Essay about The 1999 Immigration and Asylum Seekers Act

The 1999 Immigration and Asylum Seekers Act To begin with this essay will give reasons why the 1999 Immigration and Asylum Seekers Act was introduced, also the measures put in place to deal with this issue. Secondly, the measures Labour implemented to tackle this asylum issue, the affect of the voucher scheme on social welfare and its criticism’s. Additionally this essay will explore the affects of the Enforced Dispersal element of the 1999 Act and it’s implications for the asylum seekers and the local authorities, next the essay with cover the problems of the Asylum Seekers Act, the influences that make up policy looking at implementation and evaluation of policy, also exploring the historical†¦show more content†¦The numbers of people claiming asylum had increased rapidly from 37 000 in 1996 to 41 500 in 1997 and 68 000 in 1998 the backlog of continuous cases made it inevitable for the newly formed Labour government to implement a fundamental review of the immigration system, (Solomos, 200 4: 71). Under the 1999 Immigration and Asylum Act asylum seekers are no longer entitled to benefits or support under provisions of the National Assistance Act. In its place, the Home Office formed a new department called the National Asylum Support Service (NASS) this offered help to asylum seekers outside mainstream UK welfare services. The introduction of the voucher scheme instead of cash benefits was one of the main measures of the scheme applying to asylum seekers who were either homeless or living in poverty, the vouchers were worth up to thirty seven pounds and used at certain supermarkets and charity shops entitling asylum seekers to buy particular products like food or clothing for which no change was given, also the vouchers was not redeemable. The voucher scheme was designed to stop the flow of asylum seekers entering the UK. To illustrate this point here is an example fromShow MoreRelatedWhy Immigration Is Responsible For Crime Essay1586 Words   |  7 PagesIn what way s could immigration lead to higher levels of crime? Explain whether, or under what circumstances, it does. People migrate for various reason, such as working, studying and asylum seeking. In 2014, OECD data display the inflow of foreign population to the UK is 504,000; US has 1,016518; Canada has 260,411. 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In this essay, Australia’s immigration policy wouldRead MoreEssay about The Effect of Ayslum Policy on Social Exclusion in the UK2303 Words   |  10 PagesThis essay will discuss what asylum policy is, and how it has increased levels of social exclusion in the UK, where I will use specific examples from health and housing. Though, first, one must understand the term asylum seekers which applies to someone who has applied for asylum in this country, their application has been accepted as worthy of consideration and is being processed. In comparison, a refugee is someone who has been granted asylum or ‘exceptional leave toRead MoreAustria ´s Future Policies on Mandatory Detention579 Words   |  2 Pagesthe participation of humans must be conducted in accordance with agreed ethical considerations as set out in the National Statement on Ethical Conduct in Research Involving Humans (NHMRC 1999). Research on asylum seekers and refugees has not always been morally neutral. 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This is not a reflection of all marginalised groups. In Australia, the detention of unaccompanied asylum seeking children (UASC) contravenes the United Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC), however the media are prohibited to enter detention centres and report on this issue (Cemlyn and Briskman, 2003). Globalisation often affects the structurallyRead More Merging Social Work and Social Advocacy in Response to the Plight of Unaccompanied Child Refugees in the United States2304 Words   |  10 Pagesyour tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the United States, in the eyes of persecuted people throughout the world, has been idealized as a land of freedom and new beginnings. However, the changing face of refugees seeking asylum in the United States in the past several decades has exposed stark gaps in the legal, administrative, and social treatment of refugees. 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Although the common law does not like retrospectivity it will allow it when ‘there is some declared intention of the Legislature – clear and unequivocal†¦Ã¢â‚¬â„¢ 3 Relevant Law Statutory Analysis Interpretation of the Act allows for both Intrinsic and Extrinsic material to evaluated. Can the new Bill, Publications (Immigration Issues) Bill 2014 (Cth), operate retrospectively? In the Prime Ministers

