Undocumented workers trapped in limbo

Undocumented workers trapped in limbo

One of Migrant Voice’s top targets for 2025 is to see government action to take the estimated 745,000 undocumented workers out of the untaxed, unregulated economy and regularise their immigration status.

“This government needs to focus on what will benefit the country as a whole instead of playing with voters' minds, using the issue of undocumented migrants,” one undocumented worker told Migrant Voice.

That worker, like hundreds of thousands of others, is not undocumented by choice: he wants a proper job, free from exploitation, to support himself and contribute to the country’s economy.

People are often undocumented through no fault of their own. Causes include the fall-out from policy changes,errors in paperwork, large increases in visa fees, spurious denial of asylum claims,and  official confusion in dealing with modern slavery.

The problem has been growing, and last September more than 80 non-government organisations signed up to a Migrant Voice initiative to demand government action.

In an open letter to Home Office minister Yvette Cooper they said that being undocumented puts people at increased risk of exploitation, and of mental and physical stress.” 

These problems could be changed with a policy of regularisation, which the signatories said would also increase tax revenues for the government, increase the formal labour force and help create more cohesive communities.

A few weeks after publication of the letter, the Spanish government  announced plans to regularise the status of approximately 300,000 people, which would: "serve to combat mafias, fraud and the violation of rights.”

Nazek Ramadan, the director of Migrant Voice, has said: “Rather than penalising people for becoming undocumented, this government must take a new approach and create simpler routes for them to regain a documented status.

“It is time for the UK to stop looking at people as statistics on a spreadsheet and start looking at them as human beings.”

Living in the shadows for 15 years: My life as an undocumented worker in the UK'

X's story is one of thousands, but each one sheds light on a system that has trapped people in limbo, forcing them into lives of uncertainty, poverty and fear. Fearful of further complications from the Home Office and the police, he spoke on condition of anonymity.

"I came here as a student in December 2009," he explains, his voice heavy with the weight of years spent navigating the murky waters of an immigration system that has rendered him invisible. "I remember the date because so many people have asked me, maybe 100 times, in many places."

He arrived in the UK with a bright future. Enrolled at a London college, he was pursuing a master's degree, "but after just five or six months, the Home Office revoked my college's licence, and that was it. Everything fell apart."

With his college shut down and his visa linked to his studies, he was left in a precarious position. 

"They told me if I wanted to continue, I'd have to enrol in another college and pay all the fees again. But I had no money. I'd already paid my tuition once and was surviving on a loan and money borrowed from a friend."

The friend eventually moved to Portugal, leaving X with a £2,000 debt and nowhere to turn. 

"I was homeless. I stopped going to college because I couldn't afford it. I told my parents I needed to repay the loan, and they managed to scrape together some money, but nothing changed."

He drifted between friends' houses, restaurants, anywhere that would give him a roof over his head for a night: "When you have no status, people take advantage of you. They don't want to pay you for work, and they abuse you because they know you have no power to complain."

For years, he survived in the shadows.

X's story took a turn in 2019 when he was living with a friend who owned a pub. He helped out around the place, answering phones and occasionally serving drinks.

"I felt so good during that time. It was the first time in years I felt like a normal person," he recalls.

It didn't last. The Home Office raided the pub: "I was behind the bar helping the staff. They surrounded the place—there was no chance to flee. They found two other guys in the garden and came for me."

He was taken to a police station, terrified about what would happen next. 

"I was scared out of my mind. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I told them everything. I had no support, no family, no money. Escorted to a detention centre overnight, he was interviewed by the Home Office the next morning.

Subsequently he found himself homeless once again, this time under a bridge in London, surviving on food from a local food bank: "It was winter. Cold. Terrible. They wouldn't even let me sleep in the doorways. All they gave me was a sleeping bag."

He spent nights riding the bus just to stay warm. "The driver asked me, 'Why are you always on the bus?' I told him, 'I have no place.' He said, 'It's not my problem.' That's what it's like—nobody cares. You're invisible."

The system, as he puts it, is "killing" him. "I've been through so many nights, so much cold, so much hunger. The system takes everything from you. It breaks your spirit."

Occasionally he has found temporary accommodation with a charity, but it was always fleeting. "They give you a bed for a few nights, but it's never permanent. You're always waiting for someone to tell you to leave."

His mental health was affected, and his situation became increasingly dire: "I can't sleep at night. I must take medicine. My brain is deteriorating because I haven't been able to work. When I talk too much, I become dizzy."

Today he still lives in limbo: "I could have done something for this country. I could have worked and contributed. But they've kept me in this prison. I have potential and education, but they won't let me use it."

His story is not unique. Thousands of undocumented workers like him are trapped in the UK, unable to work, unable to return home, unable to build a future. 

"I've been in this country for nearly 15 years," he says, his voice breaking. "I don't know what I'm going to do for the next 15."

He remains hopeful, but barely: "I'm isolated. I don't talk to anyone. My father has died, and my mother is under stress back home. I've lost so much time."

He waits, still checking in regularly with the Home Office. "Every time I  am due to report I get a kind of flashback at night and I wake up suddenly, worried about missing the appointment.  When I go I fear I might be detained — it's so horrendous. They check my papers, five seconds, that's it. They say nothing. They're sadists. They enjoy watching us suffer.

“When they started digital reporting as well, I asked at the counter ‘Why am I doing double reporting?’ They just replied, “You have to.”

X's story highlights a harsh reality: the UK's immigration system is failing those who have slipped through the cracks. For many, it has turned into a nightmare of survival, exploitation, and despair.

"But I still have a little bit of hope left,” he adds. “Maybe, one day, they'll let me live."

Photo credit: Majestic Lukas on Unsplash