UK Home Office faces systemic accountability for prolonged detention of asylum families in dehumanising hotel rooms

Indigenous frameworks of hospitality and reciprocity, such as the Māori *manaakitanga* or the African Ubuntu philosophy, would frame asylum seekers as temporary community members deserving of dignity, not subjects of state containment. These traditions reject the commodification of human suffering inherent in the UK’s hotel detention system, where families are treated as economic liabilities rather than moral obligations. The erasure of such perspectives in mainstream discourse reflects a broader colonial mindset that devalues non-Western epistemologies of care and justice.

The UK’s current asylum policies are a direct descendant of colonial-era immigration controls, where racialised categories of 'deserving' and 'undeserving' migrants were codified. The use of hotels for detention echoes the internment of Jewish refugees in WWII-era hostels or the post-war housing of Caribbean migrants in Nissen huts, revealing a pattern of spatial containment for marginalised groups. The 1951 Refugee Convention, drafted in the shadow of colonial displacement, is now weaponised to justify deterrence, exposing a historical irony where the UK’s legal obligations are undermined by its own exclusionary practices.

Across the Global South, asylum seekers are often integrated into communities rather than isolated, as seen in Uganda’s progressive refugee policies or Lebanon’s informal settlement models. In contrast, wealthy nations like the UK and Australia use spatial segregation to signal hostility, treating asylum seekers as threats to national identity. The contrast between these approaches highlights how 'hospitality' is weaponised in the Global North to justify exclusion, while in the Global South, it is a pragmatic necessity born of shared colonial histories.

Psychological studies confirm that prolonged confinement in small, shared spaces exacerbates trauma, particularly for children, with long-term impacts on mental health and development. Neuroscientific research shows that sensory deprivation and lack of autonomy in detention environments trigger stress responses akin to torture, contradicting the Home Office’s claim that these conditions are 'temporary.' The UK’s policy also violates the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, which mandates that children’s best interests be prioritised in all decisions affecting them.

Artists like Ai Weiwei, who documented the plight of refugees in *Human Flow*, or Banksy, whose *Dismaland* critiqued border militarisation, use visual media to expose the dehumanising effects of detention. Spiritual traditions, such as the Buddhist concept of *dukkha* (suffering), frame the asylum crisis as a collective moral failure where systemic cruelty perpetuates human pain. The erasure of these perspectives in policy debates reflects a secular, utilitarian worldview that dismisses the spiritual dimensions of displacement and belonging.

If current trends continue, the UK will face a growing cohort of traumatised asylum seekers, with intergenerational cycles of mental health crises and social exclusion. Scenario modelling suggests that without systemic reform, the Home Office will face escalating legal challenges, reputational damage, and potential sanctions under international law. Alternative futures include decarceration models like Portugal’s drug policy, where compassionate frameworks reduce both human suffering and state expenditure, or the collapse of the hotel detention system under public pressure, as seen in the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests.

Asylum seekers themselves are rarely centred in these debates; their testimonies are often reduced to anecdotes in legal rulings or sensationalised in media. The voices of children, who constitute 40% of the UK’s asylum-seeking population, are particularly absent, despite evidence of developmental harm. Diasporic communities, such as those from Afghanistan or Sudan, have long warned about the psychological toll of detention, but their expertise is dismissed as 'biased' or 'emotional.' The legal system, too, privileges bureaucratic language over lived experience, further marginalising those most affected.