs 2, 51, 67, 78, 112, 147, 158, 160, 162, 169, 189–​90 Johnson, R. B. 4 Jones, A. 182

236 Index Joyce, A. 84n1 Jupp, J. 143–​4 justice: as parity of participation 171; juvenile 164; policy 90, 104; social 45, 48, 56–​7, 77, 98, 100, 104, 122, 153, 209, 214, 226; system 163–​4, 217; see also youth justice Kagedan, A. L. 33, 185, 190 Kalocsányiová, E. 123 Kateb, G. 194 Keddie, A. 106 Kendi, I. X. 191, 201 Keneally, T. 32 Kenya 27–​8 King, M. L. 69, 71, 141 King, R. 34 King, S. 84n1 King, S. M. 84n1, 97, 209 Kissinger, H. 213 Kolkata Declaration 22 Korean War 20 Koser, K. 24 Koyama, J. 84n1 KPMG 105 Kristeva, J. 3 Krumer-​Nevo, M. 179, 184 Kruszelnicki, K. 213 Krzych, S. 188, 190 Kubota, R. 70 Kumsa, M. K. 34 Kwakwa, M. 164 Kwansah-​Aidoo, K. 171 Kymlicka, W. 32, 146, 151, 167–​8 labour: force 23, 25, 31, 192; market 17, 44, 83, 127, 137, 147, 151, 158, 160–​1, 190, 208, 214; market integration 162–​3 Lamont, M. 34 Latin America 22 Latvia 24 law 56, 79, 148, 173, 180, 190–​1, 199–​200 League of Nations 19 learning: capacity 74, 79; culture 65, 102, 160; engagement 69–​70, 76; environment 114, 128–​9, 173; experiences 65, 75, 219; impediments 69, 76, 121–​2, 128, 169, 198, 215, 225; lifelong/​ongoing 42, 81, 216; management system 96; outcomes 42, 70; parental involvement 71, 102–​03;

perceived value 66, 69, 84; prior 92, 214; programs 75; support 95, 117, 119 Leask, B. 97 Lebanon 27, 223 legislation 94, 102, 137, 148, 183, 209 Legrain, P. 160 Lenette, C. 112 Levy, D. J. 76, 122, 128 Lewis, J. 197 liaison officer 70–​1, 75–​6, 83 Liberal 190–​1, 199 liberation movements 20 Liberia 6, 18, 28, 114 Lieberson, S. 120, 193 life-​chances 80 life-​course 5, 80–​1, 83, 125, 217; trajectories 3, 44, 48, 54, 56–​8, 71, 79, 83, 113, 125–​6, 208, 212, 214, 216 lifestyle 31, 158, 167 lifetime disadvantage 159 Lingard, B. 102, 209 Lipsky, M. 96 Lithuania 24 lived experience 5, 7, 34, 51, 72, 195, 210 location 20, 101, 105, 119, 163, 170, 192 Loescher, G. 17–​20, 22 Lomax-​Smith, J. 103, 209 London, H. 26 Losoncz, I. 169 Loury, G. 36, 76, 128, 185–​6, 196, 199 low-​skilled 162, 174 Lowy, F. 213 Macaulay, L. 32, 35, 76, 104, 180 MacDonald, F. 35, 180 MacDonald, S. 81 McGregor, R. 225 Macintyre, S. 31 MacLeod, J. 53, 66 McNay, L. 50, 53 main countries of origin of African refugees (MCOAR) 2, 5–​6, 10–​11, 28–​9, 114–​16, 123–​4, 159–​62 Majavu, M. 32, 35, 104, 180 Majier, A. M. 165 Majone, G. 98 Mangez, E. 97 Mann, H. 224 Mansouri, F. 120 Mapedzahama, V. 171 Mapping Social Cohesion Strategy 120 marginalisation 30, 140, 165, 167, 173, 183–​5, 214, 224

