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Molly Fee, Jessica Darrow, Jess Howsam Scholl, Ashley Cureton, Odessa Gonzalez Benson, Refugee Resettlement: A Durable Solution at a Crossroads, Refugee Survey Quarterly, Volume 44, Issue 1, March 2025, Pages 1–11, https://doi.org/10.1093/rsq/hdae031
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Abstract
The future of refugee resettlement stands at a crossroads. This Special Issue brings together an interdisciplinary and international group of scholars to tackle questions and dilemmas central to the durable solution of third country resettlement. The original articles in this Special Issue engage with the policy and practice of resettlement, taking stock of traditional approaches and future possibilities. Drawing on the experiences and voices of arriving refugees, service providers, and civil society partners, these papers examine key developments in the resettlement landscape over the past ten years. Each article takes on a distinct issue or problem, from racialization and incorporation to private sponsorship and notions of success, and is set against the backdrop of critical socio-political shifts to refugee admissions over the last decade. As a cohesive compilation, this Special Issue addresses entrenched problems and creative solutions in both the policy and practice of refugee resettlement.
1. INTRODUCTION
The future of refugee resettlement stands at a crossroads. Despite its aims of alleviating protracted displacement, resettlement numbers fell globally after reaching a peak in 20161 and have been slow to recover in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic,2 anti-refugee sentiment,3 and restrictionist politics.4 Ongoing conflicts, new wars, and the devastating effects of climate change continue to displace people from their homes and across borders. In regions where persecution and climate disasters converge, risks have become amplified. Meanwhile, the proliferation of complementary pathways, such as private/community sponsorship programmes, humanitarian parole, and alternative emerging options, is stretching the boundaries of resettlement in new ways. The outcomes of recent national elections in the Americas portend an increase in nationalism and border securitisation, closing off pathways for refugees and asylum seekers in need of safe haven. As the global refugee population continues to increase, a critical examination of resettlement in multiple national contexts is more important than ever. Resettlement is at a critical juncture, and this Special Issue reflects on what we have learned from established programmes while thinking critically about what comes next.
Bringing together an interdisciplinary and international group of scholars from social work, political science, sociology, development studies, and refugee studies, this Special Issue tackles questions and dilemmas central to UNHCR’s durable solution of third country resettlement. The nine original articles in this Special Issue engage with the policy and practice of resettlement, taking stock of traditional approaches and future possibilities. By putting the experiences and voices of arriving refugees, service providers, and civil society partners in conversation with policymaking, these papers address key developments in the resettlement landscape and offer potential pathways ahead. The contributions in this Special Issue pay attention to how national contexts, domestic actors, and localised institutions prefigure, guide, complicate, and delimit refugee experiences and resettlement trajectories.
2. TAKING STOCK OF RESETTLEMENT
Humanitarian programmes and policies frame resettlement as an outcome to be achieved, bringing particularly vulnerable refugees to a resettlement destination where it is assumed that they will gain safety, benefits, and a set of rights from the receiving state. Along with local integration in the country of first asylum and voluntary repatriation to the country of origin, the UNHCR approaches resettlement as a solution for refugees, offering a path to permanent legal status that marks the end of forced migration. Yet resettlement is more than just a policy tool to resolve protracted displacement, and conceptions of resettlement that foreground the policies and priorities of humanitarian organisations and national governments risk invisiblising the many actors who shape, benefit from, and are left out of these common representations. Articles in this Special Issue reveal several of the less visible aspects of resettlement policies and processes. For example, Coen’s work demonstrates that resettlement is a racialised process, and Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold’s article elucidates the ways resettlement upholds hierarchies of deservingness, while Karaoğlu and Nawyn’s study underscores the fact that resettlement remains unattainable for the majority of the world’s refugees. Furthermore, by foregrounding the distinction between “resettlement” as a form of legal protection and “settlement” as a process of rebuilding life after arrival, Fee and Marlowe et al. each reveal the complexity of this undertaking for refugees, service providers, and receiving communities. Moreover, resettlement’s stability is highly vulnerable to political change. The ongoing availability of resettlement as a durable solution cannot be taken for granted by refugees in contexts of displacement, as Karaoğlu and Nawyn show, nor can we assume the longevity of the local infrastructure that makes resettlement function at the community level,5 per Howsam Scholl and Darrow. In fact, resettlement is both unpredictable and unstable. This Special Issue seeks to shed light on the various complexities that undergird the reality of resettlement for refugees, service providers, bureaucrats, and community partners, including those for whom the pathway to resettlement has been closed.
