trafficking and human rights: european and asia-pacific perspectives

Trafficking and Human Rights

For Norter Yusu and Lingling: may yours be a better, more caring world

Trafficking and HumanRightsEuropean and Asia-Pacific Perspectives

Edited by

Leslie HolmesProfessor of Political Science, University of Melbourne,Australia and Recurrent Visiting Professor at both the GraduateSchool for Social Research, Warsaw, Poland and the Universityof Bologna, Italy

Edward ElgarCheltenham, UK • Northampton, MA, USA

© Leslie Holmes 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrievalsystem or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or photo-copying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher.

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Typeset by Cambrian Typesetters, Camberley, SurreyPrinted and bound by MPG Books Group, UK

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Contents

List of tables viList of contributors viiAbbreviations xiPreface and acknowledgments xv

1 Introduction: the issue of human trafficking 1Leslie Holmes

2 Human trafficking: a challenge for the European Union and its member states (with particular reference to Poland) 18Zbigniew Lasocik

3 Responses to sex trafficking: gender, borders and ‘home’ 37Sanja Milivojevic and Marie Segrave

4 People smuggling and human trafficking within, from and through Central and Eastern Europe 56Leslie Holmes

5 ‘Boys will be boys’: human trafficking and UN peacekeeping in Bosnia and Kosovo 79Olivera Simic

6 Between social opprobrium and repeat trafficking: chances and choices of Albanian women deported from the UK 95Stephanie Schwandner-Sievers

7 Trafficking in human beings for sexual purposes: Sweden’s anti-trafficking regime and the lessons for Australia 116Kevin Leong

8 Combating transnational crime in the Greater Mekong Subregion: the cases of Laos and Cambodia 133Susan Kneebone and Julie Debeljak

9 Exit, rehabilitation and returning to prostitution: experiences of domestic trafficking victims in the Philippines 153Sallie Yea

10 Conclusions: quadruple victimisation? 175Leslie Holmes

Bibliography 207Index 233

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Tables

4.1 Attitudes towards immigration 604.2 Perceptions of the scale of people smuggling 614.3 Perceptions of the involvement of crime gangs in people

smuggling 614.4 Perceptions of the collusion of corrupt state officials in people

smuggling 624.5 Perceptions of the types of state official that cooperate most

with organised crime gangs in people smuggling 634.6 Perceptions of the dominant nationality among members

of organised crime gangs involved in people smuggling 644.7 Presumed intentions of people smuggled into your country 644.8 Anticipated or assumed impact of EU membership on people

smuggling 654.9 People smuggling as an abuse of human rights 654.10 Perceptions of the authorities’ approach to people smuggling 664.11 Attitudes towards whistleblowers 674.12 Perceptions of the problem of people smuggling 674.13 Levels of empathy with those seeking assistance from people

smugglers 684.14 GDP growth rates in selected CEE and CIS states 704.15 Annual inflation rates (consumer price increases – %) in

selected CEE and CIS states 704.16 Average annual unemployment rates in selected CEE and

CIS states 717.1 Number of investigations and convictions in Sweden for

trafficking and procurement, 1998–2006 1229.1 Interviews with Balay Isidora clients 1639.2 Mode of detection of clients to enter Balay Isidora for 2006 165

10.1 Scores of selected countries in selected years on Transparency International’s (annual) Corruption Perceptions Index (TI CPI) 194

Contributors

Julie Debeljak is a Senior Lecturer in the Faculty of Law and Deputy Directorof the Castan Centre for Human Rights Law at Monash University, Victoria,Australia. She has a particular interest in the field of international humanrights law and comparative domestic protection of human rights, includingbills of rights. Dr Debeljak completed her LLM with First Class Honours atthe University of Cambridge, and was an intern with the Indigenous PeoplesTeam at the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights in 1998.In 2001, she was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship to attend a summer courseon American constitutional law at Boston College. Dr Debeljak was awardedher PhD in 2004; her thesis examined comparative domestic human rightsprotection, focusing on Australia, Canada and the United Kingdom. DrDebeljak is a Chief Investigator on the Australian Research Council Linkageproject ‘Australia’s Response to Trafficking in Women: A Model for theRegulation of Forced Migration in the Asia-Pacific Region?’ She haspublished on various human rights topics, and has extensive professionalexperience, predominantly working with domestic and international govern-ments on the implementation of human rights obligations. In addition, DrDebeljak has been a member of several professional and advocacy bodiesworking on human rights and bills of rights issues.

Leslie Holmes is Professor of Political Science at the University of Melbourneand Recurrent Visiting Professor at both the Graduate School for SocialResearch in Warsaw and the University of Bologna. He specialises incorruption and organised crime, recently with particular reference to humantrafficking and people smuggling in Europe. His most recent books areRotten States? Corruption, Post-Communism and Neoliberalism (DukeUniversity Press, 2006), Communism: A Very Short Introduction (OxfordUniversity Press, 2009) and the edited collection Terrorism, OrganisedCrime and Corruption: Networks and Linkages (Edward Elgar, 2007). Hewas President of the International Council for Central and East EuropeanStudies (ICCEES) 2000–2005, and of the Australasian Association forCommunist and Post-Communist Studies (AACPCS) 2005–07. He has beena consultant to the World Bank, Transparency International and the Swissgovernment, and has been a Fellow of the Academy of the Social Sciencesin Australia since 1995.

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Susan Kneebone is a Professor of Law and Deputy Director of the CastanCentre for Human Rights Law at the Faculty of Law, Monash University,Victoria, Australia. Susan teaches Forced Migration and Human Rights,International Refugee Law and Practice, and Citizenship and Migration Law.She has organised several conferences and workshops on these issues, madesubmission to public enquiries and frequently handles media enquiries onthese matters. She is the author of many articles on these topics and editor ofThe Refugees Convention 50 Years On: Globalisation and International Law(Ashgate, 2003) and, with F. Rawlings-Sanaei, New Regionalism and AsylumSeekers: Challenges Ahead (Berghahn, 2007). Susan was the initiator of andis a Chief Investigator on the Australian Research Council Linkage project‘Australia’s Response to Trafficking in Women: A Model for the Regulation ofForced Migration in the Asia-Pacific Region?’ together with her colleagues DrJulie Debeljak and Professor Bernadette McSherry and four collaboratingorganisations.

Zbigniew Lasocik is a graduate from Warsaw University Law School with anLLM, doctoral and post-doctoral degrees in law and criminology, and has anMA in Sociology from Warsaw University’s Institute of Crime Prevention andRehabilitation. He is Professor of Criminology and Corrections. He serves asDean of the Faculty of Law at Lazarski University in Warsaw, and as head ofWarsaw University’s Human Trafficking Studies Center. He conducts numer-ous research projects and studies in criminology (violent crimes, policing,prison systems) and human rights (HR education, human trafficking). He haspublished several books and numerous articles on all of these topics. He hasbeen a Visiting Fellow at the Human Rights Program at Harvard Law School,John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York, the Center for the Study ofHuman Rights at Columbia University, the Swedish National Council forCrime Prevention and the Criminology Department of the London School ofEconomics. Prof. Lasocik is President of the Polish Section of theInternational Commission of Jurists, a Member of the Board of Directors ofthe International Senior Lawyers Project and a former Regional Director of theEuropean Human Rights Foundation in Warsaw.

Kevin Leong is a graduate policy officer at the Department of the PrimeMinister and Cabinet, Australia. He first undertook his research into Sweden’santi-trafficking regime while a student at the University of Sydney, andcompleted the research as a summer research scholar at the AustralianNational University. He has worked variously as a research assistant for theDirector of the National Europe Centre at the Australian National University,as a legal clerk at the Aboriginal Legal Service (NSW/ACT) Limited, and asa tutor at the University of Sydney.

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Sanja Milivojevic is a Lecturer in Criminology and Policing Studies at theUniversity of Western Sydney. She holds a BA and MA from BelgradeUniversity Law School, and a PhD from Monash University, Victoria,Australia. Her research is in the field of sex trafficking in Serbia and Australia,with a particular focus on how victims of trafficking have been constructed inSerbian and Australian culture. She has worked with the Institute forCriminological and Sociological Research in Belgrade. Sanja was one of thefounders of the Victimology Society of Serbia, and was instrumental in estab-lishing the first Victim Support Service in the Balkan region. In 2001–02, shewas a Public Interest Law Fellow at Columbia University Law School in NewYork City. In 2003, Sanja completed a World Society of Victimology post-graduate course in Dubrovnik, Croatia. She has participated in several inter-national and domestic conferences, and has published a number of articles inboth Serbian and English. Her most recent major publications are the co-authored books Trafficking in People in Serbia (OSCE, 2004) and, with MarieSegrave and Sharon Pickering, Sex Trafficking: International Context andResponse (Willan, 2009).

Stephanie Schwandner-Sievers studied Balkan Studies and SocialAnthropology at Berlin Free University (MA 1993) and has conducted long-term ethnographic fieldwork in Albania, Kosovo and among the Albaniandiaspora since 1992 (last including background research, facilitated byOSCE/ODIHR, on the anti-trafficking efforts in Albania in 2008). From 1997to 2003 she served the School of Slavonic and East European Studies(SSEES), University College London, as the first Alex Nash Fellow forAlbanian Studies. She is currently Honorary Research Fellow at RoehamptonUniversity and an Honorary Research Associate at SSEES, and also teaches‘The Anthropology of Eastern Europe’ for an international MA area studiesprogramme, MIREES, at the University of Bologna. Her consultancy firm,Anthropology Applied Limited, has produced numerous reports for nationaland international courts and agencies, and she has published extensively onAlbanian politics of representation and identity and the construction of tradi-tion, gender, security, myth, memory, nationalism and transnationalism.

Marie Segrave is a lecturer in Criminology in the School of Political andSocial Inquiry at Monash University, Victoria, Australia. She researches in awide range of areas related to regulation, globalisation, exploitation, policingand criminalisation. Marie’s current research projects are focused on tempo-rary migration and labour exploitation in Australia, people trafficking,women’s experiences of survival post-release from imprisonment in Victoria,and the police provision of victim support in Victoria. Marie has most recentlycompleted Sex Trafficking: International Context and Response (Willan,

Contributors ix

2009), with co-authors Sanja Milivojevic and Sharon Pickering – an analysisand critique of the design and implementation of national responses to peopletrafficking in Australia, Asia and Europe. Her most recent articles werepublished in Women’s Studies International Forum (July–August 2009) andthe Australian Journal of Human Rights (2009).

Olivera Simic is in her final year of a doctoral candidature in Law at theUniversity of Melbourne, Australia. She graduated from Essex University, UKwith a Masters in International Human Rights Law and a year later from theUN University for Peace, Costa Rica with an MA in Gender andPeacebuilding. Before enrolling in the PhD program, Ms Simic worked indifferent NGOs and international organizations such as UNICEF, OSCE andICMPD. Her fields of interest are peacekeeping, peacebuilding, gender, inter-national human rights and humanitarian law, trauma and reconciliation. Shehas taught in Bosnia Herzegovina, Serbia and Australia and held awards forpostgraduate studies in the UK, Costa Rica and Australia. Olivera has partici-pated and presented her work at a number of international and domesticconferences and has published in Europe, the USA and Australia.

Sallie Yea is a Visiting Fellow in the Department of Geography, NationalUniversity of Singapore. She gained her PhD in Human Geography fromMonash University in 2000. She has been conducting research in the field ofhuman trafficking since the early 2000s, focusing her research mainly on traf-ficking for marriage and for prostitution in Asia. She has published widely onthe subject, including papers in Women’s Studies International Forum, Asianand Pacific Migration Journal and Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography.She is currently conducting research into human trafficking and the commer-cial sexual exploitation of children in Singapore and surrounding Indonesianterritories.

x Trafficking and human rights

Abbreviations

AFESIP (Action for Women in Distressing Circumstances)AFP Agence France-PresseAIDS acquired immune deficiency syndromeARC Australian Research CouncilARCPPT Asia Regional Cooperation to Prevent People

TraffickingARTIP Asia Regional Trafficking in Persons (Project)ASEAN Association of South East Asian NationsATLeP Anti-Trafficking Legal ProjectBI Balay IsidoraBiH Bosnia and HerzegovinaCARE (originally) Cooperative for American Remittances to

EuropeCARPO (Council of Europe and EU – CARDS Regional Police

Project)CATW Coalition Against Trafficking in WomenCBOS (Centre for Public Opinion Research)CEC Commission of the European CommunitiesCEE Central and Eastern EuropeCEELI (Europe and Eurasia Program, American Bar Association)CHASTE Churches Alert to Sex Trafficking Across EuropeCIS Commonwealth of Independent StatesCivPol civilian policeCNCC Cambodian National Council for ChildrenCOMMIT Coordinated Mekong Ministerial Initiative against

TraffickingCPI Corruption Perceptions Index CSE Commercial Sexual ExploitationCTOC Convention against Transnational Organized CrimeDAPHNE (Program to combat violence against children, young

people and women in Europe)DP Democratic PartyDPA Dayton Peace AccordsDPKO Department of Peacekeeping OperationsDSWD Department of Social Welfare and Development

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ECPAT End Child Prostitution, Child Pornography and Trafficking of Children for Sexual Purposes

EU European UnionEUPM European Union Police MissionEurojust European Union’s Judicial Cooperation UnitEuropol European Union Law Enforcement AgencyFIFA Federation of International Football AssociationFLSW freelance sex workerGAATW Global Alliance Against Traffic in WomenGCB Global Corruption Barometer GDP gross domestic productGEC global economic crisisGFC global financial crisisGMS Greater Mekong SubregionGRO guest relations officerHIV human immunodeficiency virusHRW Human Rights WatchIACAT Inter-Agency Council Against TraffickingICMPD International Centre for Migration Policy DevelopmentIISS International Institute for Strategic StudiesILO International Labour Organization (or Office)IO International OrganisationIOM International Organization for MigrationIPTF International Police Task ForceJCACC Joint Committee on the Australian Crime CommissionJIT Joint Initiative in the Millennium against Trafficking in

Girls and WomenKFOR Kosovo ForceKTV karaoke televisionLAPTU Lao Anti People Trafficking UnitLEASEC Law Enforcement Against Sexual Exploitation of ChildrenLEASETC Law Enforcement Against Sexual Exploitation and

Trafficking of ChildrenLICADHO (Cambodian League for the Promotion and Defence of

Human Rights)LWU Lao Women’s UnionLYU Lao Youth UnionMIEC Ministry of Industry, Employment and CommunicationsMIREES Interdisciplinary Master’s in East European Research and

StudiesMLSW Ministry of Labour and Social WelfareMoU Memorandum of Understanding

xii Trafficking and human rights

MTV Music TelevisionNATO North Atlantic Treaty OrganizationNCID National Criminal Investigation DepartmentNGO non-governmental organisationOC organised crimeODIHR Office for Democratic Institutions and Human RightsOGA Office of Gender AffairsOHCHR Office of the High Commissioner for Human RightsOHR Office of the High RepresentativeOJEC Official Journal of the European CommunityOJEU Official Journal of the European UnionOMCTP Office to Monitor and Combat Trafficking in PersonsOSCE Organization for Security and Co-operation in EuropePDR People’s Democratic RepublicPP Philippines pesoROSA Regional Office for South AsiaSEA South East AsiaSFOR Stabilisation Force (BiH)SIDA Swedish International Development Cooperation AgencySOFA Status of Forces AgreementSP Socialist PartySRSG Special Representative of the Secretary-GeneralSTD sexually transmitted diseaseSTOP Special Trafficking Operations ProgramSVD (Society of the Divine Word)TED Trade and Environment DatabaseTHBU Trafficking in Human Beings UnitTI Transparency InternationalTiP Trafficking in PersonsTPIU Trafficking and Prostitution Investigation UnitTPU Trafficking in Persons UnitTVPA Trafficking Victims Protection ActUK United KingdomUN United NationsUNDP United Nations Development ProgrammeUNDP HDI United Nations Development Programme Human

Development IndexUN DPKO United Nations Department of Peacekeeping OperationsUNECE United Nations Economic Commission for EuropeUNESCAP United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Asia

and the PacificUNICEF United Nations Children’s Fund

Abbreviations xiii

UNIFEM United Nations Development Fund for WomenUNMIBH United Nations Mission in Bosnia and HerzegovinaUNMIK United Nations Interim Administration Mission in KosovoUNODC United Nations Office on Drugs and CrimeUNTAC United Nations Transitional Authority in CambodiaUS United StatesUSAID United States Agency for International DevelopmentVoT victim of trafficking

xiv Trafficking and human rights

Preface and acknowledgments

The present volume grew out of a conference entitled ‘Sex ‘n’ Drugs andShifty Roles’ held at the Contemporary Europe Research Centre (CERC),University of Melbourne, in December 2006. For their generous sponsorshipof that conference, I wish to thank the Goethe Institut (Melbourne Branch),and the European Union’s Jean Monnet Fund. And for all their help in verypractical ways, I thank CERC’s Director, Philomena Murray; its formermanager, Geraldine East; and CERC’s many postgraduates.

Several of the chapters in this volume started life as papers at the CERCconference just mentioned. However, for various reasons, four of the originalcontributors eventually proved to be unable to convert their conference papersinto chapters, despite having agreed to rework and update their papers. In threecases, the editor was not informed about this inability, and waited expectantlyfor the chapters. When it finally became obvious that the chapters would notbe forthcoming, it looked as if the book project would, regrettably, fallthrough; there was simply not enough critical mass. But two specialists whohad not been involved with the original conference in any way very kindlyagreed to produce chapters at extremely short notice, so that the project wasonce again viable. Those two people – Stephanie Schwandner-Sievers andSallie Yea – deserve my special thanks. But I also want to thank all of the othercontributors for their patience and support; many could have taken their chap-ters elsewhere, and I owe each and every one of the original contributors adebt of gratitude. Understandably, publishers can be difficult if a project fallsbehind. But this was not the case here; for their tolerance when I kept havingto change the submission deadline, and their faith in the project when even Iwas beginning to despair, I wish to thank Alexandra O’Connell and NepElverd at Edward Elgar.

Leslie HolmesMelbourne

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1. Introduction: the issue of humantrafficking

Leslie Holmes

Human trafficking has justifiably been called the slavery of our times. Whilethe overwhelming majority of internationally trafficked persons – an estimated80 per cent – are women and children, many thousands of men are traffickedeach year too. The majority of internationally trafficked persons are forcedinto what is nowadays an antiquated term, ‘white slavery’ – that is, sex work.One reason why this term is no longer appropriate is that contemporary traf-ficking involves people of all colours, ethnicities and religions. But not alltrafficked persons are engaged in sex work. While some – especially children– operate in the shadow economy as beggars or pickpockets, many otherswork in more or less legitimate areas of national economies, including agri-culture, construction, fishing, domestic service, and manufacturing. Manyother children are trafficked for adoption purposes, which sometimes results inthem virtually becoming slaves to their new families. According to theInternational Labour Organization (ILO), some 43 per cent of traffickedpersons are trafficked for sexual exploitation, 32 per cent for non-sexuallabour exploitation and circa 25 per cent for a mixture of sexual and non-sexual labour exploitation (ILO 2008: 3). One feature common to all traffickedpersons is that, irrespective of the type of work in which they are engaged,they are being severely exploited, enjoy few if any human rights and, in oneway or another, are being severely coerced. Most have also been deceived bytraffickers.

Before exploring this issue further, it is necessary to define two of the keyterms used in this study. The first is ‘human trafficking’. The most frequentlycited definition in the 2000s is that provided in Article 3 of one of the so-calledPalermo Protocols of the United Nations (UN), that on human trafficking (the‘Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons, EspeciallyWomen and Children’ – in UN 2000a).1 This is quoted in full in Chapter 2, andneed not be repeated here. Unfortunately, while this UN definition is a thought-ful and comprehensive one, it is also somewhat cumbersome and even confus-ing. For instance, newcomers to the topic might find difficulty in understandingfrom it the differences between human trafficking and people smuggling; the

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latter is the second term requiring definition here. Human trafficking can bedistinguished from people smuggling in six ways.

First, whereas smuggling is necessarily an international phenomenon, notall cases of trafficking are. For example, a young woman might be abductedin a village in her native country and taken to the capital, where she is forcedto engage in sex work. This said, many cases of trafficking do involve atransnational component, and most of the material considered in this volumerelates to international trafficking.

Second, all smuggling is by definition illegal, whereas many traffickedpersons cross state frontiers on a legal basis, using a genuine passport and visa– while some remain in the home country, as already noted. Moreover, humantrafficking was not technically illegal in many countries until the 2000s;indeed, of 155 countries surveyed by the UN, almost 30 per cent (57 countries)still did not have specific legislation criminalising trafficking in persons as ofNovember 2008 (Sarrica et al. 2009: 22).

The third and fourth points relate to the use of force and mendacity, andare closely interlinked. Smuggling involves neither coercion nor deception ofone another on the part of the two principal actors, the smuggler and thesmugglee (though it does necessarily entail deception of state authorities);trafficking always involves coercion and typically, sooner or later, alsoinvolves deception. In theory, smuggling is a straightforward – albeit illegal– economic transaction of essentially equal but different agents. The smug-glers have a service to sell (illegal migration), and those who seek their assis-tance in illegally entering a destination country are willing to pay for thatservice and are fully aware of the terms of the deal. The person being smug-gled is free to exit the deal at any point, although they may well forfeit theirfee if they do; this freedom to exit the agreement means that no coercion isinvolved. Trafficked persons, on the other hand, are not free to exit the ‘busi-ness relationship’, and in most cases can leave it only through an often riskyescape or when the trafficker permits them to leave. The coercion necessar-ily involves a level of psychological violence. This assumes many forms, butincludes threats to report ‘difficult’ trafficked persons to the authorities fornot having the appropriate documentation, or to shame prostituted women byinforming their families about their activities (that is, two forms of black-mail), and threats of physical violence. In all too many cases, especiallythose involving women and children, it also involves actual physicalviolence. In addition to the more obvious examples of this – starvation, beat-ings, torture, rape, even murder2 – mention should be made here of thetendency among many traffickers to render trafficked persons more depen-dent by promoting their addiction to drugs. There are many reports from traf-ficked victims of having been forcibly injected with illicit drugs, on whichthey have then become dependent (Repetskaia 2005: 52). Occasionally, as a

2 Trafficking and human rights

means of ensuring obedience, trafficked people have even been forced towatch others being executed (ibid.: 53).

Trafficking also involves deception. Even where people have agreed towork for others on less than optimal terms, what eventually become their harshliving and working conditions have not been explained in advance. Drugdependency can also arise from deception (that is, as well as from overt coer-cion); a number of trafficking victims have related how they were unwittinglyintroduced to illicit drugs, through being given drinks or food laced with anaddictive drug. Trafficking also typically involves deprivation; of the variousforms this assumes, one of the worst is the deprivation of identity papers,which renders escape attempts that much more difficult and risky.

Fifth, international human trafficking – unlike people smuggling – involvesa continuing and coercive relationship between the trafficker (or other traf-fickers) and the victim after the latter has reached the destination country. Anessentially similar distinction is drawn by Paul Holms, a former member ofLondon’s Metropolitan Police and subsequently a specialist working for theInternational Organization for Migration (IOM). For him, the salient distin-guishing feature between people smuggling and international human traffick-ing is that the former involves payment in advance and in full for a personbeing transported illegally to a destination country, whereas the latter refers toa situation in which at least some (and often all) of the sum demanded by thesmugglers is to be paid after the person illegally entering a destination coun-try has reached that country (Holms cited in Bezlov and Tzenkov 2007: 109).In the case of people smuggling, therefore, the relationship between the smug-gler and the smugglee is terminated once the latter has arrived in their chosencountry; trafficked persons are not so fortunate, and have to ‘work off’ theiroften artificially inflated and hence unjustified debt. Invariably, this involvessevere exploitation and coercion, usually degradation, and all too oftenviolence against the trafficked person.

Finally, and leading on from the last point, the attitudes of smuggleestowards smugglers is often markedly different from that of trafficked personstowards their traffickers. Research into Chinese people smuggling reveals thatmany smugglees and others in source countries consider that people smugglersare doing a ‘good deed’, while smugglers often see themselves as providing avaluable service and are concerned about their responsibilities to their clients(Zhang and Chin 2004: ii, 8–10). Few if any traffickers would be sufficientlyself-deceptive as to see themselves in such positive terms.

Unfortunately, the clear conceptual distinction that exists between peoplesmuggling and human trafficking is not always sustainable in practice. All toooften, people smuggled to their chosen end-destination then discover that their‘smugglers’ claim that their expenses have increased significantly since theoriginal agreement, and that the smuggled persons will therefore have to work

Introduction: the issue of human trafficking 3

off the additional costs in the destination country. This scenario demonstratesclearly how people smuggling readily mutates into human trafficking. Sincethe smuggled persons have broken the laws of the destination country in enter-ing it illegally, they typically see themselves as being in no position tocomplain to the authorities. This gives the ‘smugglers’ – now actually traf-fickers – an ideal situation to exploit.

SIGNIFICANCE

As demonstrated below, it is impossible to determine the precise scale of traf-ficking, either globally or even into or between particular countries; the vari-ous reasons for this will be elaborated. Unfortunately, a few crude positivistsmaintain that if a phenomenon cannot be adequately measured, then seriousresearchers should avoid it. Fortunately, none of the contributors to the presentvolume is so naive as to accept this argument. But for those who believe thatthe scale of trafficking is exaggerated, it is worth pointing to some of the manyqualitative ways in which trafficking directly or indirectly affects everybody –so that it is a more significant phenomenon than is often realised.

One of the most significant reasons that trafficking matters is because of itsethical and human rights implications; but this is more appropriately consid-ered in a later section of this chapter. Another important aspect of traffickingis the health implications. Given that so many trafficked persons – mainly butnot exclusively women and children – are engaged in sex work, the fact thatthey are all but invisible to state authorities and typically do not have properaccess to state-provided medical resources is a potential problem to anybodyusing their services. If they catch and transmit sexually transmitted diseases(STDs), it is often not merely their clients who become infected, but also third-party partners of the clients. While many STDs can be readily cured nowa-days, others cannot; the most serious STD is HIV (human immunodeficiencyvirus), which remains a potential killer, recent improvements in medical treat-ments notwithstanding.

Given that so many trafficked persons work illegally, they are in a particu-larly weak position to negotiate for better conditions. This has implications forthose who are in a position to work legally. Trafficked persons will oftenperform tasks for a fraction of the cost that legal workers would consider asminimum wages.3 Two obvious and common consequences of this are thatwages are pushed down (that is, exploitation levels increase) and/or unem-ployment rates increase among those legally able to work.4

If local citizens believe that their poor working conditions or unemploy-ment are in some sense the result of illegal migrants undercutting them, theensuing resentment can fuel tensions, including racial ones. Since overt racism


is on the rise in many parts of the world (see for example Hainsworth 2006),it is most unfortunate if trafficking both adds to this and further increases thealready numerous dangers faced by trafficked persons.

Finally, the macroeconomic ramifications of trafficking are significant.There is some dispute among experts as to the scale of different forms oftransnational illicit business. Obuah (2006: 250), citing others, maintains thatinternational human trafficking is now the third-largest form of smuggling,after drugs and weapons. Others maintain that human trafficking has becomeeither the second-largest (European Commission 2007) or even the largestform of smuggling in terms of revenue generation and/or the number of crim-inals engaging in it. And there are certainly claims that it is the fastest-grow-ing crime globally (Chalke 2009: 8). While the actual dollar sums and numberof criminals involved are disputed, there is simply no question that large-scaletransnational crime has a serious negative effect on the capacity of states toraise taxes (and hence supply public goods), banking transparency, and so on.Moreover, the greater the sums involved, the more there is available to corruptofficers of the state, which in turn can result in delegitimation of particularregimes and even political and economic systems.

Given the significant problems posed by human trafficking, it is surprisingthat the international community has focused on the issue in a serious wayonly since the late 1990s. Since other chapters provide details on the majorinternational agreements designed to curb trafficking, only two documents –one international, the other national – will be mentioned here. Thus it is ofsymbolic significance that the most frequently cited – and hence arguablymost important – international document relating to trafficking, the PalermoProtocol referred to above, dates only from 2000; even then, it did not enterinto force until December 2003. It is equally telling that the United States (US)did not adopt a document specifically aimed at assisting victims of traffickinguntil 2000 either (United States’Trafficking Victims Protection Act, or TVPA).Most other states have also introduced targeted anti-trafficking legislation onlyin the 2000s, while, as noted above, several countries still have no laws specif-ically addressing trafficking.

METHODOLOGICAL PROBLEMS IN MEASURING THESCALE OF TRAFFICKING

There are many reasons why it is impossible to measure the scale of global traf-ficking with any degree of precision. Most relate to the reporting situation. Forinstance, unlike what is the case with most crimes, the victims of traffickingtypically have what are in many ways sound reasons not to report their situa-tion to the authorities. Occasionally, trafficked persons will see their situation


from a relativistic perspective, as the lesser of two evils. It must not be forgot-ten that most trafficked persons come from poor backgrounds, have low levelsof education, and have very poor prospects in their home country. From thisperspective, they sometimes believe that their sorry situation could be evenworse, so that there is a disincentive to report it.

Almost certainly a more common reason is that many internationally traf-ficked persons are illegal migrants, and fear that they will themselves bepunished if they approach the state authorities. Moreover, many traffickedpersons are very wary of the police and other agents of the state anyway. Inaddition to the point about the legality of their own status, there are two furtheraspects to this. First, among those trafficked persons who are reasonably awareof the situation in their destination country, there is often a perception that theauthorities would do little or nothing to help them. Since prosecution ratesagainst traffickers are very low in most countries, conviction rates even lower,and penalties typically mild, such perceptions are in many cases justified. Butanother fear – again, one that is all too often legitimate – is that corrupt policeofficers might be colluding with their traffickers or pimps. Since evidence willbe produced in this volume of police collaboration with crime gangs – some-times for pecuniary benefit, sometimes in return for free use of prostitutes – itis completely understandable that many trafficked persons will think twicebefore approaching the authorities. Not only might their allegations bedismissed but, worse still, officers might reveal to the trafficked persons’ keep-ers that the former have tried to blow the whistle on them. This could result inviolence, sometimes fatal, being used against the trafficked person.5

A third factor is that many trafficked persons are basically unaware of theirrights. Many have little in the way of a social network within which they coulddiscuss their situation. This is often related to the fact that many internation-ally trafficked persons have a limited command of the language of the coun-try in which they are working. This obviously renders it more difficult forthem to develop networks there and to discover more about their rights.

There are also often very personal reasons why trafficked persons can bereluctant to approach the authorities. Many trafficked persons working asprostitutes are ashamed of the fact, and would be horrified to think that theirfamily might learn about their situation. Thus, if a trafficked prostitutebelieves that reporting her situation to the police might mean she has to be awitness at a court trial and that news of this will sooner or later reach herfamily, she will often opt to remain silent. Given the generally unsympatheticattitudes of families in Albania (see Chapter 6) and in numerous other coun-tries towards daughters and sisters who have been involved in sex work, thedecisions by many trafficked women to remain silent is understandable, ifregrettable.

The point about the trafficked persons’ relationships with their families can


operate in a quite different way. Depressingly often, young women are sold totraffickers by members of their families – and not only male members – in thefirst place; trafficked persons are unlikely in such cases to want to do anythingthat will see them returned to the very people in whom they have now lost alltrust.

Yet another factor is the so-called Stockholm Syndrome. This term wasoriginally coined by Swedish psychiatrist and drugs expert Nils Bejerot torefer to the attitudes of bank employees taken hostage by robbers during abungled raid on a Swedish bank in 1973; following their release, the hostagesrevealed considerable sympathy for their captors. The term thus refers to asituation in which captured people – victims – warm to their captors.Nowadays, the term is often used more broadly, to refer to situations in whichvictims not only sympathise with their captors, but also become highly depen-dent on them – not merely in a material sense, but also emotionally andpsychologically (Sethi 2001). Trafficked persons sometimes even fall in lovewith their captors. Readers who find this difficult to believe need only recallthat many women married to violent husbands put up with the physical abuse;while this is often because of perceived economic necessity and no clear exitstrategy, some women apparently continue to love and forgive their violentpartners. Psychologists sometimes explain such behaviour and attitudes interms of cognitive dissonance: perceiving themselves to be unable to over-come their situation, such as by exiting, some people learn to accept – livewith – what others see as their unacceptable situations.

It should by now be clear why it is impossible to provide accurate and reli-able data on the scale of trafficking. But, since these figures are sometimesused in policy-making and are the best available, it is worth at least notingsome of the most frequently cited estimates of the scale of trafficking.According to an official US government-sponsored research projectcompleted in 2006, the total number of people trafficked internationally eachyear is approximately 800 000 (US Department of State 2008a: 7). The ILOestimates the global average number of people in forced labour because oftrafficking at 2.4 million persons (ILO 2008: 1 and 3), while some estimatesof the total number of trafficked persons at any one time (including those traf-ficked domestically) run to 4 million (Wagley 2006: 5). Bales (2004: 8–9) hasestimated that there are some 27 million slaves worldwide; but this figureincludes a large number of bonded labourers in the Indian subcontinent who‘give themselves into slavery as security against a loan’ and are technically notbeing deceived, so that they do not fully accord with most definitions of traf-ficking. The ILO believes that up to 1.2 million trafficked persons are childrenor adolescents (under 18 years old) (ILO 2008: 3). Whatever the precisefigures, it is clear that vast numbers of people are the slaves of our times. Sincewe cannot be certain of the numbers of people trafficked, it follows that data


on the amount of revenue generated by trafficking must also be soft (unreli-able). But a 2006 US Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) intelligence reportestimated that trafficking in persons for either sexual exploitation or forcedlabour was generating circa US$9 billion profit per annum globally,6 while theILO estimates that the profits generated from human trafficking could be ashigh as US$32 billion per annum (ILO 2008: 1).

REASONS FOR THE RISE IN TRAFFICKING: SOMEINITIAL OBSERVATIONS

More detailed analyses of the reasons for the increase in trafficking since thelate 1980s will be provided in the following specialised chapters; this is appro-priate, since the factors, and particularly the relative weight of each of these,vary from place to place, and often over time. Only a general overview isprovided here (see too Okereke 2005).

One of the many reasons for the rise in trafficking is the impact of globalisa-tion. As borders have become more porous – with the advent of what KenichiOhmae (1990) has called the ‘borderless world’ – so it has become easier forpeople to cross them. This point about greater mobility is a general one. But thereis a closely connected point that relates specifically to the post-Communistworld. This is that the overwhelming majority of the former Communist states –Yugoslavia was an exception – had highly restrictive regulations on foreigntravel. While most citizens in Eastern Europe were able to visit neighbouringCommunist countries, it was usually very difficult to obtain permission to visitthe West. This has all changed for the better. Yet while this might suggest lessdemand for people smuggling and trafficking, the reluctance of affluent countriesto grant residence and work visas to foreigners with few if any formal qualifica-tions explains why such outsiders often seek to enter and work in these countriesillegally. This conundrum is reflected well in the fact that at the same time asmany European countries were opening up the frontiers between themselves viathe Schengen process, commentators began talking about ‘Fortress Europe’ andarguing that this encouraged illegal migration (for example Glenny 2005).

But the greater mobility does not only apply to smuggled and traffickedpersons. Sadly, one of the major growth areas in international travel in recentyears has been in sex tourism. While tourism is claimed by some (Douglas2003, cited by Kneebone and Debeljak in Chapter 8 in this volume) to have abeneficial effect, in that it can promote both economic development – with itspositive spinoffs – and greater government transparency, there is no questionthat it can also have a dark side. Sex tourism from affluent Western states tocountries such as Cambodia and Thailand has played a major role in increas-ing both adult and child prostitution in recent years.


A second factor is technology and the greater use of this for advertising (aswell as for laundering the proceeds of trafficking). Criminal organisationshave been highly successful in using the internet to entice gullible and/ordesperate people with little or no chance of obtaining residence visas throughlegal channels to seek better earnings in more affluent societies with the aid ofthose organisations. Often, job advertisements for waiters, dancers, child-carers, secretaries, and so on in affluent countries are very attractive to peoplewith limited or no qualifications, whose gullibility and despair is easilyexploited by unscrupulous operators.

Third, all the (often subjective) indicators available suggest that there hasbeen a substantial increase in corruption in most parts of the world since theend of the Cold War; one of the most lucrative areas for corrupt officials is tocollude with crime gangs in people smuggling and human trafficking (seeZhang and Pineda 2008).

A fourth factor has been the prevalence of both civil and international warsin recent times, which has acted as a major ‘push’ factor for people under-standably trying to flee their troubled lands. In later chapters, examples of thisfrom South-Eastern Europe and the Greater Mekong Subregion will be cited,though the point also applies to various parts of Africa, the Middle East, LatinAmerica and other parts of Asia.

While some seek to escape from war-torn countries, others have sought toflee from highly oppressive regimes. Thus Burma, for instance, has been amajor source of trafficked persons over recent years, especially for the sexindustry in Thailand (Thomas and Jones 1993; TED Case Studies 1997).

The legalisation of many forms of prostitution in the affluent West appearsto have increased demand, since many basically law-abiding men who mightthink twice about running the risk of being arrested for using a prostitute willnot hesitate to use one if this is legal. Criminal gangs can now find it moreattractive to trade in people than in drugs, since they are less likely to fall foulof the law where prostitution is legal. While not universally accepted(Caldwell 1998), this is a point made by several analysts (for example Hughes1998): legalisation can and usually does increase demand for sexual services,so that those who control such services will seek a greater supply of sex work-ers. Ceteris paribus, this will increase the demand for trafficked persons –especially if demand exceeds the supply of non-trafficked sex-workers – astraffickers seek higher profits. While this might suggest that prostitutionshould be illegal, as argued by abolitionists, such a simple equation is mislead-ing. But the reasons for arguing this are complex, and are best elaborated inthe concluding chapter, following a number of empirical chapters.

Leading on from this, simple cost–benefit analyses reveal to many crimi-nals that, even in countries or particular situations where their activity is il-legal, the ratio of the potential pay-offs from human trafficking to the


disincentives are typically much higher than the ratios relating to drugs orarms trafficking. Compared with the punishments meted out for the latter two,the punishments for human trafficking are usually very mild. Moreover,human trafficking has two additional advantages over drugs and weapons traf-ficking. One is that there is an almost limitless supply of the ‘product’; sadly,it is unlikely that there will be a shortage of impoverished and desperatepeople in the world in the foreseeable future. In contrast, as governments havedramatically increased their monitoring of weapons’ movement in the wake of9/11, arms trafficking has become more difficult. Equally, and in part alsorelated to the so-called War on Terror, many governments have been makingmore concerted efforts in recent years to destroy coca and opium poppy cropsin Colombia, Afghanistan and elsewhere, which reduces the supply of illicitdrugs. The second benefit is that, whereas the return on a particular batch ofillicit drugs or weapons is a one-off, trafficked persons can generate incomefor the traffickers for several years. Indeed, the income is not always only fromthe trafficked person’s sex work; in some cases, traffickers have the gall tocharge their ‘slaves’ interest on debt and late repayments, which can build upto sizeable sums (Repetskaia 2005: 53–4).

A number of cultural factors also contribute both to the demand for prosti-tutes and to the desire of women to escape their homelands. A prime exampleof the former is the emphasis in many traditional cultures on the importanceof marrying a virgin; this tends to increase the demand for prostitutes, asunmarried (though possibly engaged) men seek to satisfy their sexual desires,and even to learn sexual technique. As for the latter phenomenon (womenseeking to leave their home states) – it is also in some traditional cultures thatdominant male attitudes towards both education and going out to work meanthat women are treated as second-rate citizens. Unequal gender rights is a seri-ous issue in many developing and some transition states, and unfortunatelyagain plays into the hands of traffickers.

All these factors – and the list is far from complete – help to explain why,according to some analysts, the net return to criminals from human traffickingis now higher than the return on drugs trafficking, and hence why the scale ofhuman trafficking appears, by most of the soft methods available for measur-ing this, to be increasing.

TRAFFICKING AND HUMAN RIGHTS

Most of the world’s states have long since ratified the 1948 UN UniversalDeclaration of Human Rights, and hence in principle accept the various free-doms and rights contained in it. Several of the 30 articles comprising theDeclaration relate directly to human trafficking, with others being less directly


relevant. Thus Article 3 (‘Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security ofperson’), Article 4 (‘No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and theslave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms’), Article 5 (‘No one shall besubjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment’),Article 6 (‘Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person beforethe law’), Article 7 (first part – ‘All are equal before the law and are entitled with-out any discrimination to equal protection of the law’) and Article 23 (concern-ing ‘free choice of employment’ and ‘just and favourable remuneration’) can allbe invoked to demonstrate various ways in which trafficking constitutes a seri-ous and multiple abuse of human rights. But there is another article that will beconsidered later in this book, and which is open to interpretation. This is Article13, which relates to the freedom of movement and residence. According to partone of that article, ‘Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and resi-dence within the borders of each state’. Since the wording does not specifywithin the borders of their own state, but rather ‘each state’, a case can be madethat there should be no such concept as illegal migration. Again, this is moreappropriately considered in more detail in the concluding chapter.

Reference was made above to the conundrum of the so-called borderlessworld that has developed simultaneously with Fortress Europe. The fact thatformerly Communist states have now liberalised travel rights should representa net improvement in human rights. But the actual situation cannot bedescribed as a positive-sum one. The reluctance of many Western states toaccept responsibility for the victims of trafficking must be seen as a humanrights issue. All too often, destination states place legal issues and civic (civil)rights ahead of basic human rights, full ownership of which, in practice, theyprefer not to accept. This point requires elaboration.

Many internationally trafficked people are sooner or later illegal migrants:even if they have entered a destination country legally, they typically do so ontourist visas that are both temporally limited and do not permit employment;once they overstay their visas and/or are in some way employed, they havebroken the law. As illegal migrants, they do not enjoy even minimal legalrights, let alone full civic rights, in their destination countries. Since so manyof them are abused in various ways by their traffickers and/or local pimps andother exploiters, their need to exercise what should be their human rights aretypically at least as great as anyone else’s. Societies cannot claim to be trulycivilised or developed when they wittingly permit widespread abuse of humanrights, or even when they are simply too indifferent to investigate situationsthat look suspicious from a human rights perspective. Again, the point aboutstates not only not accepting full ownership of what are generally known asuniversal human rights obligations but even contributing to the abuse of suchrights is further explored in the ‘Conclusions’ chapter of this volume, withreference to ‘quadruple victimisation’.


STRUCTURE

The logic of the layout of this book is relatively straightforward: more generalprecedes more specific, and European case-studies precede Asia-Pacific ones– though some chapters straddle these categories. In the Chapter 2, Polishcriminologist Zbigniew Lasocik explores various social and legal aspects ofhuman trafficking, with particular reference to the European Union (EU) andits member-states. In an interesting comparison, he considers the ways inwhich the situation of a footballer transferred between teams is both similar toand different from the situation of a trafficked person. This leads into an analy-sis of some of the many grey areas in the concept of trafficking, not all ofwhich can be adequately addressed through legislation. This point emergesclearly from the distressing case of a teenager from Togo and her problems inFrance, cited by Lasocik. He argues strongly in favour of public conscious-ness-raising if trafficking is to be brought under control, and argues that themedia have a crucial role to play in this; at present, they still tend to prefer toprovide sensational and salacious details on trafficking, which works againstthe development of more sympathetic and mature public attitudes towards theproblem. Lasocik’s chapter also provides a useful overview and analysis of themost important anti-trafficking legislation in Europe, with a special focus onby far the largest (population-wise) new member of the EU, Poland.

In a provocative analysis, Sanja Milivojevic and Marie Segrave deconstructand problematise much of the writing on trafficking, and many of the statis-tics, in Chapter 3. By reference to the world soccer championships in Germanyin 2006, they demonstrate convincingly that predictions and estimates regard-ing trafficking are often wildly inaccurate, which unfortunately leads to theadoption of misguided perceptions and policies. Milivojevic and Segravemake a persuasive plea for an approach to trafficking that emphasises preven-tion and protection, rather than prosecution and law-based approaches, whichoften disadvantage trafficked persons at least as much as their traffickers. Theystrongly criticise patronising approaches, whether by states – they focus on therepatriation polices of Australia and Thailand – or by feminist abolitionists(those who would criminalise all aspects of prostitution), and instead argue foran approach to trafficking that is neither as gendered nor as overly focused onsex-related exploitation. One of their principal arguments is for a more openmigration process and less restrictive approaches to borders and citizenship. Inthis context, they highlight many of the contradictions in the current approachto globalisation that actually promote both trafficking and illegal migrationmore generally, and they deconstruct policies that are in fact much less aboutprotecting trafficking victims than about protecting borders.

Chapter 4 examines the trafficking situation within, from and throughCentral and Eastern Europe (CEE), which is interpreted very broadly here, to


include all of the Soviet successor states. Many Western authorities, such asthe German federal police, have identified CEE as the primary source in recentyears of women trafficked for the purposes of prostitution. The chapterincludes original survey data on attitudes towards people smuggling, as wellas material directly on trafficking. Given the point made above concerning thefrequent mutation of smuggling into trafficking, and the relative paucity ofmass survey material on trafficking, these data provide useful insights intopopular perceptions on illegal migration, human rights and other issuesdirectly related to trafficking. The analysis includes a focus on the dynamismof the situation in CEE, and argues that there are some reasons for verycautious optimism that the situation will improve in the future.

In Chapter 5, Olivera Simic focuses explicitly on the role of peacekeepersin the Balkans vis-à-vis trafficking. The reference in the title of her chapter –‘boys will be boys’ – is intentionally ironic, and encapsulates nicely the toler-ant attitude of so many states and international organisations (IOs) until veryrecently towards members of international peacekeeping forces paying for sexfrom women who they should in many cases suspect of having been trafficked.The nature of such peacekeeping forces changed in the 1990s, becoming muchmore directly involved with local populations across a wider range of activi-ties. Their existence and sometimes inappropriate activities provide anotherpart of the explanation for the rise in trafficking since the early 1990s. Simichighlights the problem of immunity, meaning that most peacekeepers have notbeen subject to laws and regulations that could land them in trouble with localauthorities; they have thus almost always been able to use prostitutes withouthaving to concern themselves about possible retribution. This, plus the defacto attitudes of even many advanced Western authorities towards the use ofsex workers by their own personnel (both military and civilian), has increaseddemand for prostitutes in areas under peacekeeping control, which in turn hasresulted in more human trafficking. While Simic welcomes the belated changeof heart of many governments and IOs on this issue, and the resulting newlegislation and regulations, she points out that it is a change of culture – atti-tudes – towards women and sex work that is really required.

The focus of Chapter 6 is Albania. In a study based heavily on originalfieldwork carried out in Albania in 2008, Stephanie Schwandner-Sievers high-lights the dilemmas faced by many trafficked Albanian women. All too often,Albanian cultural traditions still treat Albanian women as the property ofAlbanian men. One of the most unfortunate ramifications of this is that womenwho have been trafficked to other countries and who then hope to escape theirtrafficking situation by returning home often find that they are unwelcome,since they are deemed to have brought ‘shame’ on their families. Westerngovernments need to be much more aware of the dangers to which they oftensubject repatriated trafficked persons.


Sweden is often cited as the prime example of a state that has made the useof prostitutes, rather than prostitution itself, illegal – and many countries are nowfollowing or considering following the Swedish lead. Details of the Swedishapproach are provided by Kevin Leong in Chapter 7. Given the Australian baseof most of the contributors to this volume, it is not surprising that he also consid-ers the implications of the Swedish model for Australia. But most of his findingshave resonance in many Western (developed) states, and invite consideration bylegislators and police authorities everywhere. Like several other contributors tothis volume, Leong argues that trafficked persons should be treated as victims ofcrime rather than illegal immigrants, and should thus be accorded far more rightsthan most states are currently prepared to recognise. Yet the Swedish approachis ‘the ultimate prosecution model’ rather than a human rights model, and thismeans that it has a number of negative implications, which Leong elaborates;they include an increase of violence against sex workers, for reasons which heexplains. He concludes that, while there are interesting lessons to be learnedfrom the Swedish approach, there are also several aspects of this model that areproblematic and need to be addressed.

In Chapter 8, Susan Kneebone and Julie Debeljak compare the traffickingsituations in two neighbouring states – one formerly Communist (Cambodia),the other still Communist (Laos). They demonstrate that both local authoritiesand the international community tend to concentrate on two of the ‘three Ps’often cited in policy approaches to trafficking, and based on both the UN’sConvention against Transnational Organized Crime and the US Department ofState’s approach – prevention and prosecution (punishment). Conversely,there is not nearly enough focus on the dehumanising aspects of trafficking,and hence insufficient attention to the third ‘P’, protection; approaches need tobe more victim-centred. Moreover, simply passing legislation, without havingadequate state capacity to implement it or a genuine commitment to theconcept of the rule of law, is unlikely to have much positive effect on the traf-ficking situation. One of the counter-intuitive findings of their research is that,if the data are reliable, more people are trafficked from Laos for non-sexualemployment than for sex work. Moreover, their research in both Laos andCambodia reveals how opaque much of the trafficking process remains – butalso that mass organisations in Communist Laos and official recognition of theproblem of corruption can play a positive role. In contrast, mass organisationsessentially collapsed when Cambodia began its transition from Communism,while corruption is so pervasive throughout the state mechanism that it ishardly recognised, contributing to a worsening of the trafficking situation inand from that country. Although non-governmental organisations (NGOs) areplaying a generally positive role in Cambodia, there are also drawbacks ifthese are unable to cooperate well with state agencies, for reasons thatKneebone and Debeljak elaborate.


Sallie Yea’s focus in Chapter 9 is on domestic trafficking in the Philippines.Having provided a neat and insightful analysis of the abolitionist (genderedviolence) versus the sex work perspective in the prostitution debate, Yeaherself adopts a more nuanced approach than either position. Based largely onher own fieldwork research into the domestic trafficking situation in Cebu Cityin the Philippines, she argues that neither the abolitionist nor the sex workargument fully addresses or explains how women who have been coerced intoprostitution – trafficked – often choose to return to it after having managed toescape their trafficking situation. In adopting this position, she essentiallyagrees with those, such as Sandy (2006), who argue that the coercion–choicedichotomy in the prostitution debate is too stark and simplistic. For Yea, it isnot a black-and-white issue of complicity or constraint, but rather that indi-vidual situations can be located along a continuum between these two, anddifferent explanations of why a particular woman is a prostitute may be neces-sary at different points in time. While she does not claim that non-traffickedprostitutes make completely free choices to engage in sex work, she doesargue that they can become used (normalised) to prostitution, and – in acontext of ‘constrained choice’ – opt to return to sex work even when theyhave managed to escape from a trafficking situation.

The concluding chapter highlights and engages with some of the key find-ings and arguments presented in the preceding chapters, and identifies thedynamic factors in the trafficking issue. It also demonstrates how traffickedpersons are subject to victimisation not merely by their traffickers, but also bycorrupt officials, the media and, whether wittingly and intentionally or not, alltoo often by states too. In short, they are subjected to quadruple victimisation.In response to this recognition, policy proposals are made at the end of thechapter designed to overcome – or at least reduce – this victimisation andimprove the rights and lot of trafficked persons.

Before concluding this analysis of the structure of this collection, its para-meters – limitations – need to be identified. The primary focus is on trans-national human trafficking for the purposes of sexual exploitation, though thebook does include material on both domestic human trafficking and humantrafficking for non-sexual purposes. Given the collection’s principal focus,there is a heavy emphasis on the trafficking of women, and to some extentchildren, rather than on adult males. Unfortunately, as Surtees (2008a) pointsout, trafficking of adult males has been much less researched than traffickingof women and children. But inasmuch as the admittedly questionable dataavailable suggest that more women and children are trafficked than men, andthat trafficked women are more likely to be subjected to gross physical abusethan men are, the focus here can be justified. This said, most of the theoreticalarguments apply equally to men and women; the overwhelming majority ofhuman rights are not gender-specific.


A second limitation is the collection’s geographical coverage. The mainEuropean countries and regions analysed are Germany, Poland, Sweden,South-Eastern Europe (principally Albania, Bosnia and Hercegovina, andKosovo), and Central and Eastern Europe including the Commonwealth ofIndependent States (CIS). According to the ILO, more than 55 per cent of theworld’s trafficked persons being forced to work are located in the Asia-Pacificregion (ILO 2008: 3), so that a particular focus on that part of the world isjustified. The Asia-Pacific countries and regions examined in depth in thisvolume are the Philippines and the Greater Mekong Subregion (especiallyCambodia, Laos and Thailand) and Australia; some material is also includedon China, Malaysia and elsewhere. However, while the limited coverage ofthis book means that many parts of the world are barely mentioned, or else notreferred to explicitly at all, the selection does provide what, for want of betterterms, can be called developed, transitional and developing states; one of thelast of these is a Communist state, while the others are now essentially anti-Communist. It also means that the collection includes detailed analyses ofsource, transit and destination countries. In short, many of the observationsand recommendations either have universal applicability, or else apply tomany other examples of a similar type of state.

One final point to note here is that, after deliberation, it was decided not toremove all duplication of materials where data, definitions, and so on appearin two or more chapters. The reason is a pragmatic one; since most readers ofedited collections read only selected chapters, not the entire text, some chap-ters might appear incomplete were there to be such pruning. This said, theduplication is minimal; mainly, it is the UN’s Palermo Protocol definition oftrafficking that has been repeated – albeit in varying levels of detail – in vari-ous chapters.

CONCLUSIONS

On one level, this collection paints a depressing picture of life for so manypeople in today’s world. But in that it analyses underlying causes – seeks tounderstand the dynamism – of the processes being studied, and examines andassesses the methods that have been and could be used to combat trafficking,it is not a book without hope. As noted above, the concluding chapter exploresboth the internal dynamism of the trafficking situation and the measures thatare being or could be taken by states and IOs to combat it. The fact that theinternational community has begun to focus seriously on the issue of humantrafficking since the beginning of the millennium is itself welcome andencouraging. Nevertheless, it will become very obvious from the followingpages that this momentum must be maintained and intensified if the serious


human rights abuses inherent in human trafficking are to be eradicated orseverely reduced.

NOTES

1. There are in fact two Palermo Protocols – the one cited here concerning human trafficking,and one specifically concerned with people smuggling. But to minimise confusion, andbecause this is a common practice in the literature on trafficking, references to the traffickingprotocol will be referred to as ‘the Palermo Protocol’ in the rest of this volume.

2. The Italian Ministry of the Interior reported in 2000 that 168 foreign prostitutes had beenmurdered the previous year, mostly Albanians and Nigerians who had been killed by theirpimps (Renton 2001: 6).

3. Readers who would appreciate a ‘bitter-sweet’ (that is, funny–sad) literary approach to thisshould see Lewycka (2008).

4. It was only in September 2009 that the Australian government introduced legislation requir-ing employers to pay foreign ‘guest-workers’ at the same rates as Australian workers.

5. It is not always that the police corruptly collude with crime gangs; sometimes they offerwomen who have escaped their traffickers the choice between being returned to the brothelthey have just escaped, or remaining in custody. For evidence of this, and of a girl returningto the brothel from a police station and being beaten by the brothel owner, see Thomas andJones (1993): 72–3.

6. At http://www.fbi.gov/page2/june06/human_trafficking061206.htm, accessed July 2009.


2. Human trafficking: a challenge for theEuropean Union and its member states(with particular reference to Poland)

Zbigniew Lasocik

Trafficking in human beings is a phenomenon that reveals the worst side of thehuman condition – true evil (Bales 2005: 27). Without piling on unnecessarypathos, we can say that, at a time when the experiences of several decades ofatrocities have shaped the collective memory, the phenomenon of one humanbeing selling another defies humanity. This is why it is imperative that wecontinue to analyse and redefine this phenomenon by asking certain funda-mental questions.

At first glance, the concept of human trafficking appears to be an unam-biguous one that refers to a small number of easily identified and defined prac-tices. However, situations occur that raise difficult dilemmas. We acceptcertain facts without much reflection; but further analysis reveals that they aremore complex and controversial than is commonly appreciated. Two concreteexamples will demonstrate this point. Early in July 2005, the Polish mediareported that:

Maciej Zurawski, a player with Wisl⁄a Kraków, a Polish football club, was sold forthe record sum of £2mn (c. 12mn Polish Zl⁄oty) to Glasgow Celtic, a Scottish club.Before this most expensive transfer in the Polish league was finalised, the clubscarried out long negotiations. On Wednesday, the documents were completed andZurawski underwent medical tests. The next day, on Thursday, late in the evening,the contract was signed, and the player became the new club’s property for the nextthree years. Celtic was not the only club interested in buying Zurawski.1

On 27 February 2006, the Polish Press Agency revealed that:

Romanian player Marius Cioara was sold by the second league team UT Arad toRegal Horia, a fourth league team, for 15 kg of meat. However, the new club hadno chance to celebrate the transfer, as the player refused to play and decided tofinish his [soccer] career and move to Spain to pursue a new career in farming orconstruction.2

18

Provocatively, it could be asked whether the first of the above-mentionedcases would be of interest to Polish prosecutors, since it certainly involvedselling a human being. The two parties concluded the terms of a transfer with-out the player’s participation. The ‘object’ of the transaction was required totake medical tests, a contract binding the player was signed, and a price waspaid. Is this a criminal case, as stipulated in Article 253.1 of the Polish penalcode? To forestall possible doubts and arguments that the player agreed tothese actions, it must be emphasised that, under both Polish and internationalregulations, the consent or lack of consent of an interested party is of no rele-vance. Romanian prosecutors could also be asked the very same question.

It is obvious that nobody would want to prosecute individuals trading infootball players. Quite the contrary: everybody is happy, and shakes hands.The media publicise the transaction, and football associations celebrate.Supporters of one team lick their lips, since they have just acquired a greatplayer, while supporters of the other mourn the loss of the very same greatplayer. Nobody considers the issue of human trafficking. This seems appro-priate from the formal viewpoint of illegal activities. But if we examine thisissue from the human sensitivity perspective, or consider the use of languagein such cases, the situation changes.

What is human trafficking? Why is it sometimes seen as a major problemand at other times not even acknowledged? It is worth reflecting on this issuein order to find satisfactory answers to our questions. If this is to be done, weneed to consider three different aspects of the phenomenon of human traffick-ing. First, it is a contemporary form of slavery. Second, it is among the mostserious of crimes. And third, it is an instance of serious human rights viola-tions. Every aspect of this so far preliminary and symbolic definition results incertain consequences. With the first aspect of our discussion, we move into thearea of the most universal conditions of human existence. Even though slav-ery as a model of social structure was not always perceived in a clearly nega-tive way (Biezunska-Mal⁄owist and Mal⁄owist 1987), we have no doubtsnowadays that a situation in which a human being is enslaved, treated like anobject and deprived of autonomy contradicts humane values. And we wouldreadily call a social and political system that accepts or popularises such activ-ities inhuman (Nowak 1996).

The second aspect of our discussion takes us into the field of criminal law.The selling of a human being for the purpose of sexual exploitation or forcedlabour is seen as striking at the heart of fundamental values that led to theestablishment of modern society. This is why we expect that, with the help ofcriminal law that was designed to defend these values, we will be able to reactaccordingly. If unlawful deprivation of liberty is seen as evil, unlawful depri-vation of liberty intensified by enslavement and exploitation must be seen asintensified evil. Criminal law qualifies this as a crime, given the perpetrator’s

Human trafficking: a challenge for the EU and its member states 19

guilt and the negative social and individual consequences of the deed, whichallows for the imposition of appropriately severe punishment.

The third aspect places the discussion in the domain of human rights, asseen and defined in the context of the state’s obligations towards an individual(Henkin 1988: 89). The selling of a human being must evoke some reaction,since it involves so many forms of fundamental human rights violations, rightsthat are immanently associated with human dignity. It is therefore obvious thata state that allows such practices and tolerates them, or ‘only’ underestimatestheir scope, must be stigmatised and consequently bear responsibility. If thereis a consensus that human rights shield us from a brutal and greedy state, thenin the case of human trafficking, human rights protect us from a state thatremains idle in the face of activities that deny the humanity of a traffickingvictim.

Although this is now changing, researchers and journalists for a long timeshowed little interest in the ways in which states tackle the problem of humantrafficking; yet we should be grateful for what little interest there has been,since this means that the phenomenon has not been totally marginalised(Pearson 2002). It is encouraging to see state agencies now examining theproblem not only because of their portfolios. It is also encouraging to seeconferences being organised at which experts can pose fundamental questionsand analyse the problem from diverse viewpoints. After all, and as alreadyindicated, there are still many questions to which we have not yet foundanswers. For many years most of us in relatively affluent societies lived in acomfortable situation, where we believed that human trafficking was a remoteand alien notion that posed no threat to us. Now we know how wrong we were.Human trafficking has become a widespread activity around the world. Wecould still ignore it and believe that ‘the world’ refers to remote, distant places;but human trafficking occurs throughout Europe, including Poland. We couldprobably live with the fact that it has existed for a long time; but we now haveto face the fact that it has grown into a more serious problem with regard to itsscope and, moreover, to its newly disguised and more sophisticated forms.

International tools used for combating human trafficking are consideredbelow. It is necessary at this point to quote a definition of human traffickingfrom one of the most widely-cited documents, namely the definition includedin Article 3 of the ‘UN Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Traffickingin Persons, Especially Women and Children, Supplementing the UnitedNations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime’, often referred toas the Palermo Protocol. An almost identical definition can be found in Article1 of the ‘EU Council Framework Decision of 19 July 2002 on CombatingTrafficking in Human Beings’ (OJEC 2002: 1). There are subtle yet significantdifferences between these two definitions, but for the purposes of our corediscussion they are of marginal relevance. What is important is that, in the


Polish context, both are legal definitions: under the Polish Constitution, thePalermo Protocol has become a part of the national legal order, while the otherdocument belongs to the European Union (EU) legislation, and Poland hasbeen an EU member state since 2004. According to Article 3 of the PalermoProtocol (UN 2000a):

‘Trafficking in persons’ shall mean the recruitment, transportation, transfer,harbouring or receipt of persons, by means of the threat or use of force or otherforms of coercion, of abduction, of fraud, of deception, of the abuse of power or ofa position of vulnerability or of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits toachieve the consent of a person having control over another person, for the purposeof exploitation;

Exploitation shall include, at a minimum, the exploitation of the prostitution ofothers or other forms of sexual exploitation, forced labour or services, slavery orpractices similar to slavery, servitude or the removal of organs;

The consent of a victim of trafficking in persons to the intended exploitation asdescribed above is irrelevant where any of the means described above have beenused;

The recruitment, transportation, transfer, harbouring or receipt of a child (anyperson under eighteen years of age) for the purpose of exploitation shall be consid-ered ‘trafficking in persons’ even if this does not involve any of the means describedabove.

It is worth noting that, in Article 4 of the Protocol, international legislatorsdescribed the scope of the document’s application by adding two relevantelements to the issue of human trafficking, stating that the Protocol’s provi-sions should apply when: (1) an offence is transnational in nature; and (2) itinvolves an organised crime group. These are particularly important caveats,and it is worth considering them in some detail.

It is especially important with respect to the first issue, which is not as obvi-ous as the provisions of Article 4 of the Palermo Protocol suggest. Human traf-ficking is by definition severe exploitation of a human being for the purposeof achieving financial, personal or other benefits. In criminology and sociol-ogy, human trafficking is most often seen as a transnational and internationalphenomenon. But in order to be classified under criminal law as a crime,human trafficking does not have to involve an international dimension. Inview of the latest developments in international regulations, which aredescribed below, human trafficking should be criminalised even when it iscommitted within the boundaries of one state. During the preparatory work forthe UN Convention against Transnational Organized Crime, some of theparticipants raised the issue that the states-parties should prosecute offenceslisted in both the Convention and the Palermo Protocol not only when they are‘international’ in their nature; this goes beyond the provisions of Article 4 ofthe Palermo Protocol. It is also worth noting that the latest major document oncombating human trafficking, that is, the European ‘Convention on Action


against Trafficking in Human Beings’, determines in its Article 2 that the provi-sions should apply to all forms of trafficking in human beings, at both nationaland international levels; this exceeds the scope of the Palermo Protocol.

