The case of a young Sri Lankan mother has highlighted the legal and ethical contortions that have become a feature of our refugee process.
Ranjini had already been assessed as a refugee and was establishing a new life in Melbourne with her second husband, Ganesh, when she and two young sons from her previous marriage were abruptly taken to Villawood.
Until she was removed from the community in May last year, few people realised that around 50 refugees were already in indefinite detention due to an adverse ASIO assessment. These individuals could not access the information used in their assessment, much less challenge it. They were not entitled to an appeal or review.
They could not be returned to their country of origin, if it were to even accept them, because of the principle of non refoulement. But they were not allowed to live in the Australian community, either.
Ranjini's situation was particularly Kafkaesque. She and her family had turned up for what they thought was a regular catch-up with her caseworker. They were told instead that she was deemed a security risk and that she and her boys, then aged six and eight, would be detained indefinitely. Ganesh had five minutes to say goodbye.
This happened on a Thursday. The following Saturday, Ranjini found out she was pregnant. Last night she gave birth to that child, a son who will in fact be an Australian citizen, despite the efforts of Australian governments past and present to withhold citizenship from people for whom it prefers to hold no responsibility.
From 1949 to 1986, children born in Australia were automatically citizens under the principle of jus soli. This became conditional on at least one parent being a citizen or permanent resident at the time of birth. Ganesh is a permanent resident.
By some quirk of fate or grace, Ranjini and her baby are sharply challenging the authenticity of the values we claim to hold. The right to be heard, the right to live with dignity, the right to full realisation as a human being.
It is a story that accentuates the brittleness of our immigration detention system, as it highlights the legal and ethical traps of binding post-9/11 national security sensitivities with asylum rights. It leads to some majestic contortions. How have we managed to confer protection on a woman from whom we need protection?
The best guess anyone has as to why Ranjini is considered a security risk is that