The UNHCR relies on seven categories for consideration of resettlement: the need for legal or physical protection, women and girls at risk, children and adolescents at risk, survivors of torture or violence, medical needs, family reunification, and lack of an alternative durable solution.6 Yet these criteria are not immediately legible in the demographics of UNHCR’s case submissions (see Figure 1), which skew towards both men and women of working age and youth, implying the predominance of families with young children. Nearly absent are refugees over 60 years old, raising questions about whether such low numbers are due to a lack of prioritisation by UNHCR or a lack of interest in resettlement on the part of the refugees themselves. Despite the inclusive and comprehensive nature of the above seven categories, UNHCR puts forth less than 5 per cent of registered refugees each year for third country resettlement,7 after which participating governments engage in their own processes of prioritisation and selection,8 determining both how many and which refugees to resettle, which is the central focus of the contribution made by Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold in this issue. Just because UNHCR recommends resettlement for particular cases, their selection and approval by participating resettlement states are never guaranteed. Each year there remains a sizeable gap between the number of refugees recommended for resettlement and the number approved for departure (see Figure 2).

UNHCR resettlement submissions by gender and age, 2017–2023
Source: UNHCR Resettlement Data Finder 2024, https://rsq.unhcr.org/

UNHCR resettlement submissions vs. departures, 2003–2023
Source: UNHCR Resettlement Data Finder 2024, https://rsq.unhcr.org/
Additionally, though 26 countries resettled refugees in 2023, some of these efforts were largely symbolic. For example, in that year Malta resettled one refugee, while Argentina resettled four. Given that there is no international obligation to resettle refugees, this process has largely been left up to the discretion and goodwill of participating governments who rely on their own distinct selection criteria that weigh vulnerability and need with integration potential,9 and participating countries take a vastly different approach to annual resettlement. Though the United States, Canada, and Australia have historically resettled the greatest number of refugees (see Table 1), other less populous countries have maintained comparatively larger programmes, most notably Norway and Sweden, who resettle more refugees per capita (see Table 2). Despite often resettling more refugees annually than all other countries of resettlement combined, the United States drops to seventh place among resettlement countries from 2003 to 2023 when population size is taken into account. The cases of Norway and Sweden demonstrate how there is the potential to increase resettlement capacity should there also be the political will. While resettlement is proposed and operationalised as a path to safety and permanency that offers inclusion and belonging, the very project of resettlement is one that reinforces the nation-state’s power to exclude. The result is that less than one per cent of the world’s refugees access third country resettlement each year.
Country of resettlement . | Total departures (persons)a . |
---|---|
United States | 765,795 |
Canada | 161,427 |
Australia | 101,811 |
Sweden | 49,822 |
Germany | 38,160 |
United Kingdom | 35,328 |
Norway | 35,032 |
France | 24,652 |
Finland | 16,505 |
Netherlands | 14,310 |
Country of resettlement . | Total departures (persons)a . |
---|---|
United States | 765,795 |
Canada | 161,427 |
Australia | 101,811 |
Sweden | 49,822 |
Germany | 38,160 |
United Kingdom | 35,328 |
Norway | 35,032 |
France | 24,652 |
Finland | 16,505 |
Netherlands | 14,310 |
Source: UNHCR Resettlement Data Finder 2024, https://rsq.unhcr.org/
Total departure figures include only those resettlement departures that came from UNHCR referrals
Country of resettlement . | Total departures (persons)a . |
---|---|
United States | 765,795 |
Canada | 161,427 |
Australia | 101,811 |
Sweden | 49,822 |
Germany | 38,160 |
United Kingdom | 35,328 |
Norway | 35,032 |
France | 24,652 |
Finland | 16,505 |
Netherlands | 14,310 |
Country of resettlement . | Total departures (persons)a . |
---|---|
United States | 765,795 |
Canada | 161,427 |
Australia | 101,811 |
Sweden | 49,822 |
Germany | 38,160 |
United Kingdom | 35,328 |
Norway | 35,032 |
France | 24,652 |
Finland | 16,505 |
Netherlands | 14,310 |
Source: UNHCR Resettlement Data Finder 2024, https://rsq.unhcr.org/
Total departure figures include only those resettlement departures that came from UNHCR referrals