When considering the nature of human trafficking, it is important to beaware of its ties with organised crime. Trafficking in human beings hasbecome such an attractive activity for organised criminal groups that they havegrown to control a major segment of it. For these groups, a simple profit andloss calculation results in the obvious conclusion that human trafficking ismuch safer than trafficking in narcotics or arms, and that even illegal trans-portation of persons is less risky than transportation of narcotics. Moreover,the so-called prime costs appear to be low, since it is not necessary to investlarge sums of money in order to be able to find women, in contrast to the situ-ation with narcotics or arms. Finally, proceeds from human trafficking do notneed to be a one-off source of income, as often happens in the case of traf-ficking in arms, so that it is possible to generate profits over a long period oftime without suffering the negative consequences of some types of retail sale.

It must be remembered, however, that this issue also has another dimen-sion. Not only has human trafficking been controlled by organised criminalgroups, but as a crime of great complexity it also requires a high level oforganisation. As a criminal activity, human trafficking is virtually unique; itrequires the successful coordination of numerous elements and entities, typi-cally both legal and illegal, as well as numerous participants, often based inseveral countries. Hence, it often requires the highest level of organisation ofcriminal activities on the part of numerous individuals. Final success dependsnot only on the efficiency of recruiting individuals, traffickers and courierswho act under the umbrella of organised criminal groups, but also on the trust-worthiness of individuals who harbour victims, and of transportation compa-nies that move victims across national borders. How serious the problem is canbe seen by the number of investigations either run or supported by Europol(the European Union Law Enforcement Organisation) and Eurojust (theEuropean Union’s Judicial Cooperation Unit), which usually deal with morethan one state or one organised criminal group (Vermeulen 2002); for instance,the number of human trafficking cases dealt with by Eurojust has been steadilyrising in recent years – from 14 in 2004 to 71 in 2007 and 83 in 2008 (Eurojust2009: 25–6). Article 2 of the European Convention mentioned above exceedsthe provisions of the Palermo Protocol also in this respect, since it stipulatesthat the Convention should be applied to human trafficking in all cases,whether or not they are connected with organised crime. This is an especiallyrelevant point for the prosecution of human traffickers.

There is a widespread consensus among authors of scientific literature andnumerous reports prepared for the purposes of policy-making that traffickingin human beings encompasses a wide variety of activities including:


• forcing a person into prostitution to make a profit;• other forms of sexual exploitation;• forcing a person into labouring activities;• using the services of a person who was forced into providing them;• slavery and similar practices;• various forms of enslavement and dependence;• removal of organs;• prostitution and child pornography.

Even such a simple listing demonstrates quite clearly that any criminologicalanalysis of human trafficking has to be a complex one. From a legal point ofview, the issue of human trafficking is equally complex, since it can involvemany practices that can be categorised as criminal activities, including unlaw-ful deprivation of liberty, grievous bodily harm, fraud, rape and battering. Butit can also involve other practices, such as legal prostitution or legal labour,which are neutral from a legal perspective. Moreover, some activities relatedto human trafficking are perceived as morally unacceptable, but are neutralfrom a legal point of view; examples include taking advantage of a person’svulnerability, or dependence. It needs to be borne in mind that there exists avast array of activities and practices that, from a formal legal perspective, donot meet the definition of any crime, but which are in fact forms of human traf-ficking.

Special attention should be paid to the issue of forced labour, as one of themost common forms of trafficking in human beings. According to data gath-ered by the International Labour Organization (ILO), as of the mid-2000s,some 12.3 million people were victims of forced labour, of whom 360 000were in highly developed countries and 210 000 in transition countries such asPoland (ILO 2005: 10, 12–13). Furthermore, the ILO estimated the averageannual profits generated by trafficked forced labour globally to be almostUS$32 billion (ILO 2005: 55).

EXAMPLES OF TRAFFICKING

The question arises: is it possible that, in countries such as Poland, people areforced to work? Recent articles in the Polish press concerning the exploitationof Korean welders at the Gdansk Shipyard (Gazeta Wyborcza 2005), ordescribing incidents of exploitation of workers in the Biedronka chain ofgrocery stores (Rzeczpospolita 2006; Wrota Podlasia 2006), have shed newlight on this problem. It appears that instances of forced labour can be foundall around us, and that such practices have been carried out in accordance withlegal regulations and have been widely accepted by the public. Unfortunately,


many similar examples could be cited. Not everyone in Poland realises thatexploitation of domestic workers, who come mostly from Ukraine, is also aform of human trafficking. These women usually work for more than ten hoursa day, usually earning very little money. Sometimes they do it because theyhave no choice, as they have loans to repay, cannot afford to return home andsometimes do not even have identity papers (Siedlecka 2005).

In this context, reference should be made to the first decision of theEuropean Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg on the issue of forced labourand slavery.3 A 15-year-old citizen of Togo, Siwa Siliadin, flew into France in1994. A woman who accompanied her promised to regulate her immigrationstatus and take care of her education. Siwa was supposed to help the womanwith her housework, and in this way reimburse her for the money spent onpurchasing the ticket. But the woman took away Siwa’s passport and forcedher to work as a servant for free. After a few months, Siwa was ‘rented out’ toanother family to work in their house and take care of the children. The rentalperiod was supposed to last only a few days. But Siwa stayed in the newfamily for a prolonged period. She worked every day from dawn to dusk. Onlyoccasionally was she allowed to go to church on Sunday. She slept on a maton the floor in the children’s room. She wore old clothes. She did not receiveany money for her work. After four years in France, a neighbour of her‘owners’ who had become interested in her fate notified the Committee forCombating Modern Day Slavery about her situation, and the Committee inturn informed the prosecutor’s office. Following lengthy court proceedings,Siwa’s ‘owners’ were acquitted. All the victim received was a small compen-sation for her free work.

In her appeal to the Court, Siwa Siliadin claimed a violation of Article 4 ofthe European Convention on Human Rights. She argued that she was not wellprotected by French criminal law against servitude or forced labour, and as aresult became a house slave. The Court accepted the plaintiff’s arguments.Referring to the United Nations (UN) documents and the ILO Convention, aswell as to several recommendations of the Council of Europe, the Court ruledthat Siwa Siliadin had been deprived of her right freely to decide about issuespertaining to her life, and that the married couple she worked for treated herlike an object that they felt they owned. When Siwa came to work for them,she was still a minor and worked more than ten hours a day. Being so young,she was deprived of an alternative source of income. She felt vulnerable andisolated. As she needed work, she was dependent on the two families sheworked for. Since her presence in France was not legalised, she feared beingstopped by the police. Consequently, she could not move around freely, so thatshe had no free time and did not attend any school. According to the Court, shewas fully dependent on her ‘employers’, which constituted an example ofservitude as described in Article 4 of the Convention. The Court also exam-


ined whether French law protected Siwa. It transpired that it did not, whichmeant that France had violated provisions of Article 4 of the EuropeanConvention on Human Rights (Nowicki 2006: 109).

During the summer of 2005, the Polish press reported what soon developedinto an infamous case of exploitation of a group of Polish workers on a tomatoplantation in Italy. They were treated like slaves. They worked in the fields inthe heat without water or food, lived in barracks and were supervised by armedguards. They were severely punished for every minor violation of rules, andwere required to pay the costs of transportation to work (Borowiec 2005).4 Ayear later, the case reappeared in the press. The Polish media wrote muchabout the liquidation of other labour camps in southern Italy. This time,however, they reported instances of rapes, suicides and even killings (Zielinski2006). It could of course be argued that it was the workers’ own decision towork in this way, so that they were in a sense responsible for what happened.But such thinking may lead to a distortion of the meaning of the universal banon slavery and enslavement.

We may also feel confused when analysing phenomena that do not clearlyfall into any category of human trafficking, yet which – we have no doubt –should attract our concern. A prime example of such a phenomenon is so-called forced marriages, which are in fact a commercial transaction, in whichthe most common commodity is a young woman ‘sold’ to her fiancé’s family.Forced marriages are very often the result of an agreement between parents. Insuch cases, both the bride and the groom are victims. Such marriages can be aresult of a bargain or a financial settlement between two families; but they canalso be a financial settlement between businesspeople, or a form of settlinglong-standing conflicts. Here, too, both spouses are victims. How serious theproblem can be, especially in Muslim communities, is revealed in the fact thata new federal law was drafted in Baden-Württemberg (2004) that prohibitsforced marriages and penalises those arranging them with up to ten years’imprisonment (Jendroszczyk 2006).

A slightly different problem arises in the case of marriages that are notforced, but which mutate into forced ones when, for example, wealthy farm-ers or petty industrialists from Western Europe marry women from the Sovietsuccessor states or South-East Asia. These women are generally very youngand attractive, but completely inexperienced and uneducated. They do notknow the local language and become financially dependent. They usually livein villages or small towns, and are deliberately isolated from the local commu-nities and deprived of friends. Even though formally they are wives, they arein fact treated like slaves, and certainly not like partners. They usually do allthe housework, are sexually exploited, beaten and even raped. It is very hardto identify these victims, and even more difficult to describe such cases andanalyse them in detail for criminological purposes.


At this point, it is appropriate to examine the complex issue of parenthoodand the desire to have a baby regardless of the costs, which here has nothingto do with in vitro fertilisation, but rather has taken the form of a phenomenonthat is sometimes referred to as ‘womb rent-outs’ or ‘belly rent-outs’(Kowalska et al. 2004; Vidalie 2005). This refers to a situation in which awoman agrees to be inseminated to bear a child for others. The intention hereis simply to signal the presence of other related phenomena, such as sellingchildren (Filipowska and Jendroszczyk 2005) and fake adoptions (Zielinska2005: 53); but since they are somewhat different in character, they will not beexpanded upon here.

TRANSNATIONAL TRAFFICKING

As already mentioned, a very important element in the analysis of human traf-ficking is its frequent cross-border character and its direct relation to migra-tion. It is surely incontrovertible that if people had no reasons to migrate,people smuggling – which, as shown below, often mutates into human traf-ficking – would be a marginal activity. The reasons for migration are numer-ous, and include military (the impact of wars and armed conflicts), political(dictatorships and discrimination against minorities) or social and economic(poverty, unemployment, lack of educational opportunities, lack of socialbenefits, social exclusion). All of these factors can make people want tomigrate.

Moreover, there exist additional factors, so-called ‘pull’ factors, whichmake people want to migrate to particular destinations. Pull factors include theneed for a cheap workforce in certain types of jobs, or demand for sexualservices provided by women and children. Regardless of what types or modelsof migration we consider, it has for centuries been overwhelmingly in the samedirections: from Africa, Latin America and Asia towards Europe and NorthAmerica. Smuggling women and children from Central and Eastern Europeand Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) countries to Western Europeis a relatively new activity.

Human trafficking has often been identified as people smuggling, and theseterms are frequently used interchangeably. But even though these phenomenaare similar, there are significant differences between them. Human traffickingcan be described as a secondary activity to migration if it occurs acrossborders, and in this sense it can overlap with smuggling, which is necessarilyinternational. However, human trafficking mostly encompasses exploitation ofindividuals against their will, for the financial profit or other benefits to otherpeople, and, as noted above, does not necessarily entail crossing of a border.In a typical smuggling situation, a smuggled person is a contracting party who


commissions a smuggler to perform a certain task. The two parties stand on anequal footing, and their relationship ends at a border crossing or upon reach-ing a destination; at that point, the smuggled person is no longer dependent onthe smuggler – even though a smuggled individual might sometimes prefer itto continue.

However, crossing of a border in a typical transnational human traffickingcase marks the beginning of a special relationship between a trafficker and avictim. Before a border is actually crossed, a victim often does not know thetrue intentions of a trafficker, and enjoys freedom to act. A victim’s depen-dence begins upon crossing the border, when a smuggler takes away thevictim’s identity papers and enforces a form of enslavement, for example byraping the victim. This has been clearly depicted in the film Your Name isJustine,5 which portrays a young woman who was taken to Berlin, thenbrutally raped and exploited in the sex-business. Such mechanisms of depen-dence are typical. But recently, more and more examples of atypical situationshave been reported.

Nowadays, it is much more difficult to organise illegal migration than itwas a decade or more ago, since certain procedures have to be followed andfinancial resources found for issuing new documents, for example. Moreover,it has become a more risky pursuit, so that the costs have increased. As aresult, migrants are often forced to seek help from various organisations.These organisations sometimes lend money to those wanting to migrate,enabling them to travel; but there are usually enormous commission feesinvolved. Migration is extremely costly, so that migrants usually decide tostake everything on one roll of the dice. In order to finance their trip, they sellall their belongings, take out loans that are never to be paid back, and burntheir bridges. Yet this is often still not sufficient, and consequently migrantswill have to be paying off their debts to traffickers for years. This leads to asituation in which, if a migrant is expelled from a country, he or she has nochoice but to try to return to that country.

Due to the increase in migration and illegal smuggling costs, smugglershave begun to exploit migrants – who, by burning their bridges, have becomevulnerable victims abused by smugglers. Migrants are generally an attractivetarget for criminals, whose sole motivation is to make a profit. Smugglersmake migrants financially dependent, and resort to physical and psychologicalviolence. This is how people smuggling mutates into human trafficking.(Vermeulen 2001).

In view of such developments, we need to determine what criteria to use inorder to distinguish between human trafficking and people smuggling. Are wein fact already dealing with human trafficking when a perpetrator deprives amigrant of the right to decide freely about his or her fate? The answer is notcompletely unambiguous, so that it is necessary to distinguish a typical situation


from an atypical one. In a typical situation, a trafficker consciously commitsfraud, pressures or threatens a migrant, or applies physical strength in orderto make a profit – and the ultimate goal of the transaction is contrary to thevictim’s interest. A smuggler, on the other hand, does not apply any of thesemethods, since everything happens for the benefit of the migrant, whocannot be treated as a victim. If we were to compare human trafficking andpeople smuggling to a commercial contract, we could say that in the case ofhuman trafficking a perpetrator deliberately violates the contract, whereas inthe case of smuggling the contract’s obligations are carefully fulfilled.

So much for typical situations. But nowadays, atypical situations havebecome the rule. As already pointed out, stricter control of national bordersin destination countries, coupled with more restrictive immigration policies,have led to a situation in which people smuggling seems to be much morerisky and potentially much less profitable. That is why smugglers, in orderto increase profits and minimise risks, resort to numerous forms of contractviolation. Each violation brings people smuggling closer to human traffick-ing. Let us consider some examples.

Let us imagine a migrant who is being transported to an agreed locationfor an agreed price, and who, while on the territory of a transit country,learns that the price has risen and that, if the additional sum is not paid, thejourney will be terminated. Precisely at this moment, the smuggled person,who is fully dependent on the smuggler, becomes a victim of trafficking.When, for example, a migrant is abandoned in a transit country or a destina-tion country, but in a different place than initially agreed, he or she ends upin a very difficult situation, especially when the smuggler takes away themigrant’s identity papers.

In another scenario, a smuggled person accepts imposed conditions and istransported to a destination country, where the problems start – because theimposed financial conditions of the contract greatly exceed the smuggledperson’s financial means. It is impossible for an illegally working migrant tomake enough money to pay an elevated fee. In a situation like this, amigrant, who at the outset of the journey was an equal party to a ‘civil legal’contract, becomes financially dependent on the perpetrator, and thereby atrafficking victim. Such a sudden change of roles can occur in matter ofhours or days. An actual example of this was a Vietnamese citizen in Poland,who by working illegally tried to pay back a constantly growing ‘trans-portation’ loan (Karsznicki 2006: 257). What a victim should do in this caseis go to the police or notify other law enforcement agencies; but this oftenappears to be an unrealistic and even dangerous option for many traffickedpeople.


TRAFFICKING, HUMAN RIGHTS AND POPULARPERCEPTIONS

In order better to understand the nature of human trafficking, it is imperativeto consider it from the human rights point of view, and see it as a form of viola-tion of an individual’s fundamental rights. The human rights perspective opensup completely new areas of interest, especially when used to analyse thephenomenon of human trafficking, as it immediately directs our focus to thescale of fundamental rights violations and the scope of a state’s obligationstowards a victim, as well as a victim’s unique situation.

So far, human trafficking perpetrated in the form of forced labour has beenseen as a violation of the anti-slavery regulations contained in Article 4 of theEuropean Convention on Human Rights, which was referred to above in theSiliadin vs. France case. However, a cursory analysis of the list of humanrights violations provided by the Convention (Harris et al. 1995) with respectto human trafficking cases soon reveals how long it is, and that it comprises:the right to live, in Article 2 of the Convention; a ban on torture, as well asinhuman and cruel treatment or punishment, in Article 3; a ban on slavery andforced labour in Article 4; the right to personal safety of an individual inArticle 5; and the right to protection of personal life in Article 8 (OSCE-ODIHR 2001:16).

As mentioned above, consideration of the human rights dimension is neces-sary in the process of formulating a state’s obligations (CEELI 2005: 77). Thedecisions of the Court in Strasbourg, and the practices of those countries thattreat human rights issues with respect, have proven that the human rightsdimension allows us to place obligations on state authorities with respect to:

• writing legislation that criminalises human trafficking;• adopting and enforcing the legislation;• adopting laws guaranteeing protection to trafficking victims;• providing victims with real protection;• preparing social services for the provision of such care;• allocating resources for the implementation of these tasks;• raising social awareness about human trafficking.

In other words, it should be a state’s obligation to provide the necessary condi-tions for state agencies to be able to react properly to cases of human traffick-ing, and to respect the right of a victim to be treated not like a victim of justany crime, but rather as a victim of a crime that involves human rights viola-tions (ICMPD 2005: 64).

From the criminal law perspective, combating human trafficking andpeople smuggling is indifferent to gender differences. Both women and men


can become victims of various forms of human trafficking. However, it is hardto deny that, due to the widespread phenomenon of prostitution, the feminisa-tion of poverty, gender discrimination and the lack of educational and profes-sional opportunities in the source countries, it is mainly women and childrenwho fall victims to trafficking. This is a fact. It must also be acknowledgedthat the development of the relatively well-researched phenomena of traffick-ing in women for sexual exploitation and child pornography, and the develop-ment of sexual services and a prostitution market (the so-called sex-business),have occurred in tandem. Due to the existence of direct links between thesephenomena, it has often been emphasised by international public opinion thatall efforts should be directed towards the prosecution of prostitution exploita-tion cases or profiteering from child pornography. But most important of all isthe effective combating of these activities and the protection of traffickingvictims.

Let us now return to the human rights perspective and its necessary re-eval-uation. The argument has often been made recently that the general concept ofhuman rights may be inadequate to define accurately the obligations of a statein the areas of penalisation and prosecution of certain behaviours and theprotection of trafficking victims. Consequently, human trafficking and relatedactivities should also be seen as violations of women’s rights (Cook 1994);according to supporters of such reasoning, a reappraisal vis-à-vis traffickedwomen will bring about a change in attitudes towards women more generally(Zielinska 2001). For instance, a woman would no longer be routinely blamedfor provoking rape by way of dress or visiting an improper place, which isoften insinuated by public opinion or law enforcement (Bienkowska 1984).The same accusations are often made about victims of domestic violence. Didshe really do her best to fulfil her domestic duties? Was she understanding andcompassionate to her husband who beat her up regularly? Why would she talkabout it to others – does she want to harm her family?

Such naive questions clearly demonstrate what we know about varioussocial phenomena and how we see women – whether victims of rape, domes-tic violence or human trafficking. Numerous examples of such oversimplifiedand stereotypical attitudes could be cited, but the focus here is on the socialperception of trafficking victims, who are usually women. Let us consider twosocial dimensions of a human trafficking crime: social attitudes towards a traf-ficking victim, and a victim’s image in the media.

When asked about human trafficking, Poles appear to have basic knowl-edge; that is, they have heard about it. However, when asked in a mid-2000spoll about who should be taking care of women – often prostitutes – who aretrafficking victims, one in three Poles maintained that there was actually noneed to do anything for them (CBOS 2005). Respondents typically repeat whatthey have often heard, namely that trafficking victims are naive women who


seek employment abroad and groundlessly assume that the work offers ofinteresting and well-paid jobs they receive are genuine. If they are so naive,respondents say, why would a state or a society have special obligationstowards them? The situation is even clearer when a woman knows or suspectsthat she is going to work in prostitution. The average respondent says that onceshe chooses such a profession, she has to bear the consequences, and there isno need either for the state to unfurl a protective umbrella over her head or fornon-profit organisations to help her.

In a situation where the problem of human trafficking is uninteresting toeducators and journalists, we should not be surprised to hear such opinions.Controversial as it may seem to some, schools should broaden their prophy-lactic programmes, and not restrict themselves to such obvious issues as alco-hol, narcotics, smoking, early sex, violence or – a topic that recently becamepopular in Polish schools – patriotism. There are two reasons why youthshould also learn about human trafficking. First, it is a rampant problem affect-ing millions of people across the globe. Second, young people should be awareof how easy it is to become a trafficking victim or a perpetrator of this crimeby, for example, disseminating child pornography, exploiting somebody else’sslave work, buying a life-saving kidney, or setting up the illegal adoption of achild.

However, it is not only schools that have an important role to play. Themedia are equally important. In this connection, it is worth considering certaincritical issues pertaining to our attitudes towards the law, social reactions tolaw-breaking, and attitudes towards the victims of crime. Lawyers and crimi-nologists often express dissatisfaction with the quality of information andreporting on criminal activities, as they believe that what the media present onthe subject has little in common with reality. The media, in Poland and in toomany other countries, have a tendency to present a distorted image of crimi-nal activities, as being more brutal and bloody than they actually are, onlybecause such is social and market demand. This is what can be called thecommercialisation of evil (Lasocik 2003: 267): the more bloody the images,the better sales will be. This pathology is clear in the history of the Polishmonthly magazine, ZLY.6

With regard to human trafficking, the media have committed yet anothercardinal sin. Human trafficking has clear connections with prostitution, so thatpublications on this theme usually concentrate on various aspects of the sex-business.7 There are some negative aspects to publications on human traffick-ing. Most articles published on the subject chase after hot stories and resemblepieces from a gossip column; they offer neither a true analysis of the problemnor a discussion of the sources of the problem, its consequences, or the state’sobligations. When an article on trafficking in human organs appears in thepress, the most popular subject for analysis and speculation is the price.


–

Journalists’ attention is usually drawn to a sensational context of events orunusual circumstances that led to the acquisition and transplantation of anorgan. The fact that the conveyed message usually has nothing to do withmedical facts is of little importance.8

Moreover, the language used in the articles causes secondary victimisationof women. Women who are already suffering as crime victims suffer thefurther ignominy of being referred to as a ‘commodity’, or sometimes as a‘living commodity’ or a ‘commodity with long legs’. Women are alsoportrayed as cunning individuals geared towards profit-making, who uponfailure want to be treated as victims. Moreover, the media looking for sensa-tional news have little if any concern about victims’ privacy. The same womenwho have already endured the nightmare of total dependence and degradation,and dream about erasing these memories, are now shown publicly, often byname or in a way that makes them fully recognisable. Newspapers sometimespublish authentic photographs, not even trying to blur victims’ facial features,in order to make the material as attractive and realistic as possible. Anotherproblem is the visual arrangement of the text and the publication’s context.Articles on human trafficking are usually made more attractive with photos orgraphics that leave no doubts as to the content. Such an effect is usuallyachieved by provocative titles like ‘Trading in Charms’ or ‘Business with SlimLegs’, or by adding photographs of undressed women in unambiguous poses,or showing female legs with price tags attached. What also matters is where ina newspaper or magazine such articles are published; it is frequently in thesection on oddities or strange events.

INTERNATIONAL ANTI-TRAFFICKING MEASURES

Given the low level of social awareness described above, as well as the levelof education and the quality of publications on human trafficking, it comes asno surprise that for at least the last 15–20 years, women’s groups have lobbiedfor a public debate on the true social sources and consequences of human traf-ficking, and for the adoption of laws that would take into account the specialposition of women and minimise the gravest consequences of this activity.These efforts have not been in vain; just a few examples of successful effortsthat have influenced international public opinion will be cited.

At the 1993 UN Human Rights Conference in Vienna, women’s groups setup a court dealing with violence against women. Women from all over theworld came to testify in this court of the harm done to them. Thanks to thisinitiative, violence against women as a form of human rights violationsentered the main agenda of public debate (Nowakowska 1998: 20).

In the same year, on 20 December 1993, the UN adopted the Declaration


on the Elimination of Violence against Women, which defines the term‘violence against women’ as ‘any act of gender-based violence’,9 emphasisesthat violence is a human rights issue, no matter whether it happens in publicor in private life (as in the case of domestic violence), and recommends thatstates should provide women who are victims of violence with proper care andprotection.

The first results of this soon appeared. A year later, at the 1994 InternationalConference on Population and Development in Cairo, the conference’s partici-pants urged states to adopt every possible measure to eliminate all forms ofviolence against women. The authors of this appeal emphasised that thisrequired taking the necessary preventive measures as well as providingvictims of violence, including victims of trafficking, with protection, supportand help to promote their rehabilitation efforts to return to – or lead for the firsttime – a normal life.

However, the most important development was the 1995 Fourth WorldConference on Women in Beijing. One of the highlights of this conference wasthe adoption of the Platform for Action, in which the participants identifiedareas of threats against women’s rights, set out strategic goals, and proposedconcrete measures to be taken at national, regional and international levels.The conference participants identified gender-based violence, especiallyhuman trafficking, as one of the major threats to women’s rights (Zielinska2006: 177).

It is worth noting in parenthesis that in 1994, as part of the preparationprocess for this conference, the UN Commission of Human Rights appointeda Special Rapporteur, who was to analyse the problem of violence againstwomen, including human trafficking. Not many people realise that she also didresearch on the subject in Poland.10

Another important document that deserves to be mentioned is the Statute ofthe International Criminal Court,11 established to combat the most seriouscrimes: war crimes, crimes against humanity, genocide and also, in the future,the crime of ‘aggression’ listed in Article 5, which has yet to be defined. As aresult of lobbying by women’s organisations, the definition of crimes underthe jurisdiction of the Court included also those criminal activities that usuallyvictimise women (for example mass rapes), and now made it possible to cat-egorise human trafficking as a crime against humanity or a war crime(Gawl⁄owicz and Wasilewska 2004: 155).

Our analysis of human trafficking in the context of human rights andwomen’s rights has highlighted the most important international documents onthe issue. The documents that are specifically relevant to law enforcementagencies in Poland can now be enumerated. The three key players in the inter-national debate on trafficking in human beings are the UN, the EuropeanUnion and the Council of Europe. It is also important to acknowledge the role


of the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), whoseachievements in the field are evident (see OSCE-ODIHR 2001, 2004); yet inthe creation of so-called hard law, the role of the first three institutions justlisted is crucial. The following acts of international law on combating traf-ficking in human beings prepared in the UN institutions are especially impor-tant:

1. Convention for the Suppression of the Trafficking in Persons and of theExploitation of the Prostitution of Others, opened for signature 21 March1950 in Lake Success, ratified in Poland in 1952.

2. United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime,adopted by the UN General Assembly 15 November 2000, ratified inPoland in 2001 and entered into force in Poland 29 September 2003.

3. Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons,Especially Women and Children, Supplementing the United NationsConvention against Transnational Organized Crime (also known as thePalermo Protocol), which was adopted by the UN General Assembly 15November 2000, ratified in Poland in 2002.

4. Protocol against the Smuggling of Migrants by Land, Sea and Air, alsosupplementing the United Nations Convention against TransnationalOrganized Crime; the Protocol was adopted by the UN General Assembly15 November 2000, ratified in Poland in 2002, entered into force 28January 2004.

5. Optional Protocol to the Convention on the Rights of the Child on the Saleof Children, Child Prostitution and Child Pornography, adopted in NewYork 25 May 2000, ratified in Poland 10 September 2004.

The first initiatives on combating trafficking in human beings in theEuropean Union appeared at the beginning of the 1990s, but at that timeusually surfaced as an addition to other issues, such as the SchengenImplementation Convention from 19 June 1990, or as EU internal documents,for example the European Commission Statement on Trafficking in Womenfor Sexual Exploitation of 20 November 1996, as well as programmes support-ing actions to combat trafficking in human beings, such as the SpecialTrafficking Operations Program (STOP) or the DAPHNE Initiative.

The most important legal document on human trafficking in the EuropeanUnion is the Council Framework Decision of 19 July 2002 on CombatingTrafficking in Human Beings (OJEC 2002: 1). This Decision obliges memberstates to include in their national legislation a possibility to prosecute andpunish deeds encompassed by the proposed definition of trafficking in humanbeings. This definition in fact simply reiterates what was written in thePalermo Protocol. Moreover, in this document the EU legislators referred to


the above-mentioned legal regulations of the UN international legal acts.Mention should also be made here of two further legal acts of the EU:

1. Council Framework Decision 2004/68/JHA of 22 December 2003 onCombating the Sexual Exploitation of Children and Child Pornography(OJEU 2004a: 44); and

2. Council Directive 2004/81/EC of 29 April 2004 on the Residence PermitIssued to Third-Country Nationals who are Victims of Human Traffickingor who have been the Subject of an Action to Facilitate IllegalImmigration, who Cooperate with the Competent Authorities (OJEU2004b: 19).

The second of these required EU member states other than Denmark, Irelandand the United Kingdom (UK) to introduce legislation by August 2006 thatwould grant trafficking victims a residence permit for at least six months, solong as the victim is prepared to cooperate with state authorities in instigatingproceedings against traffickers.

The Council of Europe’s achievements in combating human trafficking canbe divided into two groups. One comprises recommendations and other non-binding documents, in which the Council abounds; their non-binding naturemeans they will not be discussed here. The second ‘group’ actually comprisesonly one document – which is, however, significant. This is the Council ofEurope Convention on Action against Trafficking in Human Beings.12 It issignificant because it is the first international legal Act of such importance thatis at the same time regional in its character. Unlike the legal Acts of the EU,the Convention may be signed by any European or non-European state. Oneof the most important achievements of the Convention’s authors, even if notsatisfactory to all parties, is that the Convention emphasises the effectivenessof state and social institutions in providing assistance to victims of human traf-ficking, and proposes mechanisms for monitoring of these activities. What ismost important for Poland is that the Convention was opened for signatureduring the Council of Europe’s Third Summit held in Poland on 16–17 May2005 (the Convention entered into force on 1 February 2008). The Republic ofPoland was among the first signatories of the Convention, but did not ratify ituntil November 2008, and it did not enter into force in Poland until May 2009.

CONCLUSIONS

This chapter has considered some of the many definitional aspects of humantrafficking that have still to be resolved. It has also outlined much of the mostsignificant anti-trafficking measures that have been adopted by the interna-


tional community, and shown how Poland has reacted to and embraced these.But it is clear that there is still much to be done in terms of both the interna-tional and the Polish fight against human trafficking, and that the human rightsaspect of trafficking, while better recognised than it was a few years ago, isstill not being taken sufficiently seriously in the actual practice of many statesand societies.

NOTES

1. At http://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lipiec_2005_w_sporcie, accessed February 2007.2. At http://sport.wp.pl/kat,32272,wid,8206210,wiadomosc.html, accessed February 2007 3. Siliadin vs. France, 26 July 2005, Chamber (Section II), complaint no. 73316/01.4. In 2008, 23 people were sentenced by the Italian authorities to between four and ten years’

imprisonment for trafficking 113 Polish tomato pickers (US Department of State 2009: 168). 5. Your Name is Justine (Masz na imie Justine), dir. Franco de Pena, Poland/Luxemburg, 2005.6. ZL⁄ Y (‘Evil’ in English), a monthly magazine, appeared in Poland in the 1990s. Its Editor-in-

Chief was M. Daniszewska. It focused on the pursuit of the sensational in criminal and courtcases, and illegally published photos of shocking criminal cases. Its last edition appeared in2000.

7. Based on an analysis of press information published in Poland in the years 1995–2005. Thiswas part of the ‘Trafficking in Human Beings. Training for Law Enforcement Officers inPoland’ project carried out by Warsaw University between 2003 and 2006.

8. Professor Wojciech Rowinski, National Consultant for Transplantology, has frequentlyemphasised that the information on transplantations taking place on a train, for instance, areof course untrue and contradict elementary medical knowledge.

9. The Declaration is available in Polish at http://kampania.amnesty.org.pl/docs/deklaracja.pdf.

10. The Special Rapporteur was Ms Radhika Coomaraswamy from Sri Lanka.11. The text of the Statute is available in Official Journal of Law, No.78, 2003, item 708.12. At http://conventions.coe.int/Treaty/Commun/QueVoulezVous.asp?NT=197&CM=8&DF

=1/19/2008&CL=ENG, accessed February 2007.


3. Responses to sex trafficking: gender,borders and ‘home’

Sanja Milivojevic and Marie Segrave

INTRODUCTION

Human trafficking, particularly the trafficking of women into the sex industry,is an issue that continues to gain traction as a major concern for the globalcommunity. Estimates that thousands, even millions of women have been keptas sex slaves (Raymond et al. 2002) have dominated the trafficking debatesince the late 1990s (see also Kelly 2005). These estimates continue to be useddespite their variability and the questionable nature of the research upon whichthey are based.1 A body of criticism has recently emerged that has called forthe recognition that these broad statistical claims are problematic (Doezema2000; Agustin 2005; Kelly 2005; Kempadoo 2005). This call, however, haslargely gone unnoticed, as estimates continue to play a pivotal role in fuellingglobal anti-trafficking responses. Reflecting the emphasis on quantifying theissue and approaching trafficking as a crime with identifiable (and quantifi-able) victims, the policy responses that have emerged internationally operatealmost exclusively within a law and order framework. The burgeoning schol-arship and reporting in this area also privilege criminalisation and victimisa-tion as the central tenets of this issue – where trafficked women are victims ofcrime, and the role of the state and of other anti-trafficking bodies is that of‘rescuer’. As a consequence, concerns around this issue have translated intoefforts within three key areas: preventing trafficking, prosecuting traffickingoffences and protecting victims.2 The focus of the analysis in this chapter is onprevention and protection, rather than prosecution.

Since the late 1990s we have witnessed the coalition3 of a broad range ofgroups and actors – from Western governments to religious and non-govern-mental organisations to feminist abolitionists – who have concentrated onprotecting women envisioned as victims from being ‘lured’ across nationalborders into the sex industry. Recently these ‘protective measures’ imposed bynation states and the international community to prevent the ‘disastrous humanright abuses’ (Crouse 2006) associated with ‘modern slavery’ (Bales 1999;Bertone 2000; Hughes 2001; Jeffreys 2002a) have materialised in a range of

37

new arenas. Two sites that have not to date been the subject of examinationwithin one concentrated analysis are the focus of analysis here:4 campaignsaround the risks associated with major sporting events; and national policyresponses to trafficking.

The 2006 Federation of International Football Association (FIFA) WorldCup exemplifies how the dominant logic has been applied to identify specificglobal events as sites for the potential escalation of trafficking in persons.While destination nations across the globe vary considerably, particularly interms of the patterns of trafficking, we have witnessed an international invest-ment in similar responses to this phenomenon, based upon an expectation thatvictims will be repatriated back to their country of origin. As responses havedeveloped around law and order frameworks, borders and the policing ofnational border regimes have played a critical role in determining the limitsand the operation of responses to trafficking.

This chapter examines and challenges the adoption of the ‘logical’ and‘natural’ law and order response. We locate the emergence of a range of formsof exploitation, including human trafficking, within a framework that takesintersectional considerations into account (see Langevin and Belleau 2000),and reject the popular tendency to focus exclusively on gendered sexualexploitation. Within this framework, trafficking is recognised as involvingissues of ethnic, social and economic disparity or inequality that impact uponmigration and labour opportunities, whereby exploitation occurs in many loca-tions and many levels. While this chapter focuses on efforts to address the traf-ficking of women into sexual servitude, the analytical lens we bring to theexamination of these efforts is one that is immediately suspicious of thespecific focus upon this one form of gendered exploitation.

To contextualise this position, we must identify our starting point, which isnot with trafficking itself, but with the documented feminisation of the labourforce and the transversal, migrating population. This chapter brings to the forewomen’s migration status as the critical factor driving many of the responsescurrently being developed and implemented by nation states. We recognisethat while mobility has been celebrated as a central pillar of globalisation, ithas not translated into increased mobility for all; rather, it has become highlystratified and accessible only to members of particular groups and populations(Bauman 1998; Soguk 1999; Berman 2003; Wonders 2006). Mobility hasbecome a commodity through which many have seized upon opportunities toprofit, by assisting irregular and illegal migration processes and exploiting thelabour of those ‘on the move’ (see Sassen 1998; Wonders and Michalowski2001). Thus, another major pillar in this framework is the regulation of migra-tion.

This chapter draws upon a gendered analysis of the role of the border inframing global responses to trafficking. In the first section, we are concerned


with how the debates on sex trafficking can be understood in the context of theinternational spectacle of the 2006 World Cup. We focus particularly on howthis event served as a trigger for increasingly punitive approaches to womenconsidered vulnerable to trafficking, and how it contributed to the enhance-ment of border controls for specific groups. The discussion is based on ananalysis of media coverage of sex trafficking and the World Cup in the sixmonths prior to and during the event.5 In the second section, we shift our focusto the South East Asian region, to examine how Australia and Thailand havestructured their repatriation policies. In particular, this analysis examines howthe limited temporality of the status of ‘victim’, compared with the inescapa-bility of the status of ‘non-citizen’, translates into policy frameworks designedto assist victims beyond the criminal justice process.

Initially these two sites appear to be quite separate. However, we develop abroad analysis that encompasses both practices, in order to identify the pointsof intersection and continuity. In our conclusion, we point to the ways in whichtrafficking in persons is currently conceptualised, and identify emerging impli-cations of the dominant agenda.

PREVENTING TRAFFICKING: THE 2006 WORLD CUP6

Young women will arrive in Germany thinking that they will be waitresses anddancers; instead, they will likely find themselves without documentation and atthe mercy of international networks associated with organised crime (Crouse2006).

Case Study: Football, Magic Numbers and Vulnerable Women’s Bodies

The staging of the 2006 FIFA World Cup brought into focus some of the keydebates on sex trafficking in Europe and the pressing issues it raises relatingto the representation of women, human rights and mobility. Several monthsbefore the football festival in Germany (literally) kicked off, various organi-sations and groups estimated that the World Cup would be likely to acceleratesex trafficking, with estimates that between 30 000 and 60 000 women couldbe trafficked to Germany (CARE for Europe 2006; Council of Europe 2006;IOM 2006; Neuwirth 2006; Salvation Army 2006a; Sparre 2006). It is unclearhow these estimates were reached, as none of the authors or institutions thatannounced these projections clarified their methodology or sources. Despiteefforts by some advocacy and outreach groups who readily dismissed thesenumbers as exaggerated (Daily Times, 10 March 2006), and although thepolice of one of the host cities – Munich – suggested that such figures were‘plucked from the air’ (Haape 2006), various activists, experts and the media

Responses to sex trafficking: gender, borders and ‘home’ 39

continued to refer to thousands of women in danger of being trafficked for theWorld Cup.

A closer analysis of media reports prior to and during the World Cuprevealed that such estimates originated from the number of sex workersexpected to travel to Germany for the biggest sporting event in 2006(Deutsche Welle, 10 June 2005; Paterson 2005; Iglesias 2006). Within thesupply and demand equation, the proposed number of migrant sex workersneeded to fulfil expected demand during the World Cup was intriguingly trans-lated into the number of women who might be trafficked, by establishing atfirst potential, and subsequently an explicit connection between sportingevents and the increase in demand for commercial sex: ‘It is critical that theGerman government, civil society and the international community look seri-ously at the potential links between this major sporting event and the potentialincrease in the demand for sexual exploitation of women and children’ (AshleyGarrett in IOM 2006: 30–31; emphasis added); and ‘Experiences show that atevery big sporting event where a large number of men gather, there is a spec-tacular rise in the demand for sexual services. (Ulrike Helwerth, spokes-woman for the NGO Deutscher Frauenrat [transl. German Women’s Council],cited in Iglesias 2006; emphasis added).

The claim that some women among those expected to migrate and addressthe demand might be trafficked – that is, be forced into the sex industry or bedeceived about the conditions of work – was transformed into the argumentthat most of, or indeed all migrant women will be victims of trafficking: ‘TheGerman Women’s Council has estimated that an additional 40 000 women willbe brought into Germany … Many of these women are likely to be victims oftrafficking’ (Janice Shaw Crouse, Concerned Women for America, in Jalsevac2006; emphasis added); and ‘During the World Cup around 40 000 youngwomen are expected to be imported to Germany for sexual trafficking’(Salvation Army 2006b).

In addition, women perceived to be in danger of being trafficked wereportrayed in the media as young, innocent and naive girls from Eastern andCentral Europe, who would be forcibly introduced to the sex industry (Bindel2006; Ekklesia 2006; Haape 2006; Neuwirth 2006; Tzortzis 2006). Absentfrom these dominant narratives was any recognition of women’s agency –either as individuals willingly engaging in the sex industry or as transnationalmigrants willingly seeking expedient cross-border opportunities. In place ofsuch accounts were narratives that constructed women as weak and vulner-able, and thus considered in need of ‘rescue’ (Milivojevic 2007): ‘Manywomen will say this is the life they chose, but economic desperation or thebreakdown in social structures that constrain women into prostitution doesn’tleave them many options’ (Duncan MacLaren, Secretary General of CaritasInternational, in Catholic News, 25 May 2006).


Consequently, as we will demonstrate below, the anti-trafficking interven-tion around the 2006 World Cup targeted both women identified as potentialvictims, and illegal migrants/workers in the German sex industry. This is notto say that the coverage was exclusively engaged in reporting on traffickingand sex work without any clear distinction. For example, recognizing that‘forced prostitution … is a very real and serious problem in Germany’, SpiegelOnline (26 May 2006) stated that ‘much of the foreign coverage seems todeliberately conflate [trafficking and sex work]’. Similarly, German lawenforcement officials argued in vain that there was ‘no major upsurge in pros-titution-related criminality’ during the sporting events this country hosted inthe past (Haape 2006). A few days before the opening ceremony, Germanpolice issued a statement stating that there were ‘no signs of any explosion offorced prostitution that had been warned of in the months leading to the open-ing day’ (Christian Post, 11 June 2006). However, these counter-claims werelargely silenced; the dominant assumptions were unshaken, and the new moralpanic7 was under way, led by a strong collective force with a broader moralagenda.

The Framework: Moral Panic and the Abolitionist Agenda

Ever since Germany legalised sex work in 2001, it has attracted the occasionalscrutiny of the abolitionist coalition. Yet it was Germany’s initiative to opennew brothels for the World Cup that drew increased attention. Soon after thefirst media headlines about ‘sex huts’8 and a possible increase in the numberof sex workers during the competition were published, the abolitionist coali-tion of women’s groups, religious communities and human rights organisa-tions joined forces to protect women from exploitation in the sex industry.From the beginning, however, this new moral panic explicitly targeted sexwork, claiming that ‘prostitution is to sex trafficking what coal is to steamengines’ (Christianity Today website, accessed 2 July 2006).

The leader in the anti-trafficking movement, based on opposing all sexwork, is the current United States (US) administration.9 Soon after the esti-mates about the number of sex workers expected to travel to Germany for theWorld Cup had been announced, Congressmen Christopher H. Smith(Republican – New Jersey) chaired a Special Hearing, in which he argued that:

Since the matches are being held in Germany, which legalised pimping and prosti-tution in 2001, the World Cup fans would be legally free to rape women in brothels… Of the approximately 400 000 prostitutes in Germany, it is estimated that 75percent of those who are abused in these houses of prostitution are foreigners, manyfrom Central and Eastern Europe. We know beyond reasonable doubt that so manyof these women are coerced and they are there because of force, fraud or, like I say,coercion. (Smith 2006: 7; emphasis added)10


The US Secretary of State’s advisor on human trafficking, John Miller, hasbeen especially vocal in linking women’s migration, sex work and trafficking,claiming that: ‘All the research and evidence available shows that when youhave large flows of women for sexual purposes, there is going to be traffick-ing. There is a link between prostitution and sex trafficking’ (Agence FrancePresse, 10 June 2006).

As will be explored later, such criticism is significant, since the USDepartment of State assesses countries’ performance in combating traffickingin its annual Trafficking in Persons (TiP) Report.11

In this anti-sex work campaign, focus was particularly on prevention, target-ing both potential clients and ‘victims’. Abolitionist feminist organisations, ledby the Coalition Against Trafficking in Women (CATW), joined the partnershipby launching the campaign ‘Buying Sex Is Not a Sport: No to Germany’sProstitution of Women during the World Cup Games’ (CATW, 2006).12

Religious communities and faith-based organisations also directly targetedGermany’s policy towards sex work: the Catholic Family and Human RightsInstitute launched a motion called ‘Stop World Cup Prostitution’, the GermanLutheran Church distributed leaflets aimed at reducing the demand for sex workduring the World Cup (Ohmynews, 27 May 2006), while nuns in Poland issuedanti-prostitution leaflets in Eastern European languages (Luxmore 2006), aimedat warning young women of the dangers of sex work and trafficking.

Claims of possible mass human rights abuses triggered similar responsesby the international human rights community. Amnesty International urgedEuropean governments to launch prevention campaigns in countries of origin,and ‘all states with football fans travelling to Germany to raise awareness ofthe fact that many sex workers present in Germany during the World Cup mayhave been trafficked’ (Amnesty International 2006a). Salvation Army andCARE volunteers travelled to Germany with leaflets designed to stop menfrom going to brothels (Salvation Army 2006a; CARE for Europe 2006), whilethe International Organization for Migration (IOM), the Swedish InternationalDevelopment Cooperation Agency (SIDA) and MTV Europe Foundationproduced a ‘TV announcement addressing the demand side of sex trafficking… directed at both potential clients of prostitutes as well as those most vulner-able to becoming trafficked’ (IOM 2006).13

The participating national teams and football federations were also underscrutiny. Thus CARE urged ‘all football teams playing at the World Cup … topublicly condemn Germany’s acceptance of the exploitation, trafficking andpimping of women for sex’ and called ‘upon high-profile players to make theiropposition to the “Mega Brothel”’ (CARE for Europe 2006).14 As a result ofthis pressure, the President of the German Football Federation, TheoZwanziger, stated that the Federation needed to reconsider its position on sexwork (Spiegel Online, 8 March 2006).


After receiving a warning from its closest allies,15 a German delegation tothe Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) issued astatement that: ‘we must assume – even if there are no reliable figures – thatwomen will be forced into prostitution and will perhaps be brought toGermany solely for this purpose’ (Delegation of Germany to the OSCE 2006).The anti-trafficking intervention that followed, driven by guesstimates, stereo-types and moral panic, and gravitating around the notion of repairing injuredwomen’s bodies by reinforcing the concept of ‘home’ and restoring borders,was twofold: prevention of potential victims and ‘rescue’ of those already‘exploited’. The following section will explore how this intervention impactedon women’s lives.

The Outcome: Policing Sex Workers and Stopping Migration

Although the European Union (EU) stated that its campaign was not going tobe a ‘campaign against normal prostitution’ (Expatica, 8 March 2006), whathas been done in the name of anti-trafficking constitutes a concentrated effortto police women working in the sex industry. As a part of the crackdown onsex trafficking in Germany prior to and during the World Cup, hundreds of sexworkers were questioned by police, while nearly 100 people were arrested inbrothels in four German states, 74 of whom were sex workers (AssociatedPress, 1 June 2006). The Interior Minister of Hesse province directly linkedthese raids with ‘concerns expressed by human rights organisations and othergroups that thousands of women, mostly from Eastern Europe, could be smug-gled into Germany and forced to work as prostitutes during the World Cup’. Inthe neighbouring province of Rhineland-Palatinate, 22 people were arrestedand 34 were issued citations: ‘mostly for immigration violations and failure tocomply with business regulations’ (Associated Press, 1 June 2006). Thus,bringing women (mostly illegal migrants and/or undocumented workers)home, through the criminal justice system and via the border, represents theoutcome of anti-trafficking initiatives around the World Cup. In addition, thiscampaign has had a significant impact on the lives of those sex workers whowere lucky enough to escape incarceration or deportation (Landler 2006).

Finally, this intervention impacted on women from the assumed countriesof origin who, for whatever reason, wanted to visit Germany during the WorldCup. If they ignored anti-trafficking messages highlighted earlier, suggestingthat staying at home is an ultimate prevention strategy, women from theGlobal South faced tough visa regime and border controls:

Visa requirements should be slapped on all non-EU citizens travelling to Germany… as a part of a drive to prevent an expected increase in the trafficking of sex work-ers … We need to introduce and re-introduce temporary visas for all third countries


– even those not requiring visas so far – but which are possible origin countries fortrafficked women and children. (EU Chief Justice Franco Frattini, Expatica, 8March 2006; EU Observer, 9 March 2006; Bianchi 2006)

EU Chief Justice Frattini’s key argument for such measures was, again, the‘protection’ of women – but also the protection of ‘public order’ within theEU, since women cannot be trusted:

Each and every application for a visa from women in the suspected countries oforigin for forced prostitution should be checked, as a lot of the times women lie …in the application … The authorities [need to] ensure that people potentially‘compromising public order’, one of the grounds for refusal of entry into theSchengen area, are indeed refused such entry. (EU Chief Justice Franco Frattini,Expatica, 8 March 2006; EU Observer, 9 March 2006).

Thus, the danger of being trafficked and/or exploited has been utilised as a tooleffectively to restrict women’s mobility and agency, whether in preventingwomen from travelling or returning them ‘home’, in which process maintain-ing the border regime plays the critical role. Coincidentally or not – butcertainly ironically – these visa restrictions for non-EU women were intro-duced on 8 March 2006, International Women’s Day.

Contrary to the media frenzy prior to the World Cup, reports and assess-ments after the final whistle were scarce. The IOM’s report confirms that ‘direpredictions of tens of thousands of victims were unfounded and unrealistic’16

and that ‘more accountability is needed among right-wing groups and mediawhen citing figures’ (Associated Press, 8 May 2007). Yet the report praises‘[p]revention campaigns and increased law enforcement efforts’, arguing thatthey ‘may have reduced the risk of trafficking’ (Hennig et al. 2007: 6). On theother hand, the impact of anti-trafficking intervention on those they weresupposed to protect – women in the German sex industry and potential victims– has not been critically assessed. Moreover, we witness the moral panic shift-ing towards upcoming sporting events, such as the 2010 Olympic Games andthe FIFA World Cup in South Africa, as events that carry potential risks of traf-ficking (IOM 2006; Canadian Press, 1 June 2006; Perrin 2007; News24.com2009).

Challenging the Framework

The case study just outlined indicates that across Europe (and elsewhere),‘some (mostly male) bodies enforce borders, while other (mostly female)bodies are subject to border enforcement’ (Wonders 2006: 66). What is appar-ent from our review is that the bodies that enforce borders are not only thoseagents that patrol the physical border, but also those (male and female) agents


that patrol moral borders around the acceptability of sex work. The moralpanic that snowballed around the 2006 FIFA World Cup resulted in theconstruction of women as victims and the state as the ‘rescuer’. While conflat-ing the issues of sex work and trafficking, anti-trafficking initiatives thatfollowed brought the curtailment of (some) women’s mobility in the name ofsecuring their protection (from themselves as well as from traffickers) and hasseriously undervalued women’s agency. The (gendered, moral) order has beenrestored by ensuring women are ‘home’ (by preventing their flight or return-ing them) where home is presumed to be a safe sanctuary. Yet the actualimpact of such an intervention, both on the trafficking phenomenon and onwomen’s lives, has not been assessed. Importantly, these issues and concernshave consequences beyond the development and implementation of ‘protec-tion’ efforts. We witness the repetition of these narrow moral frameworks andgendered narratives in policies designed to assist victims once they have beenidentified by authorities in the country of destination, and in the quiet, yetinsistent, policies of repatriating victims back to their country of origin.

RESPONDING TO TRAFFICKING: REPATRIATION

While the World Cup and the associated media frenzy around the potential forthousands of women to be trafficked to Germany captured the attention of aninternational audience, the less sensational aspects of anti-trafficking efforts arerarely the subject of close examination. Critically, however, the issues andconcerns that were identified in the examination of the mobilisation of the 2006World Cup anti-trafficking campaign are pertinent within all aspects of currentpolicy frameworks. For this reason, we now turn to examine policy frameworksaround repatriation. While the first case study demonstrated how the dominantideologies underlying anti-trafficking responses translate into front-end preven-tion efforts, we now turn to examine how (gendered, sexualised) law and orderresponses influence the final stages of anti-trafficking efforts.

The Framework: Supporting Victims through Repatriation

The international framework for responding to trafficking in human beings,the Protocol to Prevent, Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons,Especially Women and Children (UN 2000a; the Protocol entered into force on25 December 2003), outlines a three-part approach to be adopted by statesparties to the Protocol. This framework has been translated into a popularpolicy ‘formula’ approach, whereby organisations and governments align theirefforts within the ‘three Ps’ model, identified (most often) as prevention,protection and prosecution (see, for example, Millar 2004; Askola 2007: 418).


The wide adoption of this approach is reflected in a range of contexts andprogrammes, including, as just discussed, the planning efforts for the World Cupin 2006. The Trafficking in Persons report, produced annually through the UnitedStates Department of State’s Office to Monitor and Combat Trafficking inPersons, plays a significant role in maintaining this ‘formula’. It monitors nationsand reports on their anti-trafficking efforts, according to ‘minimum standards’within these three key areas. While there has been growing criticism directed atthis model and at the self-appointment of the US as the unilateral ‘watchdog’ (seefor example Berman 2003; Chuang 2006; Women’s Commission for RefugeeWomen and Children 2007), these standards, together with the Protocol frame-work, play a significant role in influencing governments to introduce anti-traf-ficking laws and policies (see US Department of State 2002a; Carrington andHearn 2003; Coomaraswamy 2003). Here, however, we are concerned with theunequal prioritisation of the three elements: the development and implementationof domestic and cross-border criminal justice efforts, and particularly lawenforcement outcomes, are emphasised as the most critical (and most tangible)indication of progress in addressing trafficking (see Berman 2003).

As a consequence of the focus on law and order, the processes beyond crim-inal justice efforts are rarely the subject of close attention. The focus here is toexamine the repatriation (or ‘safe return’) of victims back to their country oforigin, a process that most often follows the ‘rescue’ of victims and the pursuitof criminal justice outcomes. Within the ‘three Ps’ formula, repatriation is mostoften discussed in relation to ‘protection’. While Section 9 of the PalermoProtocol outlines a broad framework for repatriation processes, efforts havelargely concentrated upon the implementation of repatriation, rather thanwhether repatriation should be the final requirement of destination countries inassisting or supporting victims of trafficking. Little is known about the processand policies governing how repatriation operates. Nor has there been any exam-ination of why the return of victims home is inherent to anti-traffickingresponses, and what underlies such a policy framework. In the followingsection, we seek to attend to issues rarely addressed in discussions around traf-ficking responses, and to bring a migration and citizenship framework to theanalysis of repatriation, an aspect of trafficking most often sidelined (Chuang2006). As argued below, repatriation policies are located within victim-orientedpolicy commitments; yet trafficking responses are driven primarily by themigration status of victims. To explore this, we turn to repatriation policiesoperating within two very different contexts: Australia and Thailand.

Case Study: Repatriation in Australia and Thailand

Thailand and Australia are two nations within the South-East Asian Pacificregion with considerable disparities – politically, socially and economically.


Thailand is resource limited compared to Australia, and faces considerablechallenges in the wake of the political instability following the September2006 coup.17 The challenges of responding to trafficking are further intensi-fied in Thailand by its geographic location, the scale of cross-border popula-tion flows, and the disparity (economic, political) between Thailand and itsneighbouring nations of Laos, Cambodia, Malaysia and Burma. There are amyriad of complex forces impacting on migration flows into and out ofThailand. Consequently, people trafficking manifests itself differently in bothnations: while Australia is identified as primarily a destination country, withestimates ranging from 100 to 1000 victims annually (Carrington and Hearn2003; Maltzahn 2004), Thailand is identified as a source, transit and destina-tion country, where the magnitude of incidents of trafficking is many timesthat of Australia (UNODC 2006).

Despite the considerable differences between Thailand and Australia,many victims of trafficking in both nations, reflecting global patterns, arealso non-citizens, and often come to the attention of authorities as illegal orirregular non-citizens. Consequently, they are at risk of deportation prior tobeing identified as potential victims of trafficking (Carrington and Hearn2003; Segrave 2007). Thus there is some similarity in the way in which traf-ficking is identified in both countries, and in the role of immigration author-ities. Further, the anti-trafficking efforts introduced in both nations are alsovery similar, as both countries have embraced the rhetoric and model of‘comprehensive’ whole-of-government law and order approaches. Thistranslates into an emphasis on developing legislation, pursuing prosecutions,and providing victim support to those victims who assist with the criminaljustice process.

Within this context, repatriation in both Australia and Thailand is linked tovictim support, where repatriation is equated with returning victims ‘home’safely.18 Much of the focus within Thailand and Australia (and the region morebroadly) in relation to repatriation has evolved around developing cooperativeagreements between nations to ensure the smooth relocation of victims (seeBali Process 2006). This has translated into numerous Memorandums ofUnderstanding (MoUs) between destination and source countries to establishagreed protocols for the return and repatriation of victims (including agree-ments on intelligence-sharing between law enforcement agencies), and toprotect victims from prosecutions for any offences they may have committedimmediately before or during their exploitation (Bali Process 2006).19 Yet thepublic rhetoric emphasises the link between repatriation and the victimwelfare orientation of the policy response, for example: ‘the AustralianGovernment shares community concern about the welfare of victims of traf-ficking and has responded by introducing a comprehensive victim supportpackage’ (Commonwealth Attorney-General’s Department 2004: 13).


Repatriation is associated with victim support and imagined as a seamless,linear process that logically concludes with the provision of assistance andsupport to victims by ‘benevolent’ nations.

However, in examining the response in both Australia and Thailand, and theoperation of repatriation policies, it becomes clear that a driving concernwithin the policy broadly, and the repatriation process specifically, is the main-tenance of the authority and legitimacy of the migration regime. To supportthis claim we need to link the way in which victims most often come to theattention of authorities, how they are managed within the country of destina-tion, and how repatriation operates.

In 2004, Australia introduced a visa system to enable potential victims of traf-ficking to remain legally in the country while their case is being investigated.This visa system is a temporary one that empowers Australian authorities at eachpoint (that is, from the initial investigation, to the decision regarding prosecu-tion, through to prosecution) to determine whether the victim can assist with aninvestigation. If the victim cannot or will not assist in criminal justice proceed-ings, they will no longer be eligible for the temporary visa (for more detail seeSegrave 2004; Burn and Simmons 2005). In order to ensure that victims who areno longer involved in the criminal justice process are not automatically detainedand deported, based on their migration status as illegal non-citizens, a repatria-tion process was introduced. This was designed to be accessible to all potentialor suspected victims, not only those whose cases are prosecuted successfully.Rather than being ‘deported’ (a return process with different legal implicationsas per the Migration Act 1958), women are ‘repatriated’ to Thailand where infor-mation regarding options for further ‘reintegration’ assistance is (ideally)provided. Repatriation has been developed as the primary mode of victimsupport post the criminal justice process. While a further set of visas was intro-duced to enable the Minister for Immigration to grant trafficking victims theright to remain in Australia, this is a conditional and discretionary visa, and thereis no certainty of accessibility or eligibility.20

There are two key points to note here. First, such a visa regime ensures thatat no point are victims of trafficking automatically entitled to remain inAustralia for any length of time once the prosecution is complete. Second, therights of victims of trafficking and sexual servitude are limited by theirconcurrent status as non-citizens. The processes are based on the understand-ing that the majority of persons identified as potential victims of trafficking inAustralia will be repatriated. This was outlined and identified as problematicby one member of a 2004 Federal Senate Committee inquiry related to theAustralian response to people trafficking:

it struck me that [in the past] the fundamental problem was that these women werebeing perceived as illegal immigrants and were being dealt with in that way … I


think that over the last few months we have been able to turn that around, and thecommunity debate is now more about seeing the women as victims instead of crim-inals … [but] It troubles me that the way that the support packaging seems to havebeen structured is a reversion to that ethos of seeing the women as illegal immi-grants …

The Senator went on, however, to identify that the key challenge for the nationin responding to trafficking is the dual status of women as both victims and(illegal) non-citizens:

what happens to those women who are of no use to the authorities or to the FederalPolice? [It was] said that they would be sent home, that they would be treated asunlawful entrants … It worries me that perhaps we could be doing something betterthere but we are not. [However], I accept the point that there is no easy answer tothat, because they are here unlawfully. (Senator Greig, Committee Member on theParliamentary Joint Committee on the Australian Crime Commission (JCACC)Inquiry into the trafficking of women for sexual servitude; JCACC 2004a: 17–18)

In Thailand, the process operates similarly and is essentially driven by thesame two principles. Currently the people trafficking focus is almost exclu-sively directed towards women and children trafficked into Thailand. Howeverthe process from the point of identification differs slightly to Australia, as thereis no equivalent step-by-step visa framework accessible for victims once theyare identified. Most often, potential victims of trafficking will be identifiedinitially as illegal non-citizens and taken to an Immigration Detention Centrebefore being deported to their country of origin.21 Thai Immigration Policeidentify potential victims of trafficking in the Detention Centre, interview them,and separate them from the larger population of illegal non-citizens, who aredetained and deported (Segrave 2007). Victims of trafficking are provided withshelter and assistance while their case is being investigated. Similarly to theAustralian situation, at the end of the case the majority are repatriated. Theextent to which this differs from deportation practices is less clear, as there isno detailed policy framework. However, there is a similar commitment toensuring that those who are returned to their country of origin are treated differ-ently from those who are deported (UNIAP 2005).

The complexity of this process is heightened by the numbers of potentialvictims and the diversity of their citizenship status. Most often, though, theThai government will work with a non-governmental agency to assist with thereturn of victims of trafficking; an example is World Vision, which helps inrepatriating Burmese victims of trafficking back across the border. Thailand’spolicy commitment is not, however, so comprehensive as to include a visasystem to protect those who may be at serious risk if they are returned to theircountry of origin. There are also fewer legal alternatives to remain in the coun-try than exist in Australia (see US Department of State 2007).


While the processes involved in repatriation raise a number of issuesworthy of further analysis, critical here is the examination of the basic princi-ples underlying repatriation processes. In Australia and Thailand, the borderregime determines both the rights of victims within the (destination) nationand the responsibility of that nation to victims. This has been clearly affirmedby policy-makers in both countries: ‘the situation [victims] are in … whateverimmigration status they have, either having come here legally or illegally …[is that they] will be dealt with according to that regime’ (Joanne Blackburn,First Assistant Secretary, Criminal Justice Division, Australian Attorney-General’s Department; in JCACC 2004b: 23); and: ‘Of course many of them[women we work with] say they don’t want to go back, but I say if you’re herewe don’t have the law to accept you, so you are illegal person’ (SaisureeChutikul, Chair of the Committee on Combating Trafficking in Children andWomen, Thailand and Chair of the World Vision Foundation, Thailand – citedin Segrave 2007)

The policy response can be understood as effectively rewriting and simpli-fying trafficking into a linear journey (Tiuriukanova 2005), such that the return‘home’ signifies the completion of this journey. Repatriation, then, as a neces-sary process, becomes an outcome in itself – an outcome arguably far removedfrom addressing or combating trafficking.

Challenging the Framework

This reading of the commonality in the design and operation of anti-traffick-ing efforts, particularly the investment in repatriation, reveals that victims oftrafficking are always, first and foremost, positioned as ‘other’ – as non-citi-zens to whom the country of destination has limited responsibilities. The logicunderlying the operation of the repatriation process as victim-supportiverequires further interrogation. We need to acknowledge the gendered nature ofthis approach and the focus on women’s needs and desires as ‘victims’, whilealso drawing upon gendered notions and expectations of women according totheir citizenship status. There is a need to challenge the presumptions of the‘commonsense logic’ that the return of women ‘home’ is the final stage in therestoration of order. Such logic is premised upon notions of home as ‘sanctu-ary’, where it is assumed women will be safer or better off in their country oforigin. However, this is a ‘forbidding task’, as it requires challenging taken-for-granted truths (see Hogg and Brown 1998: 18).

