(Photo by DIAC Images via Wikimedia Commons/CC BY 2.0)
“You are not welcome here. You will never call Australia home.”
These are the words that an immigration officer told human rights activist and refugee Thanush Selvarasa as soon as he arrived in Australia in July 2013. Just days earlier, the government had passed a tough new offshore detention policy. Rather than welcoming him into safety, the Australian government sent Selvarasa to Manus Island in Papua New Guinea, where he spent “five years under some of the harshest and most inhumane conditions.”
Unfortunately, his story is not unique. Selvarasa’s testimony echoes that of thousands of men and women who sought refuge in Australia but instead found themselves criminalized, isolated, and detained offshore. Twelve years later, Australia’s offshore detention regime continues to cast a long shadow. Refugees remain in limbo, facing indefinite uncertainty, while the government consistently denies responsibility for the suffering it has caused and continues to cause.
Despite mounting evidence of abuse, neglect, and systemic human rights violations, Australia refuses to provide adequate medical care or pathways to permanent resettlement for those left behind. The international community has repeatedly called on the government to end this injustice, yet the policy remains in place. At its core, this is not just a question of migration policy—it is a question of justice, dignity, and basic human rights.
Offshore Detention Explained: A Timeline of Australia’s Controversial Policy
To understand the scale of harm caused, it is important to look at how offshore detention came into being. Offshore processing—also called offshore detention —refers to the practice of sending people who arrive by boat to another country, where authorities assess their refugee claims. If asylum seekers reach Australian waters, the navy often intercepts their boats, turning them back or transferring them to third countries such as Nauru and Papua New Guinea.
But how did this policy come into place? This practice began in 2001 under the so-called “Pacific Solution”. Australia sent people to detention centres in Nauru and Manus Island as a way to deter arrivals by sea. The Australian government formally dismantled the policy in 2008, but only four years later, it returned. In 2012, facing a rise in boat arrivals, the government once again turned to offshore detention, arguing that it would save lives at sea.
The turning point came in July 2013, when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd announced a far stricter measure: from then on, anyone arriving by boat would be sent offshore and—even if recognized as a refugee—would never be allowed to settle in Australia. The government temporarily returned to Australia the people it had already transferred to Nauru and Papua New Guinea. Still, under the new system, no one processed offshore could ever call Australia home.
This hardline stance transformed offshore processing into a permanent tool of deterrence.
From Policy to Punishment: When Seeking Safety Becomes a Crime
Asylum seekers leave their homes because their lives are in danger. They flee conflict, persecution, and violence, often undertaking long and dangerous journeys in search of safety. International law is clear: people seeking asylum must not be punished for the way they arrive. Yet Australia’s offshore detention regime does precisely the opposite.
Instead of offering protection, it criminalises people for the mere act of seeking it. The system operates on the premise that people arriving by boat are a threat—treated as individuals the government must remove, hide, and exclude from the wider population. By treating the act of seeking asylum as a crime, Australia feeds a narrative that strips refugees of dignity and humanity.
This narrative is not unique to Australia. In Europe, countries like Greece and Italy have also advanced policies and practices that criminalise migration, imposing fines, imprisonment, or detention on those seeking protection.
The consequences of this criminalisation are devastating. As the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights has repeatedly warned, the criminalisation of migration leads directly to dehumanisation. People are left without rights, without protection, and without a place in society.
For those detained offshore in Nauru or Papua New Guinea, the reality has been years of limbo in remote and hostile environments. Living conditions are extremely poor. Abuse, including sexual violence, is widespread. At least thirteen people have died—some from neglect, others by suicide. Health care is scarce, and mental health outcomes are catastrophic. Offshore detention has become not just a bureaucratic procedure, but a system of punishment that erodes human dignity.
Life on a “Prison-like” Island: Offshore Detention on Nauru
The case of Nauru is a stark example of how offshore detention violates basic human rights and reinforces dehumanising narratives. Nauru is a tiny and impoverished island nation, just 21 square kilometres in size, with a population of about 10,000. It has been at the center of Australia’s offshore system since 2012.
Decades of phosphate mining have left much of Nauru barren and uninhabitable. The island’s infrastructure is weak, and access to health care, education, and employment opportunities is limited.
Several asylum seekers have repeatedly described conditions in Nauru’s detention centres as “prison-like”. There, authorities impose constant surveillance and restrictions. Guards routinely search people’s tents and confiscate “forbidden” items, including food and sewing needles. Two-minute showers, unsanitary bathrooms and toilets are a dire reality. People describe the atmosphere as one of fear and hopelessness, where even the most basic rights are denied.