Top 10 countries of resettlement, resettlement departures as a percentage of total population
Country of resettlement . | Population, 2024 . | Total resettlement departures, 2003–2023a . | 2003–2023 Resettlement as a percentage of country's 2024 population (%) . |
---|---|---|---|
1. Norway | 5,576,660 | 35,032 | 0.63 |
2. Sweden | 10,606,999 | 49,822 | 0.47 |
3. Canada | 39,831,494 | 161,427 | 0.41 |
4. Australia | 26,713,205 | 101,811 | 0.38 |
5. Finland | 5,617,310 | 16,505 | 0.29 |
6. New Zealand | 5,213,944 | 14,214 | 0.27 |
7. United States | 345,856,070 | 765,795 | 0.22 |
8. Denmark | 5,977,412 | 6,791 | 0.11 |
9. Iceland | 393,396 | 444 | 0.11 |
10. Netherlands | 18,228,742 | 14,310 | 0.08 |
Country of resettlement . | Population, 2024 . | Total resettlement departures, 2003–2023a . | 2003–2023 Resettlement as a percentage of country's 2024 population (%) . |
---|---|---|---|
1. Norway | 5,576,660 | 35,032 | 0.63 |
2. Sweden | 10,606,999 | 49,822 | 0.47 |
3. Canada | 39,831,494 | 161,427 | 0.41 |
4. Australia | 26,713,205 | 101,811 | 0.38 |
5. Finland | 5,617,310 | 16,505 | 0.29 |
6. New Zealand | 5,213,944 | 14,214 | 0.27 |
7. United States | 345,856,070 | 765,795 | 0.22 |
8. Denmark | 5,977,412 | 6,791 | 0.11 |
9. Iceland | 393,396 | 444 | 0.11 |
10. Netherlands | 18,228,742 | 14,310 | 0.08 |
Source: UNHCR Resettlement Data Finder 2024, https://rsq.unhcr.org/
Total departure figures include only those resettlement departures that came from UNHCR referrals
Top 10 countries of resettlement, resettlement departures as a percentage of total population
Country of resettlement . | Population, 2024 . | Total resettlement departures, 2003–2023a . | 2003–2023 Resettlement as a percentage of country's 2024 population (%) . |
---|---|---|---|
1. Norway | 5,576,660 | 35,032 | 0.63 |
2. Sweden | 10,606,999 | 49,822 | 0.47 |
3. Canada | 39,831,494 | 161,427 | 0.41 |
4. Australia | 26,713,205 | 101,811 | 0.38 |
5. Finland | 5,617,310 | 16,505 | 0.29 |
6. New Zealand | 5,213,944 | 14,214 | 0.27 |
7. United States | 345,856,070 | 765,795 | 0.22 |
8. Denmark | 5,977,412 | 6,791 | 0.11 |
9. Iceland | 393,396 | 444 | 0.11 |
10. Netherlands | 18,228,742 | 14,310 | 0.08 |
Country of resettlement . | Population, 2024 . | Total resettlement departures, 2003–2023a . | 2003–2023 Resettlement as a percentage of country's 2024 population (%) . |
---|---|---|---|
1. Norway | 5,576,660 | 35,032 | 0.63 |
2. Sweden | 10,606,999 | 49,822 | 0.47 |
3. Canada | 39,831,494 | 161,427 | 0.41 |
4. Australia | 26,713,205 | 101,811 | 0.38 |
5. Finland | 5,617,310 | 16,505 | 0.29 |
6. New Zealand | 5,213,944 | 14,214 | 0.27 |
7. United States | 345,856,070 | 765,795 | 0.22 |
8. Denmark | 5,977,412 | 6,791 | 0.11 |
9. Iceland | 393,396 | 444 | 0.11 |
10. Netherlands | 18,228,742 | 14,310 | 0.08 |
Source: UNHCR Resettlement Data Finder 2024, https://rsq.unhcr.org/
Total departure figures include only those resettlement departures that came from UNHCR referrals
Resettlement is influenced by the many actors who participate at various stages, from the people seeking safety to the practitioners who support and shape the resettlement process. Centring the agentive dimensions of resettlement reveals where traditional models fall short and where alternative approaches offer new possibilities. In assessing the benefits and shortcomings of resettlement, it is important to recognise the knowledge, expertise, and work of those deeply affected by and engaged in this process. The contributions to this Special Issue from Yousuf, Marlowe et al., and Karaoğlu and Nawyn emphasise the fact that refugees belong to local, national, and transnational communities whose efforts and experiences have been overlooked and undervalued. While Bennouna et al. show how misalignments between written policy and daily implementation create unaddressed gaps where programmatic objectives are not always reflective of refugees’ goals and notions of success, Fee explores how the realities of service provision extend far beyond the formal tasks given to service providers. Howsam Scholl and Darrow show that, particularly in moments of crisis, it falls to these actors to keep resettlement viable and figure out how to make it work. Finally, as we learn from Karaoğlu and Nawyn, those experiencing forced migration and seeking resettlement have much to share, as they have always embodied the liberatory future by moving towards safety without knowing what it will look like. This Special Issue offers a call to action for practitioners and advocates to join in this work. The articles that follow collectively challenge the notion of resettlement as a static solution, revealing taken-for-granted assumptions about who resettlement is for and how it is achieved.