As repatriation policies are instituted in Australia and Thailand (andbeyond), we are witnessing the effective silencing of women’s agency and(potential) status as transnational actors in the global community. Currently awide range of complex issues impacting on women’s lives and experiences ofmigration and labour lie outside policy frameworks. Trafficking is not identi-


fied as being part of a larger, more complex transnational journey. Theassumption that women simply return home and remain there has been chal-lenged by research that recognises the fluidity of people’s migration journeys,the necessity for some women continually to seek labour opportunities outsidetheir country of origin in order to survive, and/or for other reasons (such as tosupport their families).

In the name of ‘protecting’ and ‘supporting’ victims, women’s mobility isbeing contained, and their identity maintained, in relation to the border-boundstatus of citizen. What makes this logic more difficult to dislodge is the wayin which it buys into a popular myth around trafficking: the logic of the ‘returnhome’ appeals to a broader, gendered narrative around victimisation, wherevictims are most often seen as naive, third-world victims kidnapped and forcedto work in the sex industry. As we identified in relation to the ‘moral panic’around the fear of increased trafficking in relation to the 2006 World Cup, suchnarratives are at odds with the reality of contemporary transnational migrationprocesses in which many women trafficked for sex are involved.

CONCLUSIONS

This chapter has sought to challenge the dominant anti-trafficking movementand the unwavering investment in the overarching logic of law and order. Thisis a critical juncture at which to do this, since we are witnessing the expansionof groups and actors involved in developing and instituting anti-traffickingefforts – from individual nations to international event organisers. The struc-ture of legally oriented anti-trafficking efforts continues to focus primarily onthe point of exploitation, where trafficked women are treated as victims ofcrime within a trauma and welfare-oriented framework, and where traffickingpractices are identified as crimes against the person. It is a structure in whichthe prosecution of traffickers is recognised as an essential tool in workingtowards eradicating human trafficking and in measuring the success of theseefforts. As identified in our discussion above, this model does not incorporatethe impact of migration and labour regulation, or the increasing number ofpeople willing (and needing) to undertake dangerous and/or clandestinemigration journeys. Instead, the realities of women’s lives, including theirefforts to negotiate restrictive migration regimes and the regulation of ‘appro-priate’ forms of work and labour, are absent from the concerns and commit-ments of anti-trafficking campaigns.

In part, these issues are neglected because of the broader acceptance of, andinvestment in, the logic of home (or nation) as a ‘safe’ place (Neocleous 2003).Such an assumption can negate all the potential reasons that women are on themove, and draws upon a dominant gendered and misguided notion that women


are safest when they are ‘home’. Critically, any attempt to challenge thisnotion is refuted by reference to the migration status of victims of traffickingand the reassertion that they have few, if any, rights within the country of desti-nation. We argue that while these issues are generally neglected in the publicsphere, they have significant consequences for the implementation of effortsto address trafficking.

This chapter indicates the need to challenge this dominant framework, byengaging with current policies and assessing their impact on the lives of thosethey are supposed to protect. We challenge the ‘imaginary identification’ ofhome as ‘sanctuary’ (Neocleous 2003: 120), where it is assumed women aremost likely to be protected from exploitation and the place where they shouldbe returned as victims of exploitation. We have brought to the fore how equat-ing prevention and protection into an emphasis on the importance of womenbeing at ‘home’ enables gendered, restrictive border-related policies to operatethat may restrict women’s rights and their freedom of movement, and whichmay also increase their vulnerability to potential exploitation.

Further, we identify that citizenship defines the boundaries and limits onanti-trafficking efforts. From prevention to victim assistance to repatriation,we are witnessing the utilisation of increased border controls under the guiseof protection and support. Such efforts serve effectively to deny women’s past,current and future transnationality. Simultaneously, these efforts reinforce thelogic that border-bound citizenship is a key determinant of an individual’srights within any location, thus reaffirming that power remains concentratedwithin and tied to the nation state (Cunningham 2004).

These points give rise to a number of concerns that include the followingthree considerations. First is the concern that the responsibility of destinationcountries begins and ends at the border, such that the role of the state is tomaintain or restore order through keeping or returning women home; that is,in their rightful place (Berman 2003). There is no engagement with alternativepossibilities, such as the responsibility of nations to increase the accessibilityof low-skilled migration visas, or ensuring that migrant labourers in all aspectsof the labour force are adequately protected from exploitation, or that coun-tries of destination should be responsible for providing a range of short- andlong-term options to those who have been exploited within their jurisdiction.A further concern is that the current framework effectively dislocates theexploitation that women experience from the broader social, political andeconomic context in which such practices are occurring.

Finally, we wish to identify that, ultimately, the concomitant efforts ofnations, non-governmental organisations, international sporting bodies andothers are effectively upholding and further entrenching the connectionbetween responding to trafficking and the reassertion of the inherent right ofthe state to exercise its prerogative to control who may cross its borders and


the way in which they will do so. While beyond the scope of this chapter, thereis a need to question the potential inequality of these border regulation regimesand/or how these policies are impacting on practices of exploitation, such aspeople trafficking, and on women’s lives.

Further, there is a need to examine the engagement of a ‘victim-centred’policy rhetoric as a strategic tool that inhibits the potential for critical analy-sis. Challenging the appropriateness of the dominant response to traffickinghas too often produced a counter-attack that we are neglecting the ‘trauma’experienced by victims of trafficking. It can also be met with the response thatwe must be mindful of the ‘threat’ posed by increasing the accessibility ofsupport mechanisms and visa support – that is, the threat that this would resultin a ‘flood’ of false claims to victimisation by ‘undeserving’ non-citizens.However, such responses point to the fact that controlling migration anddelimiting trafficking into an issue of victimisation (and criminalisation) is atthe core of current responses. It is only through adopting a broader perspectivethat we can begin to shed light on the problematic consequences of the imple-mentation of anti-trafficking efforts that are far removed from the stated focusof combating trafficking in persons.

The issues raised in this chapter point towards a new agenda for futureresearch and scholarship. A key tool in working towards this new agenda is toaddress the absence of women/victim’s voices, and to seek to give women aplatform upon which to articulate their experiences as women, as migrants, asnon-citizens, as labourers and as victims of trafficking. As interest in traffick-ing in persons continues to expand and reach a wider global audience, we mustseek to ensure that so-called ‘best-practice’ efforts around prevention, prose-cution and protection continue to be challenged. For as long as the borderregime and the interests of the nation state drive responses to trafficking,efforts to address trafficking in persons will continue to have limited, if any,impact in working towards the eradication of all forms of cross-borderexploitation.

NOTES

1. For example, in 2002 the US Department of State (2002a: 1) estimated that between 700 000and 4 million people are trafficked worldwide annually, while the 2007 Trafficking inPersons (TiP) Report reduced this estimate to 800 000 (US Department of State 2007: 8).Women and children are identified as particularly vulnerable categories: the UN representa-tive in 2000 stated that 1 million women have been trafficked worldwide annually (Farr2005: 4), while the US Department of State (2006, 2007) estimates that 80 per cent of alltrafficked victims are women. Regional estimates vary as well: the InternationalOrganization for Migration (IOM) estimated that 300 000 women were trafficked to andwithin Europe in 1998 (Konrad 2002); the European Commission (2001) suggested that thenumber of trafficked women within Europe in 2001 was 120 000; while in 2004 theEuropean Union estimated that around 200 000 women had been brought to Europe that year


(Spiegel Online, 8 March 2006). The picture is not much clearer on the local level and, as aresult, the IOM stated in 2001 that there is no European country that could provide reliabledata on the scope and characteristics of trafficking (Kelly 2002a: 7).

2. These efforts tend to operate independently. While prevention efforts are valued, prosecu-tions are a major focus, as criminal justice efforts can yield tangible ‘results’, and thus canbe identified as major markers of success (Goodey 2003).

3. US Ambassador John Miller coined this coalition ‘the 21st century abolitionist movement’(US House of Representatives Subcommittee on Africa, Global Human Rights andInternational Operation Hearing 2006a: 27).

4. There has been much attention devoted to both issues separately. On the World Cup and sextrafficking see GAATW (2006), Loewenberg (2006), Hennig et al. (2007) and Milivojevic andPickering (2008). On repatriation policies see Burn and Simmons (2005) and Segrave (2007).

5. This included English-language newspapers and media outlets such as Reuters, World NetDaily, Associated Press, Agence France-Presse, International Herald Tribune, New YorkTimes, Washington Post, Independent Online, Guardian, BBC News Service, SundayHerald, Deutsche Welle, Spiegel Online, Expatica, and religious websites Christian ScienceMonitor, Christian News Wire, Christian Post, Christianity Today, Catholic News, LifeSiteNews, Ekklesia, Whitehaven News and Baptist Press News. It did so using online newssearch engines and identified in excess of 46 articles on the topic. We then used textualanalysis to identify the key arguments and speakers within the media studied.

6. This section draws upon Milivojevic and Pickering (2008).7. As Stanley Cohen (2002: 1) writes: ‘Societies appear to be subject, every now and then, to

periods of moral panic’, as ‘ [a] condition, episode, person or group of persons emerges tobecome defined as a threat to societal values and interests; its nature is presented in a styl-ized and stereotypical fashion by the mass media; the moral barricades are manned byeditors, bishops, politicians and other right-thinking people; socially accredited expertspronounce their diagnosis and solutions; ways of coping are evolved or (more often) resortedto; the condition then disappears, submerges or deteriorates and becomes more visible.’Moral panics in trafficking have been linked to the issue of sex work; see, for example,Doezema (2000) and Weitzer (2005).

8. Wooden mobile facilities built to satisfy expected increases in demand for commercial sexduring the World Cup.

9. In 2003, President George W. Bush issued a National Security Presidential Directive opposingsex work as ‘inherently harmful and dehumanizing’ (Office of the Press Secretary 2003). TheUS position on sex work impinges on anti-trafficking initiatives worldwide: between 2003 and2010, the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) stopped supportingprojects that endorsed the legalisation of sex work (Ditmore 2005; Kempadoo 2005). Therehas, however, been a slight easing of restrictions under the Obama administration.

10. It is interesting to note that this section of Congressman Smith’s statement appeared in thenews reports, for example on LifeSite website at http://www.lifesite.net/ldn/2006/may/06050108.html, but later disappeared in the print version of the hearing.

11. Classified in four categories (three tiers, the second of which subdivides into Tier 2 and Tier2 Watch List), countries in Tier 1 are those assessed to fully comply with the minimum stan-dards for combating trafficking set by the US Trafficking Victims Protection Act (2000). Formore information go to: http://www.state.gov/g/tip/rls/tiprpt/.

12. This campaign was supported by women’s groups in other European countries with similaragendas: in Ireland, the National Women’s Council of Ireland launched ‘Buying Sex is not aSport’campaign (Crouse 2006); while in Germany anti-trafficking and anti-sex work campaigns‘Final Whistle – Stop Forced Prostitution’, ‘Red Card for Forced Prostitution’ and ‘ResponsibleJohns’ were announced (Deutsche Welle, 23 February 2006; Spiegel Online, 26 May 2006).

13. This campaign can be viewed at http://comps.mtv.co.uk/comps/streaker/index.jhtml.14. In response, the President of the Swedish Football Association, Lars-Ake Lagrell, promised

that Swedish players would not use brothels during the World Cup (Bindel 2006), whileSwedish Equal Opportunity Ombudsman Claes Borgström called on his team to withdrawfrom the World Cup as a protest against ‘prostitution and the human trafficking associatedwith it’ (Spiegel Online, 12 April 2006).


15. The European Union expressed its concern about the issue on 17 January 2006 and put it onthe agenda for the European Parliament plenary session in March. Christopher Smith (USHouse of Representatives Subcommittee on Africa, Global Human Rights and InternationalOperations Hearing 2006b: 5) warned Germany to change its policy toward sex work toavoid losing Tier 1 status.

16. German police reported only five cases of trafficking during the World Cup, one of whichwas a man, while another was a woman from Germany. Only two victims – young womenfrom Bulgaria – fit the ‘profile’ (IOM 2006; German Delegation to the Council of theEuropean Union 2007).

17. In September 2006, a military coup followed the national election, which was boycotted bythe opposition for a range of reasons including allegations of corruption by Prime MinisterThaksin Shinawatra. During this time the constitution was abrogated and martial lawdeclared (see IISS 2007). In January 2008, following elections in December 2007, a newcoalition government was formed. However, there was further crisis and instability from late2008 into 2009.

18. This discussion does not suggest that many of those who have been trafficked will want toreturn home, some of them immediately (see Milivojevic 2007).

19. Thailand and its immediate neighbours have also been involved in a more formalCoordinated Mekong Ministerial Initiative against Trafficking (COMMIT) process that hasfocused on developing clear processes, protocols and agreements between neighbouringcountries in the region trying to manage this issue. Both the Bali Process and the COMMITprocess are focused on in-principle agreements, rather than on developing binding commit-ments or identifying enforceable targets.

20. Specifically, these are the temporary and permanent Witness Protection Visas (Trafficking).The Minister must be satisfied that the victim has played a ‘significant’ role in the criminaljustice process and/or is ‘in danger’ if she returns to her country of origin (Department ofImmigration, Multicultural and Indigenous Affairs, ‘New visas for witnesses in traffickingcases’, Legislation change update, 1 January 2004), at: http://www.immi.gov.au/legisla-tion/amendments/2004/040101/lc01012004-05.htm (accessed 1 February 2008).

21. It is important to note that within Thailand there are a number of non-governmental organi-sations that also undertake ‘raid and rescue’ efforts in collaboration with Thai authorities to‘rescue’ suspected victims of trafficking. However these practices are not part of formal Thaipolicy and do not constitute the way in which the majority of trafficking victims will beidentified (Segrave 2007).


4. People smuggling and humantrafficking within, from and throughCentral and Eastern Europe

Leslie Holmes

The fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989 was initially accompanied by awidespread belief that a wonderful new era was dawning, in which peoplethroughout Europe would be freer and more prosperous than ever.1 The subse-quent reality has been rather different. While some citizens have indeed pros-pered, others have lost out in the transition. One ramification of this has beena rise of organised and transnational crime in Europe since the beginning ofthe 1990s. A particularly sad aspect of this development has been a markedincrease in the number of people trafficked both domestically and to othercountries and forced into servitude, most commonly in the sex industry.

The growth in human trafficking has serious negative implications notonly for the people directly involved – other than the criminals themselves –but also for the populations more generally in virtually every Europeancountry. This chapter provides an overview of human trafficking, primarilywithin, from and through post-Communist Central and Eastern Europe(CEE), which is here very broadly understood to include the Soviet succes-sor states that comprise the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS);analysis of the reasons for this; a brief summary of some of the variousmeasures being taken to counter this phenomenon; and speculation on likelyfuture scenarios. It also includes survey results from four European states –two in CEE, two in Western Europe – on attitudes towards people smug-gling. It will be argued that, while there are some signs of improvement inthe region, any optimism must be very cautious, given the numerous nega-tive pressures.

THE TRAFFICKING SITUATION

As with most forms of crime involving crime gangs and corrupt state officials,it is impossible to produce reliable data on the scale of human traffickingwithin, from and through CEE. But a rough sketch can be drawn on the basis

56

of the patchy evidence available on organised crime and corruption in theregion, criminal statistics relating to trafficking, and legislation.

At one time, it was possible to identify predominant people smuggling andhuman trafficking routes across Europe, and some researchers produced useful‘maps’ of these (see for example Center for the Study of Democracy 2002:50–52; Hajdinjak 2002: 47–55). However, the routings have become so diver-sified in recent years – for reasons ranging from changing laws and anti-traf-ficking approaches in different countries to the increasing availability of cheapairfares (Nawrot 2006) – that it would be misleading nowadays to identify justa few ‘main’ routes.

On the other hand, criminal statistics from major target (destination) coun-tries such as Germany and the Netherlands provide pointers to the principalsource countries in CEE and the CIS of both trafficked persons and traffickers.Thus the Federal Criminal Office in Germany provides data on the number oftrafficked persons detected each year. In the period 2001–05, the top foursource countries of prostitution-related trafficking victims detected in Germanywere Russia (747 victims), Ukraine (520), Bulgaria (432) and Romania (425)(Bezlov and Tzenkov 2007: 91). Of the 1225 sexual exploitation-relatedtrafficking victims discovered in the Netherlands in 2000–2003, there were166 from Bulgaria, 122 from Nigeria, 67 from Romania, 73 from Russia and49 from Ukraine (Bezlov and Tzenkov 2007: 90). It is clear from these figuresthat the principal source countries for trafficked persons to both Germany andthe Netherlands were Bulgaria, Romania, Russia and Ukraine – and that onlyone non-post-Communist state (Nigeria) ranked among the principal source-countries in the Netherlands. Moreover, the Dutch statistics reveal that otherCEE and CIS states were the source of many of the other victims. For instance,and contrary to what might be expected, there were apparently many morevictims from Lithuania (42), Czech Republic (31), Moldova (30), Poland (28),and Albania (19) than from Thailand (12).2

As would be expected, the German and Dutch patterns are not preciselyduplicated across Europe. However, Polish criminal statistics reveal that thesituation in Poland, while not identical, has been remarkably similar to that inGermany and the Netherlands. Thus the Polish Ministry of the Interior reportsthat, over the period 1995–2007, the principal source of trafficking victimswas Belarus (245 victims), which was not a major source country for the othertwo states just considered. However, there were also 198 victims fromUkraine, 28 from Bulgaria, 18 from Romania, 17 from Moldova and 12 fromRussia (Sarrica et al. 2009: 269).3 This small difference between the twoWestern European states and the one Central European state can be readilyexplained in terms of geographical proximity. One of the aspects of it identi-fied in the major (155 countries and territories) United Nations (UN) analysisof trafficking conducted 2007–08 is that much of this phenomenon occurs

People smuggling and human trafficking within, from and through CEE 57

between neighbouring countries (Sarrica et al. 2009: esp. 60); while Westernmedia often emphasise its ‘global’ nature, much human trafficking occurseither domestically or across adjacent borders, with no long-distance on-sell-ing.

The situation changes somewhat when the origin of the traffickers isconsidered, as distinct from the origin of the traffickees. The picture of humantrafficking painted by many of the Western media – in which the traffickers aretypically members of Central and, even more so, Eastern European organisedcrime gangs – appears from the available data to be at least distorted, perhapseven misleading. In the Dutch case, for example, by far the largest number ofpersons convicted of trafficking in 2001–05 held Dutch citizenship (272); wellbehind these were citizens of Turkey (89), Bulgaria (76), Romania (61),Yugoslavia (38), Morocco (37) and Albania (35) (Sarrica et al. 2009: 266). Thesituation was broadly similar in Germany: of the 2061 persons suspected ofhuman trafficking in 2005–07, 909 were German citizens, compared with 181citizens of Turkey, 114 Bulgarians, 112 Romanians, 85 Poles, 33 Nigerians, 29Lithuanians and 20 Serbs (Sarrica et al. 2009: 252). The situation in Italy wasslightly different, in that for the period 2003–07, prosecutions for human traf-ficking were initiated against more Romanians (217) than Italians (203) –though the latter were the second-largest group; the next-largest groups wereAlbanians (176), Nigerians (144), Chinese (49) and Poles (36) (Sarrica et al.2009: 258).

The fact that ‘natives’ in the three Western European countries analysedhere constituted either the largest or the second-largest group among traffick-ers is less surprising when two facts are borne in mind. One is that traffickingoften involves more than one group. The trafficking process can be dividedinto at least three distinct components or stages. The first is the acquisition oftraffickees; the second is their transportation to another part of their own coun-try, or to another country; and the third is their actual sexual exploitation. Inmost cases, locals (natives) initially acquire the traffickees in the victims’home countries; in cases of transnational trafficking, the transportation processmay be undertaken by either non-natives or natives of the source country;whereas the final stage is often managed primarily by people living within thedestination country. The second point is that some of the traffickers who arecitizens of the destination countries may originally hail from source countries.While the publicly available data on trafficking in Germany do not specify thesource countries, they do disaggregate German citizens into those born inGermany and those born elsewhere. Thus, of the 344 Germans (out of a totalof 714 suspects) formally suspected in 2007 of trafficking in persons, 71 – orjust over 20 per cent – were born outside of Germany (Bundeskriminalamt2008: 7); the corresponding figures for 2008 were that 50 (or some 16 percent) of the 316 German citizens (out of a total of 785) suspected of traffick-


ing had not been born in Germany (Bundeskriminalamt 2009: 7). It is alsolikely that some of those born in Germany were not ethnically German, thoughthis must remain speculation.

One peculiarity about the trafficking situation in the region is that, particu-larly in some of the Central Asian and Transcaucasian states, more women areconvicted of trafficking than men. Thus, in the period 2003–06, 86 per cent ofthe people convicted for human trafficking in both Azerbaijan and Georgiawere women; the percentages in Tajikistan, Armenia, Kyrgyzstan and Latviawere 78, 69, 60 and 53 respectively (Sarrica et al. 2009: 46–7).

PUBLIC ATTITUDES TOWARDS PEOPLE-SMUGGLING,2004–06

While it is impossible to provide a comprehensive picture of the actual traf-ficking situation in CEE and the CIS (or anywhere else), it is possible to iden-tify and measure public perceptions. In an effort to uncover and comparepopular attitudes towards people smuggling, the author conducted surveys infour European countries – Bulgaria, Germany, Italy and Poland – over theperiod 2004–06. This selection meant that there were two clear destinationcountries (Germany, Italy), one country that was primarily a source and tran-sit country (Bulgaria), and one country that was experiencing a transition fromhaving been primarily a source or transit country to one that was primarily atransit or even destination country (Poland). The survey questionnairecomprised 13 questions relating to immigration and people smuggling, theresults of which are analysed below.4 The surveys were conducted at an earlystage of research into people smuggling, before it became clear to me that theproject would have to be skewed more towards trafficking than smuggling;this is why the questionnaire focused on smuggling. These surveys wereconducted as part of a research project specifically into people smuggling. Butsurveyors indicated that many respondents essentially blurred or confusedpeople smuggling and human trafficking, despite the fact that they (respon-dents) were read a definition of people smuggling at the start of the survey.This, plus the fact that there are very few survey data specifically on attitudestowards human trafficking in most European states, led to the decision toinclude the aggregate survey results here.

In the following tables, all figures are rounded to the nearest whole, so thattotals may not be exactly 100. Poland is included twice because of an unex-pected but small additional research grant that permitted a second survey ofone of the states; Poland was the only country that marginally changed statusduring the period, from having only just been admitted to the European Union(EU) in 2004 to being clearly a member state by 2006.


Our first question sought to determine general attitudes towards immigra-tion (Table 4.1): ‘Reactions to the suggestion that a given country needs moreimmigrants for its own future’.

Table 4.1 reveals that most citizens in all four countries did not accept thattheir country needed more immigrants; the percentages (totalling ‘stronglydisagree’ and ‘disagree’) ranged from 62 per cent in Germany in 2006 and 64per cent in Bulgaria in 2004, to 87 per cent in Poland in 2004. At first glance,the situation in Poland looks encouraging, since the figure had dropped a full10 per cent in just two years; but this was because more than twice as manyrespondents in 2006 were either unsure or had no clear opinion on this issue.At the other end of the spectrum the Italians, followed by the Germans, weremost likely to agree that their country needed more immigrants; but eventhere, less than one-fifth of respondents in 2006 accepted this proposition. Inshort, the general public in all four countries did not believe that immigrationwas important for the future of the country. Given declining birth rates and thegreying of populations, such an attitude might be misguided; but that is not ourconcern here.

The next question took respondents directly to the issue of people-smug-gling, and concerned their perceptions of its scale (Table 4.2): ‘Reactions tothe suggestion that the number of people smuggled into a given country hasbeen increasing in recent years’.

Table 4.2 reveals that at least half of the respondents in three of the fourstates believed that people smuggling into their country had increased inrecent years, with sizeable majorities of Germans and Italians holding thisview. The only case in which this percentage fell below 50 was Poland in2006. But this was not because there had been any significant change in thepercentage of respondents that did not believe there had been an increase.Rather, and as with the first question, it was because of a substantial increase


Table 4.1 Attitudes towards immigration

Strongly Disagree Agree Strongly Don’t disagree agree know, or

Neitheragree nordisagree

Bulgaria 04 27 37 11 2 23Poland 04 56 31 2 4 8Poland 06 37 40 4 3 17Germany 06 38 24 12 2 23Italy 06 47 23 13 5 12

in the number of respondents who were either unsure or who had no clearopinion on the matter. In any case, the proportion of those who believed thenumbers of smuggled people had increased in recent years was only just belowhalf, at 48 per cent.

Question three was designed to elicit perceptions about the involvement oforganised crime in people smuggling (Table 4.3): ‘Reactions to the suggestionthat most people illegally entering a given country do so with the help oforganised crime gangs’.

Table 4.3 demonstrates that clear majority of respondents in all cases otherthan Poland 2006 believed that organised crime was involved in most cases ofpeople smuggling; this said, even the Polish figure for 2006 was only justunder 50 per cent. But it was also clear from the responses that, whereas most


Table 4.2 Perceptions of the scale of people smuggling




Table 4.3 Perceptions of the involvement of crime gangs in peoplesmuggling




Germans and Italians were convinced that crime gangs were involved, therewas considerable uncertainty about this in both of the post-Communist states.The fourth question focused on perceived collusion between crime gangs andcorrupt state officials (Table 4.4): ‘Reactions to the suggestion that organisedcrime gangs that smuggle people into a given country do so with the corruptassistance of state officials’.

One of the most unexpected results in Table 4.4 was that Italians were theleast likely of the four countries’ respondents to assume that corrupt officialswere collaborating with crime gangs in people smuggling. But even in Italy,as everywhere else covered by the surveys, far more respondents believed thatofficials were colluding than did not. On the other hand, it testifies to how littleis known about collusion that substantial minorities in all cases – ranging from25 per cent in Italy to a very high 44 per cent in Germany – were unwilling toexpress an opinion on this issue.

Our fifth question asked respondents to suggest which branches of the stateapparatus they believed were most deeply involved with organised crime inpeople smuggling (Table 4.5).

Perhaps the most striking result from this question was that substantialmajorities of Southern Europeans – including a staggering 92 per cent ofBulgarians – had essentially no idea as to which types of officials were mostlikely to collude with crime gangs. In contrast, less than a quarter of Poles in2006, and even smaller numbers of Poles in 2004, as well as Germans, wereuncertain about the types of official most likely to be corruptly involved withgangs. In the cases where respondents did have a view on this, customs offi-cers and border guards were universally identified as the group of state offi-cials most likely to be corruptly involved with gangs in people smuggling.


Table 4.4 Perceptions of the collusion of corrupt state officials in peoplesmuggling




While this perception may be misguided, it is also possible that this intu-ition-based perception (after all, smuggling primarily involves illegal move-ment of goods or people across borders, so that selecting border guards andcustoms officers makes eminent sense) accords with reality; unfortunately, ourresearch methodologies for determining this are still too imprecise to providean authoritative answer to this question. On the other hand, it might initiallyseem that the perceptions are at odds with the reporting of corrupt officialscolluding with organised crime, since there are many more official reports ofcollusion by police officers than by border or customs officers. But this appar-ent mismatch might be better explained by once again focusing on the differ-ences between people smuggling and human trafficking. It could well be thatcustoms and border officers are more likely to be involved in people smug-gling, and that police officers are more likely to be involved in trafficking.Moreover, if media reports rarely mention police collusion and focus more ontransnational than on domestic trafficking, it is understandable that publicperceptions would not generally identify the police as primary culprits.

The next question sought to ascertain whether or not respondents believedthat their fellow countrymen and –women were more likely than foreigners tobe involved in gangs engaged in people-smuggling (Table 4.6).

The responses to this question produced a reasonably clear distinctionbetween respondents in the mature democracies (Germany, Italy) and those inthe transition states; the one exception to this was Poland in 2004, whererespondents were more likely to believe the gangs primarily comprisedforeigners than Poles. Judging from the official statistics on convictions oftraffickers cited above, this particular perception may be very much at oddswith the actual situation.


Table 4.5 Perceptions of the types of state official that cooperate most withorganised crime gangs in people smuggling

Customs Border Police Tax Local Others Don’t guards govern- know

ment

Bulgaria 04 3 3 1 1 1 0 92Poland 04 42 23 9 1 4 5 16Poland 06 37 24 6 1 5 3 23Germany 06 24 33 5 2 16 2 17Italy 06 12 (combined 2 2 8 3 72

withCustoms)

Question seven focused on what respondents expected smugglees to doonce they were in their country (Table 4.7).

Once again – if unsurprisingly – there was a clear distinction between theGerman and Italian responses on the one hand, and the Bulgarian and Polishresponses on the other. Whereas most Germans and Italians expected thesmugglees to seek to stay in their country, many Bulgarians and Polesexpected them to attempt to move elsewhere – presumably to more affluentcountries. It is interesting to note here, however, that Poles were less likely toexpect this in 2006 than in 2004, probably suggesting that they perceived theircountry’s accession to the EU as likely to make Poland more attractive as afinal destination state.

This inference about the effect of (future) joining or being a member of theEU stimulated our eighth question (Table 4.8).

In the cases of Poland and Bulgaria, respondents clearly assumed thatbecoming a member of the EU would make their country more attractive toillegal migrants and hence people smugglers; this finding was in line with apriori assumptions. However, a comparison of the German and Italian resultsproduced a counter-intuitive finding, in that the results were so different


Table 4.6 Perceptions of the dominant nationality among members oforganised crime gangs involved in people smuggling

Indigenous Not indigenous Don’t know

Bulgaria 04 47 15 38Poland 04 30 39 31Poland 06 32 22 46Germany 06 9 71 19Italy 06 25 43 32

Table 4.7 Presumed intentions of people smuggled into your country

Remain in Move to another Return to Don’t country country as their original know

indefinitely soon as possible country

Bulgaria 04 27 42 6 25Poland 04 16 67 3 14Poland 06 13 50 8 28Germany 06 82 8 4 6Italy 06 55 21 14 10

between these two long-term EU member states. Germans divided almostequally into those who believed that their country’s membership of the EUmade it more attractive to illegal migrants, those who believed it made it lessattractive, and those who believed it made little or no difference. In markedcontrast, only a fifth of Italians believed that their country’s membership of theEU made Italy more attractive than it otherwise would be, while almost two-thirds of respondents believed it made it less attractive; a tiny 7 per centbelieved it essentially made no difference. It is difficult to determine how bestto interpret this result. If other surveys suggested that most Italians werehostile to the EU and believed that their country would fare better outside it,the results of our eighth question would be compatible with this. But sinceEurobarometer surveys repeatedly indicate that, while less enthusiastic aboutEU membership than the Germans, more Italians than many other Europeansare Europhiles, our finding is baffling.

Given our interest in attitudes towards people smuggling as an abuse ofhuman rights, the responses to question nine were encouraging (Table 4.9).


Table 4.8 Anticipated or assumed impact of EU membership on peoplesmuggling

Increase Decrease Stay about Don’t knowthe same


Table 4.9 People smuggling as an abuse of human rights

Strongly Disagree Agree Strongly Don’t disagree agree know,

or Neither agree nor disagree


While the strength of support for this proposition varied across the fourcountries – that is, between ‘strongly agree’ and the weaker ‘agree’ – clearmajorities in all four states basically agreed with the notion that people smug-gling is an abuse of human rights. This said, the figure was only just over halfof respondents in Italy, compared with over 80 per cent in Germany (withBulgaria and Poland located in-between these extremes). Moreover, almost athird of Italians disagreed with the notion that people smuggling constituted anabuse of human rights. But it would be dishonest scholarship not to point outthat respondents may have interpreted this question in different ways. Whilesome may have focused on the rights of the smugglees, others may have hadthe rights of their fellow countrymen and women in mind, or even the rightsof those in source countries who would like to migrate, but are prevented fromdoing so because of lack of funds, respect for the law and due process, or otherreasons. Unfortunately, the fact that our survey was an omnibus one, so thatthe permitted number of questions was limited, meant that we were unable tounpack this issue further.

The tenth question was far less problematic. Respondents were askedwhether or not they believed that state authorities were doing enough tocounter people smuggling (Table 4.10): ‘The authorities are not doing enoughto counter people smuggling’.

The responses to this question were rather similar across all four states. Ifthe ‘agree’ and ‘strongly agree’ responses are aggregated, the range is between61 per cent (Bulgaria) and 67 per cent (Italy). These results are unsurprising;most people in most states believe that the authorities could and should domore to combat all sorts of misdemeanours and problems.

Our next question concerned attitudes towards illegal migrants who areprepared to cooperate with the authorities with a view to identifying and pros-ecuting people smugglers (Table 4.11): ‘Levels of agreement with the proposal


Table 4.10 Perceptions of the authorities’ approach to people smuggling




to change the law so as to grant residence rights to illegal migrants whowhistleblow on people smugglers’.

On this question, there was a high level of similarity of responses acrossthree countries, with both sets of Polish results, the German results and theBulgarian responses being very similar. While the percentages of respondentswho agreed and who disagreed that the law should reward illegal migrantswho help the authorities to track down people smugglers were rather similaracross all states – though Italians were clearly the group that most agreed withthis – the Italians were far more certain about their views than were the respon-dents in the other three states. While the question in all four countries empha-sised that respondents were not expected to know their government’s currentpolicy on this matter, it is likely that many Italians were at least vaguely awareof their own state’s sympathetic policy towards smugglees (see the briefdiscussion of Italy’s Article 18 in Chapter 10), and that this at least partlyexplains the apparent anomaly of the Italian results.

The twelfth question was designed to map the extent to which respondentsperceived people smuggling to be a problem in their country (Table 4.12).


Table 4.11 Attitudes towards whistleblowers




Table 4.12 Perceptions of the problem of people smuggling

Serious problem Problem Not an important Don’t issue know


Once again, there is a high level of agreement across the four states:substantial majorities of respondents – ranging from 76 per cent in Bulgaria toan extremely high 95 per cent in Italy – believed that people smuggling intotheir country was either a problem or a serious problem. Moreover, there wasgenerally much less uncertainty about this issue than about many of the othersexamined.

The final question sought to determine the extent to which respondentscould identify with smugglees, in the sense that they could imagine acting ina similar fashion if they found themselves in a similar situation (Table 4.13):‘Likelihood of desperate respondents seeking the assistance of crime gangsillegally to enter another country with better opportunities’.

Again, there is a reasonably high degree of resonance across the fourstates, inasmuch as a majority of respondents in all cases would either defi-nitely or probably not approach a gang to help smuggle them into another(more affluent and secure) state. But an interesting feature here is that farmore Bulgarians and Poles indicated that they would not approach a gangthan did Germans or Italians. Indeed, despite their reputation for beinghighly law-abiding, Germans were the most likely of the four groups tocontemplate approaching a gang to help them commit an illegal act, withalmost 40 per cent of respondents indicating that they would definitely orpossibly do this if they were to find themselves in the type of situation mostsmugglees find themselves in. This can be interpreted in various ways. Butour preferred interpretation is that the German responses suggested a higherlevel of empathy with smuggled persons because German living standardsand conditions are higher and more comfortable, affording Germans moreleeway for tolerance and empathy.


Table 4.13 Levels of empathy with those seeking assistance from peoplesmugglers

Definitely Possibly Probably Definitely Don’t would would would not would not know


CAUSES OF TRAFFICKING

A general analysis of the causes of trafficking – including the effects of glob-alisation, the contradictions between the so-called borderless world andFortress Europe, neoliberalism, and mild sanctions – was provided in Chapter1. Here, therefore, those factors more specific to Central and Eastern Europeare the primary focus. This said, a little evidence of more general factors isalso cited, mainly to provide concrete examples of actual trafficking cases inand from the region.

There have been many specific drivers for the growth in human traffickingfrom, through and increasingly into Central and Eastern Europe. The mostobvious one is the multiple ramifications of the collapse of Communism. Theend of Communist power in the region between 1989 and 1991 resulted in anethical vacuum, a desperate economic situation, legislative lag, a weak and insome cases disintegrating state, and in some parts of the region even civil war.Each of these factors can be briefly examined.

Communism was unusual among twentieth-century ideologies in seekingto define not only political, social and economic institutions, but also individ-uals’ ethical codes. In most countries, both developed and developing, the stateallows citizens to choose their own ethical codes, often from a religioussource. With the exception of Albania, no Communist state ever formallybanned religion. But the atheism that is such a key feature of Communismmeant that citizens were strongly discouraged from practising religion. In itsplace, Communists encouraged a moral code based on the ‘new socialistperson’. This is not the place to explore this concept. Rather, the relevant pointis that the collapse of Communism also meant that the ethical code associatedwith it was discredited for most people. Some citizens in post-Communismwere able to turn or return to religion; this was clearly the case in Poland andis arguably true of some of the Central Asian states, for example. But manyothers initially found it difficult to create a coherent new moral code for them-selves, and were thus less constrained by their own values from engaging incriminal and anti-social behaviour.

This condition was exacerbated by the fact that all post-Communist statesinitially suffered from substantial economic problems. Thus, as suggested byTables 4.14, 4.15 and 4.16, economic growth rates during the 1990s were typi-cally either negative or else only weakly positive, while inflation and unem-ployment rates were high.

When considering the data in Table 4.14, it is important to note thatalthough growth turned positive – sometimes strongly so – in several states bythe mid- to late 1990s, this was from a much lower activity base than it wouldhave been based on gross domestic product (GDP) figures from the late 1980s.Even so, the World Bank estimated the average annual GDP growth rate in


Eastern Europe and Central Asia in 1990–99 at –2.5 per cent – well below thateven of the next worst-performing region, sub-Saharan Africa, at –0.4 per cent(Soubbotina 2000: 25).

Unfortunately, the situation was even worse for many citizens than theunemployment figures suggest. Even if the figures are accurate – and therehave been suggestions that the data substantially under-reported the real situ-


Table 4.14 GDP growth rates in selected CEE and CIS states

1990 1992 1994 1996 1998 2000 2002 2004 2006

Albania –10.0 –7.2 8.3 9.1 9.0 6.7 4.2 5.7 5.5Belarus –3.2* –9.6 –11.7 2.8 8.4 5.8 5.0 11.4 10.0Bulgaria –9.1 –7.3 1.8 –9.4 4.0 5.4 5.6 6.6 6.1Moldova –2.0 –29.0 –30.9 –5.9 –6.5 2.1 7.8 7.4 4.8Poland –11.5 2.5 5.3 6.2 5.0 4.3 1.4 5.3 6.2Romania –5.6 –8.8 3.9 3.9 –4.8 2.1 5.1 8.5 4.2Russia –2.1 –5.0 –12.7 –3.6 –5.3 10.0 4.7 7.2 7.7Ukraine –3.6* –9.9 –22.9 –10.0 –1.9 5.9 5.2 12.1 7.3

Sources: For Belarus, Moldova, Russia and Ukraine 1990: Economist Intelligence Unit CountryReports; all others: UN statistics at http://unstats.un.org/unsd/snaama/dnlList.asp, accessed 17July 2009.

Note: * Net material product.

Table 4.15 Annual inflation rates (consumer price increases – %) inselected CEE and CIS states

1990 1992 1994 1996 1998 2000 2002 2004 2006

Albania n.d. 226.0 22.6 12.7 20.6 0.0 5.5 2.3 2.4Belarus 4.5 971.2 2219.6 52.7 73.2 168.9 42.8 18.3 7.0Bulgaria 21.6 91.3 96.1 121.6 18.7 10.3 5.8 6.4 7.3Moldova 4.2 1308.0 486.4 23.5 7.7 31.3 5.3 12.5 12.8Poland 585.8 45.3 33.2 19.8 11.7 10.1 1.9 3.6 1.1Romania 5.1 211.2 136.8 38.8 59.1 45.7 22.5 11.9 6.6Russia 5.0 1354.0 307.6 47.7 27.7 20.8 15.8 10.9 9.7Ukraine 4.2 1485.8 891.2 80.2 10.6 28.2 0.8 9.0 9.1

Sources: All 1990 figures and 1992 Russian figure: Economist Intelligence Unit CountryReports; all other figures: UNECE online statistical database at http://w3.unece.org/pxweb/Dialog/varval.asp?ma=0_MECCPriceInterestY_r&ti=Price+Indices+by+Indicator%2C+Country+and+Year&path=../DATABASE/Stat/20-ME/4-MEPI/&lang=1, accessed 17 July 2009.

ation in some countries – it must be borne in mind that the welfare state wasvery poorly developed in most early post-Communist states. While the reasonsfor this cannot be explored here, the sorry condition of welfare – the virtualabsence of a safety net – meant that there was widespread poverty and despair.These were ideal preconditions for a rise in criminality.

The poor and often deteriorating conditions of early post-Communismmeant that many citizens from the region attempted to flee to more stable andaffluent countries. Unfortunately, those who sought to do this by claimingrefugee or asylum-seeker status often found that they were unwelcome inmany of the affluent Western states. For example, more than 23 000 requestsfor asylum were submitted to the Italian authorities in 1991; of these, almost21 000 were examined, and nearly 20 000 were rejected. Only 944 asylum-seekers – or a little over 4 per cent of requests – were granted refugee status.The situation was hardly any better by the end of the decade. In the two-yearperiod 1999–2000, Italy received almost 52 000 requests for asylum; nearly 33000 of these applications were examined, and a total of 2458 – or 4.8 per centof requests – resulted in refugee status being granted (Pittau 2006: 510). Of thetop five source countries for asylum-seekers applying to Italy in 1990–2000,three – Albania, Yugoslavia and Romania – were post-Communist (Pittau2006: 510).5 These statistics help to explain why so many people from thesecountries sought to enter Italy via illegal means – sometimes with the hope ofeventually being able to move further west.


Table 4.16 Average annual unemployment rates in selected CEE and CISstates

1990 1992 1994 1996 1998 2000 2002 2004 2006

Albania 9.5 27.0 18.0 12.4 17.7 16.8 15.8 14.4 13.8Belarus n.d. 0.5 2.1 4.0 2.3 2.1 3.0 1.9 1.2Bulgaria n.d. n.d. 20.2 14.1 14.1 16.4 18.2 12.1 9.0Moldova n.d. 16.7 n.d. n.d. n.d. 8.5 6.8 8.1 7.4Poland n.d. n.d. 14.4 12.4 10.2 16.1 20.0 19.0 13.9Romania n.d. n.d. n.d. n.d. 5.4 7.3 8.6 8.1 7.3Russia n.d. 5.2 7.8 10.0 13.2 10.6 7.9 7.8 7.2Ukraine n.d. n.d. n.d. n.d. n.d. 11.6 9.6 8.6 6.8

Sources: Moldova 1992: US Department of State Country Report on Moldova,http://dosfan.lib.uic.edu/ERC/economics/trade_reports/1994/Moldova.html, accessed 17 July2009; UNECE online statistical database http://w3.unece.org/pxweb/Dialog/varval.asp?ma=40_MEUnRateY_r&ti=Unemployment+Rate+by+Country+and+Year&path=../DATABASE/Stat/20-ME/3-MELF/&lang=1, accessed 17 July 2009.

What of the traffickers’ motives? It is usually impossible to distinguishwhether the primary material motivation to engage in criminal activity ispoverty and desperation, or simply straightforward greed. Certainly, therewards from trafficking can be significant, and can act as a magnet to thosefor whom neither their own ethical code nor the state’s sanctions act as a deter-rent. Some idea of the potential profitability of trafficking is provided by theProsecutor’s Office in Rzeszow (Poland), which revealed that a Ukrainianwoman who managed a trafficking gang had sold approximately 60 women toowners of escort agencies for an average of US$200 each – but then receivedan additional US$100 per month for each woman (Polish Council of Ministers2006: 5); when the relatively low costs of living in Poland and Ukraine areborne in mind, the attraction of such a relatively low-risk enterprise becomeseven more obvious.

One aspect of post-Communist transitions that distinguishes them fromtransitions in other parts of the world is that they were far more wide-ranging.Thus, the ‘multiple and simultaneous’ post-Communist transitions involvedfundamental changes not only to the political systems, but also to the econ-omy, the legal system, the educational system, the social structure and inter-national allegiances. The sheer scope of change was bound to result inlegislative lag – lawmakers being unable to keep up with all the legislativechanges that were needed in the new order. The problem was compounded bythe often profound differences between lawmakers on the appropriate paths totake, and the lack of a tradition of political compromise. It is therefore notsurprising that there were loopholes and contradictions in laws; indeed, inmany areas of life it was unclear which laws – if any – pertained. These ambi-guities and gaps in the law were fertile ground for exploitation, and renderedit that much easier for criminals and those operating in what can be called‘grey areas’ to get away with much more than they would in a more estab-lished and stable rule-of-law state.

The confused state of legislation was just one of many factors that meantthat a number of post-Communist states were initially weak, here meaning thatthey were often unable adequately to perform the basic tasks expected of amodern state. The problem was compounded by the sorry economic state inwhich these countries found themselves, which meant that governments wereoften unable to pay their own officials in full, on time – or at all. This situa-tion was highly conducive to the rise of official corruption, and collusionbetween criminals and corrupt officials – including in human trafficking.

One other factor that has been highlighted by, inter alia, Donna Hughes (forexample Hughes 2005: 223–6) is the notion of ‘Western glamour’. MostCommunist states were drab and grey by Western standards, with little in theway of colourful and creative advertising, glossy magazines, and so on. WhenCommunism collapsed, many women were attracted to what they perceived to


be the glamour and freedom of Western lifestyles; this attraction was onlystrengthened by the deteriorating conditions in their own countries. Often, thisglamorous ‘other’ related directly to sexuality, and many women were keen toexplore and display their femininity in ways they felt had been largelyrepressed for decades. Unfortunately, this combination of idealising the Westand seeking a more glamorous and ‘sexy’ world rendered all too many womensusceptible to the deception of traffickers, with their promises of jobs in moreaffluent and freer societies.

But the early post-Communist conditions described above – poor and oftennegative growth rates, high inflation and unemployment rates, inadequatewelfare, legislative lag, the attraction of ‘the West’ – applied to a greater orlesser extent to every post-Communist state; many of these states were alsoweak and at least partly dysfunctional. It is therefore not surprising that crimeand corruption rates appear to have risen substantially in all of them in the1990s (for data see Holmes 2009a). However, since human trafficking becamefar more of a problem in some states than in others, we need to identify factorsmore specific to the countries in which human trafficking appears to have beenparticularly common. One factor is simply the intensity of the problems ofearly post-Communism; the economic situation, for example, was far worse insome countries than in others. Thus, the fact that Moldova is officially thepoorest country in Europe is almost certainly part of the reason why humantrafficking has been a significant problem there. But two other important vari-ables to consider when attempting to explain differing trafficking rates areopportunities and culture.

One obvious opportunity factor is geography, that is, the close proximity ofa source country to a transit and/or destination country. An example of this wascited above, in explaining the high number of trafficked Belarusian women inPoland. Another example is that the proximity of Albania to Italy – an estab-lished EU member state – is one of many factors explaining the significant risein trafficking from Albania during the 1990s. In this case, however, thegeographic factor helps to explain the emergence but not the subsequent devel-opment of trafficking practices. By the time the Italian and Albanian author-ities had formally agreed to cooperate to combat this problem (1997), theAlbanian trafficking structures had largely crystallised. Thus, even though thejoint efforts of the Italian and Albanian law enforcement agencies appear tohave been very successful in reducing human trafficking between the twocountries, the Albanian traffickers were by that time sufficiently organised thatthey were able to redirect their activities further afield, to other parts ofEurope.

Another opportunity factor specific to certain post-Communist states is civilwar. The violent disintegration of Yugoslavia was understandably accompaniedby increased demand for illegal migration, and hence people smuggling. As


explained elsewhere in this book (see especially Chapter 2), people smugglingall too often mutates into human trafficking. But another ramification of thevarious civil wars in former Yugoslavia was the arrival of international peace-keeping forces. This was accompanied by a significant increase in the demandfor prostitutes, and hence – almost necessarily – a rise in human trafficking forthe purposes of sexual exploitation (see Chapter 5 for further details, andChapter 10 for an exploration of the implications of this).

A third opportunity factor relates to legislative loopholes and bureaucratismin many post-Communist states. A prime example of this problem is providedby Russia. While citizens of CIS states have been permitted visa-free entry topost-Communist Russia, they do need to register, both for temporary residenceand if they want to work in the country. Such permits are expensive, and canbe difficult to obtain. This encourages bribery and corruption, and makes il-legal migrants (that is, people who want to stay and work in Russia, but whodo not have the relevant permits, even though they have entered the countrylegally) easy prey for human traffickers who promise to secure the necessarydocumentation in return for substantial fees. There is considerable evidence ofthis happening on a regular basis with Tajik construction workers, for exam-ple (Olimova and Bosc 2003).

Cultural attitudes towards crime, property and gender also help to explainwhy some countries appear to be more prone to human trafficking than others.Thus, as demonstrated in Chapter 6, traditional Albanian attitudes towardsgender – in which women are often perceived to be the property of men –helps to explain the lack of respect too many Albanian men have towards theirwomenfolk, and hence their propensity both to sell and to coerce them.

While centuries-old sexist traditions that have resurfaced in post-Communism often help to explain human trafficking in parts of CEE and theCIS, it appears that changed attitudes in some parts of the region, and partic-ularly different attitudes across age groups, may also contribute to the prob-lem. Thus, whereas Donna Hughes and Tatyana Denisova (2001: 61) claimthat attitudes towards prostitution have not fundamentally changed in Russiaand Ukraine for hundreds of years, Lyubov Romanovna Vertinskaya, aRussian consultant to the Governor of Murmansk on family, youth and chil-dren’s issues, claimed in the late 1990s that 70 per cent of tenth-graders in a1997 Russian survey wanted to become prostitutes for hard currency, andcontrasted this with the very different responses a decade earlier (Vertinskaya1999; also cited in Karina 1999). Hughes and Denisova themselves (2001: 62)cite a survey conducted by the IOM in Ukraine in the mid-1990s that revealedthat, whereas none of the older female respondents considered being a danceror a stripper in another country an acceptable job, all of the respondents in the15–17 age group did.

As argued in Chapter 2, even if people choose to become prostitutes or to


work in other areas of the sex industry, the reality is that they all too oftenfinish up being deceived and coerced, and hence trafficked. It appears thatmany younger females from the region have been particularly naive about this.This might be understandable, given that citizens from the region were for solong largely cut off from the West, including from some of its harsher realities;but it is very unfortunate from the perspective of wanting to reduce traffick-ing.

The earlier reference to Tajik construction workers briefly alluded to anaspect of post-Communism that needs to be considered in its own right. Whilecollusion between corrupt officers of the state and criminals can be found inmost countries, the problem appears to be more acute in many CEE and CISstates than elsewhere. It is impossible to produce reliable and comprehensivedata on the scale of such collusion. But concrete examples can be cited.

There have been several reports of cases in Europe involving corrupt policeand customs officers colluding with organised crime gangs in people smug-gling and human trafficking. A relatively recent case of corrupt police officerscolluding with criminals in human trafficking is of two Wroclaw-based policeofficers who sold women for prostitution purposes to an ex-prostitute (female)based in Wroclaw and a Polish man based in Vienna. At the time of their arrest(spring 2006), this group was alleged to have been involved in the traffickingof 440 women, mostly Polish and Romanian (Gazeta Wyborcza, 12 May2006). Another Polish example reported in the press in March 2004 constitutesan example of domestic trafficking involving corrupt officials. Thus a policesergeant from Katowice recruited teenage girls from a child shelter, andsupplied these to a local gang in return for free (sexual) use of the girls (GazetaWyborcza, 24 March 2004).

The Albanian authorities have also reported cases of corrupt officers of thestate being directly involved in trafficking. For example, five Albanian offi-cials (a police officer and four border guards) were arrested in 2006 for allegedinvolvement in trafficking, while the number increased to 12 in the followingyear (US Department of State 2007: 52; 2008a: 54).

Corruption generally appears to have been far more of a problem in recentyears in Belarus and Ukraine than in the Baltic States, for instance, whichalmost certainly provides part of the explanation for the greater number ofwomen trafficked from the former to various European countries, such asPoland. This said, Latvia was – according to Transparency International’sCorruption Perceptions Index – consistently perceived to be more corrupt thanLithuania until the mid-2000s, and has invariably been seen as considerablymore corrupt than neighbouring Estonia. This factor probably helps to explainwhy trafficking appears to be more of a problem for Latvia than for Estonia.

Finally, there is a simple relativity issue. Russia and Ukraine have consid-erably larger populations than any of the other CEE and CIS countries, so that,


ceteris paribus, it is not surprising that the number of people trafficked fromand within these countries appears to be higher than in many other states in theregion. The explanatory force of this factor should not be exaggerated,however, given the relatively high numbers of Albanians, Bulgarians,Moldovans and Romanians trafficked internationally.

METHODS FOR COUNTERING TRAFFICKING

Like governments in so many other parts of the world, it is only recently thatmost CEE and CIS states have begun to focus seriously on human trafficking.And as elsewhere, the primary focus has been on trafficking relating to sexwork. This new focus is closely correlated with the signing and ratification ofthe UN’s so-called Palermo Protocol by countries in the region. Yet theapproaches adopted for countering trafficking have differed. For instance, bothSerbia and Albania have introduced legislation that enable a trafficked personto claim compensation from funds confiscated from traffickers; unfortunately,at the time of writing in 2009, no cases of such awards being made by thecourts had been reported.

Some CEE countries have followed the Swedish lead and criminalised theuse of prostitutes, in part as a way of countering human trafficking. A goodexample is Latvia, which introduced legislation to this effect in January 2008.The Bulgarian authorities have also indicated their intention to introduce suchlegislation (International Herald Tribune, 9 October 2007). But, for reasonsgiven in Chapter 10, criminalising the use of prostitutes can have a number ofnegative repercussions. It is therefore more important to use the weight of thelaw against traffickers than against clients (‘johns’).

Surprisingly, most European states did not introduce explicit anti-traffick-ing legislation until the 2000s, so that one commentator on Ukraine’s 1998anti-trafficking law could justifiably claim that Ukraine was ‘one of the firstcountries in Europe to formally criminalize’ human trafficking and was by theearly 2000s ‘at the forefront of criminalization of human trafficking in Europe’(Pyshchulina 2005: 115, 117).6 At present, the sanctions used againstconvicted traffickers globally are still typically very mild. A special feature ofCEE and the CIS is that this region has by far the highest percentage in theworld of states that mete out ten or more convictions per annum for humantrafficking (Sarrica et al. 2009: 40). While punishments for those convicted oftrafficking in CEE and the CIS also appear to be harsher, on average, than inmost parts of the world, the number of convictions relative to what appears byall our imperfect measurement methods to be a significant problem is still verysmall. Moreover, there is a common trend in the region for the number of pros-ecutions and convictions to rise following the adoption of targeted anti-


trafficking legislation, but then to decline. This could reflect an initial ‘clean-up’ period of a backlog of cases that had not clearly been illegal before, or –less encouragingly – a declining interest in the problem on the part of the rele-vant authorities. This situation must be changed.

THE FUTURE

The fact that many states and international organisations (IOs) are devotingmore attention and resources in the 2000s to combating human traffickingshould bode well for the future. Moreover, the improved conditions in manyCEE states – better GDP growth rates, lower inflation and unemploymentrates, developing welfare states, and so on – is likely to make ‘the West’ a lessattractive proposition to many than it once did. And the growing awareness oftrafficking and its horrors that has been demonstrated in the case of Albaniacan be found in many other post-Communist states.

However, while these and other developments encourage cautious opti-mism, there are also several factors operating in the opposite direction. Theseinclude the tightening up of immigration policies in many Western states,which is likely to result in increased people smuggling and, as has beenargued, the mutation of this in many cases into human trafficking; the GlobalEconomic Crisis, which has negatively impacted upon many transition statesin CEE even more than on more affluent developed states; and the possibilitythat many states will lose interest in the whole trafficking issue, which is adifficult problem to address. While the second of these variables might be onlytemporary, the others could well be longer-term impediments. It is thus clearthat there is no room for complacency, and that efforts by non-governmentalorganisations (NGOs), individual politicians, IOs and others will have tocontinue and be intensified if the human trafficking situation in and from CEEand the CIS is to be contained and then improved.

NOTES

1. I wish to thank both the Australian Research Council (Project No. DP0558453) and theUniversity of Melbourne for research funding that enabled me to investigate this topic; interalia, I would have been unable to run the surveys cited in this chapter without such support.I also wish to thank my research assistants – Shaorong Baggio, Adam Berryman, BenBuckland, Kasia Lach, Katia Malinova and Janine Pentzold – for their hard work on mybehalf.

2. The term ‘apparently’ is used here because the country of origin of 161 of the 1225 victimscould not be determined.

3. This pattern of source-countries is also very similar to that identified by Simic in the cases ofBosnia and Kosovo (see Chapter 5).

4. The surveys were conducted in November 2004 in Bulgaria by Vitosha Research; in


November 2004 and September 2006 in Poland by Centrum Badania Opinii Spol⁄ecznej(CBOS); in October 2006 in Germany by TNS-Emnid; and in September 2006 in Italy byTNS-Infratest. The number of respondents (N) was 1001 in Bulgaria; 988 in Poland in 2004;937 in Poland in 2006; 1030 in Germany; and 1027 in Italy.

5. The other two were Iraq and Turkey.6. The earliest anti-trafficking law in Europe appears to have been the Dutch one (1911). This

was followed by explicit anti-trafficking laws in Germany (1973), Belgium (1995), Portugal(1995) and then Hungary, Lithuania and Ukraine in 1998. At the other end of the spectrum,Ireland and Spain did not introduce specific anti-trafficking laws until 2007 and 2008 respec-tively. Only two CEE and CIS states had no specific anti-trafficking law as of mid-2008 –Estonia and Turkmenistan. All information from Sarrica et al (2009).


5. ‘Boys will be boys’: human traffickingand UN peacekeeping in Bosnia andKosovo

Olivera Simic

We drove out of the barracks as usual in our military jeep … with a driver’s pass sothat no one could become suspicious of us…we drove around and waited until 11 pm,and then drove to the brothel as fast as we could. We called the brothel’s owner that weare coming … the owner opened the gate so we could drive straight into the garage.1

INTRODUCTION

The end of the Cold War and the 1990s saw a dramatic increase in UnitedNations (UN) peacekeeping operations.2 Peacekeeping operations becamemore ambitious, larger in scale and scope, and more complex to carry out.Consequently, more people have been deployed in peacekeeping operations,and the interactions with local populations respectively increased (UN DPKO2000: 14). While peacekeeping operations prior to the 1990s were largelymilitary and conducted within a certain political environment, post-Cold Warmultidimensional operations involve more direct interactions with the localpopulation as a result of its peacebuilding activities. Known also as ‘thesecond generation’,3 multidimensional peacekeeping operations includesocial, humanitarian, political and economic components that require reliefworkers and civilian experts to work alongside soldiers (UN DPKO 2003: 42).Thus, soldiers serving within peacekeeping operations are joined by anincreasing number of civilians who are deployed on the mission by the UN orother international or regional agencies.4

The increase in peacekeeping operations was, however, accompanied by thefirst reports expressing concerns about sexual activities between UN peace-keeping personnel5 and local women and girls, which appeared in almost allcountries where peacekeeping operations were being conducted (Higate 2003:2; Prince Zeid 2005: 7). The first allegations were made in 1992 and concernedthe peacekeeping operation in Mozambique (Fleshman 2005: 17). These werefollowed soon after by concerns about the sharp rise in prostitution, as well astrafficking for the purpose of forced prostitution, that accompanied UN

79

missions in Cambodia, Somalia, Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) and Kosovo(Phal 1995; Lupi 1998; HRW 2002a, 2002b; Amnesty International 2004;Martin 2005). These were followed by other reports describing peacekeepers’alleged involvement in different forms of sexual exploitation and abuse inWest Africa (Liberia, Sierra Leone and Guinea – Nduna et al. 2002: esp.48–50), the Democratic Republic of Congo and Eritrea, as well as East Timor(Deutsche Presse Agentur 2005; Barker 2006). By now, the links between thepresence of UN peacekeeping personnel and sexual exploitation and abuse ofwomen and girls have been documented across the range of peacekeepingoperations.

This chapter examines the existing and credible evidence of UN peace-keeping personnel’s involvement in human trafficking in two peacekeepingmissions in the Balkans: BiH and Kosovo. It begins with a brief backgroundon conflicts in the Balkans, and then analyses the peacekeeping–traffickingnexus during the peacekeeping operations in BiH and Kosovo. Althoughaccessing documentation of UN peacekeeping personnel’s misconductremains a real challenge because of a lack of transparency, reporting andrecord keeping by institutional employees and international agencies(Vandenberg 2005: 151), every effort has been made here to find as much dataas possible. The chapter goes on to explore UN responses to human traffick-ing, by examining policies developed in these two peacekeeping operations.The analysis then focuses on accountability and distinct sets of rules that applyto particular categories of UN peacekeeping personnel: military forces, civil-ian police and individual contractors. Each of them is governed by differentrules, codes of conduct and disciplinary procedures, although they share oneimportant attribute: all of them possess relative immunity for crimes commit-ted while involved in the peacekeeping operation.

I will conclude this chapter by arguing that new laws and policies arewelcome in combating human trafficking – but that without changes to theinstitutional, cultural and behavioural patterns that promote the ‘boys will beboys’ attitude, no real progress will be made. In short, the UN and the inter-national community need to act on their rhetorical commitment to protectvulnerable populations – in particular women and girls – from sexual abuse,including trafficking, and waive the immunity of those accountable for seriousbreaches of human rights.

CONFLICTS IN THE BALKANS, SEX TRAFFICKING ANDPEACEKEEPING

The breakdown of civil order and transitions to a market economy in Centraland Eastern Europe have provided an ideal environment for crime to flourish,


with both organised networks and independent traffickers being allowed toprosper. Legal and economic reforms, civil war in BiH, and ethnic conflict inKosovo provided a fertile milieu for developing black market economies, traf-ficking in arms, drugs and humans. The survivors of armed conflict who sufferviolence, economic and physical dislocation, and other consequences of war,are impoverished and vulnerable to being recruited into prostitution (Bedont2005: 83). The Balkans provide an example of how a combination of war,post-war militarisation and economic transition pushes women into acceptingvirtually any kind of work, including sex work – which all too often results inthem being trafficked. Indeed, traffickers know all too well how to exploit totheir own advantage the existing market demand, official corruption, thebreakdown of law and order, and the women’s own need for financial security– to support themselves and, often, their families (Nikolic-Ristanovic 2002: 3).

Trafficking for forced prostitution, especially in women and young girls,follows market demand, and in post-conflict situations that demand is oftencreated by UN peacekeeping personnel (Mendelson 2005: 1). The presence ofthousands of international workers in conflict areas, and a surge of foreigncapital, fuelled trafficking in women. The peacekeeping personnel are usuallystationed in post-conflict countries where the state has collapsed, the justicesystem is almost non-existent, and crime is rampant (Bedont 2005: 83). Theyare also relatively wealthy in comparison to the population they are ‘assisting’.Post-conflict militarisation and the presence of a highly paid internationalpeacekeeping civilian and military community often require a number ofwomen to sell their bodies voluntarily or forcibly and thus respond to demand.As a result, the sex trade becomes central to predatory war economies, whilethe peacekeeping context creates demand for the development of this lucrativeand appalling trade. By participating in the sex trade, as either clients or traf-fickers, UN peacekeeping personnel support war economies and thus maintaininstability in the region, perpetuate abuses of women’s human rights, andprevent a return to peace and security (Mazurana 2005: 35).

Although a majority of UN peacekeeping personnel work honourably inpeacekeeping operations (UN 2000b: 5) and are not engaged in human traf-ficking, numerous allegations as well as hard evidence suggest that a link doesexist between trafficking in post-conflict countries and exploitation by somepeacekeepers.