Index  237 Markus, A. 27, 120, 145, 150, 171, 222 Marlowe, J. 113 Marshall, C. 6 Martin, L. 13, 209 Marx, K. 213 mass displacement 18, 22, 149, 166, 184 Matthews, J. 65 mature-​age student 114–​15, 123 Mauritius 7, 27–​8 Mayer, K. U. 125 media 30–​5, 120–​1, 127, 151–​2, 164, 167–​9, 174, 180, 182–​4, 187, 196; commentators/​personalities 30, 32, 104, 152, 168, 179–​80, 190, 195, 211, 223 Melbourne 28, 69–​70, 182–​4, 197, 200 Mence, V. 25–​6, 142 Menendian, S. 184, 192–​3 mental wall 149–​50, 201 mentoring 95–​7, 101, 118–​19 metropolitan 105; see also urban Mexico 20 Michael, L. 183 microagressions 46, 74, 121, 168, 181, 195–​7 Middle East 21–​2, 27, 147, 192 Middle Eastern persons 30, 102, 209 Mifsud, N. 119, 124 migrants 2–​4, 7–​8, 22–​30, 36, 91–​2, 101–​2, 107, 112, 116, 139, 142–​7, 158–​9, 162, 167–​9, 174, 190, 196, 199, 209, 213, 219, 222–​5 Migration Act 1958 25 Migration Amendment (Strengthening the Character Test) Bill 2019 200 migration policy 18, 23, 25–​6, 142–​3, 190 Millar, R. 184 Miller, D. 138–​9 misframing 94, 98–​9, 102, 104–​06 misrecognition 105–​6, 171, 194 mixophobia 30, 188 Mohamed, H. 213 Molla, T. 2–​3, 29, 32, 35, 43, 53, 57, 68, 71, 77, 79, 90, 95–​8, 100, 104, 115, 124, 126, 151, 162, 171, 180, 200, 208–​9, 217, 222 Moomba festival 182, 184, 199 moral panic 31–​3, 35, 138, 146, 149, 164, 180 Moran, A. 139, 144 Morrice, L. 123 Moscovici, S. 29–​30, 186 Mulgan, T. 43

Multicultural Access and Equity Policy Guide 90–​1, 101, 107, 146 multiculturalism 27, 137–​53, 167–​8, 181–​2, 221–​2 Multicultural Statement 90–​1, 101, 145 multiethnic empires 19 multiscalar view of policy work 98 Murji, K. 34, 181, 187 Murray, L. 213 Muslims 8, 32 MySchool website 118 Naidoo, L. 65, 84n1, 106, 113 Nash, K. 104 National Board of Employment, Education and Training (NBEET) 92, 103, 209 National Centre for Vocational Education Research (NCVER) 114 national: initiatives 91–​2, 100, 107; security 30, 33, 148, 190 National Priorities Pool Program (NPPP) 97 nationalism 19, 148, 179–​80, 189; excessive 18, 34, 152, 179, 189, 193; racist 189 native: assets 172; labour 192; society/​ community 146–​7 Navarro, C. 120 navigational capacity 44, 49–​51, 57, 72, 80, 82, 114, 118–​19, 125–​7, 218 Nayeri, D. 159 Naylor, R. 65, 94, 96, 119, 124 Nazi Germany 19, 21 negative: racial encounters 169; representation 35, 147, 168, 173, 180–​1, 187, 190, 199; valuation 150 New South Wales (NSW) 97, 105, 164, 213 New York Declaration for Refugees and Migrants 22, 222 New York Times 18–​19 Nghiem, D. 1, 4 Nicholls, D. 36n5, 145 Nicholls, L. 36n5, 145 Nigeria 28 Nikat, S. 197 Noble, G. 30 Nolan, D. 35, 180 non-​English speaking background (NESB) 92, 102–​3, 209–​10; see also English language non-​European immigrants 26–​7, 143