3. A CROSSROADS BETWEEN PAST REALITY AND FUTURE POSSIBILITIES
The term crossroads suggests that resettlement stands at a critical juncture, and it is up to the various actors involved to determine its future trajectory. This crossroads can be understood through three temporal orientations: 1) how resettlement has been shaped by the prior achievements of those included in its scope as well as what a lack of resettlement has meant for those who have been excluded, 2) an interrogation of the current state of resettlement that examines how the parameters of practice are shaped by policy and how resettlement is created by service providers and refugees, and 3) where resettlement is headed amid growing displacement, restricted pathways to asylum, the proliferation of complementary and temporary pathways of protection, and the rise of restrictionist politics. While recent trends suggest a continuation of tightening border control and increasingly limited access to resettlement, contributions to this volume point towards the potential for expanded and reconceptualised criteria for inclusion.
The articles in this Special Issue reveal ongoing tensions between the global proliferation of resettlement programmes on the one hand, as explained in Benson’s contribution, and continued gaps and erosion of protections on the other, as elucidated in the article by Karaoğlu and Nawyn. For example, Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold show that despite the humanitarian principles of resettlement, states’ reluctance to resettle refugees with medical conditions that complicate their post-resettlement employability speaks to enduring limits based on neoliberal and ableist logics. Furthermore, Coen explains that domestic political actors’ recreation of global racial lines in responses to refugee-producing conflicts underwrite ongoing patterns of access to protection. Resettlement has been pitted against asylum, generating additional disparities in policymaking, protection, and treatment after arrival.10 This unequal treatment is compounded by the increasingly fraught and unreliable process of seeking and securing political asylum for those taking dangerous journeys in search of safety. Numerous policy proposals in refugee-receiving countries in the Global North have questioned the principle of non-refoulement, and as Howsam Scholl and Darrow demonstrate, this creates barriers for both resettled refugees and asylum seekers alike. Despite the rise of countries participating in resettlement, manifold challenges remain at the local, domestic, and international levels.
Several articles in this Special Issue suggest that government actors instrumentalise and promote traditional resettlement and private sponsorship programmes strategically for political gain and humanitarian positioning. This publicity stands in stark contrast to the under-acknowledged labour of those who implement refugee programmes. For example, Fee shows that resettlement involves navigating complex, shapeshifting tasks and crisis management, yet knowledge and expertise remain undervalued. And Yousef highlights the role that diaspora communities play in sustaining private sponsorship programmes, while at the same time, despite their extensive efforts, they are left off official paperwork and external communiqué. Finally, Howsam Scholl and Darrow explore the ways that, in turbulent and adverse policy environments, resettlement administrators manoeuvre skilfully to protect resettlement programmes, even as their political efforts receive less attention.
Where is resettlement headed? While the articles in this Special Issue can only gesture to the future, we invite the reader to think about the need for, promise, and shortcomings of resettlement, moving beyond what is currently being realised with an attention to the very real political threats to resettlement that lie ahead. First, several articles suggest that patterns of exclusion serve to also pinpoint and open up junctures for inclusion. The resettlement regime is a global, humanitarian institution that can distance itself from value-laden, geopolitical ties to nation-states, freeing itself up to its promise of protection. As Coen’s article reveals, “ethnic and national identity categories often operat(e) as proxies for delimiting racial insiders and outsiders,” and such categories in turn “replicat(e) asymmetries in power relations within the international system.” The racialised exclusions in resettlement are founded on “domestic identity narratives” in host countries in the Global North. For example, as Howsam Scholl and Darrow note such narratives are apparent in the “racist, xenophobic, and Islamophobic base for the Trump Administration’s anti-refugee policies.” Benson’s typological analysis of services in host countries of resettlement similarly concludes that, “resettlement services reflect state preferences and national attitudes about “otherhood” and belonging.” Meanwhile, Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold find that decisions about which refugees to prioritise for resettlement are underpinned by valuations about refugees’ “subsequent contribution to the society of the resettlement country.” Indeed, as we learn from Bennouna et al., self-sufficiency is often a mantra in host countries, particularly those with weak welfare states, illustrating the intrusion of neoliberal values into humanitarian programmes. Drawing from diverse global contexts and applying varied data and methodological approaches, these articles nevertheless coalesce in pinpointing how nationalist, racist ideologies inform exclusions in resettlement, a dimension in need of reevaluation.