The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald - 1018 Words

In the early 1920’2 there was a dream that everyone yearned to reach. A dream of wealth, prosperity, and fame. This dream became the sole focus of many generations, leading them down a path of corruption and self-destruction. In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, The Great Gatsby, you witness the steady destruction of three individuals as they spend their lives pursuing the American dream. This dream has caused depression, adultery and even the death of the Great Gatsby himself. Jay Gatsby is easily the most apparent victim of the American dream. Gatsby was born into the lower class society and worked his way up the economic ladder with poverty trailing closely behind him. He fell in love with the lovely, Daisy Buchanan who, unfortunately, was a citizen of the upper class society. This love was forbidden, so Gatsby struggled to mold his life and persona to fit the expectations of the American dream. He had everything anyone could want. Wealth, prosperity, fame etc. G atsby bought a luxurious mansion across the bay from Daisy and Tom Buchanan’s house in hopes that she would stumble into one of his numerous, lavish parties and reunite with him. At the end of Daisy’s dock was a symbol. A bright, flashing, green light. This light represented the American dream. Gatsby looked up to and followed this light to become the perfect representation of the American dream. Gatsby had the wealth and prosperity, and all he needed was Daisy, to complete his idea of perfection.Show MoreRelatedThe Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald1393 Words   |  6 PagesF. Scott Fitzgerald was the model of the American image in the nineteen twenties. He had wealth, fame, a beautiful wife, and an adorable daughter; all seemed perfect. Beneath the gilded faà §ade, however, was an author who struggled with domestic and physical difficulties that plagued his personal life and career throughout its short span. This author helped to launch the theme that is so p revalent in his work; the human instinct to yearn for more, into the forefront of American literature, where itRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1343 Words   |  6 PagesHonors English 10 Shugart 18 Decemeber 2014 The Great Gatsby F. Scott Fitzgerald s 1925 novel The Great Gatsby is a tragic love story, a mystery, and a social commentary on American life. The Great Gatsby is about the lives of four wealthy characters observed by the narrator, Nick Carroway. Throughout the novel a mysterious man named Jay Gatsby throws immaculate parties every Saturday night in hope to impress his lost lover, Daisy Buchanan. Gatsby lives in a mansion on West Egg across from DaisyRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1155 Words   |  5 PagesThe Great Gatsby The Jazz Age was an era where everything and anything seemed possible. 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The usage of the literary theories of both Biographical and Historical lenses provide a unique interpretation of the Great Gatsby centered aroundRead MoreThe Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald845 Words   |  3 PagesIn F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel, The Great Gatsby, colors represent a variety of symbols that relate back to the American Dream. The dream of being pure, innocent and perfect is frequently associated with the reality of corruption, violence, and affairs. Gatsby’s desire for achieving the American Dream is sought for through corruption (Schneider). The American Dream in the 1920s was perceived as a desire of w ealth and social standings. Social class is represented through the East Egg, the WestRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald Essay970 Words   |  4 Pagesrespecting and valuing Fitzgerald work in the twenty-first century? Fitzgerald had a hard time to profiting from his writing, but he was not successful after his first novel. 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Scott Fitzgerald1607 Words   |  7 Pages The Great Gatsby is an American novel written in 1925 by F. Scott Fitzgerald. One of the themes of the book is the American Dream. The American Dream is an idea in which Americans believe through hard work they can achieve success and prosperity in the free world. In F. Scott Fitzgerald s novel, The Great Gatsby, the American Dream leads to popularity, extreme jealousy and false happiness. Jay Gatsby’s recent fortune and wealthiness helped him earn a high social position and become one of the mostRead MoreThe Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald1592 Words   |  7 PagesMcGowan English 11A, Period 4 9 January 2014 The Great Gatsby Individuals who approach life with an optimistic mindset generally have their goals established as their main priority. Driven by ambition, they are determined to fulfill their desires; without reluctance. 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Digital Fortress Chapter 66-70 Free Essays