238 Index non-​Europeans 25 non-​native 27 nonrecognition 194, 211 non-​refoulment 20 Nunn, C. 35, 180, 184 Nussbaum, M. C. 43–​5, 195, 197, 210–​11 Nwabuzo, O. 183 Nyuon, N. 76–​7, 151, 172–​3, 208, 212–​13 O’Connor, K. 101 O’Shaughnessy, E. 187 O’Shea, S. 58, 119, 218 objectification 29–​31, 186–​7 objective contexts 51, 66, 68, 127, 214 occupation: expectations 162; loss of 149; see also career occupational: skidding 162; socialisation 50, 81–​2; status 159, 162 Oettingen, G. 81 Offe, C. 56 Office of Multicultural Affairs 143 Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) 18, 20–​1, 159, 200 Offshore Refugee Category Visa 29, 200 offshore resettlement 24 Ogbu, J. U. 76, 169 Oliver, C. 84n1 Oliver, M. 77 Omi, M. 120, 184, 192–​3 One Nation 144 Ong, A. 17, 34, 71, 162 onshore protection claims 26 Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) 21–​2, 112, 137, 143, 159, 161–​3 Othering (racial) 33–​5, 46, 128, 149–​50, 173, 179–​202, 222 outreach 73, 93–​6, 97, 100–​1, 118 Owens, L. 84n1 Pakulski, J. 167 Panama 20 Paradies, Y. 171 parental: challenges 74; country of origin 7, 142–​4; educational attainment 67, 102, 209; engagement 66, 70–​1, 77, 82–​4, 95; expectations 71, 77, 79, 82–​3, 118, 165; misconceptions 77–​9, 82–​3, 124; support 77 Parker, S. 51, 53, 67 Parliament of Commonwealth of Australia (PCA) 199–​200

Parliament’s Migration Committee 199 partnerships 72, 93, 95, 101, 117–​19 Passeron, J.-​C. 51, 68, 127 pedagogy 75, 102, 122, 225 peers 3, 46, 74, 77, 80, 82, 104, 122, 125, 151, 171 Perales, F. 113 performance-​based funding (PBF) 94, 96, 101 permanent humanitarian visas 28 permanent migrants 27, 102, 209, 225 permanent settlers 26–​7 persecution 18–​20, 148 persisting challenges 74–​82 personal attributes 77 personal efficacy 81, 83 personhood 46, 49, 220 physical features 24, 184, 210 Pickren, W. E. 219 Pinson, H. 166 Poland 24 police 184, 197, 200 policy: analysis 46, 90, 98; enactment 95, 98, 100; misframing 91, 98–​9, 102, 105–​6; recognition 45, 113, 216–​7; scales 99–​101 policymakers 43, 53–​4, 95, 98, 181, 148, 199, 201, 214, 216–​17, 219 Polish 146, 149 political: dissents 18; instability 17–​18; rupture 34 politicians 30–​4, 36, 104, 127–​9, 152, 164, 166, 168, 174, 179–​81, 183, 189–​90, 195–​6, 199, 211, 223 politico-​economic: agendas 193; forces 181; hostility 185; roots of racial Othering 189–​91 Popper, K. 213 populism 35, 148, 189–​90, 152 Post-​arrival Programs and Services for Migrants 143 postgraduate 92, 123–​4 poverty 18, 34, 55, 124, 163, 207 powell, j. a. 184–​5, 187, 192–​3 Poynting, S. 30, 32, 182 preference: formation 51, 68, 127, 217; satisfaction 43, 52, 54–​5 presumption of guilt 181, 197 presumptive guilt 168, 211 Prince Henry 191 prior learning 92, 214 prison 163, 212