UN MISSION IN BiH (UNMIBH)

The Dayton Peace Accords signed in 1995 ended three years of bloodshed inBiH, one of the former republics of Yugoslavia. Deployment of UN peace-keeping personnel was authorised by UN Security Council Resolution 1035,

Human trafficking and UN peacekeeping in Bosnia and Kosovo 81

which brought approximately 35 000 soldiers from the North Atlantic TreatyOrganization (NATO) and non-NATO countries into the country. They servedalongside a number of civilian staff employed by agencies such as theOrganization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), the Office ofthe High Representative (OHR), the Office of the High Commissioner forHuman Rights (OHCHR) and numerous other intergovernmental and non-governmental agencies. The trafficking in humans was a relatively unknownphenomenon in the region until the mid-1990s, when the sex industry wasfuelled by the arrival of tens of thousands of predominantly male UN peace-keeping personnel (Rees 2002: 61). Although the first night clubs with women‘dancers’ from Eastern Europe had been established in the early 1990s, it wasnot clear at the time whether women were trafficked or arrived to work volun-tarily in prostitution (Radovanovic with Kartusch 2001: 10). With the arrivalof UN peacekeeping personnel, women – primarily from Ukraine, Romaniaand Moldova (US Department of State 2001a: 82) – also arrived in the regionto entertain soldiers and other international staff who served in the BiH peace-keeping operation. BiH soon became a major destination country for womentrafficked for the purpose of sexual exploitation.

The arrival of the UN mission was followed by the diversification of pros-titution venues and the women’s nationalities that filled them. Bars and broth-els with women trafficked from Central and Eastern Europe mushroomed inthe proximity of UN bases, in response to the demand of UN peacekeepingpersonnel (Mendelson 2005: 10). Another factor used to establish a directcorrelation between women trafficked for prostitution and UN peacekeepingpersonnel was the number of females trafficked into the region, which wouldincrease with the rise in the number of peacekeeping arrivals (Mendelson2005: 12). Indeed, while at the height of the mission estimates by non-govern-mental organisations (NGOs) were that 900 brothels were spread throughoutthe country (UN Interregional Crime and Justice Research Institute 2002: 11),as of April 2002, a few months before the mission ended, the UN estimatedthat between 750 and 1000 women and girls remained trapped in brothels inBiH (Vandenberg 2002).

There were two types of peacekeeping personnel involvement in humantrafficking. Firstly, evidence surfaced in interviews with women victims oftrafficking that peacekeeping personnel were their ‘clients’ in the brothels(Limanowska 2003: 107). Former private contractors who served in the BiHmission also confirmed that some of their colleagues used to park UN vans infront of brothels and use them to transport trafficked women to their homes orbases.6 Secondly, at least three individuals who served in peacekeeping oper-ations actually purchased women and their passports from traffickers(Vandenberg 2002). Some civilian peacekeeping personnel have purchasedwomen and girls, asserted ownership over them, and used them for sex and


housework.7 An internal memorandum sent to the US Secretary of the State on10 December 2001 recounted a case that involved a US International PoliceTask Force (IPTF) officer who was fired from the mission in BiH. Thesummary stated:

In a fairly clear-cut case, an American officer was fired after he admitted that he had‘bought out the contract’ of a 19-year old woman trafficked from Russia with whomhe co-habited for six months. This officer also admitted bringing sensitive docu-ments about forthcoming IPTF raids to his residence, where this woman may havehad access to them. (US Department of State 2001b)

In addition, some of the UN peacekeeping personnel were even active inorganisational aspects of human trafficking crime, by forging documents totransport young girls across borders (McElroy 2002). The most serious alle-gations were against several Romanian IPTF officers who were accused ofrecruiting women from Romania, purchasing forged documents, and thenshipping them off to Bosnian brothels (Lynch 2001: 17). Finally, it has beenreported that IPTF officers were patronising brothels and nightclubs wheretrafficked women were held as prostitutes and forced to dance naked andperform sex acts (Vandenberg 2002; Payne 2002).

In 2001, the IPTF estimated that 30 per cent of those using brothel serviceswere UN peacekeeping personnel, mainly soldiers from the NATO-ledStabilisation Force (SFOR) in BiH (Limanowska 2003: 107). However, almost70 per cent of the brothel business profits were generated by internationals(Mendelson 2005: 7). While profit was a significant factor that contributed tothe flourishing trafficking in the region, another was that, until 1998, the UNmission in BiH did not consider the issue of trafficking in humans as a prior-ity concern (Radovanovic with Kartusch 2001: 22).

THE UN MISSION IN KOSOVO (UNMIK)

The United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK) wascreated by UN Security Council Resolution 1244 in June 1999. UNMIKperforms the role of the government as an interim arrangement, under the lead-ership of the Special Representative of the Secretary-General (SRSG).UNMIK has the authority over the territory of Kosovo, which includes alllegislative and executive powers, and the administration of the police, judi-ciary and domestic security.8 The NATO peacekeeping force (Kosovo Force –KFOR) deployed almost 50 000 men and women in Kosovo (Wilson 2006:154) who serve, as in BiH, alongside a number of intergovernmental and non-governmental agencies and their expatriates. Soon after their deployment,Kosovo became a major destination country for women and girls trafficked


into forced prostitution, primarily from Bulgaria, Moldova and Ukraine(Amnesty International 2004: 5).

A few months after their deployment, the UN Development Fund forWomen (UNIFEM) reported on organised prostitution in several locationsclose to major concentrations of the peacekeeping troops (Wareham 2000:94–5). Similarly to the situation in BiH, most of the sex industry clients werereported to be members of the international military community, while somesoldiers were also involved in the trafficking process itself (Wareham 2000:94–5). Indeed, as the International Organization for Migration (IOM) Chief ofMission in Kosovo argued: ‘the large international presence in Kosovo makestrafficking possible’.9 Additional factors that support the trafficking industryin Kosovo are a lack of sufficient and experienced police officers, a weakcriminal justice system and Kosovo’s proximity to source countries, as well asestablished trafficking routes via Albania to the European Union and cooper-ation between Albanian, Serbian, Kosovo Albanian and Macedonian organisedcriminal networks (Amnesty International 2004: 8).

There are two types of organised crime activities in relation to traffickingin women in Kosovo. The first is the informal networks that exist, structuredaround small groups of individuals within families and ethnic communities.The second is formal organised crime networks, linked through South-EasternEurope, that control every aspect of trafficking, from recruitment and transportto the administration of the premises where abuses take place (UNMIK 2004:5).

Nightclubs, bars and restaurants suspected of carrying out trafficking activ-ities are officially off limits to all peacekeeping personnel.10 Their numberescalated in recent years, however, with only 18 establishments identified inlate 1999, while as of 1 January 2004 there were 200 bars, restaurants andcafes on the off-limits lists (UNMIK 2003). The clubs and cafes that operateas undercover brothels have been concentrated in the neighbourhood of peace-keeping military bases, and soldiers find ways to visit them;11 in some cases,trafficked women and girls from these undercover brothels were taken ontomilitary bases (Mendelson 2005: 11). These establishments are suspected ofinvolvement in prostitution but fronted as legitimate business, so that thepolice are in most cases unable to shut them down (UNMIK 2004: 18).

As in BiH, in Kosovo in 1999 and 2000 almost 80 per cent of the clients oftrafficked women were internationals (Amnesty International 2004: 39).Although the majority of clients in 2002 were local men, members of the inter-national community, mostly soldiers, still constituted 30 per cent of the clients(Amnesty International 2004: 39). More importantly, they generated 80 percent of the industry’s income.12 Also as in BiH, international soldiers inKosovo are often clients of women trafficked into forced prostitution or traf-fickers:


In a report broadcast on German television last night [17 December 2000], a 16-yearold Bulgarian girl said she was sold to a night club in Tetovo (near Macedonia’snorthern border with Kosovo) and that hundreds of German soldiers were amongher clients. In the televised report, a German soldier acknowledged being with thesame girl, and said that he knew other KFOR soldiers who frequented brothels inFRY of Macedonia where underage girls are being kept.13

In addition, a Hungarian sex worker who worked mainly in Pristina(Kosovo) reported that ‘the Russian KFOR were bringing women in for sexwork’.14 Thus, some women victims were trafficked explicitly for KFOR’s useby arranging for them to meet soldiers in KFOR camps, since US KFORpersonnel are prohibited from leaving their bases (Amnesty International2004: 17). On the other hand, their colleagues – civilian police officers – livein local housing within local communities and have freedom of movement; itis more difficult, perhaps even impossible, to monitor their movements, espe-cially since they are dressed in civilian clothes after working hours. In June2002, a UNMIK Internal Affairs investigation found that at least one of the UScivilian police officers ‘was involved with a known criminal and brothelowner and accepted gifts from him in the form of “girls” ’ (US Department ofState 2002b). Moreover, in an internal memorandum sent to the US Secretaryof State on 25 June 2002, UNMIK reported that: ‘this is not the first time thatUS and other CivPol [civilian police] have been found to be engaged withprostitutes, nightclub owners, and/or other activities related to the sex trade’(US Department of State 2002b). It was not the first time, but certainly not thelast time either. In January 2005, a Pakistani peacekeeping staff member wasarrested in Kosovo for being involved not only in sexual but also ‘other activ-ities’ such as ‘narcotics related charges involving minors’.15

THE UN RESPONSES TO TRAFFICKING IN BiH ANDKOSOVO

peacekeeping personnel may have condoned the establishment of brothels and beencomplicit in the trafficking of women and girls (UN 2002: para 268)

Until 1998, UNMIBH did not consider the issue of trafficking in humans apriority concern (Radovanovic with Kartusch 2001: 22). Official and formalresponses to trafficking in women started in 1999, following numerous localand international media reports on trafficking in BiH. The OHCHR andUNMIBH jointly launched the ‘Trafficking Project’ (Callamard et al. 2001:77). Under pressure from increased public attention and the cases thatemerged, UN officials eventually decided to take the problem of trafficking inwomen more seriously and devised measures to address it.


In May 1999, UNMIBH issued its first legal guideline on trafficking, whichprovided a definition of human trafficking and banned it on the grounds that itwas an organised crime activity (HRW 2002a: 43, 64). Moreover, in the sameyear, UNMIBH developed its first protocols for the treatment and repatriationof trafficked victims; in 2001, it established the Special Trafficking OperationsProgram (STOP) to handle trafficking cases.16 As of October 2002, UNMIBHsuspected 227 bars and nightclubs in BiH of involvement in trafficking inwomen (HRW 2002b: 1). However, the STOP did not have a clearly developedpolicy, but rather operated on an ad hoc basis. Nor did it have any funds tocover the expenses of victims of trafficking after ‘rescuing’ them from broth-els. In 2001, one IPTF officer interviewed by Human Rights Watch stated: ‘Itry to help them [victims]. We dip into our own pockets … We feed them, getthem coffee, and get them cigarettes … The UN gives us no funds to take careof them … We make it possible for the UN to do nothing’ (HRW 2002a: 44).

At the same time, an initial training programme for BiH local police offi-cers by UN civilian police on combating trafficking in humans was developedand delivered across the country. Simultaneously, massive raids started to beperformed jointly by local and international police officers throughout thecountry.17 Although they succeeded in closing down the brothels, they did notstop the business of trafficking; rather, trafficking moved underground.Traffickers shifted the commercial sex trade into private homes and escortservices to avoid detection (US Department of State 2007: 5) and thus madethe task of preventing and combating trafficking in humans even more diffi-cult.

UNMIBH shut down 31 December 2002 and was replaced by the EuropeanUnion Police Mission (EUPM), which took over the policing function fromthe UN in BiH.18 According to EUPM representatives, UN personnel tookhundreds of files that recorded trafficking cases with them when they leftBosnia – files that were either archived in New York or burned, and were notavailable to the EUPM officials. The EUPM requested these files countlesstimes, but received nothing (all from Mendelson 2005: 63–4). This indicates aclear lack of transparency and cooperation between departing UNMIBH andincoming EUPM officials that resulted in ‘no proper exchange of informationand intelligence about organised crime and trafficking in persons’ (IOMCounter-Tracking Service 2004: 44). This in turn meant the loss of ‘details[for] approximately 1500 potential victims and hundreds of potential traffick-ers’ (IOM Counter-Tracking Service 2004: 50). There were speculations byexperts that the reason for the lack of transfer was that information containedin these files either implicated or proved the involvement of IPTF officers intrafficking (Mendelson 2005: 64).

The first Office of Gender Affairs (OGA) was established in Kosovo in1999 by the Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO). One of the


OGA’s goals is to assist victims of sexual violence, as well as to deliver train-ing to police and judicial officials on forensic investigation of sexual violence(Olsson and Tryggestad 2001: 58). In 2000, UNMIK established five regionalunits that focused on gathering information on trafficking cases, femalevictims, and establishments where trafficking activities were occurring (UN2002: 88). It also has the task of gathering substantive evidence for successfulprosecution in the courts (UN 2002: 88).

The involvement of UNMIK police officers in trafficking in women cameto light as early as 2001.19 Trafficking victims stated that they ‘were broughtfrom Mitrovica to Kosovo Polje in a white UN vehicle driven by a Russian UNStaff member’.20 As a result, two police officers were repatriated because oftheir ‘professional misconduct’ following an UNMIK investigation intocharges that four of its police officers were involved in ‘the movement ofwomen for the purpose of prostitution’.21

An UNMIK Anti-trafficking Regulation was promulgated in January 2001by the Special Representative of the Secretary-General (SRSG).22 TheRegulation represented a considerable improvement on the May 1999UNMIBH official legal guideline on trafficking. In particular, UNMIBH hadfailed in its earlier document to define trafficking in accordance with interna-tional law: its guideline emphasised the element of ‘consent’, which could beused to deny trafficked status, and gave inadequate consideration to elementssuch as force, coercion and deception.23 The implication of such legal failurewas highly significant, since gender officers who were charged with deter-mining trafficking status in BiH denied it to ‘persons who knew that they weregoing to be engaged as sex workers’ (HRW 2002a: 42). The fact that no personcan consent to debt bondage and the conditions of work imposed upon thewomen was not really being considered (HRW 2002a: 43).

UNMIK appeared to acknowledge this failure in the early 2000s by specif-ically devoting a paragraph in its 2001 regulation to the irrelevance of thevictim’s consent if there were ‘means or the threat of use of force or otherforms of coercion of abduction, of fraud, of deception, of the abuse of poweror of a position of vulnerability’ used ‘for the purpose of exploitation’.24

Indeed, such a stipulation is in accordance with Article 3(b) of the PalermoAnti-Trafficking Protocol that establishes that the consent for the victims isirrelevant where any of the above-mentioned means have been used (UnitedNations 2000b). Harsh convictions have been determined by the SRSGRegulation. Punishments for individual persons engaged in trafficking are upto 12 years’ imprisonment, while for trafficking of victims under the age of 18imprisonment is up to 15 years.25 Any person who organises a group ofpersons for the purpose of committing the crime shall be liable to imprison-ment of up to 20 years (Limanowska 2004: 132).

In 2003, a shelter for victims of trafficking was established by the Victims’


Advocacy and Assistance Unit of the Department of Justice on behalf ofUNMIK (Limanowska 2004). Although the number of identified victims wasdecreasing by 2004, there was evidence that the overall scale of traffickingwas not actually declining, but rather changing its nature, with more internaltrafficking occurring within the country (Limanowska 2004: 136). Accordingto the 2007 US Trafficking in Persons Report, the number of internally traf-ficked girls is still on the rise, even if it has become less visible; as in BiHearlier, traffickers in Kosovo simply moved their business underground inresponse to an increasing number of raids on restaurants and bars byUNMIK’s Trafficking in Human Beings Unit (THBU) and the local police(US Department of State 2007: 180).

ATTITUDES, IMMUNITIES AND IMPUNITIES

Privileged by immunities while on peacekeeping operations, UN peacekeep-ing personnel have managed to escape prosecution and accountability forcommitting serious crimes. A range of granted immunities and privileges,combined with a lack of political will to prosecute on behalf of the statescontributing to peacekeeping operations, has been used as a shield from crim-inal liability. Moreover, since the early 1990s senior UN officials have nothidden their view that peace operations are mostly a ‘boys club’, where offi-cials often turn a blind eye or even publicly support some of the hideouscrimes committed against local women and girls. When addressing complaintsregarding the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC)personnel’s behaviour in 1992, the mission’s SRSG, Yasushi Akashi, report-edly replied that: ‘it was natural for hot-blooded young soldiers who hadendured the rigors of the field to want to have a few beers and to chase youngbeautiful beings of the opposite sex’ (Whitworth 2004: 71). Likewise, thearrival of thousands of victims of sex trafficking in post-conflict regions isseen as a ‘natural occurrence’ by former US Ambassador to the UN RichardHolbrooke, who said: ‘Where peacekeepers go, they attract women who areworking full-time or part-time as prostitutes’ (CNN 2000). Thus, women ‘will-ing’ to have sex with male soldiers and international civilian staff are seen asa ‘natural and harmless, transitional phenomenon’ (Mazurana 2005: 34) ratherthan victims of serious human rights abuses.

However, there have in the last few years been significant official acknowl-edgments by the UN that allegations of UN peacekeeping personnel’s involve-ment in trafficking in humans have left a stain on UN missions around theglobe. In 2004, the DPKO stated that: ‘peacekeepers’ use of trafficking victimsfor sexual and other services has been a source of major embarrassment andpolitical damage to UN PKOs’ (emphasis added; UN DPKO 2004: 5).


Likewise, in December 2006, outgoing Secretary-General Kofi Annan admit-ted that UN peacekeeping personnel had committed crimes ‘such as rape,paedophilia, and human trafficking’ in missions around the world (BBC News2006).26

Although different legal regimes govern each category of UN peacekeep-ing personnel, authority to investigate and prosecute military personnel restsexclusively with their home countries.27 Thus, if military personnel areaccused of committing a crime, they will be subject to the law applicable totheir contingents, such as military discipline law.28 The reasoning behind sucha legal system lies in the fact that UN peacekeeping personnel are oftendeployed in post-conflict countries where the justice system does not exist oroperate fully (Bedont 2005: 83). To ensure that the host country cannot pros-ecute peacekeeping personnel, trilateral agreements between the UN, the hoststate and the contributing state include a clause that the host state’s judicialofficials cannot prosecute them, since the UN enjoys absolute immunity fromlocal laws.29 The UN is bound by a Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA)between a host country and a foreign nation stationing military forces in thatcountry. A SOFA ensures that peacekeeping personnel cannot be tried forcrimes they commit during the mission except by their own country, leavingthe UN little room for action. Thus, the exclusive responsibility lies withtroop-contributing countries to prosecute anyone accused of committing a traf-ficking-related offence. In BiH, under the terms of the Dayton Peace Accords(DPA), IPTF monitors had enjoyed complete immunity from prosecution,while NATO civilian and military personnel retained only functional immun-ity.30

When civilian members of UN peacekeeping operations break the law, theSpecial Representative or commander of the mission is to conduct an inquiryand then agree with the accused civilian’s home country whether criminalproceedings will follow.31 Moreover, peacekeeping personnel enjoy a generalimmunity from prosecution, unless explicitly waived by the UN Secretary-General ‘in any case where, in his opinion, the immunity would impede thecourse of justice and can be waived without prejudice to the interests of theUnited Nations’.32 The Trafficking in Persons Unit (TPU) in Kosovo reportedto Amnesty International in 2001 that waivers for the purposes of prosecutionwere either not requested or not granted in most cases (Amnesty International2004: 35). However, the TPU made a controversial statement in 2004 bysaying that: ‘in all cases in which UNMIK requested a waiver of immunity, itwas promptly granted by the Secretary General’ (UNMIK 2004: 18).

In a majority of cases, if peacekeeping personnel commit a crime in the hostcountry, they will most likely be rapidly repatriated to their country of origin.Any disciplinary action, further investigation and prosecution after repatria-tion lies with the capability, preferences and political will of the country of


origin. Although some countries take various forms of disciplinary or criminalaction, many do not bring charges against their repatriated personnel, thusleaving them without penalties for crimes committed (US Department of State2007: 230–33). Indeed, a majority of countries have little or no interest inseeing their peacekeeping personnel prosecuted for organised crime or sexualabuse issues while doing ‘good deeds’ around the world. Some of thecontributing countries have poorly developed legislation to prosecute person-nel upon repatriation, so that exclusive reliance on contributing states’ legisla-tion is not the best solution. For example, the Italian military was unable torespond to the crimes committed by Italian military peacekeeping personnel inSomalia in 1997. Natalia Lupi, in her study of Somalia, points out that crimesof ‘violation, torture and maltreatment against civilians’ are not covered by theMilitary Panel Code that regulated the behaviour of Italian peacekeepingpersonnel (Lupi 1998: 376). Thus, the soldiers were disciplined but not pros-ecuted (Bedont 2005: 90). In addition, military courts are less transparent thancivilian courts. As a male-dominated institution, the military is not a suitableagency for prosecuting individuals for crimes against women. The crimes thatarise in peacekeeping operations are problems of militarised masculinity,where masculine aggression is rewarded rather than punished (Bedont 2005:90).

When contributing states fail to act, the UN does not have the authority tocorrect national malfunction or even follow up on the actions of contributingstates, if any have been taken. Indeed, the UN is not capable of securing legalliability, but can only seek to ascertain that contributing states ensure justice isdone. The best the UN can do is to undertake administrative measures such asdisciplinary action, including summary dismissal for serious misconduct.33 In2000, a cable entitled ‘US IPTF monitors implicated in trafficking in womencase: accusation and disciplinary action’ confirmed that: ‘a very small numberof American monitors have been accused of improper conduct in connectionwith prostitution and trafficking in women’.34 Those monitors were repatriatedvoluntarily or through disciplinary repatriation for ‘sexual misconduct’, buthave not faced criminal investigation or prosecution.35 Needless to say,symbolic punishment for egregious crime does not provide a deterrent to otherpeacekeeping personnel who might be tempted to take part in trafficking-related offences.

Although there is strong evidence that peacekeeping personnel have beeninvolved (consciously or unconsciously) in the use of sexual services by traf-ficking victims, the DPKO has claimed that very few cases have been fullyinvestigated and proven so far (UN DPKO 2004). The absence of a consistentpolicy, combined with blanket immunity, created an atmosphere of impunityfor international peacekeeping personnel (Vandenberg 2007: 88). Thus,despite serious allegations of involvement of IPTF officers in trafficking in


women in BiH, no member of UNMIBH has ever been criminally prosecutedfor trafficking or trafficking related crimes (Vandenberg 2002). The most seri-ous (and only) punishment that UN peacekeeping personnel faced in BiH israpid repatriation and so-called ‘reliability on legal fiction’ (that is, a promisethat the contributing countries will take legal action). As a result, peacekeep-ing personnel go unpunished for serious crimes they commit, and none of thelaw enforcement efforts so far has resulted in a single trafficking conviction.Moreover, as a consequence of lack of any accountability for the crimescommitted, some UN police officers who have been ‘expelled from oneCivPol [civilian police] operation for suspected involvement in illegal activi-ties, had later been deployed to UN CivPol missions in other parts of theworld’ (US Department of State 2001c).

Although UNMIK in 2001 openly acknowledged involvement of peace-keeping personnel in trafficking in women, in 2004 it denied the existence ofsuch cases: ‘to date, no such [criminal] case has involved trafficking or anyother related offence’ (UNMIK 2004: 18). However, by the end of 2002, atleast ten UNMIK police officers had been repatriated in connection with alle-gations related to trafficking in humans (Amnesty International 2004: 13).Although UNMIK police had been informed by repatriated police officersfrom their home countries that they would be prosecuted or disciplined, twoyears later they were not aware of any charges having been raised bycontributing states in any of the cases (Amnesty International 2004: 14). Also,52 KFOR soldiers, eight international civilians and three international policeofficers were found in ‘off-limits premises’ between 2002 and 2004 (UNMIK2004: 18). The KFOR soldiers were handed over to military police, and civil-ian personnel to their departments, for further investigation, while the interna-tional police officers were repatriated (UNMIK 2004: 18).

In order to improve investigations and prosecutions in trafficking cases, ithas been proposed that a ‘Whistleblowing Hotline’ be established by UNMIKTPIU (UNMIK 2004: 27). Although this recommendation should bewelcomed, lack of transparency and fear of retaliation are understandableconcerns among UNMIK officers. In 2001, Kathryn Bolkovac, an AmericanIPTF officer serving in BiH, was unfairly dismissed for disclosing evidencethat some IPTF officers had had sex with trafficked women, and that UNpersonnel and international aid workers were linked to prostitution rings in theBalkans (McGrory 2002). In addition, other IPTF monitors in BiH whoattempted to alert their superiors to involvement in trafficking by fellow IPTFmonitors have claimed that they faced retaliation. David Lamb, a former UNhuman rights investigator in BiH who was leading investigations into sex traf-ficking, admitted: ‘I have to say there were credible witnesses, but I found areal reluctance on the part of the United Nations … leadership to investigatethese allegations’ (HRW 2002a: 37).


CONCLUSIONS

The direct and indirect involvement of peacekeeping personnel in traffickingrelated offences has been recognized by the DPKO and by the UN as a whole.The DPKO has acknowledged that ‘peacekeepers have come to be seen as apart of the problem [when it comes to trafficking in humans], rather than thesolution’ (UN DPKO 2004). Indeed, in the last few years the UN has raisedthe alarm and responded to the phenomenon of human trafficking and peace-keeping by institutionalising measures aimed at combating trafficking.Recognising the problem of accountability of UN peacekeeping personnel, theUN issued a policy statement in November 2007 urging all contributing statesto hold their peacekeepers accountable for serious crimes (UN 2007).Although it appears that the UN is struggling to find the best ways to respondto the problem, it is argued here that there are more obstacles in their way thanachievements.

While the UN mission in Kosovo went a few steps further than the missionin BiH in developing mechanisms to respond to the phenomenon of traffick-ing, there is still a lack of transparency and political will to hold accountablethose who were involved in the trafficking related offences. Concern for‘political damage’ and the international image of contributing countriesprevails over concern for the human rights of women victims of traffickingand the course of justice. As demonstrated, internationals alleged to haveparticipated in trafficking enjoyed impunity and evaded prosecution altogether(Vandenberg 2007: 95). Appallingly, some of them have been deployed inother missions.

Thus, new laws and policies are certainly welcome in combating humantrafficking by peacekeeping personnel. But without institutional, cultural andbehavioural changes that confront the ‘boys will be boys’ attitude, no realprogress will be made. In addition, the UN and the international communityneed to act on their rhetorical commitment to protect vulnerable populations,in particular women and girls, from sexual abuse. The UN also needs to waivethe immunity of those accused of serious breaches of human rights.

NOTES

1. Interview with German soldier who served in Kosovo peace mission, ARD Weltspiegel,broadcast 17 December 2000.

2. Scholars and researchers often use terms such as UN peacekeeping operations, peacekeep-ing missions, missions and operations interchangeably, a practice adopted here.

3. After the end of the Cold War, the proliferation of peacekeeping brought a new categorisa-tion of peacekeeping operations, which are now divided into: traditional or first-generationor Cold War peacekeeping; and new or second-generation or multidimensional peacekeep-ing (Katayanagi 2002: 42).


4. For example, in 1989 there were 11 121 military, police and civilian personnel deployed inpeacekeeping operations and the annual budget was US$230.4 million. In December 1994,77 783 personnel were deployed; in 2006 the total number amounted to 97 007. The esti-mated total cost of operations from 1948 to 30 June 2007 reached approximately US$47.19billion. Further details from United Nations Peacekeeping Operations at http://www.un.org/Depts/dpko/dpko/bnote.htm, accessed 12 August 2007.

5. There are three main components of ‘peacekeeping’ forces: the military, police and civiliancomponents. But, in line with common practice among scholars, the generic term ‘UNpeacekeeping personnel’ will be used here – except when other scholars are cited – to referto anyone employed in a peacekeeping operation: any uniformed service member serving asa military member of national contingents, UN civilian police and military observers, UNvolunteers, and individual contractors and consultants working within a peacekeeping oper-ation (see Prince Zeid 2005).

6. Testimony by Benjamin Johnston, an aircraft mechanic formerly contracted to DynCorpwith the UNMIBH; see Hearing before the Subcommittee on International Relations andHuman Rights, ‘The UN and the Sex Slave Trade in Bosnia: Isolated Case or the LargerProblem in the UN System?’ Testimony by Benjamin Johnston, 24 April 2002 athttp://commdocs.house.gov/committees/intlrel/hfa78948.000/hfa78948_0f.htm, accessed13 December 2007.

7. Benjamin Johnston testified that many of his colleagues ‘owned’ and traded girls aged 12 to15, talking about and treating them as sexual and domestic slaves. He said that this was anorm among the men he worked with, and that he was encouraged by others to buy a girland was offered opportunities to do so. Source as in note 6.

8. Resolution 1244 (1999) adopted by the Security Council at its 4011th meeting, 10 June1999, at http://www.nato.int/Kosovo/docu/u990610a.htm, accessed 7 June 2007.

9. ‘Group launches campaign against forced prostitution in Kosovo’, AFP, 24 May 2000, citedin Amnesty International (2004): 9.

10. UNMIK Police Directive for Off Limits Premises, issued by Police CommissionerChristopher Albiston on 31 January 2001, is distributed by UN Security to all UNMIK staffmembers for compliance (see UNMIK 2004: 17).

11. See the BBC movie Boys Will Be Boys, in which a taxi driver in Kosovo talks about drivingsoldiers back and forth from their military bases to night clubs and bars. He says that theyusually change their clothes in the cab from military to civilian.

12. A trafficked girl reported that KFOR soldiers paid DM100 for one hour while local menwould be charged the same amount for a night (Amnesty International 2004: 12).

13. The message received through STOP TRAFFICK @ friends-partners list, 24 December2000.

14. The message received through STOP TRAFFICK @ friends-partners list, 10 February 2000;see also Amnesty International (2004): 24. Russian KFOR troops were allegedly involved inbringing Moldovan and Ukrainian women into Kosovo for sexual exploitation.

15. Rashid Doon Khan, a Pakistani staff member in the office of the High Commissioner forRefugees, was arrested in Kosovo on 28 January 2005 by an international prosecutor inKosovo, pending a pre-trial investigation; at http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A30286-2005Mar12.html, accessed 20 June 2007.

16. STOP included 50 IPTF officers and 140 members of the local police (HRW 2002a: 53). In2004, DPKO also criticised the STOP model practised in BiH, and said that it should not bereplicated in other missions. Some of the major concerns and failures were the model’s fail-ure to integrate legislative reforms, criminal justice, and victim support programmes (UNDPKO Human Trafficking Resource Package 2004).

17. Between 25 July 2001 and October 2002, STOP teams conducted 720 raids (HRW 2002a:4).

18. EUPM operates in accordance with Annex 11 of the Dayton Peace Agreement. For furtherdetails see http://www.eupm.org/Our%20Mandate.aspx, accessed 12 October 2007.

19. UNMIK Press Briefing, 13 August 2001, at http://www.unmikonline.org/press/2001/trans/tr130801.html, accessed 10 July 2007.

20. Report from OSCE mission in Kosovo (March 2001) in Cerone (2002): 47.


21. Two other officers have received letters of reprimand. Whilst the four committed profes-sional misconduct to varying degrees, evidence was not found to support criminal charges(Cerone 2002).

22. UNMIK/REG/2001/4; for the full regulation see ‘Regulation No 2001/4 on the prohibitionin trafficking in persons in Kosovo’ at http://www.unmikonline.org/regulations/2001/reg04-01.html, accessed 9 November 2007.

23. UNMIBH Legal Office, Guidance no. 21, ‘Trafficking in Persons’, May 1999.24. UNMIK/REG/2001/4 Sec 1.2.25. UNMIK Regulation Section 2.1 and 2.2.26. The UN’s own figures show that 316 peacekeeping personnel in all missions have been

investigated, resulting in the summary dismissal of 18 civilians, repatriation of 17 membersof Formed Police Units and 144 repatriations or rotations home on disciplinary grounds. Inthis article, the UN admits that about 80 per cent of 100 000 people serving in its peace-keeping operations cannot be prosecuted because the UN lacks authority to do so.

27. UN Model SOFA para 47 (b).28. Ibid.29. Under Appendix B to Annex 1A of the Dayton Peace Agreement, NATO military personnel

are under the exclusive jurisdiction of their respective nations. See OHR (1995), AppendixB to Annex I-A, sec.7. Under Article VI, paragraph 11 of Annex I-A, all IFOR (now SFOR)personnel retain the privileges and immunities set forth in Appendix B. SFOR civilianpersonnel, although in principle possessing only ‘functional’ immunity from prosecution(immunity only for acts related to their official duties), have been effectively extended fullimmunity by the Bosnian government.

30. See OHR (1995) and Convention on the Privileges and Immunities of the United Nations,adopted by the General Assembly of the UN on 13 February 1946, Article VI, Section 22.United Nations staff serving on peacekeeping operations have functional immunity to ensurethat they are able to undertake their functions in connection with the United Nations in anindependent manner.

31. UN Model SOFA para 47 (a).32. See Article V, Section 20 of Convention on the Privileges and Immunities of the United

Nations.33. UN Staff Regulations, Disciplinary Measures Regulation 10.1 and Regulation 10.2 UN doc.

ST/SGB/2003 (2003).34. HRW at http://www.hrw.org/reports/2002/bosnia/1101cable.pdf, accessed 11 January 2007.35. HRW at http://www.crin.org/docs/resources/treaties/crc.39/Bosnia_HRW_ngo_report.pdf,

accessed 15 January 2007.


6. Between social opprobrium and repeattrafficking: chances and choices ofAlbanian women deported from theUK1

Stephanie Schwandner-Sievers

Many people may have little idea about Albania, a small country in South-Eastern Europe with a population of 3.6 million, bordering the Ionian andAdriatic Seas. It emerged in the early 1990s from one of the most totalitarianCommunist regimes as one of the poorest countries in Europe. During thenearly two decades following the dramatic regime changes in Eastern Europe,when Europe remained divided between ‘Western’ European Union (EU) and‘Eastern’ non-EU member states (the latter including Albania2), the prosper-ous West became the recipient of a mass influx of informal Albanian labourmigrants.3 Strong Albanophobic stereotypes have developed in response.4

Media and popular perceptions, particularly in the major European host coun-tries – Greece, Italy and, further away, the United Kingdom (UK) – continueto associate Albanians in general with crime, violence and prostitution, regard-less of the fact that most jobs in which Albanians have engaged abroad, typi-cally low-skilled and below their qualifications, were not per se criminal, andthat most Albanians are believed to have integrated successfully into their hostcommunities (Vullnetari 2007). These Albanophobic stereotypes are usuallygendered, in that ‘Albanian women have been presented as a particularlyvulnerable nationality among trafficked women in Europe … [while] Albanianmen are presented as dominating the new and violent mafias that have arrivedin the EC from the Balkans’ (J. Davies 2009: 22). Unsurprisingly, given theircriminal and hidden nature, there exist no reliable statistics on either of thesetwo stereotypes that would allow the separation of myth from fact.

Available figures and estimates regarding the Albanian trafficking issuesometimes appear to be stretched in opposite directions, according to conflict-ing political or other interests and sometimes to moralising attitudes that oftenbear little relation to the actual situation of transnational Albanian traffickingvictims and sex workers. However, stereotypical attitudes, image anxieties andpolitically driven estimates can have a profound effect on the situation of those

95

attempting to extricate themselves from their predicament and hoping to begiven protection by the authorities back home after trafficking episodes. Theycan also be symptomatic of deeper problems, such as weak governance, thatmay affect the likelihood of protection. In particular, in Albania – as withmany other countries – there still exists a problem of social ‘shame’ that causesdiscomfort within families, in wider society, and even on the national level,resulting in a preference for silence over open discussion of the serious issuesbeing examined here. Fatos Lubonja, known in Albania and beyond as one ofits most candid observers of society,5 explained (in an interview in earlyOctober 2008):

We don’t want to touch the issue of prostitution here: it’s embarrassing, it’s largeprofit for many, it’s against the image. The traffickers keep a low profile. Wepretend it is not our problem, it’s against the image of ourselves. It’s like a monster:it’s not like us, but in fact the monster is inside us. If the prostitutes come back theywill be three or four times prosecuted: it’s the moral code that’s in place here. Theyhave no chance of being reintegrated into this society. They have a dark mark; theyare like dead persons in Albania. They cannot undo their past. They will be forcedto continue their trade. Trafficking of women by Albanians is a very controversialissue. People here, when they speak of kanun6 and honour, that people should killtheir daughter [for such shame] and so on, this is their rhetoric, their myths; but onthe other hand they treat her like a commodity, sell and buy her, she is an object, soyou can kill her … They behave like a merchant. The extreme cases are in the north,but this is true even for our urban society today.7

Given this background, many of the current official anti-trafficking effortsin Albania appear remarkable. However, as this chapter will demonstrate, theyare compromised by severe problems of governance, such as high degrees ofcorruption and systemic neopatrimonialism, and endorsed by highly conserv-ative concepts and patriarchal attitudes that are still prevalent in widerAlbanian society. They are also international donor-dependent and donor-driven. This chapter aims to describe the ways in which specific neopatrimo-nial forms of governance, corruption and sociocultural factors in Albania, suchas prevailing familism and severe stigma for women outside male protection(or control), have on the one hand empowered the criminal traffickers and, onthe other hand, restricted choices and options of protection and alternative lifepaths for their (former) victims.

The focus of this chapter is on the character and effects of the situation thatAlbanian women face on returning home from trafficking and sexual exploita-tion abroad, and the retrafficking risks this situation incurs. However, thiscountry focus should not distract us from the wider geopolitical context and itseffects. Albanian migration to other European countries is, for manyAlbanians, still only possible by illegal means. As John Davies has explainedin detail, such a structural context has exposed Albanian women – particularly


those without family support (whom he classifies in terms of their ‘weaksocial networks’) – to exploitation by informal cross-border entrepreneurs.Davies has further argued that countries deporting asylum-seeking womenwho were trafficked and sexually exploited are complicit with the traffickersand engaged in ‘reverse trafficking’ (Davies and Davies 2008; J. Davies 2009).Equally, the geopolitical context – beyond culturalist explanations of shame –must be considered when discussing heightened national image anxieties inAlbania that have led to the downplaying of the problem. The country has formany years been exposed to regular EU assessments, such as the annual EU‘progress reports’ regarding its human rights and democratisation develop-ment, which have determined the chances for and speed of the EU accessionprocess.

The present chapter relies on predominantly qualitative analysis based onopen sources, plus research interviews conducted in autumn 2008 with stake-holders of Albania’s pronounced anti-trafficking fight.8 These interviews wereconducted in preparation for a cross-examination by the UK immigrationtribunal, and for an expert witness report in a ‘country-guidance case’9 on thereturn situation of adult female Albanian victims of trafficking. My researchwas guided by and sought to address three contested observations amongnational and international stakeholders (Lesko and Puka 2008: 6–8; Republicof Albania 2008a; US Department of State 2008a). The first was that failedand returned Albanian asylum seekers who have been trafficked are highlylikely to follow repeat trafficking patterns. Second, internal trafficking hasbeen increasing significantly in recent years and thus poses an additional riskto this category of returnees. And finally, many of them would re-engage inprostitution ‘both willingly and voluntarily’, particularly if they are beyond thetraffickers’ priority target groups of very young women and children.10 Giventhese observations, the question of free choice of Albanian sex workers versusthe nature of socioculturally restrictive circumstances in Albania, which wouldframe such ‘choice’, has become paramount in the ongoing country guidancecase (in early 2009).

Aware of wider policy and scholarly debates that suggest a risk of discur-sive reproduction of victimisation and the implicit denial of agency for sexworkers through the categorical use of the term ‘victim’ for trafficked personsin general (Doezema 2002; Ditmore and Wijers 2003; Surtees 2008b: 41), theterm ‘victim’ is used in this chapter only when explicitly intending to implythe objectification of specific sex workers, either by their traffickers (notsmugglers) or pimps. In short, the term is used only when processes ofcommodification, deceit and abuse are claimed or documented, or as a resultof decision-making processes within the wider structures of policy and power.The latter might include the asylum process itself, or formal and informal(including corrupt) domestic governmental practices that categorise and assign

Chances and choices of Albanian women deported from the UK 97

statuses such as ‘victim’ or ‘criminal’ to the women concerned (see Shore andWright 1997: 4). Increasingly in recent years, many Albanian women haveconsciously chosen migration for sex work as a route to aspired life improve-ment. But such a strategy does not always work out, and many ‘end updeceived or coerced and exploited, rendering their situation one of trafficking’(Surtees 2008b: 43; see also J. Davies 2009). It is also understood thatAlbanian traffickers have increasingly resorted to less violence-dependentstrategies of recruitment and ensuring compliance (CARPO 2007; Leman andJanssens 2008: 444; Surtees 2008b: 55). The variety of possible experiencesamong Albanian women transnationally involved in sex work has been welldocumented (J. Davies 2009), and there exists an undisputed ‘continuum fromlesser to greater use of deception, coercion and force … in a range of differentcontexts’ (Surtees 2008b: 43).

The UN’s so-called Palermo Protocol of 2000 has been seen as pivotal in(implicitly) recognising ‘the existence of both coerced and non-coerced partic-ipation in sex work’ (Ditmore and Wijers 2003: 87). The present study isparticularly concerned with a specific group of women (child trafficking isexcluded for the purposes of this chapter) situated at the most disadvantagedend of such a continuum. Its aim is to explore Albanian women’s security,protection and exit options, as well as the retrafficking risks they face withinAlbania. It is based largely on the reports by women who have testified in UKasylum procedures, recounting stories of sometimes extreme violence, deceitand coercion. Some of these women have been diagnosed by clinical psychol-ogists with ‘complex post-traumatic stress disorder’ (Herman 2001). All haverequested protection through the UK asylum process, and this is where Iencountered their stories, through both detailed interviews and their so-calledcase ‘bundle’ (approximately 20 cases in all). In the ongoing country guidancecase, two such women face the imminent possibility of being deported toAlbania, based on Home Office suggestions that there is a general sufficiencyof protection in Albania for those women who base their asylum or humanrights claims ‘on the fear of being trafficked or their fear of those who traf-ficked them if they return to Albania’ (OGN 2008: para. 3.9.16).

This chapter illustrates that Albanian women deported to Albania afterbeing trafficked to the UK face social opprobrium that exposes them to a highchance of retrafficking. Clear-cut categorical distinctions between ‘coercive’and ‘voluntary’ engagement in sex work appear not to match ambiguous real-ities, in which circumstantial coercion, resulting from societal stigma, wide-spread familism and entrenched corruption leave many women little choiceother than, at best, aiming to assert agency within the retrafficking process.11

For women who have already chosen a foreign asylum system as an exit strat-egy from prostitution, ‘the return to their places of origin, facing the impossi-bility to adapt and reintegrate, forces them to exploit themselves in daily


prostitution until they find a way in which to leave Albania again’ (Lesko andPuka 2008: 9–10). Applying rigid categories to the situation after deportation– such as coercive versus voluntary, or victim versus criminal – only furtherobjectifies and victimises these women and disenfranchises them from makingfree choices, possibly in contradiction with EU human rights legislation.12

And yet these simple binary categories inform the wider debate, Albaniangovernmental strategies and perceptions, and even UK asylum procedures.

IMAGE POLITICS, FIGURES AND TRANSFORMATIONS

In its Evaluation Report (Republic of Albania 2008b: 4, 12) on the implemen-tation of the first National Anti-Trafficking Strategy (2005–07), the Albaniangovernment claimed that ‘the number of trafficked persons in Albania hasdecreased considerably’ in Albania, and that there had been ‘a continual reduc-tion. This is a fact shown also by national and regional statistical data …Albania is no longer considered as a transit or destination country, but only asan origin country for the trafficking of human beings’.

The same report suggested that local non-governmental organisations(NGOs) may inflate figures because victims of trafficking (VoTs) ‘are trans-ferred from one centre to another, thus artificially increasing the real numberof victims of trafficking’ (Republic of Albania 2008b: 43). At first sight, suchan argument seems to correlate with those international commentators whohave pointed to a widespread ‘moral panic’ regarding the trafficking phenom-enon in general, with sensationalising and inflating effects regarding the prob-lem of Albanian sex work in Europe (J. Davies 2009: 38–42). Yet the truenumbers of women and men involved or at risk are not known to anyone,neither the Albanian government nor local or international NGOs, nor otherobservers, not least because returned sex workers might try their utmost toavoid identification by any means so as not to fall prey to corrupt police offi-cers and/or NGO policies of family reunion and security detention, and thus tofurther impositions on their free will (J. Davies 2009; the reasons for this areconsidered below).

The 2008 US Trafficking in Persons (TiP) Report found that, for Albania,‘the overall decline in victims identified [was] due to inappropriate applicationof the national referral mechanism for several months [in 2007] by anti-traf-ficking police’ (US Department of State 2008a: 54). This suggests a quitedifferent reason for the lower figures than a real reduction of numbers in traf-ficked persons. This interpretation is corroborated by Amnesty International’s2008 Annual Report, which states that: ‘According to police sources, the traf-ficking of women and children decreased sharply in 2007, with 13 reportedcases in which the victims were women and seven cases involving children.


However, NGOs apparently suspected that considerably more cases wentunreported’ (Amnesty International 2008).

USAID suggests in its 2008 report that proper recording, based on thenumbers of referrals by border police, has taken place in Albania only atmoments of immediate international oversight (USAID 2008: 16). JenniferHollinger, who in her capacity as fellow of Churches Alert to Sex TraffickingAcross Europe (CHASTE) conducted four months of research into Albania’santi-trafficking situation in late 2007, observed:

This obsession with comparison and surface appearances has dire consequences inthe case of trafficking. For example, the police in Albania have cut down on theirreferrals of trafficked women through the proper channels because they want tokeep the number of victims, particularly those returned from abroad, low. In theiraspirations of entering the European Union, it is in their interests that the phenom-enon appears to be decreasing. In a recent visit to the United Kingdom, some offi-cials from the Albanian government declared that trafficking abroad was no longera problem for Albania. Not only is this untrue, it is dangerous. When donors hearthis news, they shift their funds elsewhere and efforts to prosecute the traffickers,as well as others responsible, are hampered. This preoccupation with outwardappearance, with reputation and the view of one’s family in the eyes of others, alsocontributes to shame and stigma against the girls who do return home from traf-ficking for sex work. (Hollinger 2007)

Internationally influential sources such as the 2008 TiP Report (USDepartment of State 2008a: 53–4) severely challenged the Albanian govern-ment assessment. Not only did it criticise the Albanian government for its fail-ure to identify, refer and protect VoTs effectively and consistently – because itrelied on proactive self-identification only – but it also pointed to a significantrise in internal trafficking in Albania. In early 2008, Albania was demoted inthe TiP Report from a Tier 2 (out of three possible tiers) to a Tier 2WL coun-try (placed on the ‘watch list’).13 A recent EU progress report (November2008) similarly states in regard to Albania’s pronounced anti-trafficking fightthat ‘the lack of reliable statistics and of a proper capacity for identifyingvictims is hampering progress’; it also pointed out that ‘the national referralmechanisms are not yet operational’ and that there is a ‘rise in internal sex traf-ficking of women and children’ in Albania (CEC 2008: 49). Meanwhile,Albanian women in the UK are among the majority national groups14 ofwomen assisted by the Poppy Project; this is the major UK government shel-ter offering support to trafficked women forced into prostitution, subject tocertain conditions, including the willingness to cooperate with the police andbeing above 18 years of age (US Department of State 2008a: 255). Thesewomen are mostly referred to Poppy after police raids on saunas and massageparlours, but also by customers identifying a coercive background, as well asthrough self-referral (Hibbert 2007).15


Albanian NGOs and shelters, such as the International Organization forMigration (IOM)-sponsored Different & Equal in the capital city of Tirana, orthe internationally best-known shelter Vatra in the southern Albanian port cityof Vlora, provide statistics based on their support work that further contradictthe government assessments cited above. According to its annual assessmentfor 2007 (Different & Equal 2008), this NGO assisted 77 trafficking victims aswell as their 24 children. Of these, the assessment states, 52 per cent of benefi-ciaries had been externally and 48 per cent internally (domestically) trafficked(Different & Equal 2008: 17). The latter represents an increase from 2006,when it reported supporting 42.2 per cent victims of internal trafficking, 8.9 percent of both external and internal, and 48.9 per cent of external trafficking(Different & Equal 2006: 25). In 2006, ‘79.5% of the beneficiaries had beentrafficked only one time before coming to the shelter, while 11.4% of them havebeen trafficked two times … and 9.1% have been trafficked three times beforeparticipating in the shelter programme’ (Different and Equal 2006: 25).

Vatra reports for 2007 that it assisted 126 women and children. Of these, 45were first-time VoTs and eight had been accommodated more than once in theshelter, 23 were regarded as ‘at risk’, 29 as ‘clandestine’, eleven as ‘abused’,nine were children, and there was ‘one male child regarded at risk of beingtrafficked’ (Lesko and Puka 2008: 13–14). Vatra further highlights that‘neither the NGOs nor the state have come up with a study on the number ofwomen and girls included in this phenomenon [of increased internal traffick-ing]’ (Lesko and Puka 2008: 6). The report identifies as categories at highestrisk: ‘1) Women and girls, married and divorced, with many children andextremely poor, who come from rural areas; 2) Minor girls between the agesof 14 and 18 years old; 3) Students, living on campus, descending [sic] fromother cities or rural areas; 4) Trafficked women and girls repatriated by ECcountries’ (Lesko and Puka 2008: 8; emphasis added). Even the ‘students’,Vatra suggests, who aspire to work independently and for their own profit, areat risk of ‘traffickers or agents monitoring their daily activity and makingthreats and use blackmail to oblige the victim to “work” for them’ (Lesko andPuka 2008: 9).

Different & Equal also highlights the risks of internal trafficking when stat-ing that ‘Tirana – the capital of Albania – continues to flourish as a centre ofinternal trafficking of Albanian girls and women. They are attracted towardsTirana by different means of recruitment, and are later exploited in selectedsettings such as hotels, motels, street corners, etc.’ (Different & Equal 2008:13). According to my interviews, whether returned formerly traffickedAlbanian women will end up being retrafficked abroad or internally maysimply depend on the connections of their new traffickers and their ‘business’strategies.16 The boundaries between one and the other are fluid: internalexploitation can serve as preparation for external trafficking and vice versa.


In reaction to these strong, contradicting international and local voices, thenew Albanian National Strategy On Combating Trafficking in Persons2008–2010 acknowledges a ‘disconcerting increase in internal trafficking ofwomen and children … mainly for prostitution or labour exploitation, andespecially in the new informal areas of the urban centres’ (Republic of Albania2008a: 4). The new Strategy provides self-critique, identifies challenges, andoffers visions and target priorities, such as the improvement of the nationalreferral and identification mechanisms, and of prevention, protection andstatistical mapping programmes. It also promises to secure sustainable fund-ing, aware of the phasing-out of funds from external donors. Visions, however,are not yet results, and the implementation of what are on paper often impres-sive reforms, including one of the best legal frameworks in Europe, has beenwidely regarded as a major problem in Albania. Part of the problem is thatAlbania has one of the highest corruption rates in the world. This not onlydirectly affects the ways in which trafficked persons experience support andthe chances of protection from the government, whatever the formal lawsproclaim, but also exposes them to the risk of double, if not triple victimisa-tion (see below). In general, a corrupt system advantages traffickers becausetheir purchasing power is normally much higher than that of their victims.Corruption, in general, ‘erodes victims’ confidence in law enforcement’(Surtees 2008b: 49) and forfeits fair access to justice and protection by theauthorities.

THE EFFECTS OF CORRUPTION AND NEO-PATRIMONIALISM

According to Holmes (2009b: 85), trafficked persons, ‘[a]ll too often … arevictims not only of criminal gangs, but also of officials who cannot be trustedto help them counter the first form of victimization. And if states turn a blindeye to their own officers’ corrupt involvement in trafficking and/or treat traf-ficked persons as criminals rather than victims, there is a third form of victim-isation’.17 Trafficking-related phenomena of corruption in South-EasternEurope have been summarised to include: ‘document falsification, illegalborder crossings, overlooking prostitution venues in identifying victims,compromising criminal investigations, lack of investigation and judgesdismissing cases or imposing minimal sanctions’ (Surtees 2008b: 49). Ingeneral, positions of authority and insider knowledge and experience areabused to support criminal ventures with impunity (Surtees 2008b; see alsoHolmes 2009b).

According to the 2007 Global Corruption Barometer (TransparencyInternational 2007: 21, Appendix 4, Table 4.1), Albania was topped only by


Cameroon (79 per cent) and Cambodia (72 per cent) as the most corrupt coun-try assessed in 2007, with 71 per cent of respondents having paid bribes duringthe previous year in order to obtain public services. Even though overtaken inthe 2007 world ranking – Albania held first place in 2006, with 66 per cent ofrespondents stating that they had to pay bribes during that year – the Albanianfigure represents an increase in incidents of bribery since the previous assess-ment. Typical of many international sources, the Wall Street Journal’s ‘Indexof Economic Freedom’ (2008) suggests that:

Albania’s judicial system enforces the law weakly and is one of the country’s mosttainted institutions. Judges are often appointed strictly for political reasons and aresometimes corrupt. Organized crime is a significant obstacle to effective adminis-tration of justice. Judges are subject to intimidation, pressure, and bribery, and thepace of judicial reform remains very slow.

Local expert respondents interviewed during the fact-finding mission inautumn 2008 reported that corrupt practices had become more sophisticatedand less visible in the judiciary since Albania began systematically combatingtrafficking and organised crime following the last change of government in2005 and under the scrutiny of the EU. According to some of my local inter-locutors, bribery in Albanian courts dealing with trafficking cases includes –as with other cases – situations in which a prosecutor may accept a bribe inorder not to advance a case to court at all. Theoretically, bribes can also beoffered to reduce the charges, for example for illegal border crossing. By thesame token, anti-trafficking NGOs offering legal assistance to victims foundthat the evidence for their beneficiaries, even though compelling, wasfrequently rejected as insufficient. If a case advances to court, local respon-dents suspected that bribes may be paid to judges either to include or to ignorecertain evidence, or to identify procedural mistakes to invalidate evidence –whichever is in the interest of the person seeking to buy justice. According tothe staff of the Centre for Legal and Civic Initiatives,18 a local NGO offeringlegal advice to trafficked women, in 2008 judges usually separated the crimi-nal from the civil procedure in trafficking-related trials, which – although suchseparation is allowed according to Article 62(3) of the Albanian CriminalCode – was interpreted as another strategy aimed at disadvantaging formerlytrafficked women seeking justice. This separation was originally intended tospeed up criminal proceedings if the civil aspects of a case are complicatedand would cause a delay in the criminal proceedings. But other NGO respon-dents also suggested that this has led to the civil procedures becoming suchlong and risky processes that the supported women typically withdrew theircharges against their former traffickers, for fear of exposure to harm. Eventhough recent legal reforms support victims’ claims to compensation frommonies confiscated from their former traffickers’ assets, such rights have yet


to be granted in practice. According to the Albanian solicitor working as thelegal advisor for the Vatra shelter, speaking of its formerly trafficked benefi-ciaries who had denounced their traffickers:

their life is extremely in danger because they are witnesses against their traffickers.Their risk is related to purposefully prolonged trials (so the judges have a chance tobetter fill their pockets). This is because of the corruption in the judiciary. Hearingslast two, three, four years and then to infinity … the VoTs have to apply to theProsecutor’s Office for witness protection. In order to do so, they have to prove thatthey are in danger. The prosecutors simply refuse to accept the evidence.19

Low procedural standards and the frequent, unacceptable prolongation ofcriminal trials have long been noted as a persistent and typical problem withthe Albanian judiciary (for example OSCE 2006). An analysis of Albaniannewspaper and web reporting over more than two years on just one, albeithigh-profile and prominent trial against an infamous, previously internation-ally operating Albanian traffickers’ gang – the so-called Durrës Gang20 –suggests that prolongation may even be used as a systematic strategy. Theweekly scheduled hearings in this trial, which started in summer 2007 and wasongoing at the time of writing in early 2009, involved 19 defendants, and formonths on end has been adjourned from one week to the next for reasons suchas the repeated absence of defendants’ counsels and overfilled court rooms.Regardless of the ongoing trial, killings associated with the gang’s internalrivalries and revenge interests occurred outside the courtroom, with the mostrecent being in September 2008. The evidence of the prosecution’s keywitness, a repentant former gang leader whose family has been grantedwitness protection, has yet to be heard in full. Moreover, none of the manyother witnesses lined up by the prosecution had been heard at the time of writ-ing, while the available number of these witnesses appeared to be dwindling.

Often, the impressively high number of anti-trafficking trials in Albania isnoted as an indication of success in the anti-trafficking fight. For example, in‘Albania in 2004 there were 257 trafficking-related criminal proceedingsagainst 262 defendants, with 121 traffickers convicted’ (Surtees 2008b: 41). In2005, Albanian police referred 362 cases related in one way or another to thetrafficking problem to the Prosecution; the numbers in 2006 and 2007 were,respectively, 356 and 398 cases (Republic of Albania 2008b: 91–3). However,‘concluded cases’ (sometimes incurring severe sentences of up to 25 years’imprisonment) for ‘trafficking in women for prostitution’ amounted to only 23in 2005, 17 in 2006 and a mere six in the first nine months of 2007 (Republicof Albania 2008b: 97–102). By way of contrast, verdicts for ‘illicit bordercrossing’ were much more frequent: 130 in 2005, 149 in 2006 and 65 duringthe first nine months of 2007 (Republic of Albania 2008b; for the ways inwhich such sentencing patterns reflect the criminalisation of the trafficking


victims, see the next section). Here the successful prosecution figures are ofinterest, not least because the Albanian government prides itself on having‘referred to the prosecutor’s office 175 criminal complaints against 244 policeofficers of relatively high rank in 2007 for trafficking-related offences, and 71of them were arrested’ (Republic of Albania 2008b: 29). Arguably, suchfigures are themselves indicative of the deep entrenchment of crime andcorruption within the Albanian authorities. However, in October 2008, therepresentative of the Organised Crime Directorate of the Albanian State Police– perhaps guided by national image anxieties (see above) – refuted the possi-bility that any Albanian police officer would ever have been involved in thecrime of trafficking.21

Indeed, in Albania as in many other weak, often post-socialist states, thereexists an apparent parallelism of both formal and informal structures, that is,both ‘rational bureaucratic’ and ‘patrimonial’ (that is, personalistic, clientelistand patronage-based) forms of governance coexist, with the latter penetratingthe former (Erdmann and Engel 2006). Such neopatrimonial systems of gover-nance result in a political and judicial culture characterised by unreliability,uncertainty and unpredictability. They also result in competing systems ofmoral reference and legitimacy that are called upon, respectively, according toboth political actors’ particularistic interests and their respective purchasingpower at a given time. Stephan Hensell, who conducted research into theAlbanian state police administration and the Ministry of Public Order/Interiorbetween 1997 and 2005, found this logic applying in politically motivatedrotations in the state administration and police. During this period, the officeof the Minister of the Interior was changed eight times, each time promptingthe change of the Chief of State Police (or General Director of Police) and allthe District Police Directors. The changes even trickled down to lower levels,resulting in transfers and sackings among junior officers according to partyaffiliations (there are two major opposing parties in Albania, the DemocraticParty or DP, and the Socialist Party or SP). He concluded that ‘the fact that[soon after the elections in December 2005] the ruling DP [was] recruitingpolice officers again, who had last served eight years previously, preciselywhen this DP was last in government, indicates above all a continuation ofclientelism’ (Hensell 2005: 42–3; transl. from German).

Such neopatrimonial logic underpins the direction of police investigationsand prosecutions, both of themselves and others, to the present day. Withouthaving space here to explore current allegations of entrenched corruption inthe DP government (for examples, see Likmeta 2008), the previously intro-duced example of the Durrës Gang trial illustrates systemically politicisedprosecutions. According to the above-mentioned Albanian news reports,22 theDurrës Gang’s main leaders were connected by both kinship and friendship tohigh government leaders of the SP. Indrit Dokle, leader of one of two rival


factions within the Durrës Gang, is known to be the nephew (or grandson –both nipi in Albanian) of Namik Dokle, Socialist Party MP for Durrës, a high-ranking SP party leader, and Deputy Prime Minister 2004–05. Namik Doklealso attended the funeral of the previous gang leader, who had been executedby rival factions within the same gang in 2005. In Albania, such participationis a strong symbolic message of friendship and support, and indicates a rela-tionship of patronage.

One of DP leader Sali Berisha’s first actions on assuming power on an anti-corruption and anti-organised crime platform following his election victory inJuly 2005 was to order Operation ‘Top Secret’, which led to the first arrests ofgang members in October 2005, and further arrests in March and April 2006.Formal criminal investigations were declared completed in early summer2007, when the above-mentioned trial at the Serious Crimes Court began. Thetrial has since been cited in political pronouncements of success in the fightagainst Albanian organised crime, regardless of the successful obstructions inthe interests of the SP-related defendants noted above. Observers suggestedthat there was a political interest in this prosecution that helped if not to erad-icate, then to weaken the SP rivalry over assets and influence in the criminaleconomy of Albania.

Where justice must be purchased and the authorities’ support requirespersonal connections (even if only in the opposition now), criminal entrepre-neurs or gangs such as the Durrës Gang are strongly advantaged, while theirformerly commodified victims are at a severe disadvantage. However, theproblem goes beyond restricted chances of obtaining protection through theauthorities. Neopatrimonialism compromises professionalism within the statesupport structures, including that offered in the name of the national anti-traf-ficking effort. As one expert interviewee stated in regard to the existing anti-trafficking shelters and NGOs:

The non-governmental centres employ better qualified staff than the state centre.For example, a psychologist there would have graduated as a psychologist, but inthe state centre he could be anything – a teacher, technical engineer … this isbecause in the state institutions they are employed for political reasons. It is alwayslike this. For example, in order to be employed by the Ministry of Labour, you haveto be a member of the same party as the minister.23

The above-mentioned state centre, however, is the only centre that has bene-fited from financial support from the government (Republic of Albania 2008b:52). Privileged employment, micro-credit and vocational trainingprogrammes, part of the national anti-trafficking strategy (Republic of Albania2008a, 2008b: 53), are similarly compromised. As Vullnetari (2007: 42)affirms, in Albania political changes at either the local or parliamentary levelresult not just in rotations of staff – based on party loyalty – in high adminis-


trative and bureaucratic positions, such as in the police and customs, but theyalso affect medical and educational positions from the highest to the lowestspecialisation, right down ‘to the school cleaner in a village’. This informsmigration patterns, in that those who are sacked or politically harassedmigrate, while those previously disadvantaged might return from abroad(Vullnetari 2007).

Anti-trafficking NGOs such as Vatra found that their regional employmentoffice, entrusted by the government to support disadvantaged groups – includ-ing previously trafficked women – in finding jobs, ‘would rather employ acousin or sister [of staff] than a victim of trafficking. Reality is contrary to theprogrammes on paper. The beneficiaries of these programs are the localgovernment employees who employ their own relatives.’24 Despite thistendency to employ relatives, a total of 20 beneficiaries of Vatra assistancewere employed in 2007 (Lesko and Puka 2008: 19). Yet these employees stillfaced stigmatization, discrimination, social isolation and ostracism at theirworking place. The anti-trafficking NGO Different & Equal found that even‘the staff employed in governmental structures [of anti-trafficking support] …is biased towards the victims of trafficking’ (Different & Equal 2008: 41). ThisNGO also battled with high turnover rates after successful job placements(Different & Equal 2006: 28), presumably due to similar problems of preju-dice. Both NGOs resorted to finding jobs for their beneficiaries amongst theirown personal acquaintances and, for a limited number, in their own facilities(Different and Equal 2006: 27; Lesko and Puka 2008: 20). However, by resort-ing to familism as a strategy of inclusion, they inadvertently reproduce acultural norm that explains exclusion and stigma for women placed outside oftraditional means of family support in Albania to the present day. This cultureinforms attitudes towards women as either ‘wives’ or ‘whores’ that still under-pin values and practices within both wider society and its state institutions.

