There are millions of people in the world who have no effective nationality. They cannot vote, get jobs in the formal sector, own property or obtain a passport. These "stateless" people face discrimination, socioeconomic hardship, and sometimes violence for which there is little recourse. They are often denied access to health care services and even basic education.
Establishing and preserving the right to nationality is a necessary prerequisite for the expansion and enforcement of many other human rights. [1]It provides a sense of belonging and identity, and entitles an individual to state protection. Nationality usually enables people to find employment, utilize public services, participate in the political process, and gain access to the judicial system.
The vulnerability of being stateless is captured in the descriptive words of a bidun (an Arabic word meaning ‘without’) living in Kuwait who told me, “Our lives have been stolen. We are just like bodies lying in the street.”
Kuwait is a small oil-rich country on the Persian Gulf, bordered by Saudi Arabia to the south, Iraq to the north, and Iran to the east. At one time Bedouin tribes moved freely in the region. Borders and citizenship were not issues of concern. It was only after the difficult negotiations that fixed the borders between Kuwait and its neighbors in 1922 that the future emergence of a problem like statelessness was hinted at.
A few months ago, RI returned to Kuwait to evaluate government efforts to uphold the basic human rights of the country’s 80,000-140,000 bidun. Many bidun, including this man I’ll call Ahmed, are increasingly frustrated about the lack of action by the country’s leadership which has an obligation to protect universal rights – including nationality.
Ahmed’s father was born in Kuwait in 1930 and was actively serving in the country’s police force by the time the country’s nationality law was developed in 1959. He, like many others who followed a similar career path, assumed that one day they would be granted citizenship. However, the situation only deteriorated, and after the Iraqi invasion of 1991, Ahmed’s father wasn’t even able to get his old job back. “I don’t know why my country’s leadership doesn’t like us,” Ahmed says. “It’s even at the level of ‘hate’. At certain times they punish us in certain ways. Some people are trying to help change our situation, but it requires a two-thirds majority to pass new laws. There are 50 Members of Parliament and 16 Ministers.”
Without the right to seek formal employment, Ahmed conducts business under the name of a legal citizen. He says that the only other option is to work “under the table.” Ahmed says he felt that he had no choice but to accept a driver’s license which identifies him as an illegal resident. His children born after 1996 do not have birth certificates – a situation which limits their access to education and healthcare and which will affect them the rest of their lives.
Holding his hands tightly cupped in front of his chest Ahmed says, “Citizenship is like a treasure you can’t open.” He remains hopeful his country will eventually do what is right and asks all people who bear witness to the plight of the bidun to outline the solution in detail in their reports. “Writing summaries and recommendations aren’t enough.”
--M. Lynch