Chapter 66 Becker crossed the concourse toward the rest room doors only to find the door marked CABALLEROS blocked by an orange pylon and a cleaning cart filled with detergent and mops. He eyed the other door. DAMAS. We will write a custom essay sample on Digital Fortress Chapter 66-70 or any similar topic only for you Order Now He strode over and rapped loudly. â€Å"Hola?† he called, pushing the ladies’ room door open an inch. â€Å"Con permiso?† Silence. He went in. The rest room was typical, Spanish institutional-perfectly square, white tile, one incandescent bulb overhead. As usual, there was one stall and one urinal. Whether the urinals were ever used in the women’s bathrooms was immaterial-adding them saved the contractors the expense of having to build the extra stall. Becker peered into the rest room in disgust. It was filthy. The sink was clogged with murky brown water. Dirty paper towels were strewn everywhere. The floor was soaked. The old electric hand blower on the wall was smeared with greenish fingerprints. Becker stepped in front of the mirror and sighed. The eyes that usually stared back with fierce clarity were not so clear tonight. How long have I been running around over here? he wondered. The math escaped him. Out of professorial habit, he shimmied his necktie’s Windsor knot up on his collar. Then he turned to the urinal behind him. As he stood there, he found himself wondering if Susan was home yet. Where could she have gone? To Stone Manor without me? â€Å"Hey!† a female voice behind him said angrily. Becker jumped. â€Å"I-I’m†¦Ã¢â‚¬  he stammered, hurrying to zip up. â€Å"I’m sorry†¦ I†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Becker turned to face the girl who had just entered. She was a young sophisticate, right off the pages of Seventeen Magazine. She wore conservative plaid pants and a white sleeveless blouse. In her hand was a red L. L. Bean duffel. Her blond hair was perfectly blow-dried. â€Å"I’m sorry.† Becker fumbled, buckling his belt. â€Å"The men’s room was†¦ anyway†¦ I’m leaving.† â€Å"Fuckin’ weirdo!† Becker did a double-take. The profanity seemed inappropriate coming from her lips-like sewage flowing from a polished decanter. But as Becker studied her, he saw that she was not as polished as he’d first thought. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and her left forearm was swollen. Underneath the reddish irritation on her arm, the flesh was blue. Jesus, Becker thought. Intravenous drugs. Who would have guessed? â€Å"Get out!† she yelled. â€Å"Just get out!† Becker momentarily forgot all about the ring, the NSA, all of it. His heart went out to the young girl. Her parents had probably sent her over here with some prep school study program and a VISA card-and she’d ended up all alone in a bathroom in the middle of the night doing drugs. â€Å"Are you okay?† he asked, backing toward the door. â€Å"I’m fine.† Her voice was haughty. â€Å"You can leave now!† Becker turned to go. He shot her forearm a last sad glance. There’s nothing you can do, David. Leave it alone. â€Å"Now!† she hollered. Becker nodded. As he left he gave her a sad smile. â€Å"Be careful.† Chapter 67 â€Å"Susan?† Hale panted, his face in hers. He was sitting, one leg on either side of her, his full weight on her midsection. His tailbone ground painfully into her pubis through the thin fabric of her skirt. His nose was dripping blood all over her. She tasted vomit in the back of her throat. His hands were at her chest. She felt nothing. Is he touching me? It took a moment for Susan to realize Hale was buttoning her top button and covering her up. â€Å"Susan.† Hale gasped, breathless. â€Å"You’ve got to get me out of here.† Susan was in a daze. Nothing made sense. â€Å"Susan, you’ve got to help me! Strathmore killed Chartrukian! I saw it!† It took a moment for the words to register. Strathmore killed Chartrukian? Hale obviously had no idea Susan had seen him downstairs. â€Å"Strathmore knows I saw him!† Hale spat. â€Å"He’ll kill me too!† Had Susan not been breathless with fear, she would have laughed in his face. She recognized the divide-and-conquer mentality of an ex-Marine. Invent lies-pit your enemies against each other. â€Å"It’s true!