VICTIMS OR CRIMINALS, ‘WIVES’ OR ‘WHORES’

Albanian law considers prostitution a ‘criminal act against morality anddignity’ and it is punishable by a fine or up to three years’ imprisonment,according to the country’s Criminal Code (Republic of Albania 2001: sectionVIII, Article 113). Illegal border crossing is similarly punishable by a fine orup to two years’ imprisonment (Article 297). Exploitation of prostitution andrelated violence, coercion into sex work, or trafficking for such purposes(Articles 114 and 114/a, 114/b) incur much higher sentences of up to 7, 10, 15or even more years, as does assistance in illegal border crossing (Article298).25 Transnational Albanian sex workers who cannot prove that they werecoerced into prostitution (for example by denouncing their traffickers) are thus


at risk of criminal prosecution. According to a juridical expert respondent inTirana, there is still a widespread lack of familiarity with the relatively newtrafficking article,26 as well as a prevalence of more conservative attitudesamong members of the judiciary. This is particularly so at District Court level,where most such cases are tried, so that large numbers of cases are treated as‘illegal border crossing’ and the involved women thus criminalised. In order toqualify as ‘victims of trafficking’, who are formally eligible to protection aswell as privileged reintegration and employment programmes, traffickedwomen must therefore self-identify in interviews at the border crossing points.

All deported asylum seekers from EU member states are interviewed byspecially trained border police and must explain themselves, particularly ifthey are not in possession of regular Albanian identity documents.27 They arefingerprinted (except for minors) and there are checks with local police fromthe returnee’s home region regarding possible criminal records; the homeaddress and family background are also verified. As we learnt from borderpolice, ‘the Albanian identity system is thorough and cannot be faulted’; thereis ‘no way that they can lie to us’, because they would otherwise be taken tothe wrong home location – which, the respondent indicated, would be bothimpossible and an unsustainable situation in Albania. Often the family isinformed and arrives to pick up the deportee. However, if the deportee identi-fies herself as a victim of trafficking, she will be transferred to special units ofthe anti-trafficking police (presumably for questioning) and can then requestshelter protection.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Albanian women involved in sex work abroadwere found to fear exposure upon identification to corrupt or abusive borderpolice upon deportation, and violent revenge on the part of their former traf-fickers. But they also feared community stigma and the wrath of a familyconcerned about social ‘shame’, even though the family is precisely thesupport mechanism that should be helping them in Albania (all from J. Davies2009: 53, 100, 120–23, 146–7). The shelters indeed aim to ‘sensitise’ thewomen to ‘voluntarily cooperate with the police and punish [that is, denounce]their traffickers’ (Lesko 2005). Among Davies’s respondents – 58 Albaniansex workers in Lyon, France, interviewed between 1999 and 2001 – only thoseconsidered ‘socially inept’ were regarded as ‘unable to avoid detection’ upondeportation to Albania. Such avoidance was seen as imperative, because theyregarded remigration as the only promising long-term strategy and best exitoption to escape their predicament. Through remigration, they hoped eventu-ally to acquire a foreign husband. Such remarriage would allow them to recu-perate lost social status and thus, one day, an honorable reapproach to theirparental families.

Without exception, the anti-trafficking agents interviewed in Albania,including those from the government, NGOs, associations and shelters, advo-


cated family mediation and reunion. They engaged in family reintegrationprogrammes, as this was regarded as the only chance for trafficked women ofacquiring long-term security and protection within Albania, even though‘conflict based relationships within the family account for double the risk ofindividuals being trafficked in the first place’ (Different & Equal 2006: 36).According to Different & Equal, ‘in more than half of the cases, the familiesof the beneficiaries don’t accept them back home’ (Different & Equal 2006:35). Previously, shamed women returned to their families via NGO initiativesor police action were found to be ‘locked away by their families because ofshame’, or else the families contacted the shelter to take the victim back.Others (40 per cent) simply disappeared, presumably having been retrafficked(since their reputation and their value as a ‘marriageable’ woman had beenlost) after such a family reunion (Surtees 2005: 106). One of Vatra’s bene-ficiaries was successfully reunited with her family, soon married and had achild; but when her husband discovered that she had lived in the shelter – thatis, once worked as a prostitute – he divorced her for the unbearable shameinvolved.28 An ex-trafficked Albanian asylum seeker testified in a UK courtthat she feared being married off by her father to someone against her willupon return. She suggested with a shudder that this could be a man of badrepute in the village (involving an immediate retrafficking risk), or an agedwidower or a disabled or disfigured man – someone who would otherwise noteasily acquire a wife in Albania. Yet regardless of such risks, 80 per cent ofanti-trafficking NGO beneficiaries were reintegrated into their familiesbetween 2007 and 2008 (USAID 2008: 21).

Local and international respondents often refer to historical Albaniancustomary law, usually subsumed under the term kanun, when explaining theAlbanian cultural concept of shame. The historical kanun concept of kurvnija(from kurva, Albanian for ‘the whore’) is similarly enlightening. The Englishtranslations of this concept encapsulate three differentiated concepts: ‘adul-tery’, ‘rape’ and ‘prostitution’.29 In the historical cultural context in the north-ern Albanian mountain villages, just one term might have sufficed because itwas not the notion of female consent that mattered culturally. Rather, signifi-cance was given to the fact that sexual intercourse occurs outside the protectionor control of the family men: their father and brother(s) before marriage, andtheir husband after marriage. In other words, culturally, a ‘whore’ was a womancategorically falling outside the Albanian norms of the family and the genderedsocial roles assigned to its members. According to the historical source,kurvnija requires either the killing of both partners involved in the act outsideof marriage, or else the expulsion of the woman, since only death or exile canavert ‘her’ shame from the family in most traditional conceptions. Althoughsociocultural changes and modernisation processes do not permit the gener-alised use of kanun as an explanation for Albanian culture today, Amnesty


International published a survey in 2006 that suggested that the same culturalconcept of shame still prevails in large parts of Albanian society. Accordingly,the concept still informs notions such as that violence against women is entirelyan internal family affair and that ‘disobedient’ or ‘unfaithful’ women can legit-imately be beaten or expelled (Amnesty International 2006b).

Among all my research respondents, cultural attitudes of shame, ‘mental-ity’ or ‘fanaticism’, were held responsible for the severe problems of familyreintegration and the typical family rejection faced by NGOs seeking to rein-tegrate their beneficiaries with their families. Yet it was also because of theculturally rooted social stigma and resulting harassment faced by women whofend for themselves without visible male family protection in contemporaryAlbanian society – and who are thus, by cultural definition, regarded as(potential) ‘whores’ – that family was seen as the only viable option for thelong-term security and sustenance of these women.

Many scholars (for example Anthias 2000: 17–18) have argued that migra-tion, in general, has offered women from a culturally patriarchal backgroundan exit option to a life outside male domination and control. Yet part ofAlbanian women’s predicament is that if they do not command any familymale support while making such a choice, they are particularly exposed to thelikelihood of ending up in another coercive situation, that is, being sexuallyexploited after consenting to being smuggled. As John Davies (2009; see alsoMai 2001) has argued, Albanian women thus remain controlled within transna-tionally extended gendered patterns of violent domination, because theAlbanian traffickers and pimps export these across borders and simply adapttraditional means of controlling women to the trafficking situation. Davies hasempirically demonstrated the ways in which contemporary Albanian womenin search of a better life, and as a long-term strategy of family reintegration(particularly after previous trafficking episodes and if facing the social oppro-brium of lacking male family support), feel induced consciously to enter‘contracts’ with traffickers. He has also shown how the associated men enforcecompliance – in ways other than violence – through culturally informed typesof control, such as promoting co-dependency, self-surveillance and the use ofthreats (for example disclosing these women’s engagement in sex work totheir families and communities at home).

Davies’s study further reveals that, both consciously and involuntarily,(re)trafficked Albanian women themselves are not free from these cultural atti-tudes. This is evident in the ways in which they relate to the associatedAlbanian men who control their income, but also to each other. He identifiedan internal distinction among his female respondents between ‘wives’ of theirtraffickers or pimps, and ‘whores’. This difference was determined by whetherthe individual woman was aware of the exploitative character of her relation-ship to the associated man.


‘Wives’ were not, or did not want to be, aware of their exploitation; this wasbecause of psychological reasons of ‘co-dependency’,30 also known as a ‘rela-tionship addiction’, comparable to the Stockholm Syndrome (that is, wherevictims of kidnapping become loyal and sympathetic towards their kidnap-pers). Through this phenomenon, the associated men can maintain controlover the women through their ‘voluntary’ submission, regardless of normallysevere initial incidents of violence related to coercing them into sex work.Many of these ‘wives’ had fallen prey to Albanian traffickers’ main form ofrecruitment, which to the present day continues to be ‘marriage under falsepretenses or other false romantic relationships to lure victims abroad forsexual exploitation’ (US Department of State 2008b). In earlier years, numer-ous cases of criminal kidnapping were reported (Renton 2001). Yet Albaniahas also long been regarded as unusual in that: ‘a particularly high percentageof recruiters were men with whom the victim was in an intimate relationship– husbands, lovers, fiancés and boyfriends’ (Surtees 2008b: 52). Davies (J.Davies 2009: 139) found that the Albanian term for ‘kidnapping’, rrëmbej, hastwo meanings: it ‘can be used to describe the violent kidnapping of someoneagainst their will … but its equally common usage is to describe the elopementof a daughter against the will of her father’. This practice is reminiscent ofhistorical descriptions of consensual practices of ‘bride robbery’, which thuscan equally qualify as recruitment through false relationship promises andabuse of trust. Although these women’s ‘husbands’ went to great lengths touphold the illusion of an existing ‘marriage’31 and deliberately nurturedemotional dependency, Davies’s male interviewees clearly showed bothcunning and conscious deceit. For example, he found that these pimps wouldconsider only ‘untainted’ Albanian virgins, who they could introduce to theirparental family as regular future wives and mothers for their children.

In contrast, the ‘whores’ – this is the name they were given by the ‘wives’among the Albanian prostitutes in France – had no illusions about the rela-tionship with the involved Albanian men. They had in common that they hadusually been induced by a situation of rejection and social exclusion at home,and thus sought out their traffickers on their own initiative. The ‘whores’ allconsidered themselves as either ‘divorced’ (if a previous relationship with aman – real husband or pimp, recognised as such in the social home environ-ment – had fallen apart) or ‘abandoned’ by their family (J. Davies 2009:171–8).32 As explained above, ‘divorce’ (that is, a woman without a husband)or ‘abandonment’ (that is, a woman without a father or brother to protect her),in any case amounts, in the traditional cultural context, to societal assumptionsof being a whore (kurva).

According to Davies’s sample, these ‘whores’ were women who deliber-ately approached traffickers in order to find avenues of eventually rehabilitat-ing themselves socially by marrying a foreigner abroad (J. Davies 2009: 133,


134, 148, 149, 165, 251). ‘Consenting’ to, and ‘voluntarily’ entering sex workwas thus understood to be a necessary but only temporary means to an end.Such women normally entered 50–50 ‘contracts’ with their prospective pimps,involving agreements of time limits, smuggling (that is, consensual cross-border movements) and protection (J. Davies 2009: 135). However, Davies’srespondents usually found themselves eventually unable to control their ownlabour once abroad, ‘because of the abusive and arbitrary nature of the 50 percent contract and the demands of the çuna’.33 Typically, the pimps/traffickersinvented minimum standards of what the originally agreed 50 per cent shouldamount to and, in consequence, absorbed the entire income of these women.Alternatively, they invented various debt obligations resulting from theirservices or transport and protection (J. Davies 2009: 174, 187, 195). While the‘whores’ thus had (re-)entered prostitution ‘willingly’, ‘voluntarily’, andconsciously after being faced with the social opprobrium at home, they endedup in a coercive situation of trafficking regardless. They were retrafficked afterall. In e-mail correspondence, Davies clarified:

Knowing about trafficking does not reduce risk/migration motivation, it only allowsmore nuanced negotiation to access the trafficking network ... because the ‘risk’ isnot trafficking, but the total social opprobrium of being ‘divorced’ or ‘abandoned’in Albania ... using trafficking to escape such social oppression is often judged theprice to be paid for a chance to rehabilitate through foreign marriage.34

EPILOGUE

The findings presented in this chapter are but a few of the available indicationsof the effects of deeply culturally embedded familism and correspondingstigma for Albanian women outside family protection and control, whicheffectively trap them in a ‘social opprobrium’ that renders the question of‘willing’ or ‘voluntary’ retrafficking redundant. The notion of victimhood inrelation to trafficked women appears as the result of modernisation processesin Albania. Attitudes informed by cultural ‘shame’ that both criminalise anddirect the blame onto the ‘whores’ themselves, regardless of a history of coer-cion or consensus, are still ubiquitous in wider social attitudes.

Yet because of the prevalence of engrained corruption in conjunction withcultural familism there appear, so far, to be no alternative forms of societal orstate protection and security options available to trafficked persons after theirreturn to Albania – other than family reintegration. This is seen by all Albanianstakeholders in the anti-trafficking fight, as well as by the women themselves,as the only long-term option apart from remarriage or success in the asylumsystem. However, a (new) marriage relationship based on free choice andhonesty appears impossible for most former sex workers in Albania. As


Davies’s (J. Davies 2009) study suggests, the only effective means of achiev-ing family reunion and taking control and agency over one’s fate are currentlythrough the women’s own long-term strategies that involve a conscious choiceof re-engaging in prostitution after previous trafficking experiences, in orderto find either a foreign husband or asylum abroad. The categorical distinctionsinto either victims or criminals, voluntary or coerced forms of retrafficking, donot stand up to the ambiguities of circumstantial coercion in which traffickedAlbanian women are most likely to find themselves after deportation, giventhat seeking asylum in that case emerges as a failed strategy of exiting thesocial opprobrium awaiting them at home.

NOTES

1. I would like to thank John Davies, who came up with the poignant term of ‘social oppro-brium’ in personal e-mail discussion, for inspiring the title of this chapter. I am also gratefulfor discussion, support and inspiration to Neritan and Egin Ceka, Frank Dalton, RigelsHalili, Jennifer Hollinger, Leslie Holmes, Fatos Lubonja, Garry Marvin, Nicola Mai, ArtanPuto, Julie Vullnetari and the immigration and human rights lawyers associated with theUK’s Anti-trafficking Legal Project (ATLeP). Special thanks go to the Office for DemocraticInstitutions and Human Rights (ODIHR) and the Organization for Security and Co-opera-tion in Europe (OSCE) for facilitating and hosting a fact-finding mission regarding the anti-trafficking efforts in Albania in late September and early October 2008, in which ATLeP, arepresentative of the UK’s Poppy Project, and myself as an independent scholar, partici-pated. The patience and cooperation of our local interlocutors has been invaluable andcannot be acknowledged sufficiently. These included the national anti-trafficking coordina-tor, Iva Zajmi, and the head of office of the government’s anti-trafficking unit, Irena Targa;Vera Lesko and her team of the Vatra shelter and NGO in Vlora; Aurela Anastasi and herteam at the Centre for Legal and Civic Initiatives; Xheladin Qahi and his team at theNational Reception Centre for the Victims of Trafficking; Bajana Ceveli of the DurrësAssociation for Women with Social Problems; Rezarta Abdiu of the Centre of IntegratedLegal Service and Practices; Leonard Guni of Children of the World –Albania; representa-tives of the local NGOs and shelters Tjetër Vizion (‘Another Vision’), Elbasan; Different &Equal, Tirana; and Life & Hope, Gjirokastër; Anila Trimi of the Organised CrimeDirectorate of the Albanian State Police; and Mr Boshniaku, director of the readmissioncentre and border police at Rinas International Airport. Opinions expressed and possibleerrors of interpretation in this chapter are entirely my own.

2. Negotiations regarding the Stabilisation and Association Agreement between Albania andthe EU, a precondition for initiating the longer-term accession process, were initiated inSeptember 2003. This Agreement was ratified by the last remaining EU state, Greece, inJanuary 2009. Full accession is not expected for several years.

3. Initially pushed by poverty, almost every Albanian family (a population of just above 3million in 1992) sent at least one member into labour migration as an economic familysurvival strategy. By 2005 the estimated numbers of Albanian migrants amounted to 600 000in adjacent Greece; 250 000 in Italy (easily in reach by speedboat across the narrow – only70 miles wide – Strait of Otranto); 150 000 in the USA (from 12 000 in 1999); between 50000 and 100 000 in the UK (from 5000 in 1999) and between 1000 (Netherlands) and 15 000(Germany) in many other, mainly European, countries. Apart from predominantly economicmotives (migrant remittances are regarded as the major pillar of the economy), push and pullfactors have also included: political harassment and other forms of social and political exclu-sion; aspirations for personal liberation, self-expression and educational advancement; flight


from blood feuds and other conflicts; and formal and informal trade, including the sexualexploitation of women (Vullnetari 2007: 36–43).

4. There exists a considerable array of Albanian migration studies and host-country attitudes,many of which have been synthesised in Vullnetari (2007).

5. Lubonja is the editor of Perpjekja (‘Endeavours’), Albania’s leading social and politicaljournal, a writer and former political prisoner. Among other honours, he has been awardedthe Herder prize for literature in Germany (2004) and the Alberto Moravia prize for inter-national literature in Italy (2002).

6. The Ottoman term for an historical Albanian customary term associated with classic codesof honour and shame; the concept is elaborated below.

7. Interview with Fatos Lubonja, Tirana, 2 October 2008.8. For details see note 1.9. In a way similar in fact, but not identical to precedents in other areas of law, ‘country guid-

ance’ decisions are supposed to provide authoritative guidance for UK immigration adjudi-cation in respect to specific categories of asylum claims from selected countries. Countryguidance decisions usually remain valid for several years, until the country situation isdeemed to have changed. This particular case was still ongoing at the time of writing in early2009; for an update on the outcome see Chapter 10, this volume.

10. Interview with Vera Lesko, Vlora 30 September 2008; see also Lesko (2005) and Lesko andPuka (2008: 6–8). Vera Lesko was the winner of the prestigious Anti-Slavery Internationalaward in 2003. She is the director of the internationally most prominent Albanian anti-traf-ficking NGO and shelter, Vatra, in the southern Albanian port city of Vlora, and is knownfor her tireless lobbying of the government for improvements in its anti-trafficking efforts.

11. These theoretical considerations do not fundamentally differ from Davies (J. Davies 2009),except that his research did not focus on the specificities of the situation in Albania uponreturn, but rather on Albanian sex workers during their trafficking episode abroad.

12. The European Convention on Human Rights grants a person the right to liberty and security(Article 5), prohibition of discrimination (including on the basis of a person’s sex, Article14), right to freedom of movement (Protocol 4), and so on.

13. ‘Countries on [the Watch List of] Tier 2 require special scrutiny because of a high or signif-icantly increasing number of victims; failure to provide evidence of increasing efforts tocombat trafficking in persons’; a Tier 2 assignment is ‘based on commitments to take actionover the next year’ (OMCTP 2005).

14. Other source countries for trafficked persons in the UK include Lithuania, Russia, Ukraine,Malaysia, Thailand, the People’s Republic of China, Nigeria and Ghana (US Department ofState 2008a: 255).

15. Also information presented by Poppy’s representative during a fact-finding mission toAlbania in 2008 (see note 1).

16. For a variety of characteristics of Albanian traffickers, ranging from small-scale ‘private’entrepreneurs to large transnational and, increasingly, interethnic organised criminal groups,see Leman and Janssens (2008) and Surtees (2008b).

17. Holmes has now added a fourth type of victimisation to his taxonomy – see Chapter 10.18. Interview/meeting with the Centre for Legal and Civic Initiatives (CLCI), Tirana, 29

September 2008.19. Legal advisor of Vatra, present among staff at the interview/conversation with Vera Lesko in

the Vatra drop-in centre, Vlora, 30 September 2008.20. Balkanblog 19 June 2007; Balkanweb of 17 August 2007, 17 December 2007, 24 January

2008, 31 January 2008, 2 May 2008, 25 May 2008, 30 May 2008, 12 June 2008, 26 June2008, 4 September 2008, 24 September 2008, 2 October 2008, 30 October 2008, 20November 2008, 27 November 2008, 4 December 2008, 11 December 2008, 18 December2008, 29 December 2008; Forum Shqiptare between 22 March 2006 and 21 June 2006;Gazeta Metropol of 7 April 2006, 13 June 2008; Gazeta Shqip of 12 October 2007, 13 June2008, 16 December 2008; Gazeta Shqiptare of 18 April 2008, 13 June 2008; Koha Jonë of26 August 2008, 5 December 2008, 16 December 2008; Shekulli of 20 March 2006, 19 June2007, 16 December 2007, 30 August 2008, 2 September 2008, 24 November 2008, 15December 2008; Tirana Observer of 7 April 2006.


21. Joint meeting, including Anila Trimi of the OC Directorate of the Albanian State Police, atthe OSCE Tirana headquarters, 1 October 2008.

22. See note 20.23. Anonymous, in interview, Tirana, 1 October 2008.24. Interview/conversation with Vera Lesko in the Vatra drop-in centre, Vlora, 30 September

2008.25. Despite certain changes made in 2004, the Albanian Code currently states that if, inter alia,

the victim is abused, then 15 years is a minimum. There is also a provision that exploitationof a state function increases the penalty by 25 per cent. Seven years’ imprisonment isprescribed for assisting in illegal crossing of borders for the purpose of profiteering. If thisinvolves collaboration with others, it could result in ten years’ imprisonment. If such activ-ity results in death, it could even be punished by life imprisonment. I wish to thank FrankDalton, head of the OSCE’s Rule of Law and Human Rights Department in Tirana, for point-ing out these legal details to me.

26. The Albanian Criminal Code was first ratified in 1995. Article 114/b on ‘trafficking ofwomen for prostitution’ was added by Law No. 8733, dated 24 January 2001, Article 30.

27. All deportees from the UK arrive at Albania’s only international airport, Rinas, in a charterflight every Thursday.

28. Interview with Vera Lesko and staff, Vlora, 30 September 2008.29. This is a text-critical analysis of Gjeçov (1989 [1933]); see particularly pp. 39–40, 179.30. For a summary of some of the available literature on this concept and application to the

Albanian case, see J. Davies (2009): 174–8.31. Culturally and socially, living with a man amounts to ‘marriage’, irrespective of existing

civic registration.32. The Albanian term for ‘orphan’, jetim, applies to persons whose parents abandoned them or

are dead, as well as those, in particular, who lost their father, traditionally seen as the solebreadwinner of a family. On the trafficking risk disproportionally affecting female ‘adultorphans’, see Amnesty International (2007).

33. ‘Boys’, the term used by the female sex workers for the men ‘protecting’ and controllingthem; more formally, the term tutor is used in Albanian for ‘pimp’.

34. Private e-mail correspondence of 30 November 2008.


7. Trafficking in human beings for sexualpurposes: Sweden’s anti-traffickingregime and the lessons for Australia

Kevin Leong1

INTRODUCTION

Sweden has a pioneering approach to combating trafficking in women forsexual purposes. Since 1998, Sweden has criminalised the purchase, ratherthan the sale, of sexual services. This law shifted criminal liability away fromprostitutes and trafficked victims used for sexual slavery to the purchasers ofsex, in an attempt to address what Sweden claims is the root cause of traffick-ing for sexual purposes and prostitution – that is, the male demand for femalesexual services. Anti-trafficking laws, introduced in 2002, initially focused oncriminalising trafficking for sexual purposes, and were expanded in 2004 tocover trafficking for other forms of exploitation. Sweden claims much successin the operation of these laws to reduce trafficked persons entering their coun-try, through the deterrence effect on the purchasers of sexual services. Howpersuasive are these claims? This chapter is an evaluative survey of availablepublished and unpublished literature. It will outline the laws, explain thereasons given for their introduction, and evaluate them in respect of theirimpact on various stakeholders in the criminal justice process (law enforce-ment officers, Swedish sex workers, and trafficked persons). Finally, it willendorse the view that trafficking should be seen as a relationship of exploita-tion, rather than a transmigratory crime, and in that way emphasise traffickedpersons as victims of crime rather than as illegal immigrants.

SWEDEN’S ANTI-TRAFFICKING REGIME

In 1998, Sweden’s parliament passed the ‘Act Prohibiting the Purchase ofSexual Services 1998:408’ that criminalised prostitution through penalisingthe purchasers of sexual services, rather than the sellers, in an attempt to attackthe demand for prostitutes (Ministry of Industry, Employment andCommunications – MIEC – 2004: 2). This Act created the offence of ‘purchase

116

of sexual services’, whereby a person who, for payment, has casual sex, evenif the act is not a penal offence under Sweden’s Penal Code, can be fined orsentenced to a prison term of six months maximum.2 Attempts to purchasesexual services were also punishable under this Act (Görtzen 2002). On 1 April2005, this offence was incorporated into the Swedish Penal Code (at Chapter 6,Section 11) and extended the purchaser penalty provisions to those who areprovided sexual services through payments by other persons (see also Ministryof Justice 2005: 3). Evidently, much procurement was by proxy in situationsinvolving the purchase of sexual services by businesspersons for their clients orfor purchase of sex workers for stag parties (Ekberg 2004: 1203–4). Regardingchildren (persons under 18 years old), any inducement of a child to undertakeor endure a sexual act in return for payment can result in a fine or imprisonmentfor at most two years, including payments promised or made on behalf ofanother person (Swedish Penal Code at Chapter 6, Section 9).

These penalty provisions operated in tandem with the ‘trafficking forsexual purposes offence’ that was introduced into Sweden in 2002 (MIEC2004: 3). On 1 July 2002, the ‘Prohibiting Trafficking in Human Beings forSexual Purposes Act 2002:436’ came into effect, after a review by aParliamentary Committee focusing on sexual offences legislation determinedthat more stringent measures were required (National Criminal InvestigationDepartment – NCID – 2003: 11). Thus a new trafficking offence was estab-lished, whereby a person who uses unlawful coercion, deception or otherimproper means to induce a person to go or be transported abroad, for thepurpose of sexual offences, prostitution or other forms of sexual exploitation,is breaking the law (MIEC 2004: 3). This includes persons who transport,harbour or receive persons who have arrived in a country in such conditions;and for victims aged under 18, improper means do not have to be proven forthe offence to apply. Punishment for the new offence ranged from two to tenyears’ imprisonment (MIEC 2004: 3). But this legislation proved to be inade-quate, due to the requirement of cross-border transportation or harbouring ofa trafficked person to constitute the offence. Therefore, on 1 July 2004, thelegislation was amended to include intranational trafficking, while continuingto carry an imprisonment term of between two and ten years (MIEC 2005: 3;see also Ekberg 2004: 1213, note 18). The 2004 amendment also expanded thescope of trafficking to include other forms of exploitation, such as forcedlabour, organ removal or other distressing acts: punishment continues to rangefrom two to ten years’ imprisonment (MIEC 2005: 3; see also Ekberg 2005:22, note 28).

For activity that does not satisfy the elements of the trafficking offence,Swedish law contains two alternative offences that can capture various otheraspects of trafficking. Firstly, there is a gross procurement offence, which canbe used as a subsidiary offence against traffickers where there has been a lack

Sweden’s anti-trafficking regime and the lessons for Australia 117

of ‘improper means’ in the trafficking process, or an inability to prove thiselement with evidence (Ministry of Justice 2005: 3). The gross procurementoffence is an aggravated procurement offence, which criminalises personswho promote, or improperly financially exploit, a person’s engagement incasual sexual relations in return for payment, on a large scale, or for signifi-cant financial gain, or where ruthless exploitation of another person isinvolved (Swedish Penal Code, Chapter 6 Section 12). The gross procurementoffence also criminalises persons who lease out their premises to persons whouse them for casual sexual relations for payment on a large scale, for signifi-cant financial gain, or where ruthless exploitation occurs; the gross procure-ment offence carries the penalty of imprisonment of two to eight years(Swedish Penal Code, Chapter 6, Section 12). Secondly, there is an offence ofunlawful coercion or deceit, which provides for imprisonment of between oneand ten years. This applies where unlawful coercion or deceit by a personleads to another person entering into work, service or other similar conditionof restraint, or induces a person to go or remain in a place abroad where theymay be in danger of being exposed to persecution, or exploited for casualsexual relations, or otherwise of falling into distress (Swedish Penal Code,Chapter 4, Section 3).

WHY TARGET PROSTITUTION?

Sweden maintains there is a strong link between trafficking in persons forsexual purposes and prostitution, based on the premise that only by eliminat-ing the demand for prostitutes can trafficking for sexual purposes be elimi-nated (MIEC 2004: 3; 2005: 1–2). Prostitution itself is regarded as inherentlyharmful: Sweden’s Ministry of Industry, Employment and Communicationsfact sheets compare the trauma suffered by prostituted women as comparableto that suffered by war veterans and torture victims (MIEC 2004: 2; MIEC2005: 2). These fact sheets also argue that prostitution is harmful throughobjectifying women and girls and ignoring the abusive circumstances in whichprostitution occurs, the risk of sexually transmitted diseases, and the grossviolations of integrity and dignity that prostitution involves (MIEC 2004: 2–3;MIEC 2005: 2). Thus the harms of prostitution become a gender-specificphenomenon that is a form of male violence against women, and is a mani-festation of the power imbalance between men and women that is abhorrent toa country that prides itself on promoting equality between the sexes (MIEC2004: 1; 2005: 1; Government Offices of Sweden 2007: 1). The gender aspectof prostitution derives from the view that the overwhelming majority of pros-tituted persons are women and girls, who are invariably purchased by men forsexual purposes, which in turn creates a culture where male purchasers regard


the purchase of female sexual services as a self-evident right (MIEC 2004: 2;2005: 1–2). Two masters students at the Department of Social Work at theUniversity of Göteborg interviewed Göteborg city officials, police officers,prosecutors, social workers and prostitution groups involved in that city’s anti-trafficking efforts, and found that most respondents perceived a clear connec-tion between prostitution and sex trafficking (Guigou and Theocharidou 2006:27, 30).

In sum, trafficking offences were introduced into Swedish law in 2002, andnew links were made between prostitution and sex trafficking. Sex traffickingand prostitution were linked on the premise that demand for sexual servicesencourages demand for trafficked persons, and only by eliminating thedemand for prostitutes can trafficking for sexual purposes be eliminated(Ekberg 2004: 1189–90; 2005: 2–3; see also Iselin 2003: 7–8). As argued byEkberg, in an overwhelming number of cases, the trafficking of women andgirls by traffickers and organised crime syndicates is to sell these females intoprostitution (Ekberg 2004: 1189; 2005: 3). A key argument made by Jeffreys(2002b: 7–8) is that the legitimisation of demand for sexual services, such asthrough the legalisation or decriminalisation of prostitution, does not distin-guish between consenting sex workers and trafficked persons:

The cause of the traffic in women into prostitution is the demand by the pimps andusers for more, and particularly vulnerable women who do not speak the language,who will be prepared to allow penetration without condoms because they have nochoice, who will not answer back and who will work, under debt bondage, for noreward … The development of the sex industry creates the demand for traffickingand it will grow commensurately.

Similarly, Munro (2006: 320) argues that the Swedish legislation against traf-ficking was driven by ‘a pragmatic conviction that quashing the demand forprostitution would provide the most effective means of dealing with the supplydynamics implicated in trafficking activity in this context’.

It should be noted that combating prostitution appears to be the sole reasonfor the original 1998 anti-purchaser offence.3 A Norwegian government reportthat assessed the Swedish government’s prostitution laws indicates that, in1998, human trafficking had not been postulated as a reason for criminalisingthe purchase of sexual services (Ministry of Justice and the Police 2004: 16).The link between prostitution and sex trafficking begins to appear with thetrafficking provisions promulgated in 2002 and 2004, with a police respondentclaiming in an interview that: ‘We didn’t have any knowledge about traffick-ing cases at that time (before 1999). Trafficking was not in the agenda like itis today’ (cited in Guigou and Theocharidou 2006: 30). The retrospective link-age of Sweden’s anti-purchaser laws with anti-trafficking measures providedthe Swedish government with an additional basis upon which to justify its


continued criminalisation of prostitution, by situating it within the context ofa global anti-sex trafficking regime, as embodied in the Protocol to Prevent,Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons, especially Women and Children(‘Trafficking Protocol’) that supplements the United Nations ConventionAgainst Transnational Organised Crime. This Protocol was introduced in2000, and created a modern definition of what constitutes trafficking inpersons (Blackell 2002: 117; Munro 2006: 325). The definition – cited in otherchapters of this volume, but worth repeating here – contained in theTrafficking Protocol Article 3(a) is as follows:

The recruitment, transportation, transfer, harbouring or receipt of persons, by meansof the threat or use of force or other forms of coercion, of abduction, of fraud, ofdeception, of the abuse of power or of a position of vulnerability or of the giving orreceiving of payments or benefits to achieve the consent of a person having controlover another person, for the purpose of exploitation. Exploitation shall include, at aminimum, the exploitation of the prostitution of others or other forms of sexualexploitation, forced labour or services, slavery or practices similar to slavery, servi-tude or the removal of organs.

Consent is expressly irrelevant for adults who are trafficked where the meansdescribed above are used, and children (persons under 18 years of age) are consid-ered trafficked where any recruitment, transportation, transfer, harbouring or receiptoccurs, regardless of the methods used. (UN 2000a: Articles 3(b), 3(c), and 3(d))

This international definition emphasised that trafficked persons are victimswho have rights to social support and assistance (Munro 2006: 325), thoughthis assistance is not mandatory, states being ‘urged’ (rather than required) toconsider implementing these social support services (Trafficking Protocol,Article 6(3)). The Protocol also makes special provision for trafficking ofwomen and children, as in Articles 9(4) and 9(5), and according to Ekberg(2004: 1202; 2005: 13), is the first international instrument that requires statesto discourage the demand that generates exploitation of human beings, espe-cially women and children (Article 9(5)).

HOW SUCCESSFUL HAS SWEDEN’S MODEL BEEN?

Sweden’s National Criminal Investigation Department maintains that thePenal Code amendments have deterred traffickers from operating in Sweden(NCID 2003: 34). The basis of this assertion lies in reports from Europol andother European police forces that indicate that Sweden is an unattractivemarket for traffickers because of the deterrent effect of the penalisingpurchaser provisions on potential customers (NCID 2003: 34). The deterrenteffect is generated through the need for pimps and traffickers to escort womento purchasers, incurring a ‘time cost’ in comparison to brothel or street prosti-


tution, which reduces the number of ‘clients’ that women can service, and thusreduces the amount of profit a trafficker can make on a trafficked person(NCID 2003: 34). Buyers have also become fearful of discovery by lawenforcement officers, which has required traffickers and pimps to utilise multi-ple premises on a rotation basis to ensure discretion for their clients, thus rais-ing the costs for these criminals (NCID 2003: 34).

The United States’ Trafficking in Persons Report: June 2006 indicates thatin Sweden, between 2005 and the early part of 2006, 15 persons wereconvicted of trafficking; and that ‘over the last year’ (the period being referredto in the report is unclear), 25 persons were convicted under ‘statutes relateddirectly to trafficking’, with traffickers receiving sentences of between twoand five years and procurers receiving sentences of between two and threeyears (US Department of State 2006: 235). The 2007 report indicates that for2006, 21 traffickers were convicted under trafficking and procurement laws,which was an increase of 15 convictions over 2005 (US Department of State2007: 191). Those convicted in 2006 were all sentenced to imprisonment with-out suspended sentences, ranging from ten months to five years (USDepartment of State 2007: 191). Table 7.1 provides a collation of investigationand conviction numbers drawn from various sources available on the Internet.

These figures reveal two important facts. Firstly it is difficult to compilecomprehensive numbers of trafficking convictions in Sweden, given differentreported numbers in published sources. Secondly, if these numbers are to bebelieved, they reveal conviction rates that are extremely low in comparison tothe government estimate of 400 to 600 trafficked persons into Sweden (MIEC2005: 3).4 Why are conviction numbers so low? Ekberg (2004: 1209; 2005:18) suggests that successful anti-trafficking legislation would reduce thenumber of trafficked persons, thus reducing the number of recorded traffick-ing convictions. She emphasises that the importance of the trafficking andpenalising purchaser offences lies in their combined normative value inpreventing trafficking, and that there is a danger in concentrating on convic-tion rates, since successful legal regimes prevent crimes from occurring ratherthan promote excessive convictions after criminal activity has taken place(Ekberg 2004: 1209; 2005: 18). She also contends that in comparison to itsneighbour Denmark, Sweden’s penalising purchaser laws appears to work asan effective deterrent – she claims that Denmark has between 5500 and 7800women prostituted annually, with 50 per cent or more of these women esti-mated to be victims of trafficking (Ekberg 2004: 1199; 2005: 9).

These numbers have been challenged by Vincent Clausen. In an unpub-lished online article, Clausen (2007: 11–12) argues that most of Ekberg’spublished numbers are either unsubstantiated or inconsistent with citedsources. He argues that other numbers are distorted by definitional confusionwith the term ‘trafficking’. Other reasons for low conviction numbers are


posited. There are difficulties with investigating crimes under the laws, due tothe wording of the legislation and the investigative effort required to provethem (Ministry of Justice and the Police 2004: 53). The difficulties in identi-fying ‘real’ trafficked persons are exacerbated by the unexpected impact of theanti-purchaser laws on the acquisition of evidence regarding trafficking activ-ities: evidence required for convictions is difficult to obtain given that ‘womenare exploited for the purpose of prostitution at the same time as the policecarry on surveillance to secure evidence’ (NCID 2003: 32). Purchasers are


Table 7.1 Number of investigations and convictions in Sweden fortrafficking and procurement, 1998–2006

Year 1998– 1999– 1999– 2002 2003 2004 2005 20062001 2002 2003

Number of – – – 3# T: 21 T:28 44 28investigations P: offences

~20 (9suspects)

P: 90offences

(29suspects)

Number of P: 7@ T & P!: 25 T & P!: 30 0# T: 2$ T: 2 T: 4 T: 5convictions or 5* P: 20 or or(number of P: 8 15^ 21¶persons P:convicted) 20^

Key and Sources: T: Trafficking P: Procurement / gross procurement.# US Department of State (2003: 143): 200–300 trafficking cases were reported by SwedishPolice, 3 were actively being investigated and were pending, but no convictions had been securedas at date of publication of report.@ US Department of State (2001a: 70): ‘The law does not prohibit specifically the act of traf-ficking, but there are a range of other relevant laws that are being used to prosecute traffickers …The Government has successfully prosecuted seven trafficking cases since 1998.’! The phrase used by Ekberg (2004: 1200) and Ekberg (2005: 9) is ‘trafficking-related crimes’.$ US Department of State (2004: 177).* This number is generated from my own calculations: if there were 25 convictions 1999-2002(Ekberg 2004: 1200), and 30 convictions 1999–2003 (Ekberg 2005: 9), logic suggests there were5 convictions in 2003.^ Ekberg (2005: 10) reports 4 convictions. The US Department of State (2006: 235) reports thatfor 2005 to early 2006 there were 15 trafficking convictions, while in 2005 it reports 2 traffickingconvictions in February 2005 (which are probably subsumed in the 15 convictions reported in USDepartment of State 2006), and reports 20 convictions for ‘trafficking-related crimes under otherstatutes’ (US Department of State 2005: 205).¶ US Department of State (2006: 235) reports 25 convictions under ‘statutes related directly totrafficking’, whereas the US Department of State (2007: 191) reports 21 convictions ‘under anti-trafficking and procurement statute[s]’.

unwilling to self-incriminate themselves by coming forward as witnesses(Görtzen 2002), and clients are less willing to provide information to police ontrafficked persons they may have come into contact with during their visits tosex workers (Ministry of Justice and the Police 2004: 53). Police and prose-cutors in Göteborg noted that the trafficking offence required the proving ofimproper means, with the element of improper means proving difficult toadduce evidence on (Guigou and Theocharidou 2006: 34).

Swedish police have reported that trafficking cases are more difficult toinvestigate because prostitution is no longer openly solicited on the streets(Ministry of Justice and the Police 2004: 52). However the National CriminalInvestigation Department (NCID 2003: 35) reports that police are still able togather information on trafficked persons, despite the reduction in visibility ofsex workers. Impacting on all these concerns, however, is the significantexpense in investigating and prosecuting trafficking offences. Investigationrequires not only resources for investigators, but also resources for traffickedpersons, such as interpreters and accommodation for trafficked persons thatare needed for evidential purposes during an investigation period; travel costsof gathering evidence in trafficking origin countries; and friction betweeneager prosecutors wishing to pursue preliminary investigations and policeconstrained by resource scarcity (NCID 2003: 32; see also Iselin 2003: 7 onthe complexity of investigating trafficking, comparable in his view to investi-gating murders).

EVALUATING THE CONSEQUENCES OF SWEDEN’SLAWS

During the conceiving and assessment of Sweden’s anti-trafficking laws, therehave been unforeseen consequences that are best understood by conceiving ofthe Swedish anti-trafficking model as a ‘prosecution’ model as distinct from a‘victim protection / human rights’ model: prosecution models such as the USand West European models can be contrasted with victim-oriented, pro-humanrights based anti-trafficking models of other countries and some UnitedNations agencies (Haynes 2004: 238).

Both the prosecution and human rights models developed after the strict‘arrest and deport the victims’ practices that were occurring in the late 1980s,under which victims were arrested and deported on the basis of illegal entryand presence in countries; this approach was exacerbated in some countries bylaw enforcement and judicial complicity in trafficking. The prosecution andhuman rights models have developed as responses to this earlier severeapproach taken by governmental authorities, by shifting criminality to the traf-fickers rather than the victims. The prosecution model conceives of trafficking


as a form of organised crime that is a primer for illegal immigration. It thusfocuses its efforts on combating trafficking through law enforcement initia-tives, with victim protection measures conditioned on the ability of victims toassist with law enforcement. In contrast, the victim-oriented, pro-human rightsbased anti-trafficking model emphasises protecting the victim of trafficking,through emphasising the human rights of these victims, and does not requirevictim assistance to law enforcement to activate protection (all from Haynes2004: 238–9, 247).

The Swedish model is best described as the ultimate prosecution model. Itextends its sweep to prosecuting all the elements involved with a traffickedperson, including the demand drivers of these persons, that is, the purchasersof sex services. However, comparison with a human rights model reveals areasthat could be improved; these include the impact on stakeholders createdthrough the imposition of Sweden’s anti-trafficking laws, such as on Swedishsex workers and on trafficked persons themselves.

THE IMPACT ON SWEDEN’S SEX WORKERS

The Swedish anti-trafficking laws have had impacts on Swedish sex workersthat must be recognised. The penalising purchaser and procuring provisionspenalise all sex workers, since the legislation does not distinguish between thelegitimate aim of counteracting the demand for trafficked persons for sexualpurposes and the controversial aim of denying legitimacy to all sex work.Concern must be raised where the new legislation affects the ability of sexworkers in Sweden to access health care, engage with law enforcement or thejudiciary, and where it interferes with their labour rights. Östergren (n.d.), inan online article containing material gained from interviews, conversationsand correspondence with approximately 20 Swedish sex workers andpublished interview material with sex workers in the Swedish media, notesthat these sex workers have severely criticised the penalising purchaser provi-sions because they perceive them as paradoxical, illogical and discriminatory.The procurement laws are criticised because by making it illegal for sex work-ers to work in groups (because of the ban on making profit from the sexuallabour of others) they cause fragmentation in sex worker support networks(Östergren n.d.). The new laws also hamper the ability of sex workers to reportto police (as they do not want to report their clients), as well as their efforts toadvise each other about dangerous clients. Finally, the laws remove an avenueof reporting on trafficked persons within the industry (Östergren n.d.).

The laws do appear to reduce the demand for ‘street walker’ sex work,especially in the immediate short term (see for example Ministry of Justiceand the Police 2004: 9; NCID 2003: 35). The National Criminal Investigation


Department (NCID 2003: 11) reports a 41 per cent decline in street prostitu-tion from 1998 to 2003. Journalist Lisa Katayama claims that the danger tofemale prostitutes has risen due to the smaller pool of customers, with sexworkers forced to accept clients they would otherwise refuse (Katayama2005). There are similar reports from a Norwegian government report onSweden’s laws, which found that the reduction in demand has led to a smallerclientele for sex workers and thus a rise in unprotected sex and an increase inthe danger of violence against sex workers, forced to accept clients they wouldotherwise refuse (Ministry of Justice and the Police 2004: 13, 19). Similarresults are reported by Kinnell, who noted that sex work project evaluations oftwo cities in the United Kingdom (UK) that attempted similar Swedish styleanti-demand legislation through anti-client policing resulted in fewer clientsfor sex workers, thus reducing the wages of sex workers which ‘can lead tohigher levels of violence, with sex workers working longer hours, later atnight, and in more dangerous areas to try to compensate for reduced business’(Kinnell 2002: 7). Ultimately, the lack of legitimacy of sex workers in Swedenprevents them from accessing labour rights and the benefits of an employmentrelationship status (Kinnell 2002: 4). These negative impacts are not removedthrough transferring criminality from prostitute to purchaser. The nature of sexwork is still unlawful and sex workers become illegitimate actors with theirvoices ignored: the NCID reported that the Swedish judiciary has negativeattitudes towards allocating resources to trafficking in human beings becausemany victims are ‘only prostitutes who want to be prostitutes’ (NCID 2003:32–3).

Proponents of anti-demand legislation face a choice between reducing traf-ficking and increasing the negative impact of demand-side anti-traffickingmeasures on persons they regard as victims of prostitution. Given the concernsabove, a less hard-line approach should be taken that allows for labour rightsand regulation of the sex industry while demand-side anti-trafficking measuresare in place.

TRAFFICKED PERSONS OR CONSENTING SMUGGLEDPERSONS?

Prosecutorial models such as Sweden’s anti-trafficking laws have a structuralconsideration that regards consent, or the lack of it, as inherently crucial inidentifying a trafficked person. The Trafficking Protocol’s Article 3(b) explic-itly regards consent as irrelevant where trafficking-type coercion has beenused, to account for trafficked persons who initially consent to the traffickingprocess but find themselves unable to withdraw their consent to their condi-tions of incarceration, which can include restrictions on movement, debt


bondage and psychological control. However the frame of reference in theTrafficking Protocol reveals its attempts, politically motivated or otherwise, tomaintain conceptions of ‘consent’ as a distinguishing factor between traffickedpersons and smuggled persons (Doezema 2002). The Protocol invalidatesconsent to the trafficking process where exploitation or vulnerability isexploited: Article 3(b) is an express provision that consent to exploitation isirrelevant where the threat or use of force, or other forms of coercion, are used.Additionally the travaux préparatoires to the Protocol reveal that the referencein the Protocol to abuse of a ‘position of vulnerability’ as a form of coercionrefers to situations where trafficked persons have no real and acceptable alter-native but to submit to exploitation (Blackell 2002: 118–19). Thus theTrafficking Protocol is part of a concerted effort by the international commu-nity to distinguish between trafficked persons and smuggled persons (Munro2006: 325) such that, despite the express provisions against consent as anexoneration mechanism for traffickers, persons subjected to illegal migrationare still distinguished as either ‘true’ victims (trafficked persons) or ‘false’victims (smuggled persons).

Sweden’s legislation continues to use manifestations of consent as arequirement for establishing trafficking offences through the requirement offorce, coercion or non-consent for adult trafficked victims. By requiringimproper means to be shown for trafficking offences against adult victims – arequirement that does not apply to child victims – Swedish law assumes someagency on the part of adult trafficked persons that is somehow lacking fromchild trafficked persons. Munro (2006: 330) notes the illogicality of this posi-tion for a country that regards prostitution as itself a form of violence. If pros-titution is a form of violence, and prostituted persons are thus victims ofviolence, why does the requirement for unlawful coercion or deception, byexploiting a person’s vulnerability or by any other similar improper means,persist in Swedish legislation? A preferable construction would be to removethe distinction between adult and child trafficked persons: the element ofcontrol over a person that is used to subject them for trafficking purposesshould be enough to establish criminal liability.

The benefit of such a construction would be to remove any trace of consentfrom the legal conception of a trafficked person. Removing the lingeringnotions of consent would improve the response of law enforcement authoritiesby removing distinctions between ‘real’ or ‘true’ trafficked persons and ‘false’ones. Such modes of thinking exist in law enforcement officials from diverseregions of the world: Munro (2006: 331) and Haynes (2004: 254) provideexamples drawn from UK, Italian and Bosnian interviews that emphasise theconcern of law enforcement to identify the real trafficked victims who requiresocial support, as opposed to those persons who are only ‘victims to a degree’or are ‘acting with some degree of agency’ (Munro 2006: 331). Other law


enforcement officials may not be able to distinguish how the nexus betweenconsent and exploitation or vulnerability operates, as envisaged by theTrafficking Protocol. Thus, journalist Nina Shapiro relates an interview with aUnited States law enforcement official who initially believed that the onlyrequirement for a woman to be classified as ‘trafficked’ was being smuggledinto the United States for sex work (Shapiro 2004: 5). When queried about therequirement for fraud and deceit, the official consulted some official papers onthe subject and, when correctly apprised, he expressed concern regarding howto discern the use of fraud:

Where do you draw the line between smuggling and human trafficking? A person issmuggled in and put to work in the orchards. Are they being held against their will?They may have come here with a debt to pay and knowingly did that. So were theyforced or coerced? I don’t know. (Shapiro 2004: 5)

Munro (2006: 329) describes an alternative proposal that views exploita-tion as the primary element of trafficking, with trafficking occurring with theexploitation of a person after their arrival (legal or illegal) into a country. Thisapproach avoids using consent as a definitional and distinguishing mechanismbetween smuggled and trafficked persons (Munro 2006: 329). This emphasison exploitation is the basis that should be used to reply to those who proposethat, without the requirement of coercive means to establish trafficking, we areundermining the autonomy of migrants by ignoring the tokens of their consent,and that we are promoting racist stereotypes based on domestic sex workerswhose consent is accredited and migrant sex workers whose consent should beignored, thus drawing attention away from the exploitative conditions of manydomestic sex workers. As Munro points out, these concerns may be valid, butthey do not make sense in the broader context of trafficking; if persons travelto a foreign country and are exploited, then they are victims of trafficking allthe same:

To conceive of them as non-victims only affrays the remedies they gain. The ques-tion is not of taking attention away from our domestic workers but revealing theconditions sex workers work in and the harder questions of how to improve theseconditions, whether through regulation or legalisation. (Munro 2006: 331)

Haynes (2004) proposes a similar model, based on accessing a traffickedperson’s situation at each stage of the trafficking cycle; if, at any stage, thevictim was unable to exercise consent or control over their conditions, thenthey should be considered a trafficked victim, and would qualify for protectionbenefits. Such an approach, in Haynes’s words, would ‘help more people,would harm no one, and would not require significantly more state resources’(Haynes 2004: 254). It would also extend protection to persons not regarded


as real victims by authorities (that is, persons who chose to remain in prosti-tution after being trafficked, or persons who initially consent to prostitutionbut are unaware of the conditions they will be subjected to), as well as promot-ing positive benefits to both victims and countries of destination by reducingthe incentives for persons to retraffick themselves (Haynes 2004: 254).

Such a model also limits the danger of unsuccessful prosecutions againsttraffickers because of consent arguments, with trafficking prosecutions some-times failing because of the unavailability of evidence needed to establish thenature of a person’s consent (UNODC ROSA 2007). While the United NationsOffice on Drugs and Crime’s Regional Office for South Asia (UNODC ROSA2007) notes that many countries have to allow the possibility of raisingconsent as a defence because of constitutional or human rights protections,there are important policy considerations for not allowing the raising ofconsent as a defence or mitigating factor for trafficking-related crimes. No oneshould be able to consent to being a slave, and issues of consent merelyobscure the protections that should be afforded to all trafficked persons. AsHaynes (2004: 271) points out, trafficked persons are not just victims – theyare persons whose human rights have been infringed, and as such have legiti-mate claims to state protection.

IMPACT ON TRAFFICKED PERSONS: AUSTRALIA ANDSWEDEN COMPARED

Trafficked persons discovered by Swedish law enforcement agencies findthemselves as illegal immigrants unless they can procure residency permits.Sweden provides 30-day temporary residence permits regardless of assistanceto investigations (US Department of State 2006: 235). After this period, traf-ficked persons must rely on a time-limited residence permit under the AliensAct 2005:715, Chapter 5, Section 15; this allows access to health care, medicalattention and social welfare, but is dependent on police or prosecutors deem-ing the victim or witness necessary for an investigation or for criminalproceedings, with the length of stay being extendable on application by pros-ecutors for situations such as complex investigations or appealed court actions(MIEC 2005: 3). Such permits are also dependent on victims willing to coop-erate in these investigations (US Department of State 2006: 235). Indeed, the30-day grace period itself has been criticised because it does not provide suffi-cient time to assist trafficked persons effectively with counselling or otherservices (Maltzahn 2004: 13).

How does this situation compare to Australia? Australia’s TemporaryBridging Visa Class F compares unfavourably even to Sweden’s 30-daytemporary residency permits. This visa provides 30 days validity (Migration


Regulations 1994, Schedule 2, Clause 060.511(3)(b)(ii)), and is granted whenthe Australian Federal Police or State or Territory police are satisfied the traf-ficked person is a person of interest in relation to a trafficking offence(Migration Regulations 1994, Schedule 1, Part 3, Clause 1306(3)(d)(i)). Thereis no obligation to grant the full 30 days to a trafficked person, meaning thatbefore 30 days have elapsed, the Minister may make a determination and ceasethe visa (see Migration Regulations 1994, Schedule 2, Clause060.511(3)(b)(i), (iii) and (iv)), with anecdotal evidence from Project Respect(an Australian anti-trafficking NGO) cited by Burn and Simmons (2005: 7)suggesting that Australian police often make decisions within days of grantingthese visas.

However, both the Swedish and Australian systems suffer from the sameflaws, based on their investigation–cooperation requirement. Burn andSimmons (2005) identify defects in the Australian trafficked person visasystem that are applicable to Sweden:

• Trafficked persons who do not feel that they can rely on law enforce-ment agencies or the judiciary are unlikely to come forward, hinderingboth efforts to measure the scale of the trafficking problem in a countryand prosecution attempts against traffickers.

• It operates unfairly on victims who do not have investigative value, andignores legitimate reasons for these persons not to assist investigations,such as a fear of persecution against themselves or their families in theircountries of origin.

• Corroborative evidence is often required for successful prosecutions,given the nature of trafficking offences: but by focusing on the value ofa trafficked person in prosecutorial terms, the wider range of benefits oftrafficked person evidence – such as the value of creating profiles oftraffickers, or the vagaries in weight given to various types of evidencefrom a prosecutor’s point of view versus a judicial officer’s point ofview – is ignored.

• This system may also encourage flawed or false testimony designed tobe deliberately satisfying to authorities: any sort of permit granted onthe basis of investigative assistance carries the danger that witness testi-mony can be impeached on the allegation that a witness has providedtestimony in order to secure residence in a destination country (all fromBurn and Simmons 2005: 7–10; see also Iselin 2003: 9).

In terms of their impact on trafficking, temporary permits may in fact exac-erbate trafficking numbers through the repatriation of trafficked personsunable to meet investigative value requirements. Repatriation has been criti-cised not just because of the threat of retaliation from traffickers, but also


because of the risk of being recaptured by traffickers and experiencing socialproblems when returning to origin countries: these problems include a lack ofresources provided to assist victims with the traumatic effects of being traf-ficked, the social stigma that can be attached to trafficked victims, and theneed for assistance to reintegrate into the local workforce (Kartusch 2001:90–91). Iselin notes that unless victims are given enough contemplation time,deportation risks sending a vulnerable person back to a country where he orshe can be retrafficked:

We must understand that a woman is trafficked in the first instance owing to a rangeof factors that make her vulnerable to being trafficked. Sending a trafficked victimback to the same milieux does nothing to address those vulnerability factors, indeedsending someone back who has lived underground abroad for three years actuallysends them into a more vulnerable situation as they have little or no understandingof what they will go back to, no support network they can rely on and usually noprospects of income safe from trafficking. (Iselin 2003: 6)

An alternative proposed by Burn and Simmons (2005: 11) is to provide alltrafficked persons with protection for at least 30 days regardless of their inves-tigative value, an alternative that they argue has been implemented in coun-tries such as Italy and has produced higher rates of trafficker prosecutionsuccess. Iselin (2003: 4–5) concurs with the proposal for an approach thatwould allow a reflection period, given that at the point of first detection, traf-ficked persons are often hostile to law enforcement, coming as they are out ofa relationship of physical and psychological abuse.

The role of immigration policy should also be considered. Traffickedpersons are more likely to pursue trafficking when there is a lack of viablelegal migration alternatives (Haynes 2004: 262). Punitive immigration prac-tices are a disincentive for trafficked persons to contact authorities, because offears regarding arrest and deportation compounded by their knowledge ofillicit entry into a destination country (Haynes 2004: 261). Measures such asvisas for sex work, giving trafficked persons information on their industrialrights, or intimidating traffickers through a range of industrial or workplacelegislation should be investigated (Harriden 2003). Despite the controversy oflegitimising sex work in this way, legitimisation may reduce sex trafficking (orat the least warrants further study). It should be noted that Australian prostitu-tion operates in a context of increasing legalisation and decriminalisation ofvoluntarily undertaken sex work, whereas Sweden has adopted the oppositeapproach (Munro 2006: 330). Additionally, it must be remembered that noanti-trafficking regime should be premised merely on sex trafficking, and thatany responses to trafficking that are based on such a narrow premise will notcapture the full range of trafficked persons.


CONCLUSION

There are lessons to be learned from Sweden. Any examination of traffickingfor sexual purposes will be contentious because it will require value judge-ments on the issue of prostitution, the sex industry and its legitimacy. Earlyanalysis of Sweden’s anti-demand measures reveals that while demand-sideanti-trafficking measures appear in the short term to be producing a deterrenteffect on prostitution, more time will be required to see if they can reducetrafficking in the longer term. These demand-side measures are ambitiouspieces of social legislation, attempting to transform cultural norms and atti-tudes. While we wait to see if these measures are successful, the immediateneeds and concerns of trafficked persons must remain paramount. Theseneeds include residency permits not based on investigative value; training atall levels of law enforcement, the judiciary and migration officials to ensurethey understand the needs of trafficked persons as victims of crime; andrecognising that trafficked persons are exploited persons rather than illegalimmigrants. Ideas of consent should play no part in our conceptions of traf-ficked persons.

To conclude, only a sensitive approach to migration and law enforcementwill produce sustainable outcomes that will significantly reduce trafficking.Such an approach will require more than resources (though resources willcertainly be needed); it will require framing our anti-trafficking efforts aroundthe conception that trafficking is an abhorrent breach of a person’s humanrights.

NATIONAL LEGISLATION AND DELEGATEDLEGISLATION CITED

Australia

Migration Regulations 1994, Schedule 2, Clause 060.511(3)(b)(ii)Migration Regulations 1994, Schedule 1, Part 3, Clause 1306(3)(d)(i)

Sweden

Act Prohibiting the Purchase of Sexual Services 1998: 408Aliens Act 2005: 715Prohibiting Trafficking in Human Beings for Sexual Purposes Act 2002: 436Swedish Penal Code, Chapter 6


NOTES

1. [email protected]. I would like to thank Dr Jane McAdam for her comments on an earlierversion of this chapter, Professor Simon Bronitt for his assistance when I was an AustralianNational University Summer Scholar 2006–07, and Leslie Holmes for his comments on thischapter. Any remaining errors are of course my own. The views expressed in this chapter arepersonal and do not reflect the views of the Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet,Australia.

2. Readers should be advised that the most recent (as of mid-2009), easily accessible Englishtranslation of the Swedish Penal Code is current only to 1 May 1999 (from www.sweden.gov.se/sb/d/3926/a/27777). The Interpol website has an updated version (to spring 2006) ofChapter 6 (Sexual Offences) of the Swedish Penal Code at http://www.interpol.int/Public/Children/SexualAbuse/NationalLaws/csaSweden.asp; however some references totrafficking offences mentioned in this chapter are drawn from Swedish government factsheets and documents where I have been unable to locate them in Swedish legislation.

3. Kulick (2003: 205–11) suggests another reason based on Swedish fear of joining theEuropean Union, due to foreign (East European) women entering Sweden for prostitution –this sociological perspective is then provided regarding the impact of this fear on the Swedishpolity. See also NCID (2003): 29–30; Ministry of Justice and the Police (2004): 20.

4. The estimate of 400–600 trafficked persons was an increase on the 2002 estimate of 200–500(NCID 2003: 3; MIEC 2004: 3). Note that these estimates are provided with the proviso fromthe NCID that trafficking numbers are difficult to determine, and also that there is insufficientinformation to determine conclusively whether trafficking in human beings has increased ordecreased (NCID 2003: 4, 29; see also Ekberg, 2004: 1209; 2005: 18).


8. Combating transnational crime in theGreater Mekong Subregion: the casesof Laos and Cambodia

Susan Kneebone and Julie Debeljak1

As in other regions of the globe, attention to trafficking issues in the GreaterMekong Subregion (‘GMS’) began with a gendered focus on women and chil-dren and exploitation in the sex industry at the end of the 1990s. And as inother regions, legal responses to trafficking issues quickly became framed ina predominantly criminal justice and anti-immigration discourse when coun-tries in the region signed up to the 2000 United Nations Convention againstTransnational Organised Crime (‘CTOC framework’ – UN 2000c) includingthe Trafficking (‘Palermo’) Protocol (UN 2000a), which contains the ‘threePs’: prevention, prosecution and protection.

In this chapter, taking the responses of the Lao People’s DemocraticRepublic (‘Lao PDR’) and the Kingdom of Cambodia (‘Cambodia’) as casestudies of two countries for trafficking within the GMS, we highlight lessonsabout the strengths and limits of criminal justice and anti-immigrationresponses to trafficking to this profoundly human problem. Additionally, thecomparison of the Lao PDR and Cambodia demonstrates the importance ofstable institutions, and of what is loosely known as ‘the rule of law’, for thesuccess of such responses. This has implications for international programmesand assistance to such countries.

We further show in this chapter that the predominant response to trafficking inthe Lao PDR and Cambodia to date has focused upon prevention and lawenforcement measures, including prosecutions. The third ‘P’, namely protection,has received the least attention in anti-trafficking measures. This is hardly surpris-ing, given the limited resources available to combat the trafficking problem. Butwe argue that a victim-centred approach is needed in order to understand thenature of trafficking in the GMS and to fight against exploitation of individuals.

We begin by explaining the patterns of movements that involve traffickingfrom and within the Lao PDR and Cambodia. We then describe national legaland criminal justice responses, and conclude with an evaluation of suchresponses in light of the problem we have described.

133

NATURE OF TRAFFICKING PATTERNS WITHIN ANDFROM LAOS AND CAMBODIA

Background

To begin this discussion, we locate the Lao PDR and Cambodia in the GMS,and in particular within the context of migration patterns for labour and the sexindustry. The GMS comprises six countries and administrative units:Cambodia, Yunnan Province (of the People’s Republic of China), the LaoPDR, Myanmar, Thailand and Vietnam. The Lao PDR and Cambodia wererespectively in positions 133 and 137 out of 182 countries on the UnitedNations Development Programme Human Development Index (UNDP HDI)for 2009, whereas Thailand was in 87th position (http://hdr.undp.org/en/statis-tics, accessed October 2009).

There are two main intraregional labour migration systems in the SouthEast Asia region. First, there is the ‘archipelagic system’, in which Malaysia,Singapore and Brunei are the major destination countries, with workers origi-nating mainly from Indonesia and the Philippines. The second system is theMekong Subregional system, where Thailand is the main destination formigrant workers from Myanmar, Cambodia, Laos PDR and Vietnam (Kaur2007). Importantly, our research into trafficking patterns shows that, increas-ingly, women from Cambodia and the Lao PDR are destined for Malaysia asdomestic or sex workers, bypassing Thailand en route.