Index  239 Productivity Commission (PC) 28, 94, 124, 142, 199–​200 professional: careers 119, 212; courses 69; occupations 72, 124, 161–​2; qualifications 26, 69 professionals 67, 102 prohibited immigrant 24 projective identification 187 protection 19–​22, 24, 26 proximity to Whiteness 35, 211 Prunty, J. 90 psycho-​cultural 187–​9 public: action 2, 36, 42, 45, 89, 119, 141, 153, 173, 198, 201, 214, 217, 226; consultation 54–​5, 219; debate 32, 146; institutions 22, 158 push and pull factors 17 Pybus, C. 27 qualifications: academic 83, 116, 118; misconceptions about 77–​8, 82–​3, 124; non-​university 172; professional 26, 69; recognition of prior 26, 214; vocational 76, 82–​3, 127; see also credentials quality of life 42, 44; see also well-​being Queensland 97, 164, 210 Racial Discrimination Act 26, 32, 120, 143 racial: bias 31, 76, 125, 165, 187, 208, 218; categorisation 185–​6, 191–​2; cognitive schema 187; criteria 26; discrimination 26, 31, 35, 49, 67, 76, 120, 122, 179–​80, 187, 189, 194–​5, 197; exclusion 25, 193; framing 31; insensitivity 75–​6, 128; microaggressions 46, 75, 121, 168, 195–​6; minorities 33, 122, 190; prejudice 31–​3, 122, 142, 165, 171, 181, 187, 191, 196; profiling 200; signification 185–​6; stereotypes 76, 125, 168, 180, 184, 187; stereotyping 32; stigma 32, 34–​5, 46, 49, 127–​8, 169, 187, 193–​5, 197–​201, 207, 214, 221–​2, 224; tensions 34; vilification 33, 57, 121, 150, 165, 172, 174, 196, 211, 215, 221 racialisation 34, 180–​1, 186–​7; of violence 33–​6, 106, 128, 148–​9, 166, 173, 179–​87, 194, 198, 200–​1, 217, 221–​2; of youth 31, 33, 35, 128, 148–​9, 166, 179–​85, 187, 201, 217 Rae, N. 192

raising aspirations 51, 67, 93, 117, 119; see also aspirations Ramsay, G. 84n1 Randa, A.-​F. 30, 32 Ransby, B. 65 Rawls, J. 43, 46, 49, 55–​6, 76, 172 reframing 57, 215 refuge 19, 30, 208 Refugee Convention 20, 24, 28 Refugee Council Australia (RCA) 28 refugee: agencies 19; camps 56–​7, 65, 73–​4, 79, 102, 120, 126, 217; crisis 19, 92, 148; -​receiving nations 30, 188; status 20–​1, 92, 94, 97–​8, 100–​1, 106–​07, 138, 152, 216–​17; visa 24, 29; youth 43–​51, 57–​9, 65–​84, 89–​90, 94, 104–​7, 112–​29, 126–​7, 138, 147–​52, 159, 162, 165, 167, 173–​4, 181, 195, 198–​9, 207–​18 regional 20, 92, 97, 101 relatedness 69 relational: barriers 44, 225; conditions 48; factors 55, 57, 127–​9; moral philosophy 220; perspectives 47; practices 219; well-​being 147, 158, 173, 222 relevance 46, 54, 57, 103, 127–​9, 209, 215, 219 religion 20, 22, 104, 191–​2, 210, 219 remote locations 47, 92, 97, 101 repatriation 20–​1 Reschly, A. 69 resettlement: and integration policies/​ programmes/​services 2, 4, 21, 24, 36, 42, 138, 147, 158, 173, 207, 215–​16; environments 34; history of forced 18–​29 resilience 32–​3, 112, 125, 212, 219, 225 resource-​based assessment 43–​4, 47, 55, 126 resources 22, 43–​50, 54–​9, 66, 70–​7, 81, 89, 95, 98–​104, 107, 120, 125–​6, 141, 148–​50, 153, 171–​2, 187, 199, 213–​19 responsive adjustment 91–​2, 95–​6, 98, 106 responsive aspirations 50, 58, 68, 118, 216 Reta, F. 213 retention 93, 95–​6, 124 risk: experiences 56–​7, 125–​6; reduction 222–​3; -​takers 84, 124–​5; taking 51, 53, 119, 218–​19 Robertson, S. 99