† he yelled. â€Å"We’ve got to call for help! I think we’re both in danger!† She did not believe a word he said. Hale’s muscular legs were cramping, and he rolled up on his haunches to shift his weight slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but he never got the chance. As Hale’s body rose, Susan felt the circulation surge back into her legs. Before she knew what had happened, a reflex instinct jerked her left leg back hard into Hale’s crotch. She felt her kneecap crush the soft sac of tissue between his legs. Hale whimpered in agony and instantly went limp. He rolled onto his side, clutching himself. Susan twisted out from under his deadweight. She staggered toward the door, knowing she’d never be strong enough to get out. Making a split-second decision, Susan positioned herself behind the long maple meeting table and dug her feet into the carpet. Mercifully the table had casters. She strode with all her might toward the arched glass wall, pushing the table before her. The casters were good, and the table rolled well. Halfway across Node 3, she was at a full sprint. Five feet from the glass wall, Susan heaved and let go. She leapt to one side and covered her eyes. After a sickening crack, the wall exploded in a shower of glass. The sounds of Crypto rushed into Node 3 for the first time since its construction. Susan looked up. Through the jagged hole, she could see the table. It was still rolling. It spun wide circles out across the Crypto floor and eventually disappeared into the darkness. Susan rammed her mangled Ferragamo’s back on her feet, shot a last glance at the still-writhing Greg Hale, and dashed across the sea of broken glass out onto the Crypto floor. Chapter 68 â€Å"Now wasn’t that easy?† Midge said with a sneer as Brinkerhoff handed over the key to Fontaine’s office. Brinkerhoff looked beaten. â€Å"I’ll erase it before I go,† Midge promised. â€Å"Unless you and your wife want it for your private collection.† â€Å"Just get the damned printout,† he snapped. â€Å"And then get out!† â€Å"Si, senor,† Midge cackled in a thick Puerto Rican accent. She winked and headed across the suite to Fontaine’s double doors. Leland Fontaine’s private office looked nothing like the rest of the directorial suite. There were no paintings, no overstuffed chairs, no ficus plants, no antique clocks. His space was streamlined for efficiency. His glass-topped desk and black leather chair sat directly in front of his enormous picture window. Three file cabinets stood in the corner next to a small table with a French press coffeepot. The moon had risen high over Fort Meade, and the soft light filtering through the window accentuated the starkness of the director’s furnishings. What the hell am I doing? Brinkerhoff wondered. Midge strode to the printer and scooped up the queue list. She squinted in the darkness. â€Å"I can’t read the data,† she complained. â€Å"Turn on the lights.† â€Å"You’re reading it outside. Now come on.† But Midge was apparently having too much fun. She toyed with Brinkerhoff, walking to the window and angling the readout for a better view. â€Å"Midge†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She kept reading. Brinkerhoff shifted anxiously in the doorway. â€Å"Midge†¦ come on. These are the director’s private quarters.† â€Å"It’s here somewhere,† she muttered, studying the printout. â€Å"Strathmore bypassed Gauntlet, I know it.† She moved closer to the window. Brinkerhoff began to sweat. Midge kept reading. After a few moments, she gasped. â€Å"I knew it! Strathmore did it! He really did! The idiot!† She held up the paper and shook it. â€Å"He bypassed Gauntlet! Have a look!† Brinkerhoff stared dumbfounded a moment and then raced across the director’s office. He crowded in next to Midge in front of the window. She pointed to the end of the readout. Brinkerhoff read in disbelief. â€Å"What the†¦?† The printout contained a list of the last thirty-six files that had entered TRANSLTR. After each file was a four-digit Gauntlet clearance code. However, the last file on the sheet had no clearance code-it simply read: manual bypass. Jesus, Brinkerhoff thought. Midge strikes again. â€Å"The idiot!† Midge sputtered, seething. â€Å"Look at this! Gauntlet rejected the file twice! Mutation strings! And he still bypassed! What the hell was he thinking?† Brinkerhoff felt weak-kneed. He wondered why Midge was always right. Neither of them noticed the reflection that had appeared in the window beside them. A massive figure was standing in Fontaine’s open doorway. â€Å"Jeez,† Brinkerhoff choked. â€Å"You think we have a virus?