Although Thailand was a labour-exporting country in the 1970s, by the1990s it was experiencing an economic boom and was in need of foreignworkers to fill labour shortages (Pollock 2007: 172). During this period,Cambodia and the Lao PDR were opening up (see below), and many flockedto find work in the factories and agricultural industries that sprang up alongthe Thai border. This is hardly surprising, given the relative position of thesecountries on the UNDP HDI. However, such migration was unregulated andunacknowledged: the fact of outward migration was seen as a weakness on thepart of governments in these countries (Pollock 2007: 175). By 1996, the Thaigovernment had enacted cabinet resolutions allowing temporary employmentof migrant workers from these countries. In 1996, 303 088 workers wereadmitted under this scheme, but by 2004 the figure had climbed to 1.28 million(Pollock 2007: 173). These official figures represent but a small proportion ofthe actual number of foreign workers in Thailand.

In response to this increased demand for labour, Memorandums ofUnderstanding (MoUs) on Cooperation on the Employment of Workers weresigned between Thailand and both the Lao PDR (2002) and Cambodia (2003).In 2006, the Lao Deputy Minister for Labour and Social Welfare acknowl-edged that a lack of staff had prevented the Laotian government from fully


implementing the agreement with Thailand, under which the Lao PDR hadagreed to send 50 000 registered workers to Thailand (PhonNgern 2006).

Despite the rapid growth of labour migration and attendant problems, anti-trafficking initiatives in the 1990s were developed in the sex industry context.The literature attributes the rise of the sex industry, particularly in Thailandand Cambodia, to a number of factors, including the Vietnam War and thepresence in the region of foreign soldiers, the rise of sex tourism following theconclusion of the war, and the increase in paedophilia in the region.Significant outcomes of conferences held in this period to discuss the issue oftrafficking for the sex industry include the pioneering draft South AsianAssociation for Regional Cooperation Convention on Preventing andCombating Trafficking in Women and Children (1998) and the BangkokAccord and Plan of Action for Combating Trafficking in Women (1999)(UNESCAP 2001). It seems that, at this stage, the trafficking dialogue inSouth East Asia (SEA) was caught up in the ‘sex wars’ which dominated theinternational scene (Sanghera 2005: 4). But the criminal justice discourse wasalso present at this stage, as shown by the creation of the ASEAN Declarationon Transnational Crime (ASEAN 1997), under which ASEAN membersagreed to take ‘firm and stern measures to combat transnational crime, such as… trafficking of women and children’ (perambulatory para. 9).

It is significant that, at this time, there was also some recognition of theneed to include other issues in the trafficking discourse, such as labour migra-tion, development and victim support. For example, in their Draft ConceptPaper on Trafficking in Women, the Thai National Commission on Women’sAffairs criticised many ASEAN countries for implementing laws that ‘largelyaim at prosecuting the criminals and their networks rather than providingprotection and redress for trafficked persons’ (ASEAN-Thailand and ThaiNational Commission on Women’s Affairs 2000: 4). Other studies at this timealso recognised the connection between trafficking and labour migration poli-cies.

It is therefore important to note that the implementation of the CTOCframework in the region led to a focus upon trafficking in the context of migra-tion, and produced a predominantly law-enforcement response. The criminaljustice response stems from the Trafficking Protocol. All states signing up toit are required to adopt its definition (Article 5). Further, they are required to‘prevent and combat’ trafficking and to cooperate with other states (Article 2).In this process, the countries of the region have been assisted by variousregional mechanisms including the ‘COMMIT’ process, which is important tothe national legal responses described below. COMMIT stands for theCoordinated Mekong Ministerial Initiative against Trafficking, and involvesthe six countries of the GMS. The discourse that has emerged from theCOMMIT process, whilst focusing upon the prevention of trafficking, has led

Combating transnational crime in the Greater Mekong Subregion 135

to regional initiatives that have broken down cultural and historical barriersthat have existed for decades between countries in the region. For example,MOUs now exist between countries in the region on trafficking; this includesagreement on all aspects of cross-border cooperation, such as return and rein-tegration of victims.

The Lao PDR: Who Goes Where, and How?

The implementation of the New Economic Mechanism in 1986 by the LaoPDR spurred great changes to both internal and external migration. The borderwith Thailand was reopened in 1986, and in 1994, restrictions that hadprevented Lao people from migrating internally were lifted (ARCPPT 2003:17). These changes, together with the improvements in infrastructure, mademigration much more feasible.

Several significant factors influence the pattern of migration from the LaoPDR. First, there is the demographic factor. The Lao PDR has a population of5.6 million, of whom 45 per cent are below the age of 15 and 55 per cent areyounger than 19 years. Every year approximately 60 000 young people try toenter the workforce, but there are limited employment opportunities in the LaoPDR. Secondly, gender is an important factor. There is evidence that moregirls (aged between 10 and 17 years) than boys migrate and that, in that cohort,the girls face higher risks – are more likely to be trafficked – than the boys(UNICEF-MSLW 2003). But overall, approximately equal numbers of maleand females migrate from the Lao PDR. A third factor is the cultural one. TheThai and Lao people have similar physical features and understand eachother’s language. Thus Laotians can readily disappear into Thai society.Moreover, there is a tradition of seasonal migration from Laos to Thailand,which some patterns of migration replicate.

In terms of trafficking, the Lao PDR is mainly a country of origin for traf-ficked persons, although there is anecdotal evidence that trafficked persons(including children) transit the country en route from China to Thailand andalso come to Lao PDR from Vietnam. There is also anecdotal evidence of Laowomen being trafficked to China and to other SEA countries throughThailand. There is internal trafficking (mostly from rural to urban centres), buta reluctance on the part of the authorities to admit it.

Phil Marshall (2005: 145) identifies the main trafficking pattern for the LaoPDR in the context of migration to neighbouring Thailand, and maintains that:‘women and girls are more likely to be trafficked into forced prostitution ordomestic servitude, while men and boys are more likely to be held captive onfishing boats. Both male and female victims may end up in forced labour insweatshops, on plantations or construction sites.’

It is difficult to estimate the number of people trafficked from Laos. One


reliable source is the Ministry of Labour and Social Welfare (MLSW), whichhas collected statistics on the number of returnees under the official returnprogramme operating between Thailand and the Lao PDR. This mainlyinvolves victims of trafficking for the sex industry who have been processedin the official government-run shelter in Vientiane. Between 2001 and 2007there was a total of 807 official returnees, of whom 84 per cent were under theage of 18 years. Another source estimated that approximately 1000 peoplewere trafficked annually within the GMS. A third source suggests that 200 000to 300 000 women are trafficked into Thailand annually for sexual exploita-tion (Senta 2003: 3).

The problem of reliable data on trafficking is not exclusive to the Lao PDR,but the problem in this instance is compounded by the fact that a national birthregistration system does not exist, and a database on exits at internationalborder points has only recently been introduced. If this is coupled with the factthat trafficking is generally underreported, it seems that the problem is poten-tially large. One estimate (which does not give a source) is that the number ofwomen and children trafficked into the East Asia region per year is between250 000 and 400 000 persons (UNICEF-MSLW 2003: 11).

Interviewees overwhelmingly reported that the largest site of exploitationat destination for those migrating from the Lao PDR is in labour outside of thesex industry. It is now widely acknowledged by Laotian authorities that traf-ficking for the sex industry accounts for less than 50 per cent of the problem.The government has recently turned its attention to the approach of recruit-ment agencies and the need for proper departure training in the case of womenwho are leaving to work as domestics (interview with spokesperson from theUnited Nations Development Fund for Women – UNIFEM, 7 February 2007).

This shift in attention is reflective of changing understanding of andresponses to trafficking. Initially, anti-trafficking measures revolved aroundprevention strategies designed to discourage people from moving or migrat-ing. In abandoning this essentially anti-migration approach of ‘prevention’,the authorities and experts now appear to recognise that a distinction needs tobe drawn between the causes of migration and the vulnerability factors thatlead to exploitation (Ginzburg 2002). From interviews conducted in Vientianein February 2007, it is clear that the factors that motivate people to migraterange from extreme poverty and necessity to, as one interviewee coined it, thetemptations of ‘materialism’. But as Phil Marshall (2005: 150) points out,factors such as poverty cannot be blamed as the cause of trafficking. Rather,trafficking involves exploitation, and a ‘lack of education, lack of legal statusand problematic individual situations, certainly contribute to the vulnerabilityof individuals and groups to being trafficked, but they cannot be said to“cause” it’ (Marshall 2005: 151). Marshall (2005: 151) goes on to suggest thatan emphasis on factors such as poverty and education shifts the focus from


destination countries to countries of origin and ignores the role played by themiddle actors, such as traffickers and other exploiters.

A similar message was echoed by Mr Leka Kanya (Acting Minister ofLabour and Social Welfare), who stated in a speech during the mediacampaign against human trafficking that:

The reasons behind the migration among Lao people going back and forth toThailand are because of the convenience of similarity in language, family and rela-tives relationship among people who have been connected with one another for along time as family members and visit and help each other including helping eachother to find jobs. Because of these facilitating conditions there exists the problemof migration without proper travelling documents among people who go to work inThailand which cause them to get trapped in the pool of human trafficking. (Kanya2005; see also Vientiane Times, 11 July 2005)

However, information about how people are moving – whether they are‘recruited’ by people who are part of a chain of traffickers – is unclear. Forexample, some interviewees found it difficult to say whether brokers orrecruiters at the Laos end were part of large international networks. Otherinterviewees suggested that brokers and recruiters in Laos are generally peopleknown to the victims. As one interviewee expressed it, ‘the big fish are inThailand’. Further, it was suggested that there was no place for money-laun-dering laws in the Lao PDR, as brokers operate on a cash basis. The profilegained from the interviews was that victims move willingly from the LaoPDR, but that exploitation occurs at destination.

In accordance with these trends, the Laotian authorities have placed a newemphasis on addressing factors that lead to reliance upon brokers and possibleend exploitation. For example, whereas previously fines were inflicted formigrating without permission, in early 2007 a new decree from the PrimeMinister’s office means that it will no longer be necessary to have a passportto exit the Lao PDR. This removes one vulnerability factor – the opportunityfor forged documents to be provided. The emphasis on ‘safe migration’includes educating people about the risks of using brokers. The Laotianauthorities recognise that people seek assistance to migrate because they lackknowledge. But as we will explain, the laws that are based upon the assump-tions behind the CTOC framework are not conducive to this approach.

Before turning to the Cambodian situation, it is important to note one otheressential distinguishing feature of the Laotian landscape. This refers to theimportant role of the ‘mass organisations’ of the socialist People’s DemocraticRepublic – the Lao Youth Union (LYU) and the Lao Women’s Union (LWU),which work through the grassroots to instil ‘Lao values’ in young people. TheLYU focuses on research, awareness-raising and vocational training. TheLWU runs two shelters for returned victims of trafficking. Both organisations


are very influential and significant in providing a certain amount of ‘socialcontrol’ over young people and women through their awareness-raising activ-ities in schools and villages.

Cambodia: Perceptions and Realities

Cambodia, which has a population of 14 million, is currently in transition froma communist or socialist one-party legal system of over 20 years to a liberaldemocratic system based on a constitutional monarchy. From the mid-nine-teenth to mid-twentieth centuries, Cambodia was colonised by the French.Cambodia became independent from its French colonisers in 1953, but thelegal system remained largely unchanged until the turbulence of the 1970s andbeyond (Coghill 2000: 2.10–2.12). This turbulent history has had major detri-mental effects on Cambodia’s economic, social and human development. Theeconomy of Cambodia still suffers from the effects of decades of war, with theaverage Cambodian being poorer and less educated than his or her neighboursin surrounding countries, as Cambodia’s position on the UNDP HumanDevelopment Index indicates (ARTIP 2005). In addition to the challengesassociated with establishing a liberal democratic state, the government ofCambodia has overwhelming economic, social and human development issuesto address.

The crime of trafficking was unrecognised in Cambodia until the late1990s. The literature links the crime to the expansion of the sex industry,economic liberalisation, uneven economic development and increasedtourism. Cambodia is a country of origin, transit and destination for traffickedmen, women and children. Women and children are trafficked to Thailand andMalaysia for sexual exploitation, as well as for labour exploitation in factoriesand as domestic servants, whilst men are trafficked for labour exploitation inthe agriculture, fishing and construction sectors. Women are trafficked toTaiwan for false marriages. Children are trafficked to Vietnam and Thailandfor begging and street selling, and are trafficked around the world for adop-tion. In terms of Cambodia as a country of destination, women and childrenare trafficked there for labour and commercial sexual exploitation fromThailand, Vietnam, China and Malaysia. There is also internal trafficking fromthe rural areas to the cities for sexual exploitation. Cambodia is a transit coun-try for mainly Vietnamese victims (see ARTIP 2005; UN 2006; USDepartment of State 2007).

As in the Lao PDR, there is a large number of young people coming ontothe labour market each year. One estimate puts the figure at 100 000 (confi-dential interview). Although trafficking into the sex industry is perhaps themost well-known occurrence of trafficking within Cambodia (to the extent, asone interviewee said, of sex work becoming ‘normalised’), it is also recog-


nised that trafficking occurs into other industries. According to the AsiaRegional Cooperation to Prevent People Trafficking (ARCPPT) report, 14 000women work in the sex industry in Cambodia (ARCPPT 2005: 15). Many arelured into this work through the false promise of legitimate work in the city.Others are kidnapped and forced to work in brothels. But equally as many(mainly men) are trafficked into other industries, such as factories, the agri-cultural sector and fishing industries. Men, women and children can be forcedinto becoming domestic workers, fisherfolk, farm workers, factory workers orconstruction workers. They are forced to work long hours with little or no pay.Such exploitative labour also exposes them to other risks, such as rape, abuse,drug use and debt bondage (ARCPPT 2005: 17).

There are other factors contributing to the trafficking issue in Cambodiathat distinguish it from the situation in the Lao PDR. First, there is a largepopulation of ethnic Vietnamese living in Cambodia whose legal status is notacknowledged by the Cambodian authorities. There is evidence of a highproportion of trafficking amongst this group – both traffickers and victims.Second, there is evidence of a cult of virgin sex in Cambodia. Eleanor Browndiscusses in depth the existence and popularity of the virginity trade inCambodia. She argues that this trade ‘clearly shapes the patterns of traffickingwithin Cambodia, and given the extensive cultural links between virginity loss… and the sex industry, it is arguably the largest factor contributing to entryinto commercial sex’ (Brown 2007: 57). One interviewee suggested thatbetween 30 per cent and 40 per cent of parents sell their children for sex.Further, with the AIDS/HIV (acquired immune deficiency syndrome / humanimmunodeficiency virus) epidemic increasing, more and more babies arebeing put up for adoption. However, agents have been known to visit poor,vulnerable people with offers of money and food in exchange for their babies(ARCPPT 2005: 19). It is claimed that corrupt government officials thenarrange the necessary paperwork and allow the adoption to proceed (ARCPPT2005: 19).

Unlike the Lao PDR, where there is an appearance of ‘social control’ by the‘mass organisations’, the situation in Cambodia suggests a breakdown ofsocial norms and a lack of central control. According to one developmentworker, the use of pornography among young people is high. Attitudestowards women and sex are said to account for the high level of sexualexploitation. Despite the growth in areas such as tourism, which is a positivemeasure for development and transparency of government, corruption contin-ues (Douglas 2003: 3). It is important to note that, according to Douglas (2003:4), not only do government officials turn a blind eye to trafficking, but someare even directly involved in the trafficking of human beings.

As in the Lao PDR, the picture of who the traffickers are in Cambodia isunclear. According to some reports, the networks range from small-scale, ad


hoc, opportunistic arrangements, to well-organised and profitable ones;begging and the selling of flowers is usually organised by crime rings whoexploit ‘workers’ (see generally ARTIP 2005; UN 2006; US Department ofState 2007). But more information is available on trafficking routes. Most traf-ficked women and children work in Thailand, and generally come fromCambodian towns close to the Thai border, in which case they may use well-known routes. Derks et al. (2006: 32) describe trafficking as a ‘cottage indus-try’ in the Mekong region. They point out that no specific studies have beenconducted of the criminal networks, and suggest that research points toinvolvement of family members, neighbours and friends (as in Laos). It seemsthat in Cambodia, as in the Lao PDR, the traffickers range from small- tolarge-scale networks.

Conclusions on Laotian and Cambodian Trafficking Patterns

In both countries, it appears that at least a high proportion of the trafficking‘problem’ arises from labour exploitation outside of the sex industry, and thatboth young men and young women are the principal targets. It also appearsthat many victims of trafficking are moving of their own accord across theborders of their country. In relation to both countries, evidence about howvictims of trafficking move (whether as part of a large network or otherwise)is hazy.

These conclusions point to various issues concerning the application of thetrafficking definition to the Laotian and Cambodian situations. The definitionof trafficking in the Palermo Trafficking Protocol can be broken down intothree interlinked elements:

1. conduct associated with moving people (across or within borders);2. involving coercive or deceptive means;3. for the purpose of exploitation.

This definition depends on a clear distinction between smuggled and traf-ficked persons that may not be entirely appropriate to the Laotian andCambodian situations – that is, stage 1 may not occur. This suggests that thefocus of anti-trafficking measures should be upon preventing the end exploita-tion (stage 3 of the definition as set out above). It is for this reason that the talkin Laos and Cambodia has turned to ‘safe migration’, to minimise the risk thatpeople will be persuaded to move through ‘coercive or deceptive means’(stage 2), and to minimise the role that intermediaries can play. In Laos, inresponse to that concern, the government has moved to relax the requirementsfor leaving the country.

Another consequence of the Trafficking Protocol definition in this context


is that too much focus on movers and intermediaries (at stages 1 and 2) can becounterproductive. As we explain below, this flows from a predominantlycriminal justice response.

Moreover, as the debates relate (McSherry and Kneebone 2008), the defin-ition is perceived to have a gendered focus that may not be appropriate in theLaotian and Cambodian situations, where labour exploitation that involvesboth sexes constitutes a high proportion of the problem. A focus on sexualexploitation may lead to overly gendered responses (such as anti-prostitutionmeasures, or measures that apply only to women and children, as in the caseof the Lao PDR), to the detriment of measures against labour exploitation.

LEGAL AND CRIMINAL JUSTICE MEASURES

The main purpose of the CTOC is to promote interstate cooperation for effec-tively combating transnational organised crime (Article 1). It has two maingoals: (1) to eliminate differences amongst national legal systems; (2) to setstandards for domestic law. In complying with these goals, the Lao PDR andCambodia have been assisted by COMMIT and other regional processes thatspace prevents us from examining. The specific purposes of the TraffickingProtocol as set out in Article 2 are:

• To prevent and combat trafficking in persons, particularly women andchildren;

• To protect and assist victims of trafficking, with respect for their humanrights; and

• To promote cooperation between states.

In both the Lao PDR and Cambodia, National Plans of Action have beenprepared under the regional COMMIT process, and the Trafficking Protocolhas been enacted into law. Thus in both countries there is formal compliancewith the CTOC framework and the Trafficking Protocol. However, the mannerin which the trafficking definition has been enacted in each country reveals thedifference between the systems of governance of the two countries, asdescribed in this section. This in turn illustrates the different ways in which therule of law operates in each country.

In some ways there are broad similarities between the legal systems of thetwo countries. Specialist anti-trafficking units have been established in eachcountry (through some support from the COMMIT process), but both the LaoPDR and Cambodia suffer from serious ‘capacity issues’ in their legal systems(UNDP 2003; for an analysis of the Cambodian situation see ARCPPT 2005:48–52). There is a significant shortage of qualified lawyers, judges and pros-


ecutors in both countries, and questions are raised about the independence ofthese office-holders.

However, two factors help to distinguish the criminal justice response ofthe two countries. First, in Cambodia there is an overload of preventive workand non-governmental organisation (NGO) presence, whereas in the Lao PDRthe inclusion of NGOs in anti-trafficking work is more strictly controlled bythe state. Second, whereas in the Lao PDR the presence of corruption in thelegal processes is acknowledged (Haughton 2006), in Cambodia corruption isall-pervasive. As we shall see, this has led to the situation in the latter countryof NGOs taking over the primary prosecuting role.

The Lao PDR

The legal framework and trafficking lawsThe Lao PDR adopted a Constitution in 1991 that was reviewed in 2003. TheLaotian government was still in the process of drafting a National Action Plan,as part of the COMMIT process, at the end of 2009. On 22 October 2004, theLao Prime Minister, pursuant to a Decree Pertaining to Establishing theNational Committee on Human Trafficking, established the NationalCommittee on Human Trafficking. An anti-trafficking unit has been created,the Lao Anti People Trafficking Unit (LAPTU), situated within theDepartment of Police and Immigration, which is incorporated within theMinistry of Public Security. Additionally, the Ministry of Labour and SocialWelfare (MLSW) handles issues concerning prevention and assists victims oftrafficking. As mentioned above, the role of the mass organisations, the LYUand LWU, is also important. Although both organisations focus upon preven-tion, their commitment and involvement goes further than this. For example,the LWU was assigned the task of drafting the new Law of the Lao People’sDemocratic Republic on Women’s Development and Protection in 2004. TheLWU also operates the main shelter for rescued victims of trafficking, andcooperates with the MLSW for reintegration of victims.

The 2004 Law on Women’s Development and Protection applies only totrafficking in women and children. It basically uses the CTOC trafficking defi-nition (Article 24) and provides for a penalty of 5–15 years’ imprisonment(Article 49). Importantly it also provides a civil remedy to victims for the costof medical treatment, mental damage, travel and board (Article 52). Mostimportantly, victims are provided with various rights, such as the right to askfor assistance, the right to privacy, and the right not to be prosecuted forcharges such as prostitution or illegal immigration (Article 25). Articles 26 and27 place a burden on the government and the police to investigate traffickingmatters brought to their attention. At the commencement of legal proceedings,police are responsible for referring victims to support services, under Article


28. The obvious limitations of this law are that it applies only to trafficking inwomen and children, and to acts that take place within the Lao PDR.

The Lao government’s next measure in addressing trafficking was toreview the Penal Code (1990) in 2005, and Article 134 was inserted into thisCode. The new provision goes even further than the 2004 Law on theDevelopment and Protection of Women, since it criminalises the trafficking of‘persons’, which includes both men and women. Article 134 also addresses theprosecution of traffickers.

Aside from Article 134, there are existing provisions in the Penal Code thatcan be applied within the trafficking context. These include Article 92 (prohi-bition on trading or abducting humans for ransom), and Article 69 (‘Any indi-vidual who seeks others out, misleads them and/or assists them in movingabroad’ will be subject to penalty). Importantly, prostitution is criminalisedthrough Article 122, while Article 123 of the Penal Code prohibits procure-ment for the purposes of prostitution.

Measuring law enforcementOne consequence of the criminal justice focus of anti-trafficking measures isan intense interest by the international community in the number of successfulprosecutions. In the face of serious ‘rule of law’ capacity issues, the Lao PDRhas struggled to reach its ‘quota’. This is set by the findings of the USTrafficking in Persons (TiP) Report. In 2005, it was reported that the Lao PDRhad five convictions for trafficking-related crimes in 2004, but that it ‘mademinimal efforts to distinguish trafficking victims from returning migrants whohad left the country illegally’ (US Department of State 2005: 140). In the 2006TiP Report, it was noted that the Lao PDR had still not improved its efforts toprosecute traffickers (US Department of State 2006: 160). It appears that by2007, significant progress had been made within Laos to disseminate infor-mation on trafficking laws. The 2007 TiP Report found:

In 2006, the government reported 27 trafficking investigations that resulted in thearrests of 15 suspected traffickers, 12 of whom were prosecuted. The remainingthree suspects were not prosecuted, but were ‘re-educated’ and released. Among the12 prosecutions, three traffickers were convicted and sentenced to an average of sixyears’ imprisonment, five remain incarcerated pending court action, and four are inpre-trial detention pending the results of investigations … There are reports thatsome local government and law enforcement officials profit from trafficking, butthere were no reported investigations or prosecutions of officials for complicity intrafficking. (US Department of State 2007: 133)

The figures quoted above are generally consistent with the information wereceived. However they conceal the reality of the situation. According toanother reliable source, there were 929 persons investigated in 2005, involv-


ing 125 victims, of whom 105 were under 18 years of age. From these inves-tigations, there were 14 arrests and 11 convictions. Thus it can be seen that ahuge amount of effort is concentrated on securing convictions against traf-fickers, but that the rate of success is disproportionate to the problem.

What accounts for this discrepancy? The most consistent explanation thatwe received was the lack of public awareness of the criminality of the issuessurrounding trafficking, and the lack of understanding of its meaning, whichresults in an unwillingness to testify against persons who may be neighboursor relatives. Another issue is the difficulty in obtaining the cooperation ofvictims, who until recently have been punished on return for their illegalmigration. The Lao PDR has also been criticised for its lack of money-laun-dering laws – despite the fact that the value of such laws is questionable, dueto the paucity of funds held in bank accounts.

Unfortunately the TiP Report is influential in determining the level offoreign aid that a country receives, which in the case of developing countriessuch as the Lao PDR may be counterproductive. The criminal justice systemis dependent upon a functioning rule of law, and in this context it is dangerousto penalise countries on the basis of the ‘unilateral’ TiP Report (Gallagher2006: 140). Further, a focus on victim support (to which the Lao PDR is nowturning its attention) will be more efficacious in eliciting evidence about traf-fickers. The Lao PDR experience demonstrates the limits of a criminal justiceresponse in the absence of strong measures for victim support, and the dangerof relying upon cultural assumptions that are not appropriate to the specificsituation. Measures such as the TiP Report impose the standards of a devel-oped country on the developing world.

Cambodia

The legal framework and trafficking lawsTurning to Cambodia, we see the scene is much more complex. Numeroussections of the Cambodian government are addressing the issue of human traf-ficking. Many governmental ministries and departments are involved in thepolicy response to human trafficking, including the Ministry of Justice, theMinistry of Women’s Affairs, the Ministry of Social Affairs and theDepartment of the Interior. There are also seven national task forces oncombating trafficking in Cambodia, all chaired by various ministries.2

The range of government bodies involved reflects a multisectoral approachto trafficking, which is ‘best practice’, given the many and varied issues to beconsidered when addressing human trafficking. However, effective coordina-tion is required when undertaking a multisectoral approach. Unfortunately,coordination across the government bodies appears to be informal and mini-mal at this stage. To this end, a National Plan Against Trafficking in Persons


and Sexual Exploitation was being drafted as of 2008. Most relevant from arule of law perspective are the prosecution activities, which include the enact-ment of a comprehensive legal framework, training the police force, judicialreform, improved victim protection, and legal sector cooperation (copy on filewith the authors).

The Cambodian legal response to trafficking must be understood within itscomplex legal framework, which consists of the 1993 Constitution, lawsenacted before 1993 that are saved under Article 158 of the Constitution, newlaws enacted after 1993, and the United Nations Transitional Authority inCambodia Code (‘UNTAC Code’). Specifically, the Law on Suppression ofKidnapping, Trafficking and Exploitation of Human Beings (1996) and theUNTAC Code make up the trafficking laws of Cambodia. The objective of the1996 law is to suppress the acts of kidnapping of persons for trafficking or saleand the exploitation of persons. The UNTAC Code also contains various crim-inal laws that are relevant to trafficking. But the most interesting part of thisstory is the Draft Anti-Trafficking Law.

From 1999 to 2002, a comprehensive anti-trafficking law (‘Draft Law’)was drafted by a foreign legal expert, under the guidance of the Ministry ofJustice. This was funded by the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF).The Draft Law criminalises a range of offences, including: kidnapping;kidnapping with special purposes; cross-border kidnapping; interference withthe rights of custody; human trafficking with special purposes, such as sexualexploitation; procurement and use for prostitution; the loaning of money inconnection with prostitution; child prostitution; obscenity; child pornography;and indecency. However, there are major concerns about the content of thelaw, and its consistency with the Trafficking Protocol and existing Cambodianlaws.

In addition to the major issue of consistency with the Trafficking Protocol,one concern is that the Draft Law does not comply with the current domesticcriminal law, giving rise to the risk of contradictory and conflicting laws. Thisnot only undermines the rule of law, especially in relation to certainty of thelaw, but also facilitates corruption within the criminal justice system – legalloopholes allow judges to be corrupt within the law. Another major concern isthat the Draft Law (‘draft special law’) is not consistent with the draft compre-hensive substantive criminal law (‘draft general law’). The extent of the incon-sistencies brings into question the efficacy of the draft special law, and willresult in legal confusion, especially when the draft special law is continuallyadjusted to accommodate the draft general law; again, such discrepancies willfacilitate corruption.

Unfortunately, this situation appears to have arisen from there being ‘toomany cooks’ and too many agendas in the pot. Cambodia has many well-inten-tioned donors, advisers and consultants who genuinely want to solve the


myriad of problems facing the country. It is too often assumed that the prob-lems can be resolved by enacting specific legislation – that is, specific legis-lation on anti-trafficking, on domestic violence, on corruption, on disciplinarylaws for public office holders, and so on. These assumptions are made bypeople who do not necessarily have the requisite legal expertise and under-standing about Cambodia’s lack of a basic legal system within which suchlaws can operate.

Some responsibility for the problem should also fall on the Cambodiangovernment, especially the responsible ministries. Yet this is perhaps harsh,given their lack of experience, the deference understandably given to theviews of those from donor countries with strong systems of governance andlaw, and their reliance on donor money for the construction of a functioningsystem of governance and the day-to-day running of the government. In sum,this demonstrates that the rule of law has to operate under very difficultcircumstances.

Law enforcementCambodia led the way in the GMS in the development of a specialist anti-traf-ficking unit. In April 2000 the Law Enforcement Against Sexual Exploitationof Children (LEASEC) Project was developed within the Cambodian Ministryof the Interior, with five international donor agencies led by World VisionInternational and UNICEF. The major outcome of the LEASEC project wasthe formation of the Anti-Human Trafficking Unit. The second phase of thisproject, the Law Enforcement Against Sexual Exploitation and Trafficking ofChildren (LEASETC) Project, provided effective basic and advanced trainingat national and provincial levels, and established a national hotline for traf-ficking victims.

The involvement of the international donor community in Cambodia’s anti-trafficking law enforcement is a continuing theme. In Cambodia, numerousvictim support agencies (which are essentially NGOs) have begun to undertakecriminal investigations in trafficking cases, both reactive (victim-driven) andproactive (intelligence-driven) investigations. The victim support agenciesgather information and evidence sufficient for a conviction, using techniquesthey claim to be based on international standards of evidence identification,preservation and collection in a manner that decreases the risk of corruption ofevidence. The information and evidence is then turned over to the police forprosecution within the normal criminal justice system, with the NGO keepingduplicate copies of all the evidence, to minimise the risk of corruption. The aimof such groups is to secure ‘corruption-proof’ evidence, such as video footageof criminal activities. These investigations are not undertaken in conjunctionwith the Anti-Human Trafficking Unit or frontline police or other authorities,but are undertaken with their knowledge and acquiescence.


The 2004 raid on the AFESIP (Agir pour les Femmes en Situation Précaire– Action for Women in Distressing Circumstances) shelter, however, high-lights the difficulties NGOs and victim support agencies face, the high likeli-hood of official complicity in trafficking, and the broader consequences for therule of law. On 7 December 2004, the Anti-Trafficking Unit rescued 84 peoplefrom a hotel in Phnom Penh that was notorious as a brothel exploiting traf-ficked persons, especially children. After police questioning, the victims weretaken to a shelter run by AFESIP, an NGO that conducts victim support withinshelters in the region. Police arrested eight brothel owners as a result of theraid. The brothel owners were released from custody the next day withoutcharge, and allegedly went to the AFESIP shelter and took 91 women by forcefrom the shelter – that is, the 84 victims rescued the previous day, plus sevenother residents at the shelter. It was alleged that approximately 30 people,some armed with weapons, surrounded the shelter, assaulted AFESIP’s secu-rity guards and one employee, then forced the victims to leave with them incars, some of which had military number plates (Soenthrith and Neubauer2004; Neubauer and Thul 2004: 16). The President of AFESIP noted that twopolicemen from the Ministry of the Interior guarding the shelter at the time ofthe raid were too afraid to intervene, and that eight policemen assigned toguard the shelter the evening before left their posts a short time after arriving(Eckhert 2004; Ereli 2004; Neubauer and Thul 2004: 16; Soenthrith andNeubauer 2004).

The government officially responded to the raid by a Statement of theSpokesman of the Ministry of Interior (‘Statement’) on 12 December 2004.Interestingly, the spokesperson is not named, there is no signature on theStatement, and there is no number assigned to the Statement; these facts aloneraise doubts as to accountability, and willingness to accept responsibility,within government (Neubauer and Thul 2004: 16). The Statement essentiallyclaims that it was relatives of the victims who ‘rescued’ the women and girlsfrom the shelter, not the brothel owners and their accomplices (Spokesman ofthe Ministry of Interior 2004: 2).3 It further noted that the victims were filinga lawsuit against AFESIP for illegal detention and defamation, and had stageda peaceful protest outside the US Embassy ‘to seek justice and reparation fortheir honour and reputation’ (Spokesman of the Ministry of Interior 2004: 3;Shaw and Thul 2004: 17).

The AFESIP incident and the government’s response to it extensivelydamaged Cambodia’s reputation for being willing and able to address officialcomplicity in trafficking, and gave the appearance that the government wasnot prepared to secure a full, impartial and public investigation into the matter.Another lasting impact is the effect this incident has had on victim supportagencies, especially those that run shelters. To this day, most shelters inCambodia are run in complete secrecy, for fear of interference by both crimi-


nals and corrupt officials. From a rule of law perspective, this is a problematicoutcome, because the secret shelters essentially operate beyond legal account-ability.

An Agreement on Guidelines for Practices and Cooperation between theRelevant Government Institutions and Victim Support Agencies in Cases ofHuman Trafficking was signed on 6 February 2007. This Agreement was madebetween several government departments and various NGOs working inCambodia. It outlines the roles and responsibilities of government and victimsupport agencies on topics such as: rescue; victim identification; protection ofvictims; medical and legal issues; evidence and testimony of victims; theservices, conditions and staffing of shelters; the authority of shelters (includ-ing formal authority to operate in Cambodia and their authority vis-à-visvictims); the responsibilities of first-contact agencies; reintegration; and coop-eration between the parties to the agreement. Although all relevant govern-ment agencies and many non-governmental victim support agencies aresignatories, many groups running shelters are not – again placing them beyondgovernmental reach and regulation.

If the role played by NGOs is disregarded, we are left with a very bleakpicture of the Cambodian government’s efforts to rise above corruption andprosecute traffickers. In a report by the Cambodian League for the Promotionand Defence of Human Rights (LICADHO), Violence Against Women inCambodia 2006, the ineffectiveness of the prosecution process was high-lighted. Although Cambodian police would raid brothels to rescue victims,few arrests were made and brothels would not remain closed for very long(LICADHO 2007: 23). Only low-level pimps or traffickers were charged, asmany others were able to bribe their way out of being arrested, and policesometimes persuaded victims to drop complaints against traffickers(LICADHO 2007: 21).

In the 2005 TiP Report, Cambodia was placed in Tier 3 (the lowest) for itsineffective response to trafficking. This arose partly from the AFESIP shelterincident described above. Despite Cambodian police arresting 165 people inrelation to trafficking in 2004, only 24 were successfully prosecuted. Thereport suggested that the high level of corruption within the government andjudiciary appeared to be a key reason for this (US Department of State 2005:77).

The Cambodian government made significant changes to its criminaljustice response to trafficking in 2006. It was thus moved from the Tier 3 tothe Tier 2 Watch List in 2006 – a marginal improvement. Corruption withinthe government was exposed, as four police officials associated with anti-traf-ficking work were arrested and prosecuted. In terms of prosecutions, it wasfound that:


In 2005, the Cambodian police reported conducting 67 operations, resulting in thearrest of 111 perpetrators and the rescue of 164 victims. The Ministry of Justicereported the prosecution and conviction of at least 45 traffickers during the year,double the number in 2004. (US Department of State 2006: 84)

The 2007 TiP Report also commented on the improvements made in fight-ing corruption and increasing prosecutions. In terms of prosecution, it wasfound that:

Cambodia’s police investigated 49 cases of human trafficking involving 65 perpe-trators, of which 10 convictions were handed down over the past year, with penal-ties ranging from 1 to 18 years’ imprisonment. In 2006, 37 cases were tried in thePhnom Penh Municipal Court, resulting in the conviction of 53 perpetrators, withpenalties ranging from 5 to 24 years’ imprisonment. (US Department of State 2007:74)

Moreover, more high-ranking officials were exposed for corruption:

The former Deputy Director of the Police Anti-Human Trafficking and JuvenileProtection Department was convicted for complicity in trafficking and sentenced tofive years’ imprisonment; two officials under his supervision were also convictedand sentenced to seven years’ imprisonment. Police arrested two military officersand one member of the military police for running brothels and trafficking; one wassentenced to a five-year suspended sentence and fined five million riels ($1250).(US Department of State 2007: 74)

Conclusions on Legal and Criminal Justice Responses

The experience of both countries shows the limits of a criminal justiceresponse in the absence of a functioning legal system and respect for the ruleof law. In Cambodia, it seems that NGOs have filled the gap left by thegovernment in relation to prosecutions, and following the AFESIP incident, inrelation to victim support. The Laotian experience suggests the limits of acriminal justice response in the absence of strong measures for victim support.The Cambodian experience shows the dangers of letting that support be‘outsourced’ by the government and beyond its control. Victim support is vitalfor the collection of information leading to prosecutions.

CONCLUSION

As in other regions, trafficking is a recently recognised problem in the GMSand has a rapidly changing profile. A recent International Labour Organization(ILO) paper estimates that globally 12.3 million people are victims of forcedlabour, of which 2.4 million victims are trafficked, and of that cohort around


43 per cent are trafficked for the purpose of commercial sexual exploitationand around one-third are in agriculture, private households and sweatshops(ILO 2008: 3). The picture in the GMS appears to replicate this pattern,suggesting that anti-immigration measures are likely to be frustrated.

In the GMS, there is need for continual adaptation to the problem, which ismade possible by dialogues that have developed at the regional level.Unfortunately, the process for making laws to meet the situation does notalways appear to keep pace with developments. Further, the mechanisms forlaw enforcement are dependent on weak ‘rules of law’ and, due to the lack ofeffective victim-centred approaches at this stage, efforts to prevent traffickingare frustrated.

As the discussion in this chapter demonstrates, criminal justice responses,which are consistent with the CTOC framework, are the dominant legalresponse in the GMS. But the measures for its success suggest that progress isslow. A comparison of the Lao PDR and Cambodia demonstrates the need forcohesive and coordinated responses. The Lao PDR, which is a smaller coun-try, appears to have more cohesive social control, partly through its massorganisations. By contrast, the anti-trafficking fight in Cambodia is caught ina vicious circle: in the absence of a strong government, it appears to have beencaptured by outsiders, and corruption is rife. The major lesson from thisaccount is that urgent attention is needed to ‘rule of law’ issues and to victimprotection.

NOTES

1. The research that forms the basis of this chapter was conducted in 2007 and is accurate as atFebruary 2008. The Cambodian Draft Law discussed in this chapter was finally adopted inFebruary 2009. Our thanks to the Australia Research Council who funded this research undera project entitled ‘Australia’s Response to Trafficking in Women: Towards A Model For theRegulation of Forced Migration in the Asia-Pacific Region’; to Madhavi Ligam for researchassistance in the preparation of this chapter; and to Dani Salinger for editing assistance.

2. The COMMIT Taskforce, chaired by the Minister of Women’s Affairs; the National Taskforceon the implementation of the Memorandum of Understanding between Cambodia andThailand on Trafficking, chaired by the Minister of Social Affairs; the National CoordinationTeam on Undertaking the Repatriation of Trafficked Children and Women through theCambodian–Thai Border, chaired by the Minister of Social Affairs; the Cambodian NationalCouncil for Children (CNCC) Sub-Commission on Trafficking and Sexual Exploitation ofChildren, chaired by the Minister of the Interior; the Cambodian National Council forChildren (CNCC) Sub-Commission on Child Labour and other Forms of Exploitation,chaired by the Minister of the Interior; the Criminal Justice Technical Working Group onHuman Trafficking, chaired by the Minister of Justice; and the Cambodian National Councilon Women, chaired by the Minister for Women’s Affairs.

3. ‘[T]here were reactions from [the victim] women and the families, husbands, relatives andparents for their home return, subsequently resulting [in] commotion and gate breaking fortheir escape. So there was no abduction of those women by armed assailant.’


SIGNIFICANT ADDITIONAL OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS,SPEECHES AND REPORTS

Bounnhang Vorachit (2004), Prime Minister Decree Pertaining to Establishing theNational Committee on Human Trafficking (Vientiane: Office of the PrimeMinister), 2 October.

Kingdom of Cambodia (2007), Agreement on Guidelines for Practices andCooperation between the Relevant Government Institutions and Victim SupportAgencies in Cases of Human Trafficking (Cambodia: Kingdom of Cambodia), 6February.

MacLeod, K., L. Arensen and K. Keang (2004), A Study on Origins and VulnerabilityFactors for Trafficked Female Sex Workers in Four Cities (PACT, US Departmentof State and WORTH), at http://www.no-trafficking.org/content/web/05reading_rooms/Cambodia/a_study_on_origins_and_vulnerability_factors.pdf, accessed 5March 2008.

Memorandum of Understanding between Cambodia and Thailand on Cooperation inthe Employment of Workers, 31 May 2003, at http://www.no-trafficking.org/content/PDF/mou_cambodiathailand_on_cooperation_in_the_employment_of_wo.pdf, accessed 22 July 2008.

Memorandum of Understanding Between The Government of the Kingdom ofCambodia and the Government of the Kingdom of Thailand on BilateralCooperation for Eliminating Trafficking in Children and Women and AssistingVictims of Trafficking, 31 May 2003, at http://www.artipproject.org/artip/05_laws/mou/bi/MOU%20Traffcking%20Cambodia-Thai_English.pdf, accessed 7 February2008.

Memorandum of Understanding Between the Government of Lao People’s DemocraticRepublic and the Government of the Kingdom of Thailand on Labour Co-operation,October 2002, at http://www.no-trafficking.org/content/laws_agreement/lao%20pdr.htm, accessed 6 February 2008.

Memorandum of Understanding Between the Government of the Lao People’sDemocratic Republic and the Government of the Kingdom of Thailand onCooperation to Combat Trafficking in Persons, Especially Women and Children, 13July 2005, at http://www.artipproject.org/artip/05_laws/mou/bi/Thai-Laos%20MOU%202005_English.pdf, accessed 7 February 2008.

Memorandum of Understanding on Cooperation against Trafficking in Persons in theGreater Mekong Sub-region, 29 October 2004 (‘COMMIT MOU’), at http://no-traf-ficking.org/content/commit_process/COMMIT_som2.htm, accessed 7 February2008.

UNDP (2003), Evaluation of the Implementation of the Rule of Law in LPDR,1997–2003: Lessons and Challenges (Vientiane: UNDP).

UN Inter-Agency Project on Human Trafficking in the Greater Mekong Sub-Region(2003), Project Document Version VI, November (Bangkok).

UN Inter-Agency Project on Human Trafficking in the Greater Mekong Sub-Region(2005), Project of the Mekong Sub-region: Project Revision, RAS/00/Ho/C/JB/31(Bangkok).


9. Exit, rehabilitation and returning toprostitution: experiences of domestictrafficking victims in the Philippines

Sallie Yea

INTRODUCTION

One of the main debates helping to construct discursively the issue of sex traf-ficking, and responses to it, is ‘the prostitution debate’.1 The lines of thisdebate are drawn between those who see prostitution as legitimate work (thesex work perspective) or as harm to women (the abolitionist and genderedviolence perspective). In this chapter I explore the contours and implicationsof this debate for understanding the lives of victims of domestic sex traffick-ing victims in Cebu City, the Philippines and argue that, taken collectively, thisdebate can restrict how experiences and circumstances of victims are under-stood and framed. In particular, I suggest that the preoccupation of this debatewith the notion of ‘choice’ draws attention away from another, more signifi-cant question, namely how and why victims of sex trafficking with no priorexperience or wish to work in the sex industry often return to it after their traf-ficking ends and, in many cases, after they have availed themselves of supportprogrammes for their rehabilitation. These patterns indicate that the trajecto-ries of the victims might shift over time and within the context of having beentrafficked (see Yea forthcoming).

The chapter takes its cue from some recent literature addressing the inter-secting issues of migration, trafficking and prostitution. A third perspectivehas emerged in this literature more recently that steps outside the opposingforced–voluntary dichotomy on prostitution. For example, in her examinationof the Cambodian context, Sandy (2006: 449) shows how ‘elements of indi-vidual choice and coercion are intricately intertwined in women’s experi-ences’. In her research she develops the notion of ‘constrained choice’ toreveal a third position in prostitution, in which the women’s decisions andmotivations can be understood as neither completely forced nor voluntary.Similarly, the concept of the ‘willing victim’ has gone some way to breakingdown the juxtaposition inherent in the prostitution debate by suggesting that

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women can enter prostitution under conditions of trafficking, but come toaccept their situations and therefore may willingly remain in prostitution.Implied in these two concepts is the existence of degrees of complicity andconstraint.

Another related strand of recent research focuses on the psychologicalimpacts of prostitution. This also has salience for the way the prostitutiondebate relates to trafficking. For example, one study focusing on minors(adolescents) in prostitution in Taiwan has found that many undergo a psycho-logical transformation after first entering prostitution, particularly where themode of entry is characterised by elements of deceit, debt bondage or unwill-ingness. They describe: ‘Four main stages of adaptation in attitudes were iden-tified: resistance, development of interpersonal connections, self-injury andloss of hope, and acceptance of prostitution’ (Hwang and Bedford 2004: 142).This conceptualisation is useful here, since it points to the complexities in theexperiences of those who engage in prostitution by adding the element of timeto discussions. It is also important in drawing attention to another neglecteddimension of trafficking – namely, what happens to victims after they exit traf-ficking situations and, in particular, what circumstances (including prior experi-ence of being trafficked) may draw them back into the sex industry. HereHwang and Bedford (2003, 2004) identify the importance of feelings of initialrelief that are often only short-lived and that can come to be replaced by asense of disappointment and, ultimately a return to prostitution. Drawing onthis literature, this chapter explores questions of how and why victims of sextrafficking may re-enter prostitution voluntarily at a later stage, and how thismight relate to their prior experiences of trafficking.

Discussion in this chapter is based on one month’s fieldwork duringMarch–April 2006 at Balay Isidora rehabilitation centre in Cebu City, whereall current and several past clients participated. Balay Isidora was establishedwith the aim of rehabilitating those girls, young women, mothers and pregnantwomen who are victims of commercial sexual exploitation (CSE) within themain red-light districts of Cebu City. The Centre is open to trafficking victimsand those not trafficked but who nonetheless wish to leave exploitativecircumstances in prostitution; nevertheless, the vast majority of clients havebeen trafficked into prostitution as their initial mode of entry into the sexindustry.

Through the rehabilitation programme offered, these women and girls aregiven the opportunity to leave situations of sexual exploitation, to overcometheir traumatic experiences, and to start a new life. The staff accompanies andsupports these clients in providing psychosocial care, medical treatment,educational and professional training programmes and preparatory courses forpregnant women. Moreover, they offer training units concerning income-generating activities, in order to prepare the clients for an economically inde-


pendent existence after the period of rehabilitation in the Centre. The Centreis able to offer rehabilitation measures for 28 women and girls (including thosewho are pregnant, mothers with children, and singles) and 18 small children atthe same time (that is, 46 clients in total) (Balay Isidora, n.d.).

The chapter begins with an overview of the prostitution debate as it isapplied to sex trafficking. I then introduce the context for the research in thePhilippines and Cebu City. The participants and methodology for the researchare briefly discussed. The main part of the chapter explores the complex posi-tions of trafficked women and girls as they negotiate post-trafficking futures,both within and outside the sex industry in Cebu City. I also reflect on someof the limitations of recovery programmes, such as those offered by BalayIsidora, in enabling clients to realise long-term futures outside of the sexindustry or to re-enter the sex industry under conditions and through decisionsthat are markedly different from those that characterised their initial entry.

THE PROSTITUTION DEBATE IN SEX TRAFFICKING

Although sex trafficking is only one of four internationally recognised formsof human trafficking, it is the one that is most politically and morallycontentious because it involves debates about prostitution. Sex traffickingaside, discussions about ‘prostitution’ and ‘sex work’ more generally are farfrom neutral activities. Even the simple choice to use one term over the otherimplies a political standpoint in relation to what prostitution means, and tobecome situated within moral and ideological discourses that surround it.Further, this debate has the potential to want to situate (pigeonhole) all whowork with, research or support migrants in sex industries globally. Moreimportant is the ability of these discourses to pigeonhole the women in prosti-tution who are at their centre. As Nencel (2001: 4) rightly points out: ‘thesevalue-laden discourses effect women’s agency profoundly and are tightlywoven into their performance as prostitutes … The possibilities for change,and improvement in the situation, are limited to alternatives within thesediscourses’. It is for this reason that, even if one does not feel comfortable withthe extreme dichotomies or moral imperatives that operate in this debate, it isimportant to address it for the organising potential it can exert in relation notonly to prostitution but also, more importantly for this chapter, sex trafficking.

Under this divide, prostitution is either viewed as inherently exploitative,harmful and risky (whether it involves trafficking or not), or that it only poten-tially produces these conditions of exploitation, harm and risk. In the formercase, the only viable solution offered is to dismantle sex industries – for exam-ple, through criminalisation of prostitution, or provision of exit programmes.This position constitutes the core of the abolitionist perspective. Conversely,

Experiences of domestic trafficking victims in the Philippines 155

the latter group maintains that the potential for exploitation can be overcomethrough efforts to empower and educate sex workers and, in some cases, theirclients. This is the sex worker rights perspective. Central to this disagreementis a broader debate about choice: fundamental to sex worker perspectives is theview that if a woman chooses to work in prostitution, her choice should berespected and efforts made to ensure safe and fair conditions of her work. Thusemerges the conceptualisation of prostitution as a (legitimate) form of work.This is a position that anti-prostitution and abolitionist feminists do not accept,instead arguing that prostitution is male violence against women, not work, andthat no woman in prostitution would actively choose to be there. As Gulcur andIlkkaracan (2002: 412) suggest, the abolitionists ‘base their arguments on theprinciple that women’s bodies are the site of women’s oppression, and that themale use of female bodies for sex is about power, and not about sex’.Trafficking thus clearly emerges as a central lobbying point for the abolition-ists’ project. Ironically – and this is a point that is rarely conceded by thoseinvolved in this debate – despite these moral and ideological differences aroundchoice, harm and work, both sides share the common purpose of workingtowards the prevention, minimisation or elimination of conditions of harm, riskand exploitation in the sex industry. Further, all those concerned would claimto act in the interests of advancing the human rights of those at their centre.

Yet this is where the agreement usually ends. There are three strands to thisdebate that emerge from the fundamental disagreement about the meaning andexperience of prostitution that are briefly considered here. These strands are:agency versus victimhood; structure versus agency; and innocence versusguilt. Here I briefly consider these strands as they specifically relate to sextrafficking, since feminist and sex worker discourses on trafficking have takenon the political overtones of debates about prostitution.

Agency versus Victimhood

Moral condemnation of prostitution underwrites the more conservative anti-trafficking feminist organisations. Barry (1979: 40), founder of the CoalitionAgainst Trafficking in Women (CATW), is often cited as the most outspokenproponent of this position, suggesting that trafficked women and girls can bedefined as female sexual slaves where ‘women or girls cannot change theimmediate conditions of their existence; where regardless of how they got intothose conditions they cannot get out; and where they are subject to sexualviolence and exploitation’. Whilst, on the one hand, Barry’s description isuseful in highlighting the severe violence and exploitation to which traffickedwomen and girls are often subject, the other implication of this definition isthat these women and girls are passive, powerless and have no capacity to alteror reduce violence and exploitation in their situations.


Doezema (2000: 47), in critiquing such understandings, identifies anemerging international discourse of trafficked women, constructed largely bythe media and various non-governmental organisations (NGOs), that derivesfrom the trope of sexual slavery and revolves around images of ‘innocent,sexless, “non-adults” or as the oppressed sex of backward countries’. Contraryto the thrust of many of these images, Doezema further argues that, instead,trafficked women and girls should be seen as ‘agents endowed with the abil-ity to think, to act and to resist’. Wijers (1998: 70) similarly recognises that:‘women who have become victims of trafficking cannot be classified aspassive or stupid’. In this sense, the critiquing of images of trafficked womenand girls as passive victims is an enterprise that receives impetus from sexworker arguments that sex workers should not be viewed as somehow falselyconscious or completely lacking agency in the choice and decisions they makein their lives and for their livelihoods.

Law (1998, 2000) provides one example of the ways in which the recentlyemerging problem of HIV/AIDS (human immunodeficiency virus / acquiredimmune deficiency syndrome) in sex work is unsettling the dominant repre-sentation of prostituted women in South East Asia as ‘victims’. In this case,those who work with women in prostitution, particularly in the areas of healthand education, have recognised the need to see these women as agentsprecisely because it would be quite impossible to empower them to takecontrol of their sexual health, as well as other aspects of their health, bycontinuing to view them as passive victims of male violence and exploitation.In this case, ideological divides over sexual slavery and sex work matter lessthan a third position, in which women’s – albeit constrained – agency is recog-nised and supported, and in which they are seen as part of the solution ratherthan at the core of ‘the problem’.2

Agency versus Structure

Arguments about agency versus structure in prostitution tend to relate partic-ularly to the motivations for women to enter prostitution. In the case ofmigrant women from developing countries, abolitionists generally explainwomen’s decisions in terms of structural conditions emerging from thedynamics of economic globalisation, national development, women’s socio-economic status and gender roles, and the ways these are informed by patriar-chal cultural precepts that together produce both a lack of employmentopportunities for women in their home countries and simultaneously rendermore developed countries attractive destinations for work. In short, abolition-ists explain Third World women’s entry into prostitution according to a rangeof deterministic constraints that either render (migrant) prostitution as the onlyjob available for these women, or else make women who wish to migrate


abroad for other work opportunities vulnerable to trafficking. In both cases,abolitionists would have it that these women have no choice other than to workabroad in prostitution.

Sex worker perspectives would argue, conversely, that women’s decisionsto enter prostitution abroad are made in the context of knowledge (howeverfiltered or partial) about both the type and conditions of work in other coun-tries. This does not discount the possibility of women being trafficked, sincethey are often misled about the conditions of migrant prostitution, particularlythe existence of a migration debt or contract that is commonly repaid underconditions that are not initially agreed to. In short, many migrant women inprostitution are complicit, rather than compelled into their positions, andtherefore do exercise choice, which does not necessarily mean that the infor-mation they receive about their work is always or completely correct.

Innocence versus Guilt

It is easy for abolitionists to sustain a view of sex-trafficked women, and moreparticularly girls, as innocent victims if they also claim that these women andgirls are duped or tricked into prostitution. The more extreme the form ofrecruitment into prostitution and the less women and girls are able to assertagency, such as in cases of physical abduction or being sold, the easier it is toproclaim the innocence of the victim. It is far more difficult to make suchclaims of innocence if the victim agrees to her migration and/or if she knowsabout prostitution beforehand. The legitimacy of victimhood is an area ofparticular contestation in debates on sex trafficking: it is much more difficultto proclaim victimhood if a women knows she is entering prostitution, if sheremains in prostitution under her own ‘free will’ in the destination, and/or ifshe knowingly uses fraudulent means to secure her entry into the destinationcountry.

This chapter does not hold to either of these two positions, which tend tooversimplify the experiences of women and girls trafficked into prostitution.It is important that research on trafficking for commercial sexual exploitationavoids the pressure to fall into line with either of these positions and makecases fit a particular view. The approach to the research is important toconsider, and in this vein the research on which this chapter draws takesLather’s (1991, as cited in Gatenby and Humphries 2000: 100) advice against‘imposition and reification on the part of the researcher’, in which: ‘In thename of emancipation, researchers impose meanings on situations rather thanconstructing meaning through negotiation with research participants’. Thefollowing discussion attempts to illustrate some of the complexities in thepositions of women and girls trafficked for commercial sexual exploitationwhich the binaries inherent in the prostitution debate do not easily capture.


SEX TRAFFICKING IN THE PHILIPPINES AND CEBUCITY

Filipino women and girls (Filipinas) have been trafficked internally and inter-nationally for prostitution since at least the late 1980s. Many more enter pros-titution ‘voluntarily’, although many of these are often initially pushed intoprostitution by a range of factors of vulnerability, such as poverty or experi-ences of sexual abuse. Within the Philippines, prostitution districts are prolific,being concentrated around United States and Philippines military bases, portsand popular tourist areas, with the latter contributing to the Philippines’ noto-rious reputation as a major sex tourism destination in Asia. Cebu City isarguably the most infamous sex tourism destination in the Philippines, and itsprolific prostitution industry is comprised of thousands of women and girls,both trafficked and voluntarily entering the sector.3 Further, the initiation ofjoint military exercises by Filipino and American military forces (known asBalikatan) recently in the southern Mindanao region of the Philippines hasbeen cited as providing a catalyst for the establishment of a large-scale prosti-tution sector involving both trafficked and under-aged women and girls.

The Philippines government began to pay increased attention to the prob-lem of human trafficking in 2003, with the introduction of a new Anti-Trafficking in Persons Act (Republic Act No 9208) and the establishment of anational task force on trafficking (the Inter-Agency Council AgainstTrafficking, or IACAT), whose task it is to coordinate, monitor and oversee theimplementation of the Act. The Act makes illegal:

[the] recruitment, transportation, transfer or harbouring, or receipt of a person, withor without the person’s or victim’s consent, within or across national borders for thepurpose of exploitation such as sexual exploitation, forced labour services, slaveryor practices similar to slavery, and removal and sale of organs or other similar acts.4

The Act closely corresponds with the United Nations (2000a) definition ofhuman trafficking, on which it was largely modelled. In addition, in November2003, 24 government bodies, law enforcement agencies, religious and busi-ness groups, NGOs and the transport sector formed the Multi-SectoralAlliance against Trafficking in Persons, as also mandated in the Act. Althoughthe Philippines is remarkably progressive in its responses to human traffickingcompared with many of its Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN)counterparts, it is fair to say that the government has been more successful inits efforts to curb international than domestic trafficking. The situation in CebuCity certainly confirms this.

Based on the estimates of two key informants, there were between 8000 and10 000 prostituted women and girls in Cebu City at the time of the fieldwork.


Of these, approximately 40 per cent (3000–4000) are minors (that is, under 18years of age), and approximately 80 per cent (6000–8000) originate from areasother than Cebu City (primarily from Mindanao, but also with substantialnumbers from other parts of the Visayas region, such as Bohol and Leyte) (keyinformant interviews with Fr. Heinz Kulueke and Belen sa Cebu staff, March2006). The main destinations for prostituted women and girls in Cebu City arethe red-light districts of Lapu Lapu City (mainly operating KTV bars, clubsand casas5); Kamangayan (a barangay or suburb in central Cebu City wheremost of the prostituted women and girls work from small casas); Colon Street(an area in central Cebu City close to Kamangayan where street prostitution ismost prevalent); the Port area (where akyat barko or ship prostitution, andstreet prostitution, is prevalent); Uptown (where KTV bars are most preva-lent); and the massage parlours and saunas scattered throughout the city.

There are several manifestations of prostitution operating in Cebu City. Theseinclude: sexy dancers (in KTV bars); guest relations officers (GROs) (in KTVbars); freelance sex workers (FLSWs) (who generally operate in prostitutionwithout a maintainer or pimp in street prostitution and casas); akyat barko (inport areas in Cebu); taxi girls (young girls, normally 8–12 years of age), whoroam around Carbon, Port Area, Colon Street, Plaza Independencia and FuenteOsmena looking for taxi drivers to hire them and drive whilst they perform theirservices (hand jobs, blow jobs and touching); call girls and escort service girls(who offer services through text messages or phone calls, and who go to theplace agreed to perform their service, particularly hotels and pensions); mallgirls (who solicit clients from malls and petrol stations, where they pose as shop-pers); brothel workers; and workers in massage parlours and saunas (where mengo for sexual intercourse under the pretext of a massage or sauna).

The clientele varies according to the area and the specific manifestation ofprostitution. For example, in the KTV bars of Lapu Lapu City and Uptownarea the clientele is primarily foreign sex tourists, with fewer Filipinocustomers. In Kamangayan, the clientele is a relatively equal mixture offoreign and Filipino customers, whereas for the akyat barko, taxi girls andmall girls, the clientele is almost exclusively Filipino and, in the specific caseof akyat barko, foreign seamen (particularly South Asians, referred to as‘Turkos’). For all but two of the current clients of Balay Isidora, the majorityof their customers were foreigners, rather than Filipinos. All current clientshad had at least one and often several bad experiences with customers. Theseincluded non-payment, verbal and physical abuse, and being humiliated. Somecustomers also raped or gang raped victims.6 Participants stated that someclients also refused to use condoms during intercourse. In these circumstances,victims are powerless to enforce condom use and must defer to the clientbecause, they state, the clients are physically stronger than them and can easilyhurt them (see also Law 1998; Marten 2005).


As far as trafficking is concerned, recruiters are often persons known to thevictims; they include relatives, friends or acquaintances and, in many cases,workmates or customers of victims in their place of employment. These traf-fickers often receive a ‘finder’s fee’ for every victim they locate and send to aprostitution establishment. Other traffickers are not known to the victims. Inthese latter cases, victims are recruited through ‘chance’ meetings at keypoints where traffickers are known to recruit victims, such as shopping malls,bus and ferry terminals, and disco houses or entertainment venues. Traffickersnormally do not reveal that the victim will be engaged in prostitution. Rather,they lure victims to the destination with the promise of legitimate employmentin another sector (usually as a domestic helper, nanny, waitress or salesper-son). Victims are often told they will receive good wages and have their trans-portation fare and other travelling expenses covered by the trafficker. Thetrafficker often also provides the victim with an advance on their salaries.These expenditures are normally added to a ‘migration debt’ of the victim,incurred unbeknown to them at the time of recruitment.

Although approximately half the victims of trafficking in any one destina-tion in the Philippines are drawn from the local population (for Cebu thiswould include Cebu City and Lapu Lapu City), the other half of the victimsare recruited from other parts of the Philippines. For Cebu this is primarilyother areas in Cebu province and Mindanao. From these remote locations,victims are normally transported by ferry, ship or bus in groups of 5–10,although some travel alone or with just one or two companions. The largenumber of travel companions often makes the victims feel safe and not vulner-able. Traffickers normally divide victims into smaller groups of 5–10 so as notto attract the attention of authorities and police who routinely check thesetransport terminals. Victims are often told not to disclose their circumstancesof travel to authorities if questioned, and are often provided with a false storyto share with authorities if questioned.

Victims trafficked internally in the Philippines normally end up in one ofsix different types of prostitution establishments: casas, KTV bars, nightclubs,in street prostitution, in massage parlours and saunas, and as call girls. Thefirst three types of prostitution establishments most commonly use traffickingvictims in prostitution. Victims are normally transferred to the prostitutionestablishment by the trafficker who recruits and transports them, althoughsometimes they are turned over to a second or even a third person. Uponarrival at the destination they are normally put to work immediately; oftenthey are told to take a shower, get dressed and prepare to start work within afew hours of their arrival. This ensures that victims do not have the opportu-nity to assess their new situation and realise they have been tricked into pros-titution. Putting victims to work immediately also helps ‘normalise’ them totheir situations quickly. In some cases, one of the traffickers – either the owner


of the establishment or the recruiter – may perform a rape initiation of thevictim into prostitution. This is a very common occurrence for victims who arevirgins at the time of their recruitment.