Second, the findings and discussions of several articles in this Special Issue suggest that a more comprehensive path forward must not overlook the infrastructure and material supports for those waiting and in transit in camps and countries of asylum as well as those for whom resettlement has become an unlikely outcome. Along with loosening ideological ties to nation-states, it is important to maintain and expand the material infrastructure and resources that support refugees in a variety of asylum contexts. As examples, Karaoğlu and Nawyn argue that for resettlement “to be a durable solution, local integration requires institutional/state support,” and Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold suggest that resettlement should include access to appropriate healthcare. Simultaneously, Karaoğlu and Nawyn point out that as some refugees remain more permanently in hosting states, it is imperative to develop “robust local integration schemes.” Finally, the contributions of Fee and Benson indicate that national models of resettlement would benefit from greater introspection about the challenges caused by a bureaucratic, overstretched resettlement programme.
Third, there remains the potential to move beyond the global resettlement regime as we have come to know it over the past half-century. A growing body of scholarship has turned towards centring refugees, civil society, and communities in both knowledge production and ideas for alternative paths forward. Coen warrants “searching for forms of protection outside legal national and global mechanisms.” Karaoğlu and Nawyn call attention to “self-settlement” given the reality that so few refugees will ever be resettled. Bennouna et al. show that refugees’ conceptions of successful resettlement point to opportunities to create more holistic benchmarks for resettlement outcomes, including dimensions seldom prioritised by formal resettlement. Similarly, Yousef underscores the way that former refugees offer tremendous potential in models of private sponsorship, yet their role in supporting newly arrived refugees has largely remained invisible. Additionally, as we learn from Fee’s examination of everyday service provision, it is important to recognise and validate the wealth of expertise among those deeply engaged in the practice of resettlement work, especially those service providers with lived experiences of forced migration and resettlement. Marlowe et al. call our attention to the potential to better harness digital spaces to support the growth of refugee communities, creating systems of informal and extended care to encompass the local and the transnational. Indeed, “it is imperative to recognise the critical role displaced populations play in resolving (the) challenges of the global refugee crisis.” Finally, Howsam Scholl and Darrow show that greater attention to solidarity within and across fields of practice reveals what can become possible, particularly during moments of crisis.
4. CONTRIBUTIONS OF THE SPECIAL ISSUE ARTICLES
Each article in this Special Issue takes on a distinct topic or problem, from racialisation and incorporation to private sponsorship and notions of success. The nine papers are set against the backdrop of critical socio-political shifts to refugee admissions over the last decade. As a cohesive compilation, this Special Issue takes stock of key developments, addressing entrenched problems and creative solutions in both the policy and practice of refugee resettlement.
The first set of articles explore the socio-political context of resettlement: Benson examines variations in resettlement provision at a macro scale, Marlowe at al. explore settlement and belonging, Coen reveals the role of racialisation, Karaoğlu and Nawyn focus on the prospects of incorporation in the absence of third country resettlement, and Bennouna et al. unpack refugee conceptions of success.
As more countries are resettling refugees, offering a range of financial, social, and cultural services, there is global variation around the types of resettlement services available to newly resettled refugees. Benson provides a framework for comparing resettlement services globally by creating a dataset and typology to understand the various dimensions associated with resettlement. This paper employs a multi-method approach to explore resettlement services in 26 countries that resettle 99.9 per cent of refugees. Benson systematically tracks and identifies patterns of variation in resettlement policies by analysing over 1,200 online sources and conducting expert interviews with resettlement practitioners, government representatives, and leaders across the resettlement sector in Australia, Canada, Japan, Brazil, Norway, and the U.S. Benson later develops a Global Resettlement Services dataset with 42 different indicators of resettlement, with four distinct “types” of refugee resettlement: Limited Provision, Cultural Transition, Core Services, and Flexible Support. This study seeks to inform practitioners and policymakers on how to engage in more collaborations to promote best practices related to resettlement. This article offers a more comprehensive and generalisable perspective on resettlement practices globally, informing policies by exploring contested themes around what defines "integration" and "belongingness" in new countries of resettlement.