240 Index Robeyns, I. 43–​4 Rodney, W. 18 Roediger, D. R. 192 role models 50, 81 Rosaldo, R. 166, 169 Rossman, G. B. 6 rural 54, 92, 216 Russia 21 Russians 20 safety 33, 76, 141, 151, 167–​8, 181, 223 Said, E. 193 Sapolsky, R. 76, 121, 169 Saunders, P. G. 55 Savage, G. 90, 101–​2 scalar misalignment 98–​102, 106 Scanlon Foundation 150, 171 Scanlon, T. M. 174 scholarships 92, 95–​7, 101, 103, 119 scholastic anxiety 77; see also anxiety; societal anxiety school: education 65–​83; engagement 66, 69–​72, 75–​6, 82, 165; experiences 74, 78, 83, 128, 165, 168–​9; system 73, 75, 77, 216; see also secondary school schooling 122, 216 Scobie, C. 77 secondary adjustment 96 secondary school 51, 57–​8, 68–​70, 74, 77–​8, 118, 218; see also school sectoral policies 75, 77, 91–​4, 97–​8, 101–​2 selection procedures 26 Self 193 self: -​alienation 149, 201; -​confidence 46, 49, 76; -​development 46, 49, 194; -​efficacy 66, 74, 80–​3, 181, 22–​1; -​elimination 217; -​esteem 75, 195, 198, 221; -​exclusion 46, 50, 127, 149, 168, 195, 217–​18, 224; -​identity 151, 167–​8, 187; -​interest 67; -​isolation 198; -​perception 122; -​regulation 69, 76, 81, 195; -​reliance 42, 162; -​respect 197, 210; -​sufficiency 220; -​worth 67, 81, 168–​9, 194, 198, 221 Sen, A. 215, 217, 42–​8, 50, 52–​7, 66, 76, 83, 126–​7, 152 sense: of security 169, 171, 197; of self 195, 197, 208, 221 Serwer, A. 34 settler colonies 27–​8 settler society 31, 142, 225 settlers 26–​7, 142 sexuality 22

shame 46–​7, 50, 57, 76, 152, 169, 173, 181, 198, 215, 221 Sharia Panic 34 Shergold, P. 91, 158, 198, 219 Shirley, S. 213 Shizha, E. 123 Shorters, T. 220 Sidhu, R. 84n1, 106 Sidi, M. 179, 184 Siebers, H. 183–​4 Siegel, D. 171 Sierra Leone 28, 114 Sierra Leonean 76, 213 signification 185–​7 Simon-​Davies, J. 138, 142 Singh, P. 35, 180 skilled: and family entrants 22; entrants 17, 22–​3, 26, 160; occupations 124, 160–​2; visa 27 Skrbis, Z. 120 Sky News 182 Sladek, R. M. 84n1, 97, 209 slave: trade 192; trafficking 18 Slavic 191 social: abilities 46, 57, 76, 152, 215; actors 30; arrangements 45–​7, 50, 53–​4, 58, 66, 68, 104–​5, 126–​7, 174, 215–​17; change 31, 52; cognition 181, 199–​200; cognitive theory 80; disengagement 2, 128, 148, 159–​60, 163–​5, 199; dislocation 208–​9; engagement 2, 29, 113, 120, 128, 141, 158–​65, 170, 173, 213, 215; exclusion 90; groups 30–​1, 77, 142, 187; inclusion 90, 122; integration 2, 56, 66, 112, 116, 215; justice 48, 56–​7, 77, 98, 100, 104, 209, 214; location 51, 68; mobility 42, 59, 112, 115, 208, 210, 218; networks 34, 50, 120; opportunities 159, 165, 217; persuasion 80–​1; representations 29–​30, 32; representation theory 29; standing 44, 208; welfare 42–​3, 127; welfare theory 66 socialisation 50–​1, 68, 73, 75, 81, 118, 127, 185–​6 societal: anxiety 213; grievance 31; views 77 socio-​cognitive 181, 185–​7 sociocultural 66, 193, 212, 215–​17, 219 socioeconomic status (SES) 3, 80, 93, 103–​7, 117–​18, 125, 163, 209–​10 sociology 6–​7, 33, 48, 66, 68, 96, 120, 125, 165, 193–​4, 224