The situations of the victims vary, normally according to what type ofestablishment they have been trafficked to, so that it is difficult to generalise.Nonetheless, some common tactics are employed by owners of establishmentsor managers of the victims. These include: introducing the victims to drugssoon after their arrival; withholding salary from victims; creating a debt forindividual victims sizeable enough that they can never be in a position to repayit;7 either removing the freedom of victims completely by locking them intheir place of work or residence, or monitoring and chaperoning them whenthey go out (this tactic will often be eliminated after a certain period of timehas passed and the victim is normalised to her situation); encouraging thevictim to see her owner or manager as a friend or pseudo-family member whois looking after her; and arbitrarily punishing or penalising the victim formistakes during work (and often adding a penalty to her debt). It is verycommon for victims to receive virtually none of the money they earn throughprostitution, with their only source of income the tips they receive fromcustomers. This was certainly the case for the vast majority of participants inthis research, whose situations and details are discussed below.

METHODOLOGY, PARTICIPANTS AND BALAY ISIDORAREHABILITATION CENTRE

This research was conducted in the context of an evaluation of Balay Isidora,for which I was project evaluator, with permission for me to utilise the infor-mation gathered during the evaluation process for research purposes. Themethodology included qualitative and quantitative elements.8 The qualitativepart involved in-depth semi-structured interviews with all current clients (19women and girls) and some former clients (15 women and girls). Those whowere former clients included both ‘successful’ cases (meaning they did notabscond, were (re)integrated, and did not re-enter prostitution) and ‘unsuc-cessful’ cases (meaning, conversely, that they absconded or left withoutpermission and subsequently re-entered prostitution) (see Table 9.1). In-depthsemi-structured interviews were chosen as the primary research method sincethey had the advantage of recognising that whilst participants may have simi-lar experiences and perceptions, commonalities should not be overgeneralised.Interviews allowed for the nuances in individual experiences to be docu-mented in the research, particularly concerning experiences of support andassistance at Balay Isidora and after release. Issues of violence, recruitment,deployment and conditions in the sex industry, background of participants and


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Table 9.1 Interviews with Balay Isidora clients

Group Number of interviews Percentage of group Location of interviewsinterviewed

Current clients 19 (of a total 19 current 100 per cent BI (19)clients)

Previous clients (returned 10 (of a total of 80 clients) 12.5 per cent BI (8); SVD Office (2)to prostitution)Previous clients (exited 5 (of a total of 80 clients) 6.25 per cent BI (3); Client’s place ofprostitution) residence (2)

reasons making them vulnerable to trafficking and/or commercial sexualexploitation were discussed in the interviews.

In addition to interviews with these 34 women and girls, I also conductedeight key informant interviews with other organisations in Cebu Cityinvolved in supporting trafficked and commercially sexually exploitedwomen and girls. These included health and legal support workers andoutreach workers operating in Cebu’s prostitution districts. Finally, in theone month during which I undertook the fieldwork, I lived at Balay Isidorawith many of the participants; this enabled me to be a participant observerof the daily routines and activities of both the clients and the staff.

Since commencing operation in 2003, Balay Isidora has received over100 clients, including women, girls, babies and infants. The majority of theclients (approximately 70 per cent) to date (up to 2009) have undertaken thefull residential programme, which is normally around two years in duration.The remainder of the clients availed themselves of the Centre’s maternityassistance only (around 25 per cent), with a small number of clients (around5 per cent) availing of temporary shelter. However, many clients – includingthose taking the full residential programme and receiving maternity assis-tance – have left Balay Isidora before the full duration of the programme,with approximately 15 per cent absconding (meaning leaving withoutpermission or running away) and a further 15 per cent leaving beforecompleting the full programme (meaning being released to the care of some-one, usually a partner or relative); these two groups account for 30 per centof the total number of clients. It is their experiences that are particularly rele-vant to discussion in this chapter, since many of these clients subsequentlyre-entered prostitution.

The average age of participants when interviewed was 16 years old, withthe oldest participant being 29 and the youngest 13 years old. The vastmajority (28 participants) did not complete elementary school, with only oneparticipant having completed high school.9 The majority of participantswere from Mindanao (16), whilst the remainder were from Cebu City andCebu province (12), Bohol (1), and Luzon (1).10 Most clients, whether avail-ing themselves of the full rehabilitation programme or shorter-term assis-tance, such as for maternity cases, entered Balay Isidora as a result of theoutreach activities of the staff of Balay Isidora (see Table 9.2). Indeed, acommon feeling amongst clients who entered Balay Isidora this way wasthat they wanted to leave prostitution, but felt that no one cared for peoplesuch as them, and it was the interest and care shown by the staff in their livesthat compelled them to try rehabilitation. Only a few of the clients came toBalay Isidora as a result of having been rescued by the police (these arerepresented by the DSWD, or Department of Social Welfare andDevelopment, and ECPAT, or End Child Prostitution, Child Pornography


and Trafficking of Children for Sexual Purposes category in Table 9.2). The‘rescue industry’ (Agustin 2007) has been subject to much criticism in sextrafficking literature for removing and victimising women who are voluntarysex workers. None of the participants who were rescued experienced this,however, with all having discussed their wish to leave with a customer, anundercover police officer or a friend.

Although I was differentiated from the clients/participants by nationality,class and, for the purposes of this discussion, the experience of beingdeployed in the sex industry, there were other sites around which some of theparticipants and I forged rapport over the month I was there. In particular, Ihad brought my own five-month-old baby daughter with me, and she alsolived at Balay Isidora for the duration of my research. Experiences of beinga mother of a young baby, particularly being away from home, was thesubject of much discussion and mutual sharing of experiences with theparticipants who had babies and young children with them at Balay Isidora.In addition, because I had a Filipino husband (although from Luzon in thenorth, whereas most of the participants were from the southern Visayasregion), there was much to talk about concerning Filipino men (as husbands,boyfriends, fathers) and family expectations and responsibilities. Trust andrapport have elsewhere been identified as pivotal in research with traffickedpersons, as they help create ‘contexts of disclosure’ (Kelly 2002b), andcertainly some aspects of my identity were important in breaking downbarriers to disclosure and encouraging honest and mutually rewardingengagements with many of the participants. In addition, since many of theparticipants had already shared their experiences with other clients and staffat Balay Isidora for the purposes of their recovery, the difficulties in talkingto me in a trusting and already supportive environment were further reduced.The following section focuses on narratives of what happened to participantsafter they left situations of trafficking and CSE, and how and why someparticipants returned to prostitution, as recounted to me in interviews andthrough a review of their case files.


Table 9.2 Mode of detection of clients to enter Balay Isidora for 2006

Mode of detection 2006 (31 March)

Outreach (Fr. Heinz, Br. Paul, Sr. Conching) 8DSWD or ECPAT 4Attorney 1Relatives or friends 4Ex-clients 2

NARRATIVES OF EXIT AND RETURN TO PROSTITUTION

Through discussions with participants, three sites of vulnerability that can leadto victims’ return to situations of prostitution emerged: failure to overcomedrug addictions and/or adaptation to a prostitution lifestyle; economic margin-alisation and mobility; and a lack of (re)integration options after finishingrehabilitation.

Drugs and a Prostitution Lifestyle

Some participants cited their inability to overcome their drug addiction as themain reason for leaving Balay Isidora’s rehabilitation programme and return-ing to prostitution.11 Melanie (20 years old – name changed) had been resid-ing at Balay Isidora for almost two years at the time of the research,undergoing the full rehabilitation programme. She had a serious drug depen-dency on shabu (a local drug, derivative of cocaine) at the time she beganrehabilitation. She hated prostitution, stating that: ‘I felt useless and dirtywhen I was in prostitution. It was almost impossible to overcome those feel-ings while I stayed there, so I became a drug addict. I wanted to get out, buthow? I was stuck in that situation. I was worthless.’ She became addicted toshabu when she refused to go with customers, explaining the precise details ofhow her habit began on her first night in Cebu City:

Papasan woke all the girls up and told them to eat. He gave nice food the first nightand then said, ‘Here’s some nice clothes’. I said, ‘The old woman promised us thatwe are just working in the house [as domestics]. We all want to be workingstudents’. Papa told us then that if we wanted to get out of there, we needed to payhim back for the boat and the nice food. But we had no money. Papa sold my friendfor PP500 [500 Philippines pesos]. She was very pretty. He sold me for PP300;that’s PP150 for me and PP150 for papa. I am shocked and would not go with acustomer. Three weeks it is like that. Finally Papa gave me shabu, which costsPP120 each time. But if I have shabu, I’m not shy to go with the customer.

Melanie remained in prostitution after she was released from the bar towhich she was originally trafficked. By this time, she had developed a seriousdrug dependency and needed to earn income from prostitution to support herhabit. Although she wanted to ‘get out’ and was certainly physically free toleave prostitution after her initial trafficking experience, her own state of mind(sense of self-esteem) and drug dependency (need for high income) preventedher from leaving. In fact, Melanie did attempt to leave Kamangayan twice –and consequently returned twice – before exiting to Balay Isidora where I mether. In both cases, she was still drug addicted when she attempted to leave,availing herself of the services of a halfway house in Cebu City the first time,


and an alternative livelihood and rehabilitation programme back in Mindanaothe second time. She stated: ‘Sometimes I miss the drugs and the big tips fromnice customers. I think I am still processing everything for at least six monthsafter I leave. Even now I sometimes put on makeup and sexy clothes andpretend.’

Julia (20 years old – name changed) was, like Melanie, trafficked toKamangayan district of Cebu City and had never undertaken prostitution priorto being trafficked. She also developed a drug dependency on shabu, whichwas fuelled by her initial shock at her situation and resistance to going withcustomers. After more than a year in Kamangayan, and still in a situation ofdebt bondage, Julia became pregnant to one of her customers (she is unsurewhich one). She was approached by one of the outreach staff from BalayIsidora concerned about her pregnancy, as she was still working and addictedto shabu when she was six months pregnant. She agreed to go to Balay Isidorato have her baby (and therefore entered as a maternity assistance-only client),but decided to try and stay to undertake full rehabilitation after her baby wasborn. However circumstances and events soon conspired to compel Julia backinto prostitution. As she was still a drug addict when she entered Balay Isidora,she had great difficulty in withdrawing from shabu before her baby was due.Not long after her arrival at Balay Isidora she went into labour and the twinbabies were born in the car on the way to hospital, both stillborn because ofcomplications induced by her drug addiction. She could not settle into life atBalay Isidora after that, and one night she jumped the fence and made her wayback to Kamangayan, where she re-entered prostitution as a freelancer. As sherecounted:

My babies were going to make me strong and give me hope. I try to change my lifefor their futures. When they were dead in the car I lost hope again. I knew it wasmy fault they died because I’m on shabu. I cannot stand to be at Balay Isidora anymore thinking about this. I want to go back and earn money and be alive again inKamangayan.

In both Melanie’s and Julia’s return to Kamangayan, the need for moneywas important. Both women needed money to support their drug dependency,and prostitution was the easiest and most familiar way they knew to obtain it.Economic marginalisation and the desire to achieve economic mobility thusalso emerged as an important factor explaining their return to prostitution,both in relation to drugs and as an independent goal.

Economic Marginalisation and Mobility

The other main reason for clients absconding from Balay Isidora related to thelack of money (and opportunities to earn money) available in the context of


rehabilitation. This also emerged as the main reason for participants to remainin prostitution after they were notionally free to leave. These participants wereoften under pressure from family members to remit money to support them,and had become used to having some money in their pockets, usually in theform of tips from customers. As Julia said:

My mum didn’t know I was sold into prostitution until after I’m at Balay Isidora.When I left Balay Isidora, she was the one who put pressure on me to stay in pros-titution to help the family. I bought her a business of raising chickens and pigs afterI went back to work in Kamangayan and helped fix up her house.

Julia may also have felt a heightened sense of duty towards her mother afterher babies were stillborn, transferring her ‘hopes for the future’ to othermembers of her family. Family pressure for money can often act as a power-ful influence on victims to remain in prostitution after their trafficking ends,since many parents and other relatives are willing to accept this sacrifice onthe part of their daughters, even when they did not know they had been traf-ficked into prostitution before.

Some participants also missed having money simply for themselves, andwere afraid for their futures beyond Balay Isidora without having savedmoney during their stay there. Mixed with the desire or need to earn moneywas the anxiety that many participants felt about having sold their bodiesthrough prostitution, and being utterly financially exploited in the process.Marie (18 years old – name changed) felt:

angry that I had slept with so many men, risk catching some STD [sexually trans-mitted disease], and I had nothing to show for it. Imagine being a prosti [prostitute]and all your money going to your maintainer to pay your debt. The debt isn’t evenreal, just made up so I can’t leave. Why not go back again? I’m already a prosti nowand at least I will have money to show for it this time.

Similarly, Rosanne (16 years old – name changed) stated that:

I ran from Balay Isidora because I can’t do anything to help myself financiallythere. I can only think about my past, get some education, and try to get over thebad things that happened to me. Well that is fine, but I’m too young to be employedas a saleslady or a good job. Prostitution is the only choice for me now and I amalready used to it.

Rosanne and Marie both absconded to return to prostitution in Lapu Lapu Cityand Kamangayan respectively.

Finally, some participants – particularly those trafficked to areas whereforeigners comprised the main clientele – hoped that they would develop (orcontinue) a ‘romance’ with a foreign customer who might be referred to as


their ‘boyfriend’. Julia was certainly in this situation, and saw her return toprostitution as a temporary means by which she could then transcend prostitu-tion altogether, since prostitution provided the initial context in which her rela-tionship with her German boyfriend could be resumed and strengthened:

He will come back to me in three more months and I will be his exclusive girlfriendthen [meaning he will buy her time for the duration of his stay in Cebu]. He alsosends me money and, eventually he will come and live with me here and then Iwon’t have to be a prosti any more. I can’t wait for that time.

I could not discover if Julia’s boyfriend fulfilled his promise. Much of themoney he sent her – which was quite a substantial sum for her – went tosupport her drug habit and to remit to her mother. Without this additionalmoney she may have been forced into more exploitative circumstances inprostitution and incurred another (drug-related) debt to a maintainer or pimp.It is impossible to frame Julia’s situation in black and white terms, and I onlyhoped her boyfriend would return to her as he had promised.

No Place to Go

For many of the clients of Balay Isidora, there is no immediate option forsupport or care within their home environment once their rehabilitation ends.In addition to Melanie’s drug dependency, for example, her family circum-stances made return to her family home and reintegration into her communityalso an impossibility. Melanie painfully recounted:

I can’t go back to my family. My stepfather sexually abused my younger sister andmy mother just let it happen. We all slept in the one room. We only had one bed andmy sister and I slept down one end and my mum and stepfather slept at the otherend. One night I saw my stepfather get up and come to the other end of the bedwhere my younger sister was. He raped her right next to me. My mother just turnedme in the other direction so I couldn’t look at what he was doing to her. I hate mymother and my stepfather for that. I am afraid that if I return home my stepfatherwill try to rape me too.

Angel (22 years old – name changed) had a similar dilemma. She was dueto be released from Balay Isidora a few months after she participated in theresearch (around June 2006). She expressed some anxiety about where shewould go since her uncle continually raped her when she was living with himand her aunty in Manila, beginning when she was just eight years old. As thesewere the only relatives she had, she felt concerned about the prospect ofreturning to them. In addition, Angel had a two-year-old daughter with her atBalay Isidora and was worried about how she would provide for her future,and indeed what might happen to her daughter if she took her back to where


her uncle was living. Although Angel had not absconded from Balay Isidoraor returned to prostitution, she was nonetheless in a vulnerable situation if shereturned to her previous family environment, which had been pivotal incompelling her to a situation of sex trafficking previously.

Although unconducive family contexts have been much discussed in theliterature on causes of trafficking of women and girls, there has been compara-tively little attention in the context of reintegration. Frederick (2005: 142) isone of the few who recognise that: ‘Integration is constrained by a major lackof conceptual clarity. The term ... “reintegration” (as opposed to integration),is itself problematic, implying that ... [the victim] can return to her originalstate, which she cannot’. Around half the women and girls in this study werein these types of situations, where they could not return to a pre-traffickingfamily or community context because of unconducive family circumstances.The term integration also recognises that victims of sex trafficking will bemarkedly different as a result of their experiences, and returning ‘home’ canbe fraught with difficulties related to disclosure, shame and so on.

In sum, economic factors, issues around drugs and prostitution lifestyles, aswell as lack of options for future support, were important factors explainingthe decisions of many victims to return to prostitution, even after having beentrafficked and deployed in situations of CSE and never having undertakenprostitution previously. Further, for many of the women and girls in this study,their decisions to re-enter prostitution were made in the context of a coales-cence of these factors, rather than only one or another.

EMPOWERMENT, CHOICE AND VOLUNTARYPROSTITUTION

Best practice in rehabilitation and reintegration for sex trafficking and CSEvictims identifies empowerment of victims as the primary aim of supportprogrammes. Empowerment requires that a range of issues be addressed in therehabilitation process, including physical and sexual health, environment (lackof resources, environmental problems leading to displacement), social issues(displacement in society, gender inequality and discrimination against women,gendered violence and family trauma, social stigma), and psychological prob-lems (low self-esteem and feelings of guilt, denial, anger/hatred, sexual anxi-ety, self-loathing leading to self-harm). The last of these – psychologicalproblems – are generally given higher priority than the others, since they moredirectly lead to disempowerment and vulnerability. This was certainly evidentwith participants in this study, who variously experienced lower self-esteem,loss of hope and feelings of despair, self-loathing, depression and, sometimesintertwined with these, drug dependency.


According to the JIT (Joint Initiative in the Millennium against Traffickingin Girls and Women, Nepal) (2004: 20–21), gender-specific strategies areimportant to overcome these psychological problems, and these are comprisedof consciousness-raising measures (reflecting on problems, sharing of prob-lems, reconstruction of problems, legitimisation of feelings and opinions) andreconstructing identity (healing and recovery through ritual group therapy,identifying oppressive gender and social roles and relations, constructing posi-tive identities through self-reflection). It is also commonly recognised thatempowerment of prostituted and trafficked women and girls requires attentionto two sets of developments taking place. The first is personal (in relation toself), and would include the nurturing and development of qualities such asself-esteem, courage, sense of control, confidence, the ability to make plansand decisions and hope or vision for the future. Second, there are social andpolitical (in relation to society and family) measures, which would includesuch factors as access to resources, the ability to make decisions in indepen-dent settings, and a sense of control in relationships.

Reflecting on the experiences of past and current clients of Balay Isidora,it is clear that many of those who had been trafficked received a great deal ofcare and attention in relation to their psychological recovery, and to someextent with regard to their positive self-development through education, skillstraining and social activities. Nonetheless, clients felt a sense of frustration atnot being able to earn money or conceive of ways to earn money outside pros-titution once their rehabilitation ended. Drug dependencies, family pressuresand the opportunity to develop a romantic relationship with a customer whomight provide them with economic mobility and a life beyond prostitutionwere also important considerations for many clients. Personal developmentswere thus more successfully and easily nurtured than social and politicaldevelopments. Decisions about a return to prostitution were not made in waysthat reflected the independent choices of participants, but rather in the contextof a range of often coalescing and constraining influences.

It is useful to reflect on what this means for efforts to support the humanrights of victims of sex trafficking, particularly according to the sex workers’rights perspective. Sex worker support and advocacy groups would view thesewomen as voluntary migrant sex workers who, while still experiencing somevulnerabilities associated with such positions – particularly concerning healthstandards and working conditions – had knowingly chosen to work in the sexindustry. Their rights would consequently be framed around such positions.This might include the right to a decent standard of work and health, andaccess to information about support in different languages and for differentcultural groups. However, for many formerly trafficked women the improve-ment of these rights does not address the core issue of their initial traffickingand the reasons why they chose to then remain in prostitution – namely lack


of alternatives to leave prostitution. None of the women whose experiences arediscussed in this chapter wished to remain in prostitution, but they did sobecause of various reasons relating to their experiences during and after traf-ficking, and because their trafficking experiences had normalised them tosexual labour as a livelihood option.

CONCLUSION

This chapter began with the suggestion that some victims of sex traffickingcan re-enter prostitution at a later point under ‘voluntary’ arrangements,including returning to the site of their original trafficking or working inanother prostitution area. This is often the case even where victims’ initial traf-ficking may have involved complete deception about being prostituted and/orwhere the victim may never have previously performed sex work. The chap-ter focused on exploring some of the reasons why this occurred, through adiscussion of current and previous clients of Balay Isidora rehabilitation centrefor trafficked and prostituted women and girls in Cebu City, the Philippines.

Drawing on the narratives of current and past clients of Balay Isidora,including several who absconded and subsequently returned to prostitutionand others who returned to prostitution and then exited again, I found thatthese decisions were not made in contexts of empowerment or autonomousdecision making as in the sex worker’s rights perspective. Their return wasmarked by ‘constrained choice’ (Sandy 2006), and reflected changes in atti-tude and a transformed sense of self that developed both during and after beingtrafficked (Hwang and Bedford 2004). Further, it was discovered that partici-pants returned to the same brothels or prostitution districts to which they hadbeen previously trafficked. Thus, although the participants knew (and weretherefore not deceived) about what kind of work and conditions they would be(re-)entering, the circumstances of their return to prostitution were nonethelessmarked by lack of freedom (over their sexual health, decisions about refusingcertain clients, terms of remuneration for their services, surveillance in theirpersonal lives, and so on).

Finally, I found that the single most salient reason for participants’ deci-sions to re-enter prostitution was their prior experiences of being traffickedand/or commercially sexually exploited. Even for participants who hadentered rehabilitation programmes, the failure to recover fully from experi-ences of being trafficked and exploited, and the inability to return to a pre-traf-ficking lifestyle, acted as a motivation to return to sex work. Trafficking, inother words, was a pivotal context of vulnerability to re-entry into prostitutionat a later point in time, and under conditions that in some ways did not differmarkedly from those of their original entry into prostitution.


The chapter attempted to reflect on the implications of these women’s andgirls’ experiences for the debate about choice and the forced–voluntarydichotomy in the prostitution debate as it is applied to sex trafficking, particu-larly as this debate frames efforts to support the human rights of sex workersand victims of sex trafficking respectively. To this end I found that it is impor-tant to consider how the either/or of the forced–voluntary distinction candissolve in the context of any single woman’s or girl’s experience, and that, forsome of the women in this study, this ‘messy reality’ meant looking at theirtrafficking experiences to help explain their decisions to return, and the condi-tions of re-entry, to prostitution.

In contesting the abolitionist’s perspectives on sex trafficking, much of therecent literature on migrant sex work has focused on transnational migrantswho have demonstrated considerable agency in going abroad and attemptingto craft better futures for themselves (Thorbek and Pattanaik 2002; Agustin2007), and who generally fall outside the trafficking framework.12 The resultis that geographically, sex trafficking and sex work in transnational contexts isnow much more widely discussed and perhaps better documented than thatwhich occurs domestically and often where victims are younger. Domestic sextrafficking situations can present quite different challenges to understandingand framing experiences according to the contours of the prostitution debate,including proximity of those victims of trafficking who exit to socialnetworks, boyfriends/customers, pimps and maintainers, and so on establishedthrough trafficking. It would be useful for future research to tease out some ofthese differences more fully and reflect on what they might mean for debatesabout empowerment, choice and voluntary sex work.

NOTES

1. The other discourses that frame understandings of and responses to sex trafficking (and otherforms of human trafficking more generally) are those of migration, transnational crime andcriminal justice, gender and development.

2. See also Marten (2005) for a parallel discussion on sex workers and HIV/AIDS policies inCambodia.

3. See Law (2000) for an overview of Cebu’s sex tourism industry and ECPAT-Philippines(2004) for a specific overview of child prostitution and trafficking in Cebu.

4. The full text of the Act can be accessed at: http://www.trafficking.org.ph/resources/phil/downloads/ra9208.htm.

5. KTV is short for ‘karaoke television’ and is a type of bar offering karaoke and ‘hostess’services to accompany men singing and drinking. Casa, a Spanish word, literally means‘house’ but in the context of domestic prostitution in the Philippines may be defined as aclosed brothel, usually containing young women who may also have had their freedomremoved. Casas are commonly believed to be one of the worst types of prostitution estab-lishments in the Philippines because of the unsavory conditions in which prostitution takesplace and the exploitation of the prostitutes within these.

6. Interestingly, at least half the current clients of Balay Isidora stated that their customers were


aware that the victim was underage and/or that she would not receive any or most of the feefor her prostitution service. This is gravely concerning, given that engaging in sex with aminor is a punishable offence both in the Philippines and in most of the countries of originof the sex tourists themselves.

7. This would include buying various basic needs for victims at highly inflated prices andcharging similarly highly inflated prices for medicines, dental and medical visits, and so on.

8. The quantitative component of the study involved a review of all the case files of all previ-ous and current clients of Balay Isidora (just over 100). These data are not drawn on fordiscussion in this chapter.

9. Several of the participants who were current clients were, however, enrolled in either middleor high school as part of their rehabilitation at Balay Isidora. It was my observation thatequally as important as the educational attainments of graduating school for these partici-pants was the sense of self-worth and pride that graduating from school inculcated. I had theprivilege of being the ‘sponsor’ for one of the participants who graduated from middleschool along with four other participants while I was conducting the research (she did nothave any relative to act in such a capacity), which gave me a sense of the enormous pridethese participants felt on that day.

10. Clients of Balay Isidora exhibit some common key characteristics. These include: the major-ity are minors, or were minors at the time they first entered; the majority have experiencedeither a broken family, family trauma, rape, incest or physical abuse; the majority are eitherfrom Cebu City, Lapu Lapu City, Mindanao, or provincial areas of Cebu Island; the major-ity have not graduated from either elementary or high school; the majority have experienceddrug addiction; the majority have been trafficked into prostitution; the majority are fromimpoverished families. These constitute what I call ‘contexts of vulnerability’ (see Yea 2005)that make clients highly susceptible to entry into prostitution.

11. Without an initial, comprehensive medical examination by a doctor upon their admission toBalay Isidora, and without a psychologist to work intensively with new clients during theirinitial period after their admission, it is likely that serious problems (drug abuse, psycholog-ical problems, depression and so on) may remain undetected or inadequately attended to.

12. The various policy implications of this would also disrupt an abolitionist perspective byasserting the need variously to legalise sex industries in destination countries and createmigrant sex worker visas (and therefore work against contexts of seclusion that may increaseworkers’ vulnerability); provide (sexual and reproductive) health education for migrant sexworkers; and so on.


10. Conclusions: quadruplevictimisation?

Leslie Holmes

Human trafficking has become much more of a problem since the early 1990sthan it previously was. It is possible that some of the data cited by variousstates, international organisations (IOs) and non-governmental organisations(NGOs) on the number of people trafficked are too high, as suggested both byMilivojevic and Segrave in Chapter 3, and more recently in a British govern-ment investigation into trafficking in the UK (N. Davies 2009) – though thehighly clandestine nature of this crime means that nobody knows the realfigures (on the problems of measuring human trafficking see Savona andStefanizzi 2007). Nevertheless, the number of prosecutions and convictionsglobally for trafficking each year, plus the number of people cared for byvictim support centres, constitute clear evidence of a serious and large-scaleproblem.1 And while growing awareness of the phenomenon of human traf-ficking may also inflate the figures, there is no question that global structuralchanges since 1989 have stimulated human trafficking.

Two of the principal changes have been highlighted in this book. One is thatthe collapse of Communism and end of the Cold War created new opportu-nities, as well as new problems; this conflation of opportunities and problemswas fertile soil for trafficking. The other also represents a conflation of newopportunities and problems. It focuses on the contradictions between globali-sation’s advocacy of open borders and the tendency of (groups of mostly afflu-ent) states to tighten immigration laws; all too often, finance capital enjoys more‘rights’ than people do. At the same time, globalisation does not readily distin-guish between legitimate and illegitimate trade and commerce; conceptualboundaries blur. As Naím (2005: 219) has argued: ‘Since 1990, the phenomenalspread of political reforms aimed to lower barriers to trade and investment, andthe accelerated pace of technological change, have infused global commercewith unprecedented energy. Illicit trade received the same boost for the samesimple reasons’. In this context of growing illicit trade coupled with tighterborders, Laos is to be congratulated for seeking in 2007 to reduce the opportu-nities for traffickers and fraudsters to prey on vulnerable people, by eliminatingthe need for Laotian citizens wishing to leave the country to have passports. But

175

the attitudes and policies of destination – potential recipient – countries alsohave to be considered. Unless they are willing to accept people from othercountries without international travel documentation, unilateral measures bysource countries are unlikely to have much impact.

Despite the fact that the contributors to this volume adopt differing posi-tions and methodologies, and examine the situation in very diverse types ofsystem, there are also some common threads running through most of theanalyses. It is not intended to provide another summary of the chapters – thiswas done in Chapter 1; but it is worth focusing on and further exploring someof the most sensitive and controversial arguments and findings in this collec-tion, and drawing conclusions about these. It will be argued that the currentapproach of most states and IOs in many ways undermines the human rightsof trafficking victims, albeit sometimes unwittingly. It is in this context thatthe concept of quadruple victimisation will be elaborated, and used as aspringboard to make policy proposals.

DRAWBACKS OF THE ABOLITIONIST ARGUMENT

Several of the contributors to this volume reject the so-called abolitionists’argument that all women in sex work are victims, and prefer to allow that somewomen in various forms of prostitution are simply exercising agency – that is,choose to engage in their work. This is certainly not to suggest that it wouldbe their ideal occupation of choice. Rather, they have in many cases made adifficult choice between various unattractive options – what Yea calls‘constrained choice’ in Chapter 9. Some hope, via prostitution, to find ahusband from an affluent country who will help to lift them and their familiesout of their poverty; here, prostitution is seen as a potential passport to a muchbetter life. Some are under pressure from their families to earn income for therest of the family, who are perfectly aware of the kind of activities they areencouraging their daughter, sister or niece to engage in. Some are being sexu-ally abused already at home, and conclude that if they are being subjected tothis anyway, they may as well benefit from it by charging a fee.

While some abolitionists might argue that the state or IOs should be respon-sible for looking after women who are desperate to feed their children and/orparents – as well as themselves – the fact is that many states do not, will notand in many cases cannot adequately care for such people. Typically, it is well-meaning and well-educated people from affluent countries who adopt theabolitionist position. From many perspectives, they have right on their side.Yet what they advocate will not assist the thousands of impoverished womenaround the world who decide to engage in prostitution simply as a way ofmaking ends meet; indeed, if abolitionist pleas result in the adoption of poli-


cies sympathetic to the abolitionist argument, it may actually work againstthose they seek to help. The stance is also sometimes patronising. Such acontention requires justification.

Unfortunately, while criminalising the use of prostitutes may reducedemand, it will never result in the eradication of all demand, and this fact islikely to make the situation worse for both trafficked (and other) prostitutesand society generally, for three reasons. First, criminalisation means that keycomponents of the sex industry go deeper underground, making real victimseven more invisible to both authorities and society, and hence more difficult toassist. Inter alia, this makes sex workers more prone to violence. EvenSweden’s most outspoken parliamentary advocate of criminalising the use ofprostitutes, Marianne Eriksson, has acknowledged that the clients who areprepared to risk purchasing sexual services when the use of sex workers is ille-gal are typically those most likely to be violent with women (Alfredsson2009).2 The detailed research project conducted by Melissa Farley et al. (2003:49 and 63) suggested that more than half of the prostitutes surveyed in sixcountries believed that they were less likely to be assaulted if prostitution werelegal, while approximately one-third wanted prostitution to be legalised.3

Another increased risk is that clients are more likely to be able to insist onunprotected sex; as Swedish prostitute Pye Jakobson has argued: ‘Health-wise,it is riskier because more clients ask to have sex without a condom, becausethey know that some women are desperate for cash and will do things theywould have refused before’ (Fouché 2009). Moreover, where brothels and thepurchase of sex are illegal, prostitutes usually have to work surreptitiously andindividually, and do not enjoy the potential support of other sex workers,brothel owners or bouncers.

Second, given the combination of greater risks and reduced demand, crim-inals will seek higher returns from each sex worker. Criminalisation increasesthe costs for traffickers, who will often seek to circumvent the law by bribingofficials to turn a blind eye or collude in other ways. In short, the costs ofcorrupting increase. While some of this might be offset by charging higherprices for sex, it is at least as likely to mean that bondage debts of traffickedpersons increase. In order to pay off these debts, trafficked persons will haveto work more intensively (longer hours), or for a longer period (months andyears), or both.

Finally, the fact that both organised crime and corruption rates usuallyincrease where there is a tension between official policies and society’sdemands – the prohibition era in the United States (US) provides an historicalexample, illicit drugs a contemporary one – is clearly a negative developmentfor both trafficked persons and the rest of society.

Nor should the abolitionist argument be permitted to negate the right ofsome people – a small minority – who are not impoverished to seek to earn

Conclusions: quadruple victimisation? 177

high incomes by engaging in sex work legally.4 With effect from January2009, Norway emulated the Swedish policy of criminalising the purchase butnot sale of sex, which appears to have substantially reduced the income ofsome Norwegian prostitutes. Not only has the number of clients declined, butthe whole exchange can now take much longer, reducing income: ‘Now themen drive us out of town to find an empty space with no one in sight. It oftentakes more than an hour before we’re back. Before we would go down to theharbour and be done in 15 minutes’ (Norwegian prostitute ‘Michelle’ inFouché 2009); and, ‘Before, you would work until you made 4000–5000kroner. Now you have to work all night and you earn only about 1000–1500kroner’ (Norwegian prostitute ‘Nadia’, Fouché 2009). While some mayconsider such work distasteful and be unable to comprehend how anyone canengage in it, it is the mark of the authoritarian, and a negation of rights, toforbid others from making sizeable incomes from engaging in activities thatare legal.5 This point applies even if the motives behind the advocacy of prohi-bition (abolition) are well intentioned – which, as noted, they usually are.

Hence, the contributors to this volume seek a more nuanced position onstructure versus agency. But the adoption of such a position in no way suggeststhat any of the contributors does not accept the need to recognise the humanrights of all people, and particularly those being trafficked. Rather, it is toadopt a more complex position than that of the abolitionists – one that willincrease the rights of trafficked persons while not infringing the rights ofpeople who have made conscious choices to engage in sex work.6

GENDERED APPROACHES AND HUMAN RIGHTS

Despite significant progress in recent decades in most developed and transi-tion states – the situation is in general less encouraging in developing states –there is still a long way to go in terms of men and women being treatedequally. This is a significant aspect of the human rights issue. In this volume,one of the most glaring examples of the gendered approach in trafficking canbe seen by comparing the situation of women in the case of the Federation ofInternational Football Association (FIFA) competition in Germany with theattitude of so many states and IOs towards male peacekeepers in Bosnia andelsewhere. In the German case, many women wanting to visit Germany fromtroubled parts of the world were in essence deprived of agency. While thereasons for this might at first glance be seen to have been well intentioned –designed to minimise the risk of gullible and desperate women becomingvictims of traffickers – a closer examination reveals that the policy was ulti-mately patronising and discriminatory, and prevented some women from exer-cising their rights to freedom of choice and to travel. Conversely, the tolerant


attitude adopted by states and IOs until very recently towards male peace-keepers who used prostitutes – many of them trafficked – essentially priori-tised male freedoms over female ones. In short, a comparison of these twocases, of which many similar examples could be cited, reveals a contradictionbetween the general commitment of states and IOs to gender equality and theiractual policies and practices in specific contexts. There are clearly elements ofhypocrisy and sexism here.

But this collection has demonstrated that the repatriation policies favouredby so many destination states should also be challenged on the basis of humanrights. Such policies are not only in general patronising, but also seriouslymisguided if the governments that adopt them genuinely believe they are help-ing the trafficked persons. In extreme cases, trafficked persons that arereturned to their countries of origin are subject to reprisals by their traffickersor accomplices of their traffickers. More commonly, trafficked women andgirls who had been prostituted and who are then returned home are stigmatised– treated as pariahs and shameful – by their families, which in turn leads manyof these females to decide to return to sex work. Trafficked people who havenot been engaged in sex work are generally less subject to this social oppro-brium; but since most destination states have shown even less interest in themthan in trafficked sex workers, their human rights are often an even lowerpriority for state authorities.

The point about trafficked sex workers leads to what might initially appearto be a particularly problematic aspect of the trafficking issue from a humanrights perspective. This is that human rights are widely seen to be universal (apoint disputed by the 1990 Cairo Declaration on Human Rights in Islam),whereas the fact that different cultures often manifest different dominant atti-tudes towards prostitution and trafficking might suggest that policies on repat-riation should be country-specific. But this potentially thorny problem can bereadily resolved by again focusing on the rights of the individual. Instead ofdestination states arbitrarily returning trafficked persons to their countries oforigin – even if this is done in a more ‘caring’ way, such as providing themwith a pecuniary allowance to start a new life – traffickees should be given theoption of deciding for themselves whether they wish to return to their countryof origin, stay in the country of destination or move to a third country.Admittedly, this raises a number of practical issues, of which arguably themost significant is ‘procedure shopping’; this potential problem is consideredbelow.

To this point in the argument, it might appear that a libertarian position ontrafficking is being adopted. This is emphatically not the case. Equally, radicalneoliberal policies that treat all human exchanges as simply market activities,and in which the state should play as little regulatory or control role as possi-ble, are firmly rejected. In order to explain and justify the position adopted


here, it is necessary to return to the various definitions of trafficking cited inthe preceding chapters. These invariably refer to deception and coercion, towhich the focus now turns.

It has been argued – and demonstrated from research – that some peopleconsciously choose to engage in sex work as the lesser of various evils. To denypeople such an unenviable choice is to reduce an already poor menu to an evenmore depleted one. If prostitution is legal in a country in which a desperateperson is resident or to which that person pays to be smuggled, then for suchpeople to be denied agency constitutes a denial of a basic human right to chooseone’s employment. While states may claim that individuals who have enteredtheir territory illegally have no work rights, this is different from the moreabstract human right of freedom of choice, and is challenged below anyway.

However – and this is a significant caveat – empirical research also revealsthat many women who have consciously decided to engage in sex work andwho have paid to be smuggled into a preferred country of destination aresubsequently duped by their smugglers, who either themselves continue totraffic the women or else sell them to other traffickers in the country of desti-nation. There is an abundance of evidence that a large number of women whowere fully aware that they would be engaged in sex work once they reachedtheir chosen country (that is, they were not being deceived at that stage of theprocess) subsequently discover that they have in fact become little more thanslaves. In short, it is necessary to distinguish clearly between a situation inwhich a person chooses to be smuggled into a more affluent country in orderto engage in sex work in a context in which they continue to have some controlover their situation, and one in which they are deceived and coerced – oftenthrough the use of physical violence – by others, even if the deception andcoercion was not evident in the early stages of the process. This is a crucialdistinction in any discussion of human rights in the people smuggling andhuman trafficking debate.

It will be recalled that Kneebone and Debeljak have argued in Chapter 8that a gendered anti-trafficking approach is not always appropriate, since toomuch focus on trafficking related to the sex industry may mean that thesubstantial amount of trafficking that involves non-sexual labour exploitationgets overlooked. While the argument in the preceding paragraphs relatesprimarily to sex-workers – and hence mostly to women and, increasingly, chil-dren (on child trafficking see for example Renton 2001, 2002; Dottridge 2005,2006; O’Connell Davidson 2005; Bechard 2006) – many of the points regard-ing human rights do have more general application. Hence, wherever the argu-ment made here in the context of trafficked persons for sexual exploitation canbe applied more broadly to all trafficked persons, it certainly should be.Otherwise, we would ourselves be guilty of a gendered and narrow approachto human trafficking.


In Chapter 1, the direct relevance of various rights elaborated in the UN’sDeclaration of Human Rights was briefly considered in the context of humantrafficking. But in addition to those listed there, other rights, which manyconsider to be basic human rights, need to be considered with specific refer-ence to trafficking. One is the right to adequate healthcare. Since trafficking sooften relates to sexual exploitation and coercion, trafficked persons shouldhave the right to access proper medical care and education if they contract orwant to avoid HIV/AIDS (human immunodeficiency virus / acquired immunedeficiency syndrome) or hepatitis, overcome drug dependency, or simply betreated for everyday ailments that affect the rest of the population, and that areoften primarily a function of being tired and run down (on healthcare andhuman rights for trafficked persons see GAATW 1999: 63–9). Traffickedpeople should also have an automatic right to access language classes in theircountries of destination, since some command of the local language is vital ifthey are to be better able both to understand and to exercise other rights.Neither of these rights can be exercised if trafficked persons are invisible tothe state.

QUADRUPLE VICTIMISATION

The stories of those who have been trafficked are depressing. Unfortunately,their already bad situations are often further exacerbated because of theapproaches adopted by IOs and, in particular, states. In far too many cases,states either wittingly or subconsciously add to the already severe suffering oftrafficked persons because of their approaches to illegal labour and illegalmigration. Their desire to be rid of ‘troublesome’ illegal migrants means thatthey subject many trafficked persons to what I have elsewhere identified as‘triple victimisation’ (Holmes 2009b): since my summary of this was cited inChapter 6 by Schwandner-Sievers – who originally triggered the concept inmy mind – it will not be repeated here. Moreover, it has become clear to methat the concept of triple victimisation needs to be expanded, and that it ismore appropriate to talk of the quadruple victimisation of trafficked persons.

The first of these four types is victimisation by private individuals andgroups. Such victimisation by criminal gangs, or in some cases by individualcriminals, has been well covered at various points in this book as well as in theliterature more generally (for example Williams 2008), and focuses on decep-tion and coercion, often involving both psychological and physical violence.

Although victimisation by private individuals and groups refers heremainly to victimisation by pimps and gangs, it often also relates to friends andfamily members of victims. For instance, if family members sell their daugh-ter or sister or nephew to a trafficker, they are clearly trafficking that person,


and hence victimising them. A typical example of this is cited by Chalke(2009: 10):

Wihini, aged nine, and her brother Sunni, aged seven, lived on Thane train stationin Mumbai, India with their parents – both alcoholics … One day, Wihini and Sunnisimply didn’t turn up [to their day centre] … [project staff] workers becameworried, and went in search of their parents. The workers found the father lyingdrunk on the station platform. When they roused him and asked about the children,he admitted that a man had come to him one morning offering money for them. Heneeded money for alcohol, so he agreed. The trafficker had taken Wihini and Sunniaway for the equivalent of just £20. The father was angry because he had neverreceived his money … The children were never seen again.

The actions of the parents of this young brother and sister should also beincluded under the rubric of type one victimisation.

Type one victimisation also refers to private citizens who exploit traffickedpersons. While the most frequently cited aspect of this relates to sex work, italso applies to domestic work and various other forms of forced labour (for 37actual case studies reported in Germany see Cyrus 2006: 27–57), and forcedmarriages. Some of these other forms – especially the last – can involve sexualcoercion and violence, and all can involve non-sexual violence.

Before considering the second, third and fourth types of victimisation, thereis another aspect of the first type that has hardly been mentioned so far, andthat must be acknowledged if a comprehensive understanding of the issue oforganised crime and trafficking is to be gained. The brief analysis above of thegendered aspects of trafficking did not refer to the fact that traffickers are oftenfemale. In the 2007–08 United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC)major analysis of trafficking around the world, the gender of those convictedfor trafficking in persons could be determined in only 46 countries; in 14 (or30 per cent) of these countries, more women than men were convicted, whilewomen constituted between 10 per cent and 50 per cent of those convicted in28 countries (61 per cent – in Sarrica et al. 2009: 46–7). Not only this, butsome women traffickers are physically violent (see Elizabeth’s story atUNICEF-UK 2008). In moving towards greater degendering of the traffickingand human rights issue, this unpleasant fact must be acknowledged. Yet it mustalso be recognised that many of the female traffickers – and probably most ofthose who are physically violent – have themselves been abused and/or traf-ficked in the past. This has not only taught them how to run a trafficking oper-ation, but has also typically desensitised them. In short, while the oftenabhorrent role of women vis-à-vis other women must be openly recognised, itis also important to understand the role frequently played by men at the startof the desensitisation process.

Turning now to the second type of victimisation, evidence was provided


principally in Chapters 4, 5 and 8 of trafficking-related collusion betweencriminal gangs and corrupt officials. Such collusion on the part of state offi-cials assumes many forms, ranging from being directly involved in trafficking-related operations, through turning a blind eye to trafficking across borders oralerting gangs to imminent raids, to preparing the paperwork for illegal adop-tions. There have even been claims that police may have been involved inmurdering trafficked people who have blown the whistle on their corruptactivities.7 Further evidence of trafficking-related corruption is provided byLiudmila Erokhina (2005: 91–2), who refers to a report by the head of theBorder Patrol Unit in Khabarovsk (Russian Far East) in which it is claimedthat Chinese police officers were directly involved during the 1990s in traf-ficking Russian women. According to this official, some Russian women whohad been trafficked to China had managed to escape from their Chinese broth-els and had turned to the local police for support – only to find that Chinesepolice officers either returned them to their original brothels or else sold themto other brothels (for similar allegations about the Japanese police see O’NeillRichard 2000: 56). Another useful source is Human Rights Watch, which hasproduced considerable evidence of the corrupt collusion between police offi-cers and traffickers in Thailand and Burma (Thomas and Jones 1993: 75–84).In January 2001, an Albanian police officer was sentenced to seven years’imprisonment for deceiving a 12-year-old girl so as to make her a prostitute inGreece (Renton 2001: 4; for further evidence of police involvement in South-Eastern Europe see Magistrali 2004: 67–76, 87–9). And in a more recent case,an official at the Italian Embassy in Kyiv was arrested in September 2007 forhaving allegedly played a facilitating role in the trafficking of young girls forprostitution (US Department of State 2009: 168). In short, officers of the state,whom trafficked persons should be able to trust, sometimes seriously abusethat trust and play a direct role in both promoting and/or prolonging thehorrors of the trafficking situation. This type of involvement of corrupt offi-cials constitutes the second form of victimisation.

Unfortunately, experience or knowledge of the corrupt involvement of stateofficials in a source country can help to explain why trafficked persons areoften frightened of approaching the authorities in a destination country. Thispoint emerges from a comment made by ‘Sheila’, a trafficked orphan fromUganda who was eventually rescued in the United Kingdom (UK): ‘I wasscared to go to the police. I thought they were like the police in Uganda andthat they would take me back there [to a house where she was being sexuallyabused] or would kill me’ (UNICEF-UK 2008).

The second type of victimisation does not manifest itself only in very obvi-ous ways, such as the direct collusion just identified. It also happens, forexample, whenever officers of the state use prostitutes they know or shouldsuspect have been trafficked. A common site of such activity in recent years,


as shown by Simic, has been wherever there are international peacekeepingforces. In Chapter 9, Yea has provided evidence of this also happening wheretroops from one country have been based in a foreign land or have visitedother countries in order to engage in military exercises with local troops.Another common scenario is where state officials – such as diplomats orpoliticians – employ staff who work for very low rates, yet do not bother tocheck the paperwork of these domestic aides, knowing that this might identifyor suggest a problem. They prefer to sweep the issue under the carpet whiletheir trafficked cleaner vacuums it. In these various cases, then, officers of thestate are either directly or indirectly contributing to the exploitation of traf-ficked persons; inasmuch as they do so for their personal benefit, they arebeing corrupt.

Before considering the third type of victimisation, a point made to theauthor by a senior person in a German anti-trafficking NGO needs to beaddressed. When I informed her that I did not consider official corruption everto be beneficial in the long term, she countered that, while she agreed with mein most cases, there were exceptions in at least two types of situation. Thus ifcorrupt border officials turn a blind eye to people being smuggled across fron-tiers, she argued, this can actually assist those smuggled persons to counter theexclusionary policies of most affluent states, and give them a better chance inlife. Equally, once in a destination country, smuggled persons – includingthose who have chosen to engage in sex work – can bribe police officers andother officials to help them avoid deportation. She saw these two scenarios asways in which individuals could enhance their capacity to exercise theirhuman rights despite the unwelcoming approach of so many states – so thatcorruption was playing a positive role. This is a similar argument to thatconcerning Nazi prison guards who turned a blind eye to escaping Jews inreturn for bribes. While there is some weight to this argument that corruptioncan occasionally be beneficial, it is argued below that illegal migration isusually unfair to others who seek to migrate legally. But even putting this argu-ment to one side for the moment, the most important point to note about thisNGO officer’s argument is that it constitutes a prime example of why it is inmany cases vital to distinguish people smuggling from human trafficking;while there is some mileage in her position vis-à-vis people smuggling, it isnever valid in the case of trafficking.

The third type of victimisation – and the one omitted in my analysis oftriple victimisation – is that engaged in by the mass media. Lasocik providesevidence in Chapter 2 of the ways in which newspapers, television and otherforms of mass media often exacerbate the already terrible conditions sufferedby trafficked people – mainly those being sexually exploited – by their pruri-ent presentations and use of salacious language when reporting on traffickedpersons (for similar evidence from Albania see Renton 2002: 88). Since the


media play a role in socialising the public, such biased, unsympathetic – oftenblatantly cruel – reporting does not help trafficked persons, and unquestion-ably constitutes a third form of victimisation. Many trafficked persons alreadyhave low levels of self-esteem and confidence, and being treated in this wayby the media only makes matters worse.

The fourth and final type of victimisation is the least recognised, but is insome ways the most inexcusable, and is certainly the one that relates mostdirectly to human rights. The signatories to most human rights documents areneither criminals nor corrupt police officers nor journalists, but states. It is thusultimately the responsibility of states to ensure that they and their officers aredoing all they can to ensure the observation of human rights. This fourth typeof victimisation, by the state, can be classified into six – arguably seven – prin-cipal forms.

One is the way in which the state will in various ways support its officerswhen there is at least a suspicion that they have been playing either a direct oran indirect role in trafficking. A common manifestation of this is the grantingof and insistence on immunity when there are reasonable grounds to assumeimproper behaviour by its officers, and even when there is clear evidence ofsuch behaviour. Although the Australian government introduced legislationthat permits prosecution of alleged Australian paedophiles not only inAustralia but also overseas as relatively early as 1994, this is rarely applied tostate officials. On various occasions when there has been a prosecution, offi-cials have typically not been convicted, for reasons that look questionable toan impartial observer. Thus former Ambassador John Holloway was chargedin 1994 with sexual abuse of male adolescents in Cambodia, but had his casedismissed when a Canberra magistrate deemed the Cambodian teenagers to beunreliable witnesses. Another Australian diplomat, former DeputyAmbassador to Hanoi Robert Scoble, was investigated twice in one year forallegedly procuring and distributing child pornography – and then receivedglowing job references from his employer, one John Holloway (Allard 2004).In the light of cases such as these, a Commonwealth paedophile enquiry wasestablished by the Australian government in 1996. Yet despite its strong anti-paedophile rhetoric and call for tighter controls and a code of conduct, thereport (O’Neil 1997) also made it clear that since most of the allegations wereover a decade old, it was inappropriate for current officers or agencies to beheld responsible for any improper behaviour in investigating them. On onelevel, this is fair enough, since retrospective legislation contravenes the notionof the rule of law, and officers should not be held responsible for the failings oftheir predecessors. But what is also clear is that there should never be a statuteof limitations or prescriptive period approach once legislation that can relate totrafficking has been passed, since trafficking is typically as heinous a crime asmany of those that are usually exempt from such temporal restrictions.8


Whereas the first form of state victimisation of trafficked persons relates tocomplicity of various kinds – supporting its own officers rather than traffick-ing victims – the second explicitly concerns the rights of victims. All too often,as demonstrated at various points in this book, states place border and otherforms of security well ahead of the situation and rights of trafficking victims.Many states – Australia included – often refuse to abide by their own commit-ments to international treaties concerning asylum seekers and refugees, forinstance. While this problem appears to relate more often to smugglees, it canalso apply to trafficked persons. This is a clear abuse of human rights. A prob-lem here is that rights are mostly accorded only to citizens; civil rights arefrequently treated as more important than universal human rights. This said, itis important not to overlook the fact that a considerable and apparently grow-ing amount of trafficking is internal (domestic), and that the state has the dutyto protect its own citizens anyway – even if this was not, surprisingly, recog-nised in the Palermo Protocol. Trafficked persons are sometimes deprived bystates not only of their human rights, but also of their civil rights.

The third way in which states can themselves victimise trafficked personsis by treating them as more criminal than the traffickers. There have been alle-gations that state-run anti-trafficking campaigns in Albania have sometimesplaced greater blame on the traffickees than on the traffickers (though counter-evidence is provided in Renton 2002: 88). This form of state victimisation isparticularly likely in strongly and overtly male-oriented cultures. A variationon this third form of state victimisation is even more widespread and can relateto the second form, in that trafficked persons who are working illegally in agiven state are still frequently treated more harshly – as illegal migrants and/orworkers – than their traffickers, if the latter are citizens of that state. Both thesecond and third forms of state victimisation resonate strongly with whatDavies and Davies (2008, cited in Chapter 6 in this volume by Schwandner-Sievers) call ‘reverse trafficking’.

Fourth, states that do not adequately educate their own officers in what issupposed to be victim-supportive legislation – so that these officers are imple-menting neither the spirit nor the letter of the law – can also be accused of fail-ing trafficking victims. This issue emerges clearly from the followingcomment from ‘Daniela’, who was trafficked from Albania to Italy:

Italian police stopped her while she was working on the streets and asked to see herpapers. She did not have any. They served her with a deportation notice and gaveher 15 days to leave the country. They made no inquiry into her circumstances oroffer of help. If they had asked her simple questions they may have ascertained shehad been trafficked. They did not inform her about a specific law in Italy [Article18 – see below] that gives trafficked persons who provide information to the policeabout being trafficked the right to stay in that country and participate in a socialintegration programme (Pearson 2002: 1–2)


As will be demonstrated below, in the late 1990s Italy introduced what inmany ways remains the most progressive pro-traffickee legislation in Europe.Unfortunately, it is clear that this legislation has not always been well imple-mented, and that access to its benefits has often depended on which region atraffickee finds her- or himself in. States cannot claim to be fully based on therule of law when the implementation of important legislation is patchy andserendipitous.

A fifth way in which states can contribute to the victimisation of traffickedpersons is by being unduly slow and bureaucratic, whether this be in investi-gating allegations or in processing applications. In the former case, states cantake so long to investigate claims made by trafficked persons that trails havegone cold – which can leave the trafficked person feeling humiliated and/orunsupported, and even endangered. This point comes out in ‘Daria’s’ case:

Daria was trafficked from Poland to Germany and forced into prostitution. Sheescaped and was deported from Germany to Poland. She reported the traffickers tothe Polish police, but the authorities did not treat her case seriously. An investiga-tion commenced three months after Daria gave her initial statement to police butwas badly conducted, with no regard for Daria’s safety … Daria’s case was droppeddue to lack of evidence and inability to identify the traffickers. (Pearson 2002: 213)

In terms of processing applications, Belgium set a high standard back in1994 by requiring immigration authorities to issue a ‘reflection delay’ (allow-ing a trafficked person to remain in the country for up to 45 days) within 24hours of a formal application being made on the trafficked person’s behalf bya recognised anti-trafficking NGO. Unfortunately, this practice has not beenwidely emulated. In most countries, this process can be protracted, lastingmonths, during which time the trafficked person is in limbo and in an ambigu-ous legal and support situation; this only compounds a victim’s stress.

Sixth, states often expose victims to increased and unnecessary danger ofreprisals in the way they handle court cases. This problem is generally moreacute in countries that have common law systems than those that have civillaw systems, because the former operate more on what is said in court thanwhat is written and presented before a trial. Hence, for a trafficker to beconvicted in a common law system, the accuser – here meaning the traffick-ing victim – typically has to actually appear in court. Not only does this meanthat the person’s identity is usually exposed, creating potential danger for boththe victim-witness and their family, but also that they have to experience thetrauma of once again being face to face with their oppressor (Pearson 2002:22–3). While improvements in this area have been made in recent yearsthrough the use of off-site technology and a more sensitive approach towitnesses, much still needs to be done.

The point needs to be emphasised yet again that while the prosecution of


traffickers is a primary task of states, so is the protection of victims – and thelatter should not be subordinated to the former. In this context, far more statesshould ensure that victim-witnesses have access to free legal support, as wellas the right to claim compensation. While the latter right is in theory availablein countries such as Albania and Serbia, they have not in practice been granted(US Department of State 2008a: 222). Even in Belgium, where a number ofvictims have been granted compensation, traffickers have often been able toavoid payment on the grounds of insolvency, or else make it in instalmentsover such a long period that it is of little real value to the victim (Moens 2005:121–2).

The final way in which states may unconsciously victimise traffickedpersons is debatable, but deserves consideration. Hughes and Denisova (2001:46) have argued vis-à-vis Ukraine – and the point could be made of manyother countries – that some foreign governments support NGOs that essen-tially ignore the views of most Ukrainians (Hughes and Denisova express thisin terms of ignoring the views of Ukrainian civil society) on trafficking andprostitution, and that instead endorse the views and policies of their donorstates. It can be argued that if these foreign states pursue pro-prostitution poli-cies, this can play into the hands of traffickers, even if the donor statesformally condemn trafficking. This relates to the thorny issue of the relation-ship between trafficking and legal prostitution, and is considered below.

Before concluding this section, however, it needs to be emphasised that, aswith so many taxonomies, real-life situations do not always fit neatly into ourabstract categories, and many cases involve two or more types. For instance,the Action for Women in Distressing Circumstances (AFESIP) incident inCambodia described by Kneebone and Debeljak in Chapter 8 demonstrateshow several types can overlap and interact, bordering on criminal lack ofresponsibility and support to trafficked persons. Another example is providedby Andreas Schloenhardt (1999: 210), who refers to the situation in which lawenforcement agencies will ‘purchase’ information on criminal organisation Bfrom criminal organisation A, in return for promising information on (forexample warnings about) future investigations into organisation A. If this isdone by corrupt law enforcement officers, it constitutes collusion of the sortdescribed under our type two victimisation. Conversely, if no officers of thestate are corruptly benefiting from this exchange, and assuming both criminalorganisations are involved in trafficking, it constitutes one form of type fourvictimisation (and what is usually called ‘noble cause’ corruption, in thatpolice officers are knowingly breaking the law, but allegedly for the generalgood rather than private advantage). This is not to deny that it might benefitsome victims of trafficking (those controlled by organisation B); but the caseas described here would work against those suffering at the hands of organi-sation A.


THE ‘PIG’S TROUGH’ (PROCEDURE SHOPPING)PROBLEM

Some time before the completion of this book, I met with an Australian ambas-sador to a European state, who invited me to describe my current researchprojects. I finished my brief description of this project on trafficking by refer-ring to the approach adopted by the Italian government, and briefly outlinedthe salient points of what is generally known as the Article 18 policy. Underthis article, which was passed in 1998 and began to be implemented in 2000,victims of trafficking can apply for permanent residence in Italy and be eligi-ble for vocational training and other benefits, even if they are not prepared tomake statements directly to the police and testify in court against their traf-fickers. This is the so-called ‘double path’ approach: if victims are prepared tomake a formal statement to the law enforcement authorities, they apply underthe ‘judicial path’ scheme, whereas if they are not, they apply under the ‘socialpath’ scheme. The latter scheme only requires applicants to make a verifiablestatement to an accredited agency (NGO or local council); this agency thensubmits the statement to the police (Castelli 2002: 18; Orfano 2005: 116–17).This is a very different approach from that adopted by so many WesternEuropean states and the European Union (EU), which typically grants onlyshort-term residence, and even then only in return for a court testimony fromthe trafficked person. The latter approach is more concerned with prosecutingtraffickers than with protecting the victims of trafficking. The Italianapproach, I argued to the Ambassador, was in many ways the most enlightenedin Europe, in that it focused at least as much on protection as on punishment.

The Ambassador, however, was far less impressed, and argued that theItalian approach merely created unnecessary problems for the Italian state bycreating a trough that would attract ever more pigs. The issue is one that hasbeen identified as a potential problem by the EU in its approach to human traf-ficking, though it uses the less loaded term ‘procedure shopping’ to describeit. The most unfortunate – and clearly derogatory – image of a pig’s troughpartly overlaps with Lasocik’s finding that trafficked women are often‘portrayed [in the Polish media] as cunning individuals geared towards profit-making, who upon failure want to be treated as victims’.9 Such attitudes relateto an issue identified by a number of commentators, and which cannot simplybe dismissed. This is the potentially serious problem that a policy that permitsvictims of trafficking to stay in their country of destination – even if they areunwilling to have direct contact with the police and testify in court againsttheir traffickers – will soon be grossly abused, as non-trafficked persons wish-ing to secure a residence permit in an affluent state make untrue claims abouthaving been trafficked. Such claims would be prime examples of the so-calledconstructed narratives problem.


It would be ingenuous not to acknowledge that the Italian approach issusceptible to the constructed narratives problem. But the issue is not insur-mountable. The most radical solution would be to accept that some – perhapseven most – tales of trafficking are either exaggerated or else outright fabrica-tions, but work on the assumption that anyone who goes to the lengths ofconstructing such a story is desperate, and should therefore be treated sympa-thetically by a civilised and humane state. However, to expect states to act inthis way is not merely naive, but also unjust. On the one hand, it is inequitableto other desperate but basically honest people who would also like to migrateto the affluent state, but who are not, for whatever reason, willing or boldenough to lie to the authorities, or in some cases, even able to access the appli-cation forms for migration. Some would claim that it is also unfair to desper-ate but less honest people who do not have access to sufficient funds toapproach people smugglers. On the other hand, it is also unfair to citizens ofthe destination states to expect them to pay substantial amounts through theirtaxes to fund welfare for people who, though impoverished and desperate, arenot actually victims of trafficking. To mix metaphors, the radical solutioncould well result in the so-called pig’s trough mutating into an opened flood-gate. One likely outcome would be strong public pressure to close the flood-gate; almost certainly, much of the public sympathy for genuine victims oftrafficking – as well as for refugees and asylum seekers – would in the processat least decline, if not disappear altogether.

In Chapter 1, reference was made to the ambiguity of one of the articles inthe UN Declaration of Human Rights that might pertain to trafficking. Article13 refers to the freedom of movement and residence. But what exactly doesthis article mean, and can it be invoked in the fight to protect victims of traf-ficking? It must be acknowledged that it is unrealistic to assume that advancedstates are in the foreseeable future likely to allow residency to just anyone whochooses to move into them; the overwhelming majority of the world’s popula-tion enjoys a living standard well below that of the most developed states, andcould in theory seek such residence. Even allowing for the fact that family ties,language, patriotism, being a ‘big fish in a little pond’ and other factors willmean that many people from transition and developing states would prefer toremain in their home state anyway, there would still be considerable numbersof people who would move to the developed world, given the opportunity.Thus, overcoming the transnational trafficking issue by opening the doorswide is not a viable option. But does that mean that there is no workable solu-tion?

In answering this question, it is important to remember that the focus of thediscussion is only on trafficked persons; there is no consideration here of thelot of others who might want to live in an advanced country. Thus we areexamining the rights only of people who have been subjected to significant


abuses of their human rights, including psychological and/or physicalviolence, and deceit. If states are serious about protecting and assistinggenuine victims of trafficking, they could investigate claims before grantingpermanent residence. People claiming to have been trafficked would beexpected to provide names and/or addresses of their traffickers. But theywould not be required to be witnesses in court, since this often places them attoo great a risk. Those who argue that this could be overcome by using witnessprotection schemes need to examine the experiences of states that have suchschemes (and many still do not). Such schemes often operate only for a limitedperiod of time, so that those testified against – or their accomplices – couldseek revenge once the protection scheme runs out. Moreover, it is far fromobvious that those identified by victim witnesses will not inform the familiesof witnesses that their daughters, sisters, and so on had been prostitutes orother kinds of sex worker; as has been shown here, this can bring shame tomany families. And in the rare cases where witness protection schemes arelifelong, they are not only expensive for the taxpayer, but can also ruin thelives of witnesses, and possibly those of their families, as new identities arecreated, people have to relocate permanently, and so on.