Marlowe, Stephens, and Jones propose a transnational frame through which to understand the use and potential of digital information communication technologies (ICTs) as a supplement to resettlement, voluntary repatriation, and local integration. With belonging as a key feature, ICT-facilitated connections via smartphones maintain ties to places of origin, fostering continuity or identity redefinition. These ongoing interactions mitigate the psychological impacts of displacement, allowing refugees to connect across distances and redefine belonging through identity, community, and territory. Digital platforms enable refugees to engage in activism, advocacy, and social life, influencing political discourse locally and globally. ICT tools facilitate creating and maintaining social networks, support systems, and cultural continuity for displaced individuals and communities. These connections help preserve normalcy and social engagement in environments where displaced individuals may feel isolated and struggle with language barriers, limited access to services, and lack of agency. However, ICT-enabled transnational connections are not purely benevolent. Concerns about surveillance, confidentiality, and access must not be ignored. Privacy issues, digital inequalities, and the dark side of social media underscore the need for responsible use in refugee settlement, with digital safety essential to combat misinformation, cyberbullying, and online radicalisation.
Coen’s article compares contemporary portrayals of Ukrainian and Afghan refugees in U.S. politics. She analyses discourse by members of the U.S. Congress from both major parties and the Biden administration in the three months following the 2021 Taliban takeover of Afghanistan and 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine. Coen demonstrates how U.S. lawmakers’ rhetoric is reflective of both reified racial hierarchies and promoted notions of “Western” supremacy, which continue to underwrite U.S. military actions in “the rest” of the world. As Coen shows, Ukrainians were positioned as “culturally kindred” Euro-Americans, fighting for freedom and democracy against Russian attacks on the West. In contrast, Afghans were framed as outsiders by representatives from both parties, variably positioned as terrorist threats by Republicans or as hapless, failed fighters in need of rescue by Democrats. Afghans were asked to meet a burden of proof in their support of NATO interventions, which both selectively erases and recasts histories of U.S. warmaking in Afghanistan. Through this nuanced comparison, Coen theorises new understandings of the logics underwriting staggering differences in protection offered to Ukrainians and Afghans. Roughly three times as many Ukrainians had been admitted to the United States by 2023 than Afghans. Moreover, in an era of putatively race-neutral, universal admissions, Coen’s article contributes vital insights into the covert and complex processes through which racialised exclusions persist.
In their article, Karaoğlu and Nawyn explore what is possible for Syrian refugees in Türkiye without the structure of government sponsored resettlement to guide their integration process and for whom the prospect of third country resettlement is increasingly unlikely. The data for this analysis come from 23 in-depth interviews taken from a larger data set of middle class Syrian refugees in Istanbul in 2023. The authors find that without resettlement policy or service providers to shape their experience or construct their “refugee” identity, these individuals leaned into one of two identity types, “expats” or “engagers”. Expats chose to distance themselves from the stigma of refugee, or even of Syrian, choosing instead to foreground their “expat” identity, thereby remaining separate from both the Turkish and Syrian community. Engagers chose to integrate into Turkish culture by “blending into the host community.” By explaining the self-settlement experience, Karaoğlu and Nawyn provide insight into the potential for those seeking safety and stability when neither formal resettlement nor government sanctioned local integration is available. However, as the authors note, the participants in this study all identified as high-capital and middle class, and thus the creative ways they enacted self-settlement and identity formation might not be options for those with lower levels of capital and resources. This case offers insights useful for those seeking to build resettlement systems that are neither wholly tethered to the structure of the state nor the individual responsibility of those seeking safety in the first place.
Bennouna, Moinester, Stark, Lateef, Qushua, and Seff complicate understandings of successful resettlement. Based on interviews with Congolese and Iraqi refugees resettled in two U.S. cities, the authors reveal the multi-dimensionality of refugees’ definitions of success during and after resettlement. In centring the preferences and priorities of those who went through the resettlement process, Bennouna and colleagues also take seriously the varied contexts of forced migration from which refugees arrive in the resettlement destinations, pushing against monolithic categorisations of resettled refugees. Despite the narrow definitions of success used in programmatic evaluations, this article points to the many interconnected ways that refugees view the economic and social dimensions of resettlement for themselves and their transnational families. Importantly, they find that despite the challenges that come with resettlement, particularly in the U.S. context, the majority of those interviewed understood resettlement to be the most successful period of their lives.
The second set of articles focus on revisited and emergent issues at the intersection of policy and practice: Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold look at national approaches to selection for resettlement, Fee examines the professionalisation of service provision, Yousuf addresses private sponsorship, and Howsam Scholl and Darrow explore advocacy in moments of political crisis.