Researchers and human rights groups have well documented the abuses: families torn apart, children traumatized, sexual violence left unaddressed, and urgent medical care obstructed. Those who live there report constant feelings of despair and humiliation. International observers, medical professionals, and human rights organizations have concluded that the system on Nauru was designed not to protect, but to break people. Experts are saying that the people transferred to Nauru by Australia are among the most traumatized they have seen.
The Psychological Toll of Endless Limbo
Perhaps the most devastating impact of offshore detention has been on mental health. The sense of endless waiting, coupled with abuse and neglect, has pushed many to the brink of despair. Médecins Sans Frontières, or Doctors Without Borders (MSF), provided mental health care on Nauru until 2018. Their findings paint a shocking picture of widespread suffering.
Nearly one-third of those treated had attempted suicide. Out of 208 patients, sixty percent struggled with suicidal thoughts, and thirty percent had tried to take their own lives. Among them were children as young as nine, some of whom were found to be self-harming, expressing suicidal thoughts, or had already attempted suicide.
Rates of depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) were alarmingly high. Doctors also diagnosed resignation syndrome, a rare psychiatric condition in which individuals, often children, fall into a coma-like state requiring round-the-clock medical care.
These conditions are not isolated to Nauru. People detained on Manus Island, Papua New Guinea, have also experienced grave abuse and neglect, which have led to depression, anxiety, and PTSD.
In addition, a recent study from the University of Newcastle highlighted the long-term effects of detention, finding extremely high rates of PTSD, depression, and suicidal thoughts among people previously held in both onshore and offshore detention. Even after release, the trauma continues, showing how deeply damaging the policy has been.
Doctors, psychologists, and human rights advocates agree: offshore detention is not just harmful, it is life-threatening. The damage it inflicts will continue for years, even generations.
MSF, alongside other international organizations, has urged Australia to end offshore detention and ensure people seeking asylum have immediate access to permanent resettlement so they can begin to recover and rebuild their mental health.
A Better Way: Humane and Rights-Based Alternatives to Detention
As the harmful effects of offshore and immigration detention become more widely recognised, international organisations are urging governments to adopt humane, rights-based alternatives.
In a 2021 report, Human Rights Watch showed how some countries are already implementing alternative ways. Spain, for example, has been supporting asylum seekers through reception programs providing housing, food, legal aid, language classes, and cultural integration activities. These programs allow people to live freely in the community while their claims are processed. Participants report that the programs have had a positive impact on their lives, offering dignity and stability rather than fear and isolation.
In Bulgaria, Cyprus, and Poland, pilot case management programs demonstrated that surveillance is unnecessary to keep people engaged in immigration procedures. In fact, after two years, eighty-six percent of participants remained involved in their processes. Case workers helped them navigate bureaucracy, access services, and prepare for the future, all without detention.
In the United Kingdom, civil society organizations have partnered with the government to implement similar programs, providing support to people leaving detention and helping them adjust to life in the community.
These examples demonstrate that detention is not inevitable. Alternatives that respect human rights and dignity are not only possible but already in practice. They prove that states can meet their obligations without resorting to cruelty.
Ending Offshore Detention: A Matter of Justice
International law binds Australia to protect people seeking asylum. As one of the wealthiest countries in the world, with a long history of resettling refugees, it is more than capable of doing so. Yet, instead of meeting this responsibility, it has chosen to outsource it to poorer nations like Nauru and Papua New Guinea, paying billions of dollars to maintain an abusive system.
The costs are not just financial. Offshore detention undermines transparency and accountability. Australian authorities tightly control information about conditions and often deny access to journalists. When abuses come to light, the government distances itself, claiming it is not responsible, even though it funds and oversees the system.
Ending offshore detention is not simply about closing detention centres. It is about acknowledging the harm caused, taking responsibility, and committing to humane alternatives. People still trapped offshore must be evacuated immediately and provided with permanent resettlement, including family reunification. The Australian government must replace programs that criminalise and traumatise people with models that support integration, dignity, and hope.
Australia has the resources, knowledge, and international examples to create a system that protects both people and principles. What it lacks is political will.
For the thousands of people who have endured years of abuse, and for those still trapped today, change cannot come soon enough. Offshore detention has never been about protection. It has been about deterrence through cruelty. Ending is not only a legal obligation but a moral imperative.
Edited by Isaac Code
