Iraqi Refugees Seek Safe Harbor -- in U.S.

With Visas Difficult to Obtain, a Number Are Entering Illegally and Requesting Asylum
By Yochi J. Dreazen

The Wall Street Journal, August 9, 2006; Page A6


Chicago -- When gunmen broke into Nabil Toma Shabo's Baghdad home a year ago and threatened to kill his family, he says he decided to flee Iraq. He had no idea how long the search for safety would last -- or where it would take him.

The seven-month trek began in Istanbul, where Mr. Shabo, traveling with his family, found a smuggler who promised to get them to Mexico and then the U.S. for $10,000 -- their life savings. After four months in Mexico, the Shabos were driven to the border. The driver pointed to a fence and told the family to start walking.

'He said, 'There it is, there is America,' ' Mr. Shabo remembers. The Shabos walked to a U.S. guard post and, in halting English, requested political asylum. While they wait for a ruling, they are living in a Chicago suburb with Mr. Shabo's parents, who fled to the U.S. with an earlier migratory wave during the regime of former Iraqi President Saddam Hussein.

Amid sectarian violence in Iraq, senior U.S. military commanders warned lawmakers last week that the country is at risk of sliding into civil war. Hundreds of thousands of Iraqis are becoming refugees, with thousands of them trying to reach the U.S. But with visas difficult to come by, a growing number -- including the Shabo family -- are entering illegally and then seeking asylum, sparking questions about how much Washington should assist those fleeing a U.S.-led war.

The Iraqi exiles entering America are part of one of the largest exoduses in modern Middle Eastern history. The Iraqi government has over the past 12 months issued more than 1.8 million new passports, a figure that corresponds with nearly 10% of the country's population. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees estimates there are more than 800,000 Iraqi exiles in Syria, Jordan and Lebanon.

Some U.S. border officials express general concern that Iraqi insurgents might try to enter the U.S., though they say there is no evidence any have. State Department officials say visa requirements for Iraqis are the same as those for all applicants. Many Iraqis say the process is more time-consuming and costly for them because the American embassy in Baghdad doesn't issue visas, citing security concerns. That means Iraqis must go to the U.S. embassy in Amman, Jordan. Applying for a visa is a multistage process, so Iraqis generally have to make two or three trips.

The State Department says Iraqis received 4,886 visas last year, up from 2,374 in 2003. Those numbers don't include refugees who entered the U.S. illegally and then applied for political asylum. In 2005, 287 Iraqis were granted asylum; officials at the Department of Homeland Security say figures for the number of applicants aren't available. In the U.S., there are an estimated 300,000 Iraqi expatriates, many of whom arrived during Mr. Hussein's brutal reign.

'There's a real desperation for many Iraqis, which leads to a willingness to do almost anything to get some place safe,' says Robert DeKelaita, an Iraqi exile who is an immigration lawyer here. Mr. DeKelaita says he has handled more than 330 Iraqi asylum applications since the war began in March 2003, including several from Iraqi government officials who filed for asylum while in the U.S. on official business. 'They are terrified of staying put.'

The Shabo family's odyssey began in May 2005, according to an account provided by Mr. Shabo in an interview, and in a written asylum request filed with the Department of Homeland Security by Mr. DeKelaita, the family's lawyer. The account couldn't be independently verified, and a DHS spokeswoman says the department doesn't comment on pending asylum cases and .

Mr. Shabo, a Chaldean Christian, was working at his restaurant in Baghdad while his wife Susan was at home with their four-year-old son, Shmoan. Early one afternoon, four masked men pushed their way into the house and one put his gun to Mrs. Shabo's head, she says. The gunmen told Mrs. Shabo that they wanted her husband dead and would return to kill her if they could not find him. The men accused Mr. Shabo of having ties to the American military occupation, which he denies.

Mr. Shabo hastily sold his restaurant and received about $10,000, less than half its value, he says. The Shabos left their house and possessions and crossed into Turkey through the porous border with Iraqi Kurdistan. In Istanbul, they arranged with the smuggler to get to the U.S. 'We didn't see any other option,' Mrs. Shabo says.

The family flew to Mexico City from Istanbul. The smuggler had given them forged immigration papers allowing them to enter the country, where they were brought to a house and told to wait. Two months later, the Shabos applied for political asylum at a U.S. border post. Lacking passports and other documents, Mr. Shabo says he was dispatched to a jail-like facility in California. Susan and Shmoan Shabo were sent to a California halfway house run by Citizenship and Immigration Services, DHS's successor to the Immigration and Naturalization Service.

About a month later, the CIS effectively paroled the Shabos into the U.S. while the government weighs their political-asylum application, which argues that anti-Christian violence in Iraq makes it too dangerous for the family to return. Asylum cases generally take a year to move through the system, which means the family should get their ruling in the next few months.

The decision allows the Shabos to remain in the U.S. temporarily but doesn't allow them to legally hold jobs or have access to public schools and other government services. In his parents' home near Chicago, Mr. Shabo, 38 years old, and his wife share a bedroom with their son.

Mr. Shabo fears Iraq can't be salvaged and blames the Bush administration for failing to do more to prevent militants from entering the country. But he is grateful that the U.S. has, for the moment, provided refuge for his family.