In their article, Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold interrogate the selection process that determines which refugees get prioritised for resettlement. Drawing on interviews with humanitarian personnel, they focus on the asylum context of Rwanda to critically examine who resettlement is really for. Considering the vast discrepancy between the number of refugees in need of resettlement and the limited annual spots offered by countries of resettlement, humanitarian actors rely on rationales to decide which refugees get resettled. Despite resettlement’s underlying motivations to protect vulnerable refugees, Bjørkhaug and Bækkevold demonstrate how cases with medical needs face a narrow pathway to approval for resettlement to countries such as Norway. They find successful cases to be those with a medical condition that is untreatable in the country of asylum yet has a positive prognosis for full recovery upon treatment in the resettlement destination, leaving those with fatal or chronic diagnoses without access to resettlement on medical grounds, ultimately undermining resettlement’s humanitarian principles.
Fee’s article brings shape and form to the profession of resettlement policy implementation in the U.S., contributing to the picture of where we are now in the field of refugee resettlement. Fee’s article pulls back the curtain veiling the practice of resettlement service provision, bringing to light the myriad informal yet essential roles that caseworkers play in addition to their contracted duties. A rich data set resulting from ethnographic fieldwork and interviews with resettlement service providers informs what Fee calls “resettlement knowledge,” a term that encompasses both the “substantive” and “relational” expertise that Resettlement Agency caseworkers draw upon. Fee resists taking an evaluative approach in her analysis of these forms of expertise. Rather she draws out the complexity and multi-dimensionality of resettlement knowledge through her explanation of the official (service and administrative management) and unofficial (needs and crisis management) roles that make up resettlement work. Of central importance is the particular kind of expertise and associated emotional labour that several study participants brought to their work due to their own experiences of resettlement. Fee’s article builds on the extant implementation literature which explains resettlement service provision through the lens of government contracts and adds to it a vibrant explanation of the meaningful contributions that service providers make through their accumulated expertise.
Yousuf’s article offers a timely corrective for the overrepresentation of white, higher income, retired civilians (‘strangers’) in private sponsorship research and policy. Yousuf demonstrates that despite their systematic “invisibilisation”, the Canadian private sponsorship programme is built and depends on diaspora sponsor labour. The article draws on interviews with sponsors who hold dual social locations as former refugees and sponsors and key informants from private sponsorship institutions, as well as policy and programmatic data. Yousuf’s analysis of these data shows that diaspora sponsors are systematically left off official sponsorship paperwork and out of international conversations, wherein assumptions of “sponsoring the stranger” can predominate. Diaspora sponsors go uncredited for both extensive settlement efforts during sponsorships and the range of sponsorships they undertake, as it is not just about sponsoring their family members. In the process, Yousuf challenges the kin/stranger binary in refugee resettlement and establishes the central role of diaspora sponsors in sustaining private sponsorship beyond isolated waves of attention by non-immigrant civilians. As ever more countries model their private and community sponsorship programmes after the Canadian model, Yousuf intervenes with an important note of caution to avoid reproducing such invisibilisations on a global scale.
Howsam Scholl and Darrow argue that literature on organisational survival often overlooks resistance dynamics and social power relations, especially in refugee resettlement spaces. Using a sample of 15 participants from 12 U.S. resettlement agencies, this article examines how refugee advocates responded to the Trump Administration’s anti-refugee policies. Despite incentives to compete, resettlement organisations built solidarity and sometimes rejected exploitative terms foundational to U.S. refugee institutions. Administrators adapted to funding cuts by navigating layoffs, restructuring roles, and seeking non-federal grants to diversify funding, though in some cases staff cuts still harmed morale and fuelled resentment. Agencies pursued grants unrelated to admissions, such as those for English language instruction and mental health service provision, and identified commonalities with other groups to expand service populations and resources. This approach reflects resistance to divisive tactics, emphasising solidarity as a means of survival. While private funding addressed immediate needs, it risked long-term issues like cooptation and exploitation. Organisations united in communities of care, sharing resources, reducing service overlap, and innovating specialised services. Story-based advocacy was another resistance tool, but it risked reinforcing host perspectives and refugee tropes, perpetuating power imbalances. Refusing to share trauma stories signalled a deeper resistance, creating space for solidarity, critique, and agency. As political actors, administrators' subversive resistance challenged their portrayal as unresponsive cogs. Their expertise and commitment to refugee dignity uniquely position them to advocate against oppressive systems. This research endorses survival strategies like diversified funding, stop-gap measures, organisational restructuring, and stronger coalitions between resettlement and asylum administrators as vital for building alternative sites of power and resistance amid the growing tendency towards restrictionist politics.