Having argued that alleged trafficking victims would be required to providesome form of identification of their captors but not be witnesses, it mightappear that this will result in the absence of prosecution or conviction of traf-fickers. But, armed with names or addresses, law enforcement agencies couldthen tap the telephones of those accused, and/or mount sting operations. Somemight claim this is itself an abuse of human rights. But the universality ofhuman rights does not preclude relativity. The rights of victims should takeprecedence over those of violent criminals. If there is nothing to hide, whyshould innocent people accused of trafficking be concerned? The answer isthat the whole process can be abused by the state, and be an abuse of both civiland human rights. Unfortunately, no scheme is perfect. But the likelihood ofsuch arrangements being abused is almost certainly lower in most developedstates, in which commitment to the rule of law is generally much more genuinethan in many other parts of the world. Since it is primarily in the countries ofdestination – at least in the case of transnationally trafficked persons – thatsuch schemes are being advocated, the potential benefits of this proposed solu-tion to the ‘pig’s trough’ problem outweigh the possible drawbacks.

But one other aspect of this proposed solution needs to be addressed. It hasbeen emphasised that, all too often, traffickers collude with corrupt state offi-cials; indeed, the latter are sometimes traffickers themselves. Unfortunately,examples of such collusion occur even in developed states, although thisappears to be on a relatively smaller scale than in many transition and devel-oping states (for concrete allegations from the US see O’Neill Richard 2000:15). If collusion means that even the mere provision of details on traffickers


(that is, as distinct from being formal witnesses) could endanger traffickedpersons, a viable solution is that details would be provided via a third party,very much along the lines of the Italian ‘social path’ approach. Since there islittle if any evidence of anti-trafficking NGOs colluding with traffickers, suchorganisations would constitute appropriate mediating agencies. They couldtestify to law enforcement agencies that a trafficked person has provided rele-vant materials, and could later confirm to that person that residence has beengranted. They could, in short, act as conduits.

The proposed solution to the ‘pig’s trough’ problem is not watertight – nosystem could be – and does require some input from those claiming to havebeen trafficked.10 Moreover, there is the possibility that no arrests result fromthe information provided by those claiming to have been trafficked. While thiswill sometimes be because a putative trafficking victim has lied, there will becases where the traffickers have moved to other jurisdictions, or even ceasedtheir operations altogether by the time law enforcement authorities have begunto investigate allegations, perhaps because of a tip-off from a corrupt official.This is a limitation of the proposed approach. On the other hand, such a policyis likely to be more acceptable to many authorities, and is still likely to providepermanent residence to many genuine victims of trafficking. And just to placethe Italian scheme into perspective, fewer than 4300 residence permits weregranted by the Italian authorities under Article 18 between the time it becameoperational (2000) and mid-2004 (Orfano 2005: 115), while 664 were issuedin 2008 (US Department of State 2009: 168).11 Relative to the size of theItalian population, these are modest figures.

PROGNOSIS

While there are unquestionably several indicators that give rise to concernsabout the future of both domestic and transnational trafficking (that is, that itwill either stay at current levels or even increase), there are also more encour-aging signs. One is the GEC (global economic crisis).12 If one of the longer-term ramifications of the recent response of states to the GEC around theworld is to make governments more responsible for economic management,then greater regulation in the economy generally could change the overallclimate in which organised crime and corruption operate, rendering it moredifficult for gangs and corrupt officials to circumvent laws.

But in any case, it has been demonstrated in this book that most states andIOs have become much more aware of the problem of trafficking in recentyears than they were until the mid-1990s at the earliest. Thus the EU’s firstmajor anti-trafficking program, STOP (Special Trafficking OperationsProgram), was launched in November 1996 (Castelli 2002: 17). The subse-


quent UN ‘Palermo Protocol’ of 2000 was not, strictly speaking, the first inter-national document of its kind, but has been the most effective; for example,the Convention for the Suppression of the Traffic in Persons and of theExploitation of Prostitution of Others was passed in 1949, but did not definetrafficking as such, and was neither widely ratified nor adhered to. As alreadynoted, most states have adopted dedicated anti-trafficking legislation onlysince signing and ratifying the UN Protocol, that is, since 2000.

Most states and IOs have also become more sensitive to the plight of traf-ficked persons, albeit to a limited extent. Assuming this trend continues, thetrafficking situation should improve.13 If this sounds unduly optimistic andappears to be based on an unrealistic assumption about the growing sensitiv-ity of states, there is a more realistic – cynical, even – argument to support it.This is that national governments and IOs have become much more awaresince 9/11 of the bi-, tri- and occasionally even quadrilateral connections thatcan exist between corruption, organised crime, corporate crime and terrorism(see Holmes 2007). In attempting to control the last of these crimes, there canbe positive knock-on effects in terms of reducing the other three.

Another way in which states and IOs can help to reduce organised crime,and hence trafficking, is through sanctions and conditionality. While it is diffi-cult to prove this definitively, there is considerable circumstantial evidencethat the EU has scored some success in the fight against corruption and organ-ised crime in both applicant states and, very recently, also new (since 2004)member states (Holmes forthcoming).

Finally, if the scale of cybercrime continues to increase, this could alsohave positive effects on trafficking. While cybercrime can lead to tragic conse-quences, its very nature means that it is usually less directly interactive withits victims, and that actual physical violence is considerably less likely than isthe case with trafficking; the two notable exceptions to this general point arewhere the cybercrime relates to online adult pornography involving coercionof the ‘actors’ or ‘models’, and all online child pornography.

Unfortunately, there are also powerful negative factors at work in thisdynamic. Since at least the 1980s, the influence of neoliberalism – as the prin-cipal economic offshoot of globalisation – has meant that governments havesought to reduce their role and leave far more to the market. This developmentof the ‘irresponsible state’ is just one of many factors that has contributed tothe rise of trafficking. Ironically, what in 2009 appeared to be a factor thatmight curb the influence of neoliberalism, namely the GEC, could just as welllead to an increase in trafficking, as unemployment in many countriesincreases. It is difficult to predict which will prove to be the dominant factorhere.

Another problem is that there is little evidence that the scale of corruption– which has been shown in this volume to be a significant factor in trafficking


– is declining in many states. The main perceptual surveys available suggestthat the corruption situation is more or less steady-state in many countries,deteriorating in several others, and markedly improving in only a tiny minor-ity. Given space limitations, only the most frequently cited survey data will bedrawn upon here to indicate this (Table 10.1).


Table 10.1 Scores of selected countries in selected years on TransparencyInternational’s (annual) Corruption Perceptions Index (TICPI)*

1997** 2000 2002 2004 2006 2008 2009

Developed statesGermany 8.2 7.6 7.3 8.2 8.0 7.9 8.0Italy 5.0 4.6 5.2 4.8 4.9 4.8 4.3Netherlands 9.0 8.9 9.0 8.7 8.7 8.9 8.9Poland 5.1 4.1 4.0 3.5 3.7 4.6 5.0Sweden 9.4 9.4 9.3 9.2 9.2 9.3 9.2UK 8.2 8.7 8.7 8.6 8.6 7.7 7.7Developing andtransition statesAlbania n.d.*** n.d. 2.5 2.5 2.6 3.4 3.2Bulgaria n.d. 3.5 4.0 4.1 4.0 3.6 3.8Bosnia & Hercegovina n.d. n.d. n.d. 3.1 2.9 3.2 3.0Cambodia n.d. n.d. n.d. n.d. 2.1 1.8 2.0China 2.9 3.1 3.5 3.4 3.3 3.6 3.6Laos n.d. n.d. n.d. n.d. 2.6 2.0 2.0Moldova n.d. 2.6 2.1 2.3 3.2 2.9 3.3Nigeria 1.8 1.2 1.6 1.6 2.2 2.7 2.5Philippines 3.1 2.8 2.6 2.6 2.5 2.3 2.4Romania 3.4 2.9 2.6 2.9 3.1 3.8 3.8Russia 2.3 2.1 2.7 2.8 2.5 2.1 2.2Thailand 3.1 3.2 3.2 3.6 3.6 3.5 3.4Ukraine n.d. 1.5 2.4 2.2 2.8 2.5 2.2

Notes:* TI CPI is scaled 0–10; the higher the score, the lower the perceived level of corruption.** The data in 1997 were presented to two decimal points; for the sake of consistency, they arerounded here to only one decimal point, with scores ending in 5 being rounded up.*** The number of countries included in the CPIs has been increasing, from 52 in 1997 to 163in 2006 and 180 in both 2008 and 2009. This explains why several cells in the earlier yearscontain ‘n.d.’ (no data); the particular country was not assessed in that year.

The Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index (TI CPI) isnot without several methodological problems (Galtung 2006), so that the datain Table 10.1 must be treated as no more than indicative. But since they oftencorrelate well with experiential surveys, the broad patterns and relativitiessuggested by the table appear to be as reasonable an indicator as there is ofcorruption patterns in different countries.

Unfortunately, Table 10.1 tells us nothing about corruption among particu-lar types of official that have been demonstrated to be more likely than othersto be directly involved in trafficking, such as police officers or border andcustoms officers. In light of this, it is worth considering another of TI’s meth-ods for assessing the corruption situation across different countries, the GlobalCorruption Barometer (GCB). While the numerical results of this must betreated with extreme caution – the scores of some countries fluctuate signifi-cantly from year to year, to such an extent that their reliability must be ques-tioned – the relative level of corruption between groups of officials, asperceived by the general public, emerges reasonably clearly from the GCBs.According to both the 2007 and 2009 GCB reports (TransparencyInternational 2007: 5–6; Riaño et al. 2009: 9 and 12), more citizens pay bribesto police officers than to any other state officials. The first ever GCB (2003)also revealed that, after political parties and the courts, the police were thegroup in which citizens would most like to see corruption reduced (Galtung etal. 2003: 13). While such attitudes are largely explained by reference to directexperience of police corruption that has nothing to do with human trafficking,it is reasonable to infer that most people would be even more concerned aboutpolice corruption that relates to organised crime activity than to irritating butless serious forms relating, for instance, to alleged traffic (not trafficking)offences.

Finally, while the potentially positive effects of sanctions and conditional-ity were highlighted above, sanctions can also work in the opposite direction.As Kneebone and Debeljak note, the annual Trafficking in Persons (TiP)Report prepared by the US can affect how much aid funding a countryreceives, which, especially in the case of developing countries, can be coun-terproductive in combating trafficking.14 This policy needs to be revisited.

ADDITIONAL POLICY PROPOSALS AND PROBLEMS

Some of the proposals for changes in the anti-trafficking policies of both statesand IOs have already been outlined above, while others have only beenimplied; the latter now need to be addressed explicitly and elaborated. It mustbe emphasised that many of these proposals have already been made else-where, and that no claim to originality is made for most of them.15 However,


since states, IOs, NGOs, the media and citizens still often victimise traffickedpersons – sometimes wittingly, often unwittingly – in various ways anddeprive them of their human rights, no apology is made here for revisiting andre-emphasising these proposals.

One of the starting points for addressing problems of human trafficking isto make states and IOs more aware than most of them appear to be of thepotential blurring of people smuggling and human trafficking. While the twoare conceptually distinct, it has been shown here how they can and often dooverlap in practice. Moreover, many phenomena that should be classified ashuman trafficking are still not being officially recognised as such. Conversely,and leading on from this point, the conflation of prostitution and human traf-ficking must be avoided; much trafficking does not involve any form of sexwork, while many prostitutes have not been trafficked.

Another issue that needs to be resolved urgently is that all states shouldhave legislation that expressly identifies and prohibits trafficking. It comes asa surprise to many to learn that, as of 2003, only just over one-third of theworld’s states had formally criminalised trafficking. While the situation hasimproved significantly since then, approximately 20 per cent of states had stillnot criminalised trafficking as of 2008.

Various authors in this volume have referred to the ‘three Ps’ approach (thatis, prevention, prosecution and protection) encouraged by the UN andformally adopted by many states. The last of these is the most difficult andpotentially most costly for states and IOs, but the one most needed now. Yet itis clear that there is still some way to go even in terms of, for instance, legis-lation (that is, relating to prevention and prosecution), as Lasocik demon-strated in Chapter 2 with reference to France. For instance, the Conventionagainst Transnational Organized Crime (CTOC) focuses much more on legalmeasures than on protection and care. Unfortunately, even when states appearto be acting in a protective manner, they are often in fact being exclusionaryand/or patronising. Indeed, they may even make the situation worse in variousways, including making it more confused. Consideration of some recent legis-lation and legislative proposals will demonstrate this point.

In mid-2006, Finland introduced legislation that criminalised the use of aprostitute if that person was a trafficking victim. In the Finnish case, theauthorities must prove that a person using a trafficked prostitute was awarethat she (usually) was trafficked; this renders prosecution very difficult, asacknowledged by Helsinki’s Deputy Police Commissioner (Fouché 2009). Forthis reason, some states have now introduced, or have announced their inten-tions to introduce, legislation that will make it illegal for men to use a traf-ficked person for the purposes of prostitution even if they are not aware thatthat person has been trafficked and there is no evidence to suggest that she(occasionally he) has been.16 The UK – which has been one of many countries


to have been slow even to recognise human trafficking as a crime, and hasbeen criticised by the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) for this(UNICEF-UK 2009) – introduced draft legislation to this effect in November2008, for instance; this was at its third reading stage at the time of writing inSeptember 2009. Given the arguments here against removing the right of anyadult – the case is not being advanced in relation to anyone under 18 years ofage – freely to choose to earn a living through sex work, but in favour of doingeverything possible to eradicate trafficking, it might be assumed that we aresympathetic to such an approach. This would be an incorrect assumption, andwere it not for the seriousness of the issue, the British draft legislation couldbe called ‘daft’ legislation, for two reasons.

First, on what grounds is a potential client supposed to assume that a pros-titute may have been trafficked? Perhaps a foreign accent should be taken as alikely indicator? But this means that someone who is not a native speaker ofEnglish, but who has entered the UK perfectly legally and may even be aBritish citizen, and who has freely chosen to engage in sex work, will loseclients to competitors who happen to speak native English (this has happenedin the Finnish case, though obviously with reference to the Finnish languagerather than English – see Fouché 2009). In fact, given that there is no shortageof domestic trafficking in many parts of the world, the assumption that thenative competitor has not been trafficked is as questionable an assumption asthat the non-native speaker has been. The problems inherent in this approachhave led the then commander of the London Metropolitan Police HumanTrafficking Unit to state publicly that the law would be very difficult to imple-ment (Times, 10 December 2008: 4; Guardian, 10 December 2008).17

Second, the important point that much trafficking does not relate to sexwork must never be overlooked – and is highly germane at this point in theargument. If I happen to like seafood, and find that the price of cockles in mylocal market is cheaper than in my local supermarket, should I be expectedautomatically to assume that these have been gathered by transnationally traf-ficked persons? This ‘hypothetical’ example was cited because it relates to thereal and sad case of 21 trafficked Chinese men who were drowned inMorecambe Bay in the UK while collecting cockles in February 2004. Evenpaying a little more for tomatoes (see the case of trafficked Poles in Italy citedby Lasocik in Chapter 2) or flowers in my local supermarket than I would atthe market is no guarantee that trafficked labour has not been involved.18 Ofcourse, in terms of my own role in the trafficking process, there is a differencebetween my purchase of cheap cockles or tomatoes or flowers and mypurchase of sex; the latter case involves direct and far more intimate contactwith the potentially trafficked person. Nevertheless, the difference is not aqualitative one, especially since there is no shortage of evidence that traffickedpersons engaged in non-sexual labour are frequently treated like slaves,


subjected to physical violence, have their identity papers confiscated by theirtraffickers, and so on. In short, the difference is one of degree, not kind.

Given these boundary problems – where should the line be drawn?19 – theSwedish approach analysed in this volume by Kevin Leong is preferable, sinceit is much clearer, and hence much easier to police; the law unambiguouslyprohibits the purchase of sexual services. But since the Swedish approach isstill primarily focused on punishment and may have led to increased violenceagainst and invisibility of trafficked persons, it still does not represent an opti-mal approach. Indeed, while it is impossible to prove any causal relationship,it should at least be noted that the reported number of rapes – a form ofviolence that is not limited to trafficked and prostituted women – in Swedenhas risen markedly in recent years; by 2006, according to official crime statis-tics, Sweden had by far the highest per capita rate of rape in Europe (Kelly andLovett 2009). It might be objected that this can be explained by the higherpropensity of Swedes to report crime, and a broader definition of rape than isused in many states. This may well be the case, but is probably only part of theexplanation of why Sweden has a reported rape rate more than four timeshigher than Germany, for instance (the comparison here is with another coun-try with high overall rates of crime reporting, and a broad and enlighteneddefinition of rape). Certainly, some Swedes argue that the official rate in theircountry reflects a higher prevalence than elsewhere (Henrik 2006).

Another weakness of the Swedish approach when it was first introducedwas that the anti-client legislation related only to trafficking involving sexualexploitation, not all forms of trafficking. This loophole was closed in 2004,however, when the government at last recognised and criminalised other formsof human trafficking. Hence, while Sweden’s policy offers advantages overthe flawed Finnish and proposed British approaches, it is still deficient, includ-ing in that it was initially overly gendered, and may have contributed to higherrates of violence against women. It is appropriate to note at this point thatmany other states still need to broaden their approach to trafficking, to includecases that do not involve sexploitation.

One other problem of the basically punitive Swedish approach is that it maybe simply transferring the problem to other countries. In what testifies to acynical attitude, the person identified earlier as the main champion in parlia-ment of the Swedish approach, Marianne Eriksson, has revealed that she is notreally concerned if people who would have been trafficked to Sweden aresimply trafficked to neighbouring countries: ‘There are critics who say we areexporting the problem, since some Swedish men travel to Germany to buy sex.So what? It’s better than importing the problem!’ (Alfredsson 2009). Finally,although there is evidence that the Swedish policy has deterred some traffick-ers (for example in Russia – see Buckley 2005: esp. 7; in Estonia – see Fouché2009), the problem certainly did not disappear following the introduction of


the new laws in the late 1990s. Thus, while the number of people officiallysuspected of trafficking in Sweden was relatively low – in single figures – formuch of the 2000s, it increased substantially, to 30, in 2005 (Sarrica et al.2009: 284).20

What other problems arise when states and IOs attempt to combat traffick-ing? As Kneebone and Debeljak argue vis-à-vis Cambodia, there is often aproblem of too many external agencies being involved in the fight against traf-ficking, and of their being relatively ignorant of a given country’s legal frame-work, customs (culture), and so on. Ignorance of various types of informationinvolved in migration and/or seeking work plays into the hands of traffickers,as often poorly educated persons turn for advice to ‘migration specialists’,‘travel agents’, ‘job finders’ and other front organisations run by or connectedwith traffickers. One of the many ways in which states could play a positiverole in this is to fund far more publicity concerning the potential dangers ofthese various kinds of agency. At present, it is all too often seriously under-funded NGOs that seek to get the message out. Much greater use of the Webby authorities would help, and in most cases is a relatively inexpensive way ofcommunicating. Even if it is unrealistic to assume that poor families in devel-oping or transition states will have their own computers, states could ensurethat every village has an Internet cafe; this would, of course, be invaluable foreducation and communication generally, not merely for conveying messagesabout trafficking. There should also be more general information campaignson television and radio regarding all forms of trafficking.

The reference to multiple agencies being involved leads on to the point that,in principle, a multisectoral approach in the fight against trafficking – involv-ing various state agencies, the media, NGOs, and so on – is best, but that thismust be well coordinated. All too often, different agencies either compete witheach other or else leave tasks to others, so that issues remain unresolved.

Turning to the issue of quadruple victimisation, most states should do muchmore than they currently do to counter corruption (second victimisation) andshould adopt more sensitive and nuanced approaches to the repatriation andresidence permit issues. They should also address the immunity issue – notmerely of peacekeepers, but also of state officials such as judges, parliamen-tarians, and so on. Indeed, in many cases, states and IOs that should by nowknow better are still not demonstrating sufficient awareness of the role of offi-cial corruption in trafficking. For instance, a November 2007 official EUoverview of trafficking notes that trafficking is often linked to organisedcrime, but makes no reference to corruption (European Commission 2007).

In addressing the role of corrupt officials in trafficking, it would be quiteinappropriate to go as far as China or Vietnam, both of which have the deathpenalty as a possible punishment for corruption; but tougher penalties do needto be applied.21 Punishments for traffickers generally – not only for corrupt


officials – need to be more severe than is typically the case at present and, evenmore importantly, regularly administered and publicised. At present, not onlydo many traffickers escape the state’s net altogether, but those that are prose-cuted are often charged with less serious misdemeanours, such as breakingmigration laws, that attract more lenient sentences (Dinan 2008: 75).

The previous paragraphs focused primarily on regulatory and punitivemeasures that could and should be adopted by states. But internalised controlis usually far more effective than external control, and states have an impor-tant role to play here too. A long-term project to transform social and culturalattitudes towards violence, and towards both sides of the prostitution equation– those who supply and those who demand – is vital. Violence, whether in thefamily or the brothel or the park, should be portrayed as an action of the weak;its perpetrators as losers and cowards rather than ‘real men’ or ‘tough women’.The concept of machismo needs to be deconstructed then reconstructed, withcontrol of self, rather than of others, being seen as a positive sign of masculin-ity – whether in men or in women. Rather than criminalising this, use of aprostitute should in general be discouraged.22

But the target of such attempts at resocialisation should not only be prosti-tution (and the all-too-often related trafficking). Empirical evidence revealsthat many – perhaps most – prostitutes have been subjected to sexual violenceas children; in the nine-country survey conducted by Farley and her team, amean average of 63 per cent of prostitutes admitted to having been sexuallyabused as a child, while 59 per cent had been physically abused in other ways(Farley et al. 2003: 43). And it must not be forgotten that trafficking that isunrelated to sex work often involves violence. Hence, educational campaignsagainst violence must target not only actual and would-be ‘johns’, but alladults.

It has been argued that internal control and a gradual change of social atti-tudes is likely to be more effective in reducing trafficking than legislationalone. The sort of approach advocated here is essentially that adopted by theGerman NGO Terre des Femmes in a late 1999 campaign entitled ‘Men Showthe Way’. The organisers of this campaign worked on the assumption that:‘Even though contempt for and hatred of women may be inherent to someclients’ relationship to prostitutes, this is not generally the case’. Terre desFemmes sought to raise awareness among men that many prostitutes arecoerced into their work and subjected to violence, and encouraged clients tobe alert and report signs of violence being used against sex workers (anony-mous hotlines are a simple method for implementing this). The campaignconsciously avoided passing judgement on people who used prostitutes,preferring to work on the premise that positive long-term results are morelikely through awareness-raising than through moralising or using the weightof the law. Apparently, the campaign largely succeeded in its aims, and was


appreciated by sex workers as well as by clients (all from Howe 2005: esp.101).

The approach being advocated here thus combines state legislation, public-ity (whether by states, NGOs or the media) and public attitudes in a dynamic,interactive relationship. While laws can and do play a role in changing publicattitudes, they should not be so at odds with – or in advance of – public opin-ion that they lead to a backlash and undermine their own legitimacy. For thosewho are sceptical about the possibilities of gradually changing public opinionthrough incremental legislative and educational and publicity-based changesthat are only one step ahead of the views of the majority, three examples fromAustralia can be cited.

One is the compulsory use of seatbelts in cars. Initially, seatbelts wererequired to be worn only in front seats. Later, the law was amended to applyalso to rear seats, and later still, that drivers were responsible – to the extentthat they could be fined for non-compliance – for ensuring that all passengerswere buckled up. By the time of the most recent change, most Australians hadfully accepted the need for seatbelts, and none of the successive tightening ofthe law resulted in any noticeable backlash.

Similarly, whereas smoking was once seen as a citizen’s right, gradualchanges to the law – initially, just bans in public buildings, later also in restau-rants and bars, and most recently in cars if there are any minors (below 18years of age) in them – have seen a growing acceptance that the rights of non-smokers trump those of smokers.

Our final example could relate directly to trafficking. At one time, it wasseen as part of Australian culture that one did not ‘dob in’ others (that is, reportthem to the authorities). But publicity campaigns on the dangers of drink-driving, or on the anti-social nature of using excessive amounts of water (forexample for gardening) during drought periods, have seen a marked change inpublic attitudes, with many Australians now apparently more than willing toreport suspicious drivers, neighbours watering their lawns, and so on. In thecase of trafficking, it is very important that states make clear the differencesbetween people smuggling and human trafficking, and between the latter andvoluntary prostitution, so as to both increase understanding of and empathywith trafficked persons, and render potential traffickees less likely to bedeceived. The fact that anti-trafficking publicity in Albania (Renton 2001: 39;Abbatecola 2002: 115) and Moldova (Waugh 2006: 18) since the late 1990shas apparently been quite successful in making people more alert to thedangers of trafficking is just one concrete example of the potential effective-ness of public education.

As in so many policy areas, a key element of success or failure of anti-traf-ficking policies is political will. However, it is too often assumed that it is onlythe political will of the leadership that is crucial. In fact, the will of all parts


and levels of society is important if trafficking is to be seriously reduced.Moreover, political will is a necessary but not sufficient condition for thesuccess of any approach; just as important is political capacity. The latter isespecially problematic in developing and early transition states, in which thereis often insufficient funding, experience and coordination of relevant agenciesto convert political will and good policies into effective outcomes. This is onereason why it is important for affluent destination states to show the way andset a better example than most currently do.

CONCLUSIONS

Trafficking is a serious and apparently growing problem in the early twenty-first century. Having identified many of its causes, including several that areramifications of recent policies and developments, we have also sought topropose possible solutions. Of course, there is no suggestion that traffickingcan be eradicated totally or overnight; that would be naive. Nor is there anysuggestion that measures proposed here can address every cause and problemidentified, or that they are brand new (original). The freedom to move to andwork wherever one chooses raises enormous logistical and ethical issues, andmuch more needs to be done in addressing these. As long as there existsubstantial discrepancies between rich and poor countries, and even betweenrich and poor people, there will continue to be people smuggling and humantrafficking. And as long as there are loopholes and contradictions in legislationand policies, there will be opportunities for criminals to exploit. On the otherhand, many practical measures can be adopted that will at least reduce the inci-dence of trafficking. Some of these focus on legalistic approaches (both legis-lation and implementation), while others concentrate more on the role of civilsociety and awareness-raising. All of these need to be pursued more vigor-ously if trafficking is to be reduced.

But another very important point needs to be made. While states and IOshave a significant role to play in reducing trafficking, so do citizens. Parentsmust not treat the use of prostitutes as part of the ‘normal’ process of growingup and learning about sex, as so many apparently do. They should also demon-strate less judgemental attitudes towards both prostitutes and all types of traf-ficked persons, so that their children develop more sympathy for such people;as noted above, most trafficked persons suffer from very low self-esteem, andthis is only compounded if most members of society condemn them. Ratherthan criticise drug dependency or alcohol abuse among sex workers and traf-ficked persons, parents should explain to their children that these problems areusually coping mechanisms for people with traumatised backgrounds and/orwho find themselves in very difficult circumstances; in the case of drug depen-


dency, it can also be a result of having been tricked or forced by traffickers intotaking addictive drugs for the first time. Some cultures need to realise thattheir emphasis on virgin brides can be a major stimulus to both prostitutionand trafficking, and thus that they need either to relax their attitudes to sexoutside marriage – assuming that this is between consenting adults – or elsemore clearly and strongly to condemn sex outside of marriage by males as wellas by females. There cannot be double and gendered standards here. Since traf-ficking occurs in non-sexual spheres too, there are many other ways in whichcitizens can and should play a role in defeating trafficking. For example,consumers must ask themselves if the abnormally low price they are about topay for an item in the market or the supermarket might be in part the result oftrafficking; when in doubt, leave it out!

Human trafficking is an appalling, vicious crime that deserves to bestrongly and unambiguously condemned. We can all play a role in reducing it.But we must also be careful not to throw the baby out with the bathwater byconfusing all sex-related trafficking with prostitution and other forms of sexwork. There are many types of human rights, and while it might not be assimple and tidy as black-and-white abolitionist positions, a nuanced approachto these, and appreciation of the many ways in which the contradictory andsometimes blatantly hypocritical policies of states on complex issues such asmigration, poverty and immunity can undermine human rights – which there-fore have to be asserted in unconventional ways – is the best way to respectand guarantee them. Loyalty and respect are two-way streets: states and IOscannot expect to command legitimacy if they pursue contradictory policiesthat undermine their putative commitment to human rights.

NOTES

1. The number of prosecutions worldwide for human trafficking was almost 7000 in 2004 ,while the number of convictions was a little over 3000; the corresponding figures for 2008were 5212 and 2983 (US Department of State 2009: 47). But, in terms of the number ofpeople actually engaged in trafficking, these figures unquestionably represent just the tip ofthe iceberg.

2. Eriksson has been a powerful voice for abolitionism not only in the Swedish Parliament, butalso the European Parliament. As elaborated by Leong, Sweden’s approach has been to makeprostitution legal, but the use of a prostitute illegal. Some of the problems inherent in suchan approach, particularly as this relates to trafficked persons, are considered later in thischapter.

3. The 2003 project into prostitution by Farley and others involved research in nine countries.The detailed report on this project cited here does not explain why the aggregated responsesfrom only six countries are provided on this issue of violence and legalisation. Initially, itappeared to this reader that this could be explained by the fact that only females were inter-viewed in six countries, whereas males, females and transgender persons were interviewedin the other three. However, closer inspection revealed that the six countries included one(South Africa) in which men and transgender persons were interviewed in addition to


women, while Turkey – in which only women were interviewed – was excluded (Farley etal. 2003: 39 and 52). As for the apparent discrepancy between the percentage of respondentswanting prostitution to be legalised and the much higher figure that believed they would beless subject to assault, this probably reflects the fact that prostitution was legal in some ofthe countries and not in others (that is, one would not call for legalisation where it wasalready legal).

4. The research by Farley and others into prostitution in nine countries revealed that 89 per centof women interviewed wanted to escape (Farley et al. 2003: 34, 48 and 56). This means that11 per cent did not express this wish. Moreover, it is unclear from the published report howmany of the 89 per cent of respondents wanted to escape at all costs (that is, were willing toforego their income from sex work and be unemployed, for instance). For an interesting‘insider’ account of a well-educated, non-trafficked British woman choosing to be a prosti-tute, and even enjoying her work, see Belle de Jour (2005); in late 2009, a 34-year-oldmedical research scientist, Dr Brooke Magnanti, revealed that she was the author of thisbook (Times Online, 15 November 2009).

5. Many abolitionists include activities such as pole-dancing, strip tease, ‘telephone sex’ andrisqué photo modelling as sex work, even though these do not involve direct physical contactwith customers. Donna Hughes (1998: 98) favours decriminalisation of prostitution forwomen, but criminalisation of the purchase of sex. Parts of her argument are convincing andvalid: under a non-sexist legal regime, women should not be treated as criminals for sellingsex if men are not treated as criminals for purchasing it, especially since so many womenare forced and deceived into prostitution. But there is a tension – arguably a fundamentalcontradiction – in her position: prostitution should be either legal or illegal for all partiesconcerned. What the law should distinguish between is not the supplier and the purchaser,but coerced and voluntary sex work, and the presence or not of violence of various kinds.Following on from this, where prostitution is illegal, laws should specify that traffickedprostitutes should be exempt from prosecution.

6. Many of the empirical findings cited here undermine some – though not all – of the argu-ments against the legalisation of prostitution advanced by Janice Raymond (2003), to citeanother advocate of the abolitionist position.

7. An example is of the teenage prostitute Joana Dudushi, who was found stabbed to death inVlora after having alleged on Albanian national television that local police were forcing herto accuse her customers of rape; corrupt police officers would then demand bribes off theclients in return for overlooking the (false) accusations (Reuters 2 August 2005; BBCMonitoring Europe 4 August 2005).

8. In 2004, Robert Scoble was convicted by Thai authorities of distributing child pornography;he subsequently returned to Australia, where authorities cancelled his Australian passport.

9. In a similar vein, many Russian officials see trafficked women as degenerate and/or stupidand naive, and therefore not deserving of assistance (see Buckley 2006: 201).

10. Some have claimed that even Italy’s Article 18 now needs updating or reformulating, sincetrafficking techniques and structures are highly flexible, and can be reinvented so as tocounter the state’s anti-trafficking measures (see Salvadorini 2008).

11. For evidence that less than one-third of the 5577 women placed under social protectionprogrammes in the first year of implementation of Article 18 applied for a residence permitsee Ferraris et al. (2002): 87.

12. Although many commentators still use the term GFC (global financial crisis), it was alreadyclear by 2008 that what started as a crisis in the banking, finance and investment sectors washaving knock-on effects throughout economies more generally. Growing unemploymentwas one clear and measurable indicator of this, negative GDP growth rates another. The termGEC is therefore preferred here.

13. The UK country guidance case referred to in Chapter 6 was resolved in an encouraging wayin 2010. The ruling accepted the claim of two Albanian women and granted them asylum.The general guideline for future decisions is that each case has to be assessed in terms of itsown individual merits and context. I am indebted to Stephanie Schwandner-Sievers for thisupdate.

14. The US policy is summarised neatly by the Director of the US State Department’s Office to


Monitor and Combat Trafficking in Persons, John R. Miller (2006: 73): ‘As a result of theprostitution-trafficking link, the US Government concluded that no US grant funds shouldbe awarded to foreign non-governmental organizations that support legal state-regulatedprostitution’. It will be clear from this chapter that and why the linking or conflation of pros-titution and trafficking can be problematical.

15. For two of the most detailed sets of proposals and information on the implementation ofvarious schemes, see Pearson (2002) and ILO (2008). A particularly useful summary of andguide to many of the handbooks on applied aspects of countering human trafficking isStateva et al. (2007).

16. While straight men are the most frequent clients of prostitutes and hence, sometimes, traf-ficked persons, it should not be overlooked that some gay men also exploit traffickees, anddirectly or indirectly contribute to the coercive and often violent sexual exploitation of bothmen and boys. A number of gay men have been convicted for engaging in sexual activitieswith trafficked under-age males and for accessing paedophilia websites, for example.

17. Despite high-level protests, this unit was disbanded at the end of 2008 because of a fundingshortage (Independent, 10 November 2008: 6). This constitutes yet another example of stateirresponsibility regarding trafficking.

18. The reference to flowers in the supermarket is also based on an actual case – of Roma peoplefrom Northern Greece who were trafficked to Cornwall, where they were picking flowersthat were sold, inter alia, at Sainsbury’s supermarkets (see Waugh 2006: 90, citingIndependent, 14 February 2004).

19. I am indebted to Ms Marta Achler of the Organization for Security and Co-operation inEurope, Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (OSCE-ODIHR) in Warsawfor first alerting me to this issue of boundaries.

20. For recent evidence from New Zealand that legalisation of prostitution may actuallyimprove the lot of prostitutes see The Economist (2008).

21. Although Communist China has executed numerous officials for corruption since the firsttwo were shot by firing squad in 1952, none of the cases appears to relate to trafficking. Anumber of Moslem states also allow for the death penalty for ‘corruption on earth’; but thisnormally refers to perceived distortion or serious criticisms of Islam, rather than to the morecommon meaning of corruption used here.

22. An argument can be made that many disabled people have legitimate sexual desires too, andthat sex workers – either male or female – who are in no way being coerced into providingsexual services could be employed for satisfying these. This is a highly sensitive area, andneeds to be more openly debated. But it does highlight once again that prostitution – asdistinct from trafficking, which must be unambiguously condemned – is not as clear-cut anissue as many abolitionists maintain.


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abolitionism 9, 37, 54arguments against 12, 41–3, 153–8,

173–4, 176–8, 204arguments for 153–8, 176, 203, 204 defined 12, 15, 153, 204

adoption 1, 139, 140 adultery 109Afghanistan 10Africa 9, 26

South 44, 203Sub-Saharan 70West 80

agency vs. structure debate 157–8 Agir pour les Femmes en Situation

Précaire raid 148–9, 188aid workers 91AIDS see sexually transmitted diseasesAkashi, Y. 88akyat barko, definition of 160Albania and Albanians 16, 69, 76, 77,

95–115, 186, 204attitudes towards women 6, 13, 74,

107–12, 115, 184, 186basic data on 95corruption 75, 102–7, 115, 194countering trafficking from 73, 201economic statistics 70–71estimated number of migrants 113and European Union 97, 100, 103,

113law on prostitution 107–8, 115law on trafficking 108, 115 and legal cases against traffickers 75,

76, 104, 186, 188migration from 71, 95murdered prostitutes 17, 204National Anti-Trafficking Strategies

99, 102and organised crime 84 as source country 73stereotyping of 95trafficking statistics 57, 58, 99–102

as transit country 84see also kanun

AmericaLatin 9, 26North 26see also United States

Amnesty International 42, 89, 99,109–10

analysis, gendered 38–9Annan, K. 89archipelagic system 134Armenia 59arms, trafficking 10, 22, 81Article Eighteen 67, 186, 189, 192, 204 Asia 9, 26

Central 59, 69, 70East 137South East 134, 135, 157Southern 7

Asia-Pacific 16Asia Regional Cooperation to Prevent

People Trafficking 140Association of South East Asian Nations

135, 159asylum and asylum-seeking 71, 97–8,

108, 112–13, 186, 190, 204Australia and Australians 14, 16–17,

46–50, 186, 189, 201as destination country 47 and paedophiles 185, 204repatriation policy 12, 39, 46–50visas 48, 128–30

Azerbaijan 59

Baden-Württemberg 25Balay Isidora 154–5, 160, 162–74Bales, K. 7Bali Process 55Balikatan 159Balkans 13, 80Baltic States 75Bangkok Accord 135

233

Index

Barry, K. 156Beijing 33Bejerot, N. 7Belarus 57, 70–71, 73, 75Belgium 78, 187, 188Berisha, S. 106Berlin 27

Wall 56Biedronka stores 23Blackburn, J. 50blackmail 2Bohol 160, 164Bolkovac, K. 91border guards 62–3, 75, 184‘borderless world’ 8, 11, 69Borgström, C. 54Bosnia and Hercegovina 16, 77, 80–3,

91, 94, 126, 178corruption levels 194

‘boys’ 115Boys Will Be Boys 93bride robbery 111Brown, E. 140Brunei 134Bulgaria and Bulgarians 55, 57–8,

70–71, 76, 84attitudes in 59–68corruption levels 194as source country 59as transit country 59

Burma 47, 134, 183as source country 9, 134

Burn, J. 129–30Bush, George W. 54

Cairo 33Cairo Declaration on Human Rights in

Islam 179Cambodia and Cambodians 14, 16, 47,

80, 88, 133–5, 139–43, 145–51,153, 173, 185

basic data on 139Constitution 146corruption in 103, 143, 146, 147–50,

151, 194as destination country 139and donors 146–7Draft Anti-Trafficking Law 146legal approach to trafficking 133,

135, 145–50, 151

National Plan against Trafficking 145–6

and non-governmental organizations 14, 143, 147–50

problem of too many agencies 146–7,199

prosecutions and convictions 149–50raid of 2004 148–9, 151, 188 rise of sex industry 8, 135, 140and rule of law 142, 146–9, 151as source country 134, 139as transit country 139Vietnamese in 140

Cameroon 103CARE 42casas, definition of 173Catholic Family and Human Rights

Institute 42Cebu City 153–5, 159–70, 174Centre for Legal and Civic Initiatives

103children

legal documents on 34–5, 126, 135, 142–4, 146–7

see also Palermo Protocoland pornography 23, 30, 146, 185,

193and prostitution 8, 117, 154, 160,

185sensitisation of 202 smuggling of 26as victims 24–5, 30and violence 2, 200see also trafficking, child

China and Chinese 16, 134, 183, 197attitudes 3corruption 194, 199, 205as destination country 136 as source country 58, 114, 136, 139trafficking statistics 58

Churches Alert to Sex Trafficking AcrossEurope 100

Cioara, M. 18Clausen, V. 121Coalition Against Trafficking in Women

42, 156cockle collectors 197co-dependency 111 Cohen, S. 54Cold War 9, 79, 92, 175


Colombia 10commercialisation of evil 31Committee for Combating Modern Day

Slavery 24Commonwealth of Independent States

16, 26, 56, 74Communism, impact of collapse of 69,

175Communist states 8, 14, 16complex post-traumatic stress disorder

98conditionality 193, 195Congo, Democratic Republic of 80‘constrained choice’ 153, 172, 176constructed narratives 189–90contexts

of disclosure 165of vulnerability 174

Convention on Action againstTrafficking in Human Beings21–2

Coomaraswamy, R. 36Coordinated Mekong Ministerial

Initiative against Trafficking 55,135, 142–3

Cornwall 205 corruption 98, 105, 140, 146–50, 183–4,

193–5campaigns against 106causes of 74, 146costs of 177and death penalty 199, 205and delegitimation 5effects of 102–6, 112, 149, 184increase in 9, 72–3, 177levels of 75, 96, 102noble cause 188perceptions of 62–3problem of 14, 75, 98, 143see also police, collusion; police,

corruption; Transparency International

Council of Europe 24acts against trafficking 21–2, 35

countries see statescountry guidance cases 97–8, 114,

204 crime, organised 21–2, 56, 86, 103–6,

119, 124, 141, 182, 192, 199collusion 62, 193

cooperation 84countering 135perceptions of 61–2rates 73, 177types 84

çuna 112customs officers 62–3cybercrime 193Czech Republic 57

Daniszewska, M. 36DAPHNE initiative 34Davies, B. 186Davies, J. 96–7, 108, 110–14, 186Dayton Peace Accords 81, 89, 93–4death penalty 199Debeljak, J. 14, 180, 195, 199debt bondage 3, 7, 10, 27, 87, 112, 119,

125–6, 154, 158, 161–2, 167–8,177

Declaration on Transnational Crime 135 Democratic Party (Albania) 105Denisova, T. 74, 188Denmark 35, 121Derks, A. 141Different and Equal 100, 101, 107, 109diplomats 185, 189divorce 109, 111Doezema, J. 157Dokle, I. 105–6Dokle, N. 106double path approach 189Douglas, L. 140Draft Concept Paper on Trafficking in

Women 135drugs 85, 162, 177

trafficking 9–10, 22, 81dependency 2–3, 166–7, 170–71,

202–3Dudushi, J. 204Dürres Gang 104–6

East Timor 80economies, problems of 69–72ECPAT 164–5Ekberg, G. 121–2Eriksson, M. 177, 198, 203Eritrea 80Erokhina, L. 183Estonia 75, 78

Index 235

Eurobarometer 65Eurojust 22Europe 26, 189

Central and Eastern 12–13, 16, 26, 40–41, 56–78, 80

‘Fortress’ 8, 11, 69South-Eastern 9, 16, 84

European Commission 53European Convention on Human Rights

24–5, 29, 99, 114European Court of Human Rights 24, 29European Parliament 55, 203 European Union 12, 43–4, 53–5, 189,

199acts against trafficking 20–21, 34–5,

192–3perceived impact on people

smuggling 64–5Police Mission 86, 93see also European Commission;

European ParliamentEuropol 22, 120

families, role of 108–13, 140–41familism 96, 98, 107, 112Farley, M. 177, 200, 203–4Federation of International Football

Association see soccer, World CupFinland 196–8flowers 197, 205Fourth World Conference on Women 33France 12, 24–5, 111, 196Frattini, F. 44Frederick, J. 170

gays 205Gdansk 23Georgia 59Germany and Germans 16, 39–45, 54–5,

78, 85, 184, 200 attitudes in 59–68corruption levels 194as destination country 59, 113, 187Federal Criminal Office 57Federal Police 13rape rate 198trafficking statistics 57–9see also soccer, World Cup

Ghana 114Global Economic Crisis 77, 192–3,

204

Global Financial Crisis 204globalisation 38, 69, 157, 175, 193Göteborg 119, 123governance 142

neopatrimonial 105patrimonial 105rational bureaucratic 105

Greater Mekong Subregion 9, 16,133–52

defined 134 Greece 95, 113, 183Greig, B. 48–9growth rates, GDP 70, 77Guinea 80Gulcur, L. 156

Haynes, D. 126–8Henke, R. 141Hensell, S. 105Hesse 43HIV see sexually transmitted diseases Holbrooke, R. 88Hollinger, J. 100Holloway, J. 185Holmes, L. 102, 114Holms, P. 3honour killing 96, 109hotlines 91, 147, 200Hughes, D. 72, 74, 188, 204Human Rights Watch 86, 183Hungary 78, 85

Ilkkaracan, P. 156immunity 13, 80, 88–92, 94, 185, 199,

203India 182Indonesia 134inflation 70, 77innocence vs. guilt debate 158International Conference on Population

and Development 33International Criminal Court, Statute on

33 International Labour Organization 1,

7–8, 16, 23–4, 150–51International Organization for Migration

42, 44, 53–4, 74, 84, 101International Police Task Force 83,

89–91International Women’s Day 44


internet 9interviews 96–7, 111, 137–40, 160

with experts 103, 106with officials 86, 108–9, 119, 126–7,

164with sex workers 108, 124with trafficking victims 82, 98, 101,

162–5Iraq 78Ireland 35, 54, 78Iselin, B. 130Italy and Italians 78, 90, 183

approach to trafficking victims 126, 130, 187–90, 192

and asylum 71attitudes in 59–68, 186corruption levels 194as destination country 59, 71, 73, 95,

113murdered prostitutes in 17Polish workers in 25, 36trafficking statistics 58see also Article Eighteen

Jakobson, P. 177Jeffreys, S. 119Jews 184Johnston, B. 93Joint Initiative in the Millennium against

Trafficking 171judicial path approach 189judiciary 103–4, 125

kanun 96, 109–10Kanya, L. 138Karaoke Television, definition of 173Katayama, L. 125Katowice 75Khabarovsk 183Khan, R. 93kidnapping 111Kinnell, H. 125Kneebone, S. 14, 180, 195, 199Koreans 23Kosovo 16, 77, 80–81, 83–5, 89, 93Kosovo Force 83, 85, 91, 93Kosovo Polje 87Kulick, D. 132kurva 109, 111kurvnija 109

Kyiv 183Kyrgyzstan 59

labourforce, feminisation of 38 forced 23, 117, 136, 150, 182

Lagrelle, L.-A. 54Lamb, D. 91Lao Women’s Union 138–9, 143 Lao Youth Union 138–9, 143Laos and Laotians 14, 16, 47, 133–9,

141–5basic data on 136Constitution 143corruption in 143, 194Law on Women’s Development and

Protection 143–4legal approach to trafficking 133,

135, 138, 142–5, 150–51mass organisations 138–9, 151 migration policy 138, 141, 175Ministry of Labour and Social

Welfare 137, 143nature of trafficking 137New Economic Mechanism 136prosecutions and convictions 144–5and rule of law 142, 145, 151scale of trafficking 137as source country 134, 136as transit country 136

Lapu Lapu City 160–61, 174Lasocik, Z. 12, 184, 189, 196Lather, P. 158Latvia 59, 75, 76law

ambiguities in 72civil 187common 187criminal 19–20enforcement agencies see police

Law, L. 157legislative lag 72Leong, K. 14, 198, 203Lesko, V. 114Liberia 80limitations (of the analysis) 15–16Lithuania 57–8, 75, 78, 114Lubonja, F. 96, 114Lupi, N. 90Lutheran Church 42

Index 237

Luzon 164–5Lyon 108

Macedonia 84–5machismo 200Magnanti, B. 204Malaysia 16, 47, 114, 134, 139marriages

forced 25, 182foreign 111–13, 139

Marshall, P. 136, 137mass organizations 14media

coverage 39–40, 44, 58, 63, 85, 104, 157, 189

role of 12, 31–2, 41, 184–5Mekong Subregional system 134 Memorandums of Understanding 134,

136men, as victims 1, 15, 29–30, 99, 136,

139–41Middle East 9migrants and migration 38, 42, 46–50,

77, 199attitudes towards 60, 65–8, 131illegal 11–12, 27, 35, 96, 126, 181,

184, 186, 190as opportunity 110, 173patterns 134policy on 130, 137, 203 reasons for 26, 137–8, 157–8safe 141

military collusion 84, 148courts 90and prostitution 84–5, 93, 135, 159,

184Milivojevic, S. 12, 175Miller, J. 42, 54, 205Mindanao 159–61, 164, 167, 174Mitrovica 87Moldova and Moldovans 201

corruption levels 194economic situation 70–71, 73as source country 76, 82, 84, 93–4trafficking statistics 57

money-laundering 145moral panic 41–3, 45, 51, 54, 99Morecambe Bay 197Morocco 58

Muslims 25Mozambique 79MTV Europe Foundation 42Mumbai 182Munich 39Munro, V. 119, 126–7Myanmar see Burma

Naím, M. 175 narcotics see drugsNational Women’s Council of Ireland 54Nencel, L. 155neoliberalism 193neopatrimonialism 96, 105–7Netherlands, The 57–8, 78

corruption levels 194as destination country 113

New Zealand 205Nigeria 17, 57, 58, 114, 1949/11 193non-governmental organisations 103,

159, 188, 205attitudes towards trafficked women

157and collusion 192and discourse construction 157,

200–201estimates by 82, 100–101excess of 143and inflation of trafficking figures 99,

175problems faced by 109–10, 148 role of 14, 37, 49, 52, 55, 77, 143,

147, 149–50, 187, 189, 199staffs of 106–7and victimisation 196see also under names of individual

NGOsNorth Atlantic Treaty Organization 82–3,

89, 94Norway 119, 125, 178

Office of Gender Affairs 86–7Office of the High Commissioner for

Human Rights 82Office of the High Commissioner for

Refugees 93Office of the High Representative 82Ohmae, K. 8Olympic Games 44


Operation Top Secret 106Organization for Security and Co-

operation in Europe 34, 43, 82orphans 115Östergren, P. 124

paedophilia 89, 135, 185, 205Pakistan 85, 93Palermo Protocol 5, 16, 24, 34, 133, 146,

186, 193and definition of trafficking 1, 16,

20–22, 87, 98, 120, 125–7, 135, 141, 159

and methods to combat trafficking 45–6

on people smuggling 17purposes of 142ratification of 76

peacekeeping and peacekeeping forces13, 74, 79–94, 178–9

as clients 82, 183–4components of 93first generation 92multidimensional 92repatriation of 89–90, 94scale of 93second generation 79, 92as traffickers 82–3

Perpjekja 114Philippines, The 15–16, 153–5, 159–74

anti-trafficking policies in 159combating trafficking in 159corruption levels 194legal approach to trafficking 159 as source country 134trafficking history in 159

Phnom Penh 148, 150‘pig’s trough’ see procedure shoppingpimps 17, 41–2, 97, 110–12, 115,

119–20, 149, 160Platform for Action 33 Poland and Poles 16, 18–36, 42, 58, 69,

72–3attitudes in 59–68, 187corruption levels 194as destination country 59, 75economic situation 70–71and European Union 12, as source country 59, 187trafficking statistics 57–8 as transit country 59

police 41, 49, 55, 84, 89, 91, 100, 105,129, 148

anti-trafficking 108, 191awareness 119collusion 6, 17, 63, 75, 83, 85–7,

90–91, 123, 183, 188complaints against 105corruption 195, 204fear of 6, 24, 108, 123, 130, 183involvement in trafficking 150, 183Metropolitan 197, 205and prostitution 85, 87raids 43, 83, 86, 88, 93, 149repatriation of 91, 94reports 120, 123, 125as rescuers 164, 187training 86–7, 131

Poppy Project 100pornography 30, 34–5, 140, 146, 193,

204Portugal 78post-communism, features of 72post-communist states 8, 11, 14

see also Central Asia; Central and Eastern Europe; Commonwealth of Independent States; and under

individual statesprison guards, Nazi 184Pristina 85procedure shopping 53, 179, 189–92prohibition era 177Project Respect 129 prostitution and prostitutes 109

attitudes towards 10, 74, 96, 125, 156, 202

child 117, 160and choice 15, 97–8, 111–12, 125–8,

153, 166–73, 176, 180, 197, 204

clientele 160dangers to 125, 160debate on 153–8, 172–3and drugs 166–7, 170–71and economic factors 167–9 estimated numbers relating to 41, 82,

84, 159–60factors decreasing 131factors increasing 82and families 168–9, 176, 200

Index 239

laws on 14, 76, 116, 144, 177–8, 204legalisation of 9, 174, 205murder of 17profits of 83–4psychological aspects 154return to 153–4, 162, 164–73, 179rights of 173and romance 168–9, 171and trafficking 30, 42, 80–81,

118–20, 161, 196, 205types 160types of establishment 161as violence 126, 153see also sex work and sex workers;

trafficking, child; trafficking, human

pull factors 26, 113–14push factors 113–14

rape 25, 27, 41, 89, 109, 160–61, 169,174, 198, 204

Raymond, J. 204reflection delay 187refugee status 71relationship addiction 111‘reliability on legal fiction’ 91religion 69religious organisations 41–2, 100remigration 108rescue industry 165residency permits 128, 131resocialisation 200Rhineland-Palatinate 43rights, civil 186rights, human

additional 181and choice 180and culture 179and employment 180and the European Union 97, 99and gender 15, 32, 81, 92, 178–81,

182and immunity 80, 92 model 123–4organisations 41and people smuggling 65–6perspective 29–30and the prostitution debate 156relativity of 191of sex workers 173, 178, 203

and the state 20, 29–30, 184–6, 191, 203

of trafficked persons 1, 6, 10–11, 36–7, 120, 176, 178, 186

and violence 32–3rights, labour 124–5, 130Rinas Airport 115Roma 205 Romania and Romanians 18–19, 75, 83

corruption levels 194economic situation 70–71as source country 57–8, 71, 76, 82

Rowinski, W. 36rrëmbej 111Russia and Russians 74, 83

corruption levels 194economic situation 70–71as source country 57, 114and trafficking 85, 87, 93, 183, 198,

204Rzeszow 72

Saisuree Chutikul 50Salvation Army 42sanctions 193, 195Sandy, L. 15, 153Schengen 8, 34, 44Schloenhardt, A. 188 Schwandner-Sievers, S. 13, 181, 204Scoble, R. 185, 204seatbelts 201Segrave, M. 12, 175Serbia 58, 76, 84, 188sex huts 41 sex tourism 8, 135, 159–60, 174sex wars 135sex work and sex workers

arrests of 43 attitudes towards 13, 125, 139debate on 15differences from trafficking 41and disabled persons 205impact of laws on 124–5, 177legalisation 41, 130rights perspective 153–8, 171scope of 204see also prostitution; trafficking

sexploitation 198sexually transmitted diseases 4, 118,

140, 157, 173, 177, 181


shabu 166–7Shapiro, N. 127Sierra Leone 80Siliadin, S. 24–5Simic, O. 13, 184Simmons, F. 129–30Singapore 134 slavery 19, 116, 127, 157

white 1Smith, C. 41, 55smoking 201smuggling, people

attitudes towards 59–68causes of 202definitions 1–4, 26–8, 112, 126–7differences from trafficking 1–4,

26–8, 59, 63, 127, 180, 184, 196, 201

mutation into trafficking 4, 13, 27–8, 41, 74, 77, 141, 180, 196

routes 57scale of 60–61, 67–8

soccer 18–19World Cup 12, 38–45, 51, 178

social path approach 189, 192Socialist Party 105Somalia 80, 90South, global 43Spain 78Special Trafficking Operations Program

34, 86, 93, 192Stabilisation Force 83, 94state officials 199

collusion 62–3, 72, 75, 144, 150, 183–4, 191

training of 186states

and bureaucracy 187destination 16, 45–6, 52, 59, 134,

176, 179, 189, 191developed 16, 77, 202developing 16, 157, 202irresponsible 193, 205Moslem 205obligations on 29of origin see sourcesource 16, 43, 45, 57, 59, 114, 134,

176transit 16, 59transition 16, 23, 77, 202

victimisation by 185–8weak 72–3welfare 71, 77and witnesses 187–8, 191

Status of Forces Agreements 89statute of limitations 185Stockholm Syndrome 7, 111Surtees, R. 15surveys 59–68, 77–8, 110, 194–5Sweden and Swedes 14, 16, 54, 76,

116–32corruption levels 194and European Union 132evaluation of anti-trafficking

approach 120–25, 131, 198–9law on aliens 129law on prostitution 116–18, 124–5,

132, 178, 198, 203law on trafficking 116–19, 124–5Ministry of Industry, Employment

and Communications 118National Criminal Investigation

Department 120, 123–5scale of prostitution 125scale of trafficking 120, 132, 198–9ultimate prosecution model 14, 123–4

Swedish International DevelopmentCooperation Agency 42

Taiwan 139, 154Tajikistan 59, 74Terre des Femmes 200–201terrorism 193Tetovo 85Thailand and Thais 16, 47, 55, 134,

136–8, 183, 204corruption levels 194as destination country 9, 47, 134,

136, 139, 141repatriation policy 12, 39, 46–50rise of sex industry 8, 135scale of trafficking 137as source country 47, 57, 114, 139trafficking statistics 57, 137as transit country 47, 136

Thaksin Shinawatra 55Third World see states, developing3Ps approach 12, 37, 123, 133, 189, 196

defined 14, 45–6, 142 Tirana 101

Index 241

Togo 12, 24tomatoes 25, 36, 197traffickers 86

control methods 2–3, 110–12, 161–2, 166, 203

convictions 203deception methods 111, 161disincentives to 120–21, 130identity of 140–41, 161, 182motives 72origin of 58–9, 63–4prosecutions 130, 203

trafficking, child 15, 44, 180and adoption 1, 26, 31and Albania 97, 99, 100–102,

183and Cambodia 138–41, 146–8and China 139countering 34–5, 135 and France 24–5and Germany 40and GMS 133and India 182and Kosovo 85and Laos 136, 142, 143–4and Malaysia 139and Philippines 173–4and Poland 75punishments for 87, 117scale of 1, 7, 99, 101, 137and Sweden 117, 126as targets 97, 101and Thailand 49, 139, 141and Ukraine 183and Vietnam 139 and work 1, 4see also children; Palermo Protocol

trafficking, humanattitudes towards 3, 6, 10, 30–31,

41–3, 74, 96, 100, 108–9, 131, 145, 179, 200–201, 204

and border control 38–9, 43–4, 50, 52–3

and bureaucratism 74, 146–7, 199 causes of 38, 69–76, 130, 138, 175,

202and children see trafficking, child and citizenship 46, 49–50, 52and compensation 76, 103–4, 188conferences on 135

countering 12, 31–5, 46–51, 66, 76–7, 85–91, 116–32, 135, 191, 195–202

criminalisation of 196and culture 74, 80, 92, 96–7, 109–10,

131, 157, 200definitions 1–4, 18–23, 26–8, 87,

120, 125–7, 141–2domestic 21–2, 88, 97, 100–101, 117,

136, 139, 161, 173, 186, 197and drugs 162, 170–71, 174, 202–3education about 200–201 and empowerment 170–73estimated numbers 1, 39–40, 47, 53,

86, 132, 136–7 see also scale

examples 23–6and families 96–8, 100, 104, 107–10,

112–13, 140, 169–71, 174, 179, 181–2

future of 192–5gendered approaches to 12, 15, 38,

45, 50–52, 95, 109, 133, 142, 144, 180

and geopolitical context 97and home 43–5, 50–53, 96, 169–70 and human rights 10–11, 19, 29–32

see also rights, human; victims, rights

impact of 4internal see domesticinternational focus on 5and language learning 181legal cases against 24–5, 104, 121–2 legal status of 2, 196–9legislation on 20–21, 116–18and/of males 15, 74, 136, 139opportunities 73of organs 32, 36, 117and political will 201–2and population size 75–6problems of measurement 5–7and prosecution model 123–4, 133Protocol see Palermo Protocoland psychological issues 170–71punishments for 10, 76–7, 87, 117,

143–4, 150, 199–200and racism 4–5reasons for increase 8–10, 81, 84reduction of 73


and reintegration 170and repatriation 39, 45–51, 86, 101,

128–30, 179, 199reporting, dangers of 103–4and resource limits 123and retrafficking 96–8, 101, 109,

112–13, 128, 130reverse 97, 186risk, most at 101, 137–8routes 84, 136, 141scale of 5, 7–8, 10, 12, 14–15, 22, 37,

57, 88, 99–102, 145, 150–51, 175

see also estimated numbers and sex work 41, 45, 155–8, 197stages 58and states 20, 46–51and stereotyping 127transnational 21–2, 26–8types of 23victims of 99–100and war 73–4see also smuggling, people;

prostitution; sex work and sex workers; trafficking, child

Trafficking in Human Beings Unit 88–9Trafficking in Persons Report see under

United StatesTrafficking in Persons Unit 91Transcaucasus 59transgender persons 203transitions, multiple and simultaneous 72Transparency International

Corruption Perceptions Index 75, 194–5

Global Corruption Barometer 102–3, 195

Turkey 58, 78, 204Turkmenistan 78

Uganda 183Ukraine and Ukrainians 72, 75, 82, 183,

188attitudes 74corruption 75, 194economic statistics 70–71law on trafficking 76, 78as source country 24, 57, 84, 93, 114trafficking statistics 57

unemployment rates 70–71, 77, 193

United Kingdom 35, 95, 97–8, 125–6,175, 204

corruption levels 194as destination country 113legislation on trafficking 196–8

United Nations 1, 33–4, 79–94acts against trafficking 34, 85–91,

193analysis of trafficking 57–8, 86Children’s Fund 146, 197Commission of Human Rights 33Convention against Transnational

Organized Crime 21, 34, 120, 133, 135, 138, 142–3, 151, 196

Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women 32–3

Declaration of Human Rights (Universal) 10–11, 181, 190

Department of Peacekeeping Operations 88, 90, 92

Development Fund for Women 84Human Development Index 134, 139 Human Rights Conference 32Interim Administration Mission in

Kosovo 83–5, 87–9, 91, 94Mission in Bosnia and Hercegovina

81–3, 86–7, 91, 94Office on Drugs and Crime 128, 182Secretary-General 89 Transitional Authority in Cambodia

88, 146transparency, lack of 86, 94see also Palermo Protocol

United States 177Agency for International

Development 54and anti-trafficking 41–2, 123, 127,

204–5Department of State 7as destination country 113Federal Bureau of Investigation 8and prostitution 159and trafficking 90Trafficking in Persons Report 42, 46,

53–4, 88, 99–100, 121–2, 144–5, 149–50, 195

Trafficking Victims Protection Act 5, 54

Index 243

vacuum, ethical 69Vanna, L. 141Vatra 101, 104, 107, 114Vertinskaya, L. 74victimhood 156–8victimisation

quadruple 11, 15, 181–8, 199triple 102, 181, 184

victims centred approach 14, 133and consent 19, 21false 126and non-reporting 5–7, 28partial 126protection model 123–4rights 48, 50, 52, 92, 120, 128, 143

see also rights, humantrue 126, 128

Victims’ Advocacy and Assistance Unit87–8

Vienna 32, 75Vientiane 137Vietnam 28, 134, 136, 139, 199

War 135violence 14, 17, 25, 33, 118, 149, 156,

177, 193, 198, 200Violence Against Women in Cambodia

2006 report 149virgins 111, 140, 162, 203visas 43–4, 48–9, 52, 54–5, 74, 128–30,

174Visayas 160, 165Vlora 101, 114, 204Vullnetari, J. 106–7

Wall Street Journal, Index of EconomicFreedom 103

War on Terror 10

wars, impact of 9, 81Warsaw University 36Watch List 54, 114weapons see armsWeb, use of 199‘Western glamour’ 72–3 whistleblowers

attitudes towards 66–7treatment of 91, 183, 204

‘whores’ 107–12Wijers, M. 157witness protection schemes 104, 191wives 107, 110–11, 115womb rent-outs 26women

and agency 40, 44–5, 50, 98, 155–8, 178

approaching traffickers 110–12attitudes towards 13, 30, 74, 118,

140combating trafficking, role in 32–3as traffickers 59, 182as victims 25, 29–32, 37, 40, 45,

50–51, 53, 86, 95, 97–9, 108, 149

World Cup see soccerWorld Vision 49Wroclaw 75

Yea, S. 15, 176, 184Your Name is Justine 27Yugoslavia 8, 58, 71, 73–4, 81Yunnan 134

ZLY 31, 36Zurawski, M. 18Zwanziger, T. 42


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trafficking and human rights: european and asia-pacific perspectives

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