The UK Government’s proposed asylum reforms, outlined in the “Restoring Order and Control” policy statement, threaten to dismantle the UK’s ability to provide support to those who need it most. Beneath the rhetoric of removing the ‘pull factors’ lies a system poised to punish the most vulnerable—women, LGBTQ+ people, disabled people, and children.
In Westminster Hall last week members took the opportunity to lay bare the human cost of these reforms. It was a searing indictment of a government that has failed to conduct equality impact assessments, despite its legal duty under the Equality Act. That omission is not a bureaucratic oversight; it is a political choice. And it is one that risks further institutionalising discrimination against those with protected characteristics.
At the heart of the reforms is a requirement that asylum seekers “contribute” before being granted leave to remain. On paper, this sounds reasonable. In practice, it is a blunt instrument that penalises those least able to meet its undefined criteria. Disabled refugees, who may struggle to access full‑time work, risk being deemed insufficiently productive. Women with caring responsibilities, or those denied comprehensive education in countries like Afghanistan, where women are routinely excluded from schooling, face similar hurdles. The government’s refusal to define what counts as contribution leaves these groups in limbo, worrying about their futures.
These policies will erect barriers that disproportionately exclude those already marginalised.The reforms also extend the period before asylum seekers can work, keeping them dependent on meagre allowances and barring them from most jobs. Britain is now an outlier in Europe, where many countries allow refugees to work within months. The result is predictable: instability, poverty, and exploitation. Women for Refugee Women found that 38% of destitute asylum‑seeking women stayed in abusive relationships because they feared homelessness without access to public funds. 38% of those were raped. 8% were forced into sex work to survive. These are the foreseeable outcomes of policies that deliberately deny refugees the means to live safely.
Perhaps most disturbing is the expectation that survivors of sexual violence or persecution disclose their trauma immediately. Anyone familiar with the psychology of trauma knows disclosure can take years, even decades. Yet, the Home Office proposes to penalise refugees who cannot recount their most harrowing experiences to a stranger on demand. This is cruelty masquerading as procedure. It punishes silence born of fear and shame, and it risks sending survivors back to the very environments where they were abused.
Family reunification routes are being slashed, despite the fact that 92% of beneficiaries are women and girls. The message is clear: the government is willing to fracture families, knowing full well who will suffer most.
Meanwhile, the legal aid system—already stretched to breaking point—is expected to cope with a surge of reassessments every 30 months. Lawyers are already turning away cases involving LGBTQ+ refugees or survivors of violence because the funding does not cover the time required for these complex cases.
The blanket designation of “safe countries” is another dangerous innovation. It ignores the reality that safety is not uniform. A Syrian man may be safe to return; a Syrian woman fleeing gender‑based violence is not. A gay man may be able to live safely in Pakistan, but in many communities an openly trans man could not. Forcing LGBTQ+ refugees to live openly in Britain, only to risk deportation to countries where their visibility makes them targets, is a grotesque Catch‑22.
Layla, a refugee interviewed by Women for Refugee Women, described her disillusionment: “I didn’t see the UK as a cruel type of country… But when I came here, I feel like it’s a fake… you are treating asylum seekers like this? It’s hypocrisy.” Her words cut through the policy jargon. They remind us that Britain’s reputation as a defender of human rights is not an abstract ideal—it is and will continue to be judged by how we treat those who arrive at our shores seeking safety. How do we wish to be seen? How do we wish to treat those fleeing unimaginable horrors?
Equality impact assessments are not optional; they are a legal and moral necessity. Trauma‑informed processes are not luxuries; they are the bare minimum of a humane system.
Asylum processes are already broken. These reforms will not fix it—they will weaponise the system against the very people it should protect. If these islands are to retain our reputation for valuing and championing human rights, the UK Government must abandon immigration reforms that entrench inequality and destitution, and punish some of the most vulnerable people in the world.