Collectively, the articles in this Special Issue provide a robust and nuanced picture of the global and local contexts in which resettlement operates as a humanitarian policy, albeit a flawed and varied one. What is more, the contributions from these scholars reveal many challenges, opportunities, and heretofore underexplored complexities of resettlement as a policy in practice, where the actors engaged in the work of settlement contribute to the shape and form that this “durable solution” takes. By opening the “black box” of resettlement globally, this Special Issue reveals that resettlement is not a uniform practice, nor does it reach all who could benefit from access. While readers of this Special Issue become familiar with the intricacies and shortcomings of resettlement as one of three solutions for those who have been forced to migrate across borders, we invite consideration of the possible futures for this humanitarian endeavour that stands at a crossroads. With a rise in global conflict driving ever increasing numbers of forcibly displaced people, and recent Presidential elections11 indicating a decrease in the political will to welcome refugees, the future of resettlement looks bleak in the short term. It is up to civil society to demand something better in the long term.
Footnotes
United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Resettlement Data Finder, UNHCR, 2024, available at https://www.unhcr.org/uk/what-we-do/build-better-futures/long-term-solutions/resettlement/resettlement-data (last visited 10 Sept. 2024).
S.A. Shaw, H. Middleton, P. Poulin, G. Rodgers & T. Leung, “A Longitudinal Study Examining the Effects of COVID-19 on Refugees Four Years Postresettlement in the United States”, Health & Social Work, 48(3), 2023, 159–69.
B.L. Grace & K. Heins, “Redefining Refugee: White Christian Nationalism in State Politics and Beyond,” Ethnic and Racial Studies, 44(4), 2021, 555–75.
A. Carastathis, N. Kouri-Towe, G. Mahrouse & L. Whitley, “Introduction: Special Issue on Intersectional Feminist Interventions in the “Refugee Crisis,”” Refuge: Canada’s Journal on Refugees, 2018, 34(1), 3–15; J.H. Darrow & J. Howsam Scholl, “Chaos and Confusion: Impacts of the Trump Administration Executive Orders on the US Refugee Resettlement System”, Human Service Organizations: Management, Leadership & Governance, 44(4), 2020, 362–80.; M. Fee and R. Arar, “What Happens When the United States Stops Taking in refugees?” Contexts 18(2), 2019, 18–23.
Fee & Arar, “What Happens When the United States Stops Taking in Refugees?”.
UNHCR, 3.2 Resettlement Submission Categories, UNHCR Resettlement Handbook, 2024, available at https://www.unhcr.org/resettlement-handbook/3-resettlement-submission-categories/3-2-the-resettlement-submission-categories/ (last visited on 25 Nov. 2024).
UNHCR, “UNHCR Resettlement Facts,” UNHCR, 2023, available at https://www.unhcr.org/us/sites/en-us/files/legacy-pdf/639929dd4.pdf (last visited on 30 Oct. 2024).
J. Watson, “Standardizing Refuge: Pipelines and Pathways in the U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program,” American Sociological Review, 88(4), 2023, 681–708.; J.-P. Brekke, E. Paasche, A. Espegren & K. Bergtora Sandvik, Selection Criteria in Refugee Resettlement. Balancing Vulnerability and Future Integration in Eight Resettlement Countries, Oslo, Institute for Social Research, Report 2021:3, 2021.
Brekke, Paasche, Espegren & Bergtora Sandvik, Selection Criteria in Refugee Resettlement.
C. Galli & M. Fee, “Refugees Welcome? Historicizing U.S. Resettlement and Asylum Policy,” in A. Vila Freyer & I. Sirkeci (eds.), Global Atlas of Refugees and Asylum Seekers, Transnational Press London, 2023, 17–32.
E. Hardy. Commentary: The Role of Migration in a Year of Crucial Elections, 2024, available at https://carnegieendowment.org/posts/2024/06/migration-global-elections-climate-impact?lang=en (last visited 7 Jan. 2025); D. Pillai & S. Artiga. Expected Immigration Policies Under a Second Trump Administration and Their Health and Economic Implications, 2024, available at https://www.kff.org/racial-equity-and-health-policy/issue-brief/expected-immigration-policies-under-a-second-trump-administration-and-their-health-and-economic-implications/ (last visited 7 Jan. 2025).