Victims of trafficking are failed by our state-led approach

The reliance on state actors to deliver support is inadvertently compounding the suffering experienced by some of the most vulnerable people in the UK.

Faith travelled to the UK aged 14 with a couple who had promised her parents that she would support her. When they arrived she was locked in the house and made to work day and night for no pay. She was raped by her exploiter and made to have sex with other men. Her trafficker told her that if she went to the police they would put her in jail.

After a number of years she escaped when a door was left open. She saw a policeman but hid until he passed. Instead she approached a woman on the street. She stayed with her for a while however after being abused she escaped again and stayed on the streets for a period. Help came when she befriended a woman at a local church. After telling her about her experiences the woman told her about a local support group who in turn encouraged her to approach the police. Four years after coming to the UK she approached the authorities and told them about her experiences. Her trafficker has never been identified.

Faith was one of the women who participated in IPPR’s in-depth case study report on human trafficking between Nigeria and the UK. In 2011 alone, over two thousand potential victims of trafficking were identified in the UK. Despite notable efforts by government, border officers and police, human trafficking is a crime that the UK is not getting to grips with. To start to do this, we need to acknowledge that state- led approaches alone cannot combat trafficking.

People who have escaped trafficking need to be supported. A lack of alternative support (whether real or perceived) was a key reason given by trafficked people for staying with their traffickers and exploiters. Even if they did manage to escape from their initial situation, without adequate protection people are vulnerable to further trafficking and abuse. Many exited one trafficking situation only to enter into another. Some were caught by their trafficker, others were ‘rescued’ and then re-trafficked into another situation. Others entered into informal support that was highly exploitative; including abusive relationships or support where they were obliged to offer sex or servitude to their hosts in return. Furthermore, with no access to safe support, our research was clear that trafficked people will feel less confident to pursue the prosecutions of traffickers. Addressing these issues is difficult. Trafficking victims need and deserve support, but too often their irregular immigration status prevents them from receiving it.

Perhaps acknowledging this, the UK has invested in systems to identify victims of trafficking. A process has been put in place to identify whether someone has experienced trafficking (the National Referral Mechanism or NRM, hosted within the UK Border Agency). Agencies including the police and border officials have received training in spotting signs of trafficking. Last week, the government announced that this training will be further rolled out to other professionals including social workers and GPs.

All this is welcome, but the government needs to broaden its approach. Part of the problem is that state-led solutions alone are unlikely to ever deliver a full and effective response to protect trafficked people. Due to the hidden nature of exploitation none of the forty people who participated in our research were referred into support as a result of a ‘raid’ by the police. Whether due to experiences in Nigeria or the threats of traffickers, people interviewed were afraid to seek support from authorities such as the police, border agents or social workers. Very few approached the police themselves and some actively avoided them. Instead they sought support from members of the public or people in community spaces such as churches. Critically, those they sought support from also lacked confidence in the authorities and many advised against approaching them. Often, interviewees only came forward when they came into contact with a trusted member of their community who was able to refer them into official support. By this point many were in detention, prison or had experienced lengthy periods of abuse.

Delivering training to frontline services in identifying trafficking is an important step. However, our research shows that we must go beyond state agents and ensure that the people in communities that victims of trafficking seek support from are equipped to help them. This means delivering training to people in community settings such as churches and community groups on the laws on trafficking in the UK, the support available and the routes into support. The voluntary sector also need to be involved. Finally, in order to ensure that people will engage with official agencies, the government need to make the NRM independent of the immigration system.

The reliance on state actors to deliver support is inadvertently compounding the suffering experienced by some of the most vulnerable people in the UK. We must recognise the importance of engaging communities in the response against trafficking in order to ensure trafficked people can access the help they need.

Jenny Pennington is a researcher at IPPR

Posters are displayed in Quezon City suburban, Manila, as part of the annual observance of International Day against Human Trafficking. Photograph: Getty Images.

Jenny Pennington is a researcher at IPPR

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What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.