Index  241 Solomos, J. 34, 181, 187 Soltis, J. F. 194 Somalia 28, 72–​3, 114, 162 South Africa 7, 27–​8, 34 South African 27, 220 South America 17, 21, 27 South Australia 97 South Sudan 2, 6, 28, 67, 75, 114, 172, 200–​1 South Sudanese 121–​2, 151, 168–​9, 210–​13 Soutphommasane, T. 222 Spain 190 Special Broadcasting Services (SBS) 167 special consideration for higher education 48–​9, 96, 101–​2, 105, 118–​19 Special Humanitarian Programme 24 Spigelman, J. 213 Spillius, E. 187 sports 167 Squire, C. 4 stable familiarity 30, 188 Staszak, J.-​F. 33, 179, 184 Steele, C. M. 76, 128, 198 stereotype 3, 5, 33, 67, 76, 120, 125, 128, 166–​8, 180–​1, 184, 186–​7, 193, 197–​8, 208, 211, 221–​2, 224 stereotype threats 198 stereotyping 31–​2, 183 Stevenson, B. 197, 220 Stevenson, J. 6, 65, 113, 122 Stevenson, N. 166–​7 stigma consciousness 198 stigmatisation 34, 49, 76, 167, 169, 174, 194, 198, 222 stigmatised identity 172, 221 Stoler, A. L. 181 Stone, D. 104 Strang, A. 44, 141, 166 strategic calculation 73, 118 Streitwieser, B. 123 strengths 73, 207, 214, 219–​21 stress 56, 76, 120–​2, 128, 149, 163, 169, 173–​4, 197–​8, 208, 215; see also acculturative stress Strike, K. A. 194 structural barriers 2–​3, 44, 59, 94, 113, 129, 217–​18, 220, 222 Student, R. 65 subjectification 187 subjective conditions 51, 53, 66, 107, 214 subjects (academic) 43, 72, 76–​7, 80, 95–​6, 117–​19, 172

sub-​Saharan Africa 2, 6–​7, 27–​8, 183, 194 sub-​Saharan Africans 27, 102, 106 substantive opportunities 42–​7, 53–​4, 57–​9, 105–​6, 126, 138, 148, 151–​2, 159, 174, 180, 201, 213, 215, 218 success 46, 48, 51, 67–​70, 71, 73, 81–​2, 93, 97, 112–​14, 118, 120, 122–​4, 127, 129, 217 Sudan 2, 6, 28, 114, 162–​3 Sudanese persons 35, 70, 76, 150, 164, 169, 180, 183–​4, 213 Sue, D. W. 121, 168, 196 sufficiency 45, 54, 126, 215, 219 Swartz, D. 48, 51, 198 The Sydney Morning Herald 183 symbolic resources 81, 216 Taguieff, P.-​A. 222 Taleb, N. N. 211–​12 Tamiru, A. 145 Tamiru, J. 145 Tamru, A. 36n5 Tanton, R. 159, 163 Tasmania 97 Tavan, G. 26 Taylor, C. 194 Taylor, J. 197 teachers 43, 69–​70, 72, 75–​7, 80, 82–​3, 118, 121, 128, 172, 219, 224–​5 Technical and Further Education (TAFE) 72, 78, 114–​15, 118, 165 Teese, R. 105 Tehan, D. 94, 101 Terry, L. 113 Teschl, M. 127 Therborn, G. 46, 49, 194 Thomas, W. I. 194 Thompson, K. 148 Tilbury, F. 151 Tippett, K. 220 transition 65–​6, 70, 72–​4, 82–​3, 94–​5, 97, 114–​17, 122–​3, 125–​6, 162, 215–​16 trauma 45–​6, 48, 56, 65, 67, 120, 126, 141–​2, 207–​8, 212, 217 Triguboff, H. 213 Trotsky, L. 213 Truman, H. S. 45 Tsai, J. 192 Turnbull, M. 137, 142, 145–​6, 183 Tutu, D. 220 Tyson, N. D. 192

