Our Racism Is Better Than Their Racism

Kate Fitzgerald
4 min readJun 5, 2020
image: rte.ie

Speaking this week in the Dáil, An Taoiseach Leo Varadkar reflected on the wave of protests against police brutality in the United States, criticizing the “absence of moral leadership” at play. TDs used this opportunity to question Varadkar on the current system of direct provision for asylum seekers arriving in Ireland, due to the easy parallels that could be drawn between the state-sanctioned violence of the U.S. and the often racist system of direct provision. In response to these criticisms, Varadkar stated,

“Direct provision accommodation is sub-standard and that needs to change (…) [but] we need to understand the difference between direct provision and a man who was killed by the police having somebody step on his neck (…) it is not the same thing as a man being killed by police”.

Out of context, An Taoiseach is indeed correct; direct provision is not the same as the act of racially motivated police brutality. However, these remarks point to Varadkar’s clear lack of understanding of what racism in Ireland looks like, and the extent to which racism is embedded in Irish society. An Taoiseach’s statement on direct provision comes across as a flippant dismissal of the grievances and dehumanization of asylum seekers in Ireland, as if to imply that this demographic should be grateful that they are not living in the U.S.

Direct Provision — “Inhumane and Degrading”

Introduced as an emergency measure in 1999, direct provision acts as a kind of waiting room for asylum seekers in Ireland, providing them with accommodation, food, and some form of education as they wait to receive the result of their asylum application. There are currently almost 40 residential institutions across the country — seven of these are owned and operated by the State, while the rest are operated on a for-profit basis by private contractors. Adult asylum seekers in direct provision are provided with a weekly allowance of €38.80 and three meals are provided at set times. Single adults have been found sharing rooms with up to eight other people. The average time spent in a residential institution is two years, and it has been found that asylum seekers are five times more likely to develop mental health and psychiatric issues while living under this system.

The realities of life in direct provision are bleak. In October 2018, Donnah Sibanda Vuma cared for her sick child while living at the Knockalisheen accommodation centre in Co. Clare — at 1a.m., her child requested some food. Night staff at the centre refused this request, stating that management had issued strict instructions not to give out any food items outside of prescribed meal times. Writing for the Irish Congress of Trade Unions, Elizabeth Adeyemo described the direct provision centre in Mosney, Co. Meath as a “decorated prison”. Lesley Mkoko remarked of the centre in Waterford city, “The bed bugs bite me all day and all night — my skin is covered in bites”. Perhaps the most damning indictment of the direct provision system is the story of Sylva Tukula. Tukula, a trans woman living in all-male accommodation died on the 2nd of August 2018. She was buried without ceremony without the centre notifying any friends of hers. In a statement released by the Movement of Asylum Seekers in Ireland (MASI), the organization stated that the cause of death had not been made clear to them or any of those who knew Tukula.

Of course, the atrocious conditions inside direct provision centres have not gone unnoticed by human rights organizations. The head of the United Nations’ Refugee Agency, Filippo Grandi, has said that wait times for asylum seekers in direct provision must improve, while the Irish Human Rights and Equality Commission called these delays “systemic and pernicious”.

Racism and Direct Provision

An Taoiseach’s remarks that direct provision cannot be compared to institutionalized racism ring particularly hollow in the face of the reality faced by asylum seekers. By placing asylum seekers in accommodation that is often on the physical margins of Irish society — isolated, often rural settings — policy makers relegate them to the social margins. They are racialized by the State and brutalized by ongoing processes of dehumanization. The State sends a clear message to asylum seekers — you are not as human as the rest of us, and we refuse to treat you as though you are. There seems to be a pervasive belief that, because we can’t see it or refuse to see it, Ireland doesn’t have a major racism problem; because it is hidden away in musty, rotting prefab buildings, it’s not really a problem for white Irish people. Plenty of commentators in the past few days have breathed a sigh of relief that “at least we’re not American!”, as if this absolves us of our numerous sins. Requests to government TDs fall on deaf ears — in response to an email seeking clarification on the future of direct provision, Fine Gael TD for Dun Laoghaire Jennifer Carroll MacNeill stated that the COVID-19 crisis has delayed legislation being introduced on migrants’ rights, but did not acknowledge that her colleagues had done little prior to the arrival of the virus in Ireland. Fianna Fáil TD for Dun Laoghaire Cormac Devlin also had little to say in response to the same email, noting that he would raise the concerns mentioned to party colleagues. These responses illustrate the laissez-faire attitude that multiple governments have adopted concerning direct provision. Where America’s racism is a slap in the face, Ireland’s racism is swept under the rug. We know it’s there, but we’re not willing to do anything about it. It is a rotting blemish on the soul of the nation and until we confront and dismantle racist institutions in this country, we are no better than the white supremacist Americans we so loftily condemn.

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Kate Fitzgerald

Freelance writer currently based in Dublin, Ireland. Interested in politics, public policy, and whether or not I need a jacket going out.