242 Index U.S. Supreme Court 144 Ubuntu 220 Udah, H. 35, 180, 210 UK Home Office 139, 141, 163 UK Home Office’s Integration Framework 141 Ukraine 24 UN Refugee Agency 125 Unangst, L. 84n1 underemployment 208 undergraduate: completions 123–​4; courses 93, 95, 117; enrolments 93–​4; qualifications 93; students 93–​4, 103 unemployment 29, 159–​63 unfreedoms 44, 46, 50, 54, 56–​7, 152, 174, 198, 215, 218, 222, 226 United Kingdom (UK) 33, 123 United Nations (UN) 19–​20, 22, 25, 35, 125, 174, 222–​3 United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) 22, 35, 159 United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) 18, 20–​2, 24, 36n3, 112, 148–​9, 159, 174, 200 United Nations Refugee Convention 28 United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Agency (UNRRA) 21 United States (U.S.) 75 Universal Declaration of Human Rights 19–​20 university: aspiration 51, 68–​9, 73, 77, 118–​19, 172; awareness 82, 127; completion/​success 122–​4; enrolment/​ completion data 113–​17, 122–​4; equity group access 93, 95–​8, 103, 105, 112, 124, 210, 48–​9; experiences 120–​2; pathways 72–​3, 76, 79, 93, 95, 97, 114, 117–​19; perceived value 51, 68–​9, 77–​8, 118, 127; policy 94, 97–​9; qualifications 51, 69, 77, 115, 118; retention 96; scholarships 97; transition 58, 83, 119, 218; see also higher education (HE) upward mobility 51, 67 urban 57; see also metropolitan Urban, R. 69 utilitarianism 43, 52–​3, 55 utility 43, 55 van Zanten, A. 71 Veck, W. 173 Vedelago, C. 184 Vergani, M. 120 Vernimmen, J. 84n1

Vernon, L. 72 Victoria 69–​70, 72, 83, 97, 119, 163–​4, 182, 199–​200 Victoria State Government 83, 163 Victorian African Communities Action Plan: Working Together Now and Over the Long Term, 2018–​2018 66, 70 Victorian Certificate of Applied Learning (VCAL) 78 Victorian Equal Opportunity and Human Rights Commission (VEOHRC) 164 Victorian Foundation for Survivors of Torture 74–​5 Victorian Tertiary Admission Centre (VTAC) 118 Vietnam 27 Vietnamese youth 30–​2 Vinson, T. 55 visas 24, 27–​9, 199–​200 visibly different migrants 91, 101, 107, 146–​7, 188 vocational education and training (VET) 78, 113–​15, 120, 123 voting rights 148 Wacquant, L. 68 Waiganjo, A. G. 34 wall 148–​9 Wallerstein, E. 189 walls of exclusion 138, 147–​52; see also integration outcomes Ward, R. 24–​6 Watkins, M. 151, 222 Watson, T. 148 Weber, L. 190, 200 welfare benefits 148, 189 well-​being 43–​4, 48, 52–​6, 66, 96, 147, 158, 167–​9, 171, 173, 199, 221–​3; see also quality of life Wellings Report 94 Wellings, P. 94, 96, 101 West, C. 69, 141 Western Australia 34, 97 Wharton, J. 173 White Australia policy 24–​7, 30, 32, 143 White Bosnian 34 White societies 4, 35, 147, 153, 171–​2, 183, 187, 195, 223 White, E. B. 31 White, R. 30–​2 White, T. W. 25 Whitlam, G. 26

Index  243 widening: access 44, 46, 59, 72, 112, 117, 218–​19, 225; evaluative spaces 56; participation 119; pathways 93, 117 Wildavsky, A. 98 Wiley, S. 169 Wilkerson, I. 153, 225 Wilkinson, J. 71 Wilkinson, R. 56 Willems, K. 84n1 Williams, A. K. 195 Winant, H. 120, 184, 192–​3 Windle, J. 32, 35, 120, 122, 151, 180 Woldeyes, Y. G. 226 Wolff, J. 55 Wood, J. 183, 199 Woods, S. 31 World University Services Canada (WUSC) 84n1 World War I 19

World War II 19, 22, 31, 142 Wyman, D. S. 148 xenophobia 35, 179, 187, 189–​90, 222–​3 Yang, Y. 217 Yanow, D. 4 Yorta Yorta people 36n5, 145 youth: correction centres 163; justice 163; see also justice Yugoslavia 24 Yuval-​Davis, N. 150, 152 Zaviršek, D. 190 Zeus, B. 84n1 Zimbabwe 7, 27–​8 Zimbabweans 27–​8 Zipin, L. 58, 79, 216 Zubrzycki, J. 143, 146–​7 Zurara, G. E. 191