† Midge sighed. â€Å"Nothing else it could be.† â€Å"Could be none of your damn business!† the deep voice boomed from behind them. Midge knocked her head against the window. Brinkerhoff tipped over the director’s chair and wheeled toward the voice. He immediately knew the silhouette. â€Å"Director!† Brinkerhoff gasped. He strode over and extended his hand. â€Å"Welcome home, sir.† The huge man ignored it. â€Å"I-I thought,† Brinkerhoff stammered, retracting his hand, â€Å"I thought you were in South America.† Leland Fontaine glared down at his aide with eyes like bullets. â€Å"Yes†¦ and now I’m back.† Chapter 69 â€Å"Hey, mister!† Becker had been walking across the concourse toward a bank of pay phones. He stopped and turned. Coming up behind him was the girl he’d just surprised in the bathroom. She waved for him to wait. â€Å"Mister, wait!† Now what? Becker groaned. She wants to press invasion-of-privacy charges? The girl dragged her duffel toward him. When she arrived, she was now wearing a huge smile. â€Å"Sorry to yell at you back there. You just kind of startled me.† â€Å"No problem,† Becker assured, somewhat puzzled. â€Å"I was in the wrong place.† â€Å"This will sound crazy,† she said, batting her bloodshot eyes. â€Å"But you wouldn’t happen to have some money you can lend me, would you?† Becker stared at her in disbelief. â€Å"Money for what?† he demanded. I’m not funding your drug habit if that’s what you’re asking. â€Å"I’m trying to get back home,† the blonde said. â€Å"Can you help?† â€Å"Miss your flight?† She nodded. â€Å"Lost my ticket. They wouldn’t let me get on. Airlines can be such assholes. I don’t have the cash to buy another.† â€Å"Where are your parents?† Becker asked. â€Å"States.† â€Å"Can you reach them?† â€Å"Nope. Already tried. I think they’re weekending on somebody’s yacht.† Becker scanned the girl’s expensive clothing. â€Å"You don’t have a credit card?† â€Å"Yeah, but my dad canceled it. He thinks I’m on drugs.† â€Å"Are you on drugs?† Becker asked, deadpan, eyeing her swollen forearm. The girl glared, indignant. â€Å"Of course not!† She gave Becker an innocent huff, and he suddenly got the feeling he was being played. â€Å"Come on,† she said. â€Å"You look like a rich guy. Can’t you spot me some cash to get home? I could send it to you later.† Becker figured any cash he gave this girl would end up in the hands of some drug dealer in Triana. â€Å"First of all,† he said, â€Å"I’m not a rich guy-I’m a teacher. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I’ll call your bluff, that’s what I’ll do. â€Å"Why don’t I charge the ticket for you?† The blonde stared at him in utter shock. â€Å"You’d do that?† she stammered, eyes wide with hope. â€Å"You’d buy me a ticket home? Oh, God, thank you!† Becker was speechless. He had apparently misjudged the moment. The girl threw her arms around him. â€Å"It’s been a shitty summer,† she choked, almost bursting into tears. â€Å"Oh, thank you! I’ve got to get out of here!† Becker returned her embrace halfheartedly. The girl let go of him, and he eyed her forearm again. She followed his gaze to the bluish rash. â€Å"Gross, huh?† Becker nodded. â€Å"I thought you said you weren’t on drugs.† The girl laughed. â€Å"It’s Magic Marker! I took off half my skin trying to scrub it off. The ink smeared.† Becker looked closer. In the fluorescent light, he could see, blurred beneath the reddish swelling on her arm, the faint outline of writing-words scrawled on flesh. â€Å"But†¦ but your eyes,† Becker said, feeling dumb. â€Å"They’re all red.† She laughed. â€Å"I was crying. I told you, I missed my flight.† Becker looked back at the words on her arm. She frowned, embarrassed. â€Å"Oops, you can still kind of read it, can’t you?† Becker leaned closer. He could read it all right. The message was crystal clear. As he read the four faint words, the last twelve hours flashed before his eyes. David Becker found himself back in the Alfonso XIII hotel room. The obese German was touching his own forearm and speaking broken English: Fock off und die. â€Å"You okay?† the girl asked, eyeing the dazed Becker. Becker did not look up from her arm. He was dizzy. The four words smeared across the girl’s flesh carried a very simple message: FUCK OFF AND DIE. The blonde looked down at it, embarrassed. â€Å"This friend of mine wrote it†¦ pretty stupid, huh?† Becker couldn’t speak. Fock off und die. He couldn’t believe it. The German hadn’t been insulting him, he’d been trying to help. Becker lifted his gaze to the girl’s face. In the fluorescent light of the concourse, he could see faint traces of red and blue in the girl’s blond hair. â€Å"Y-you†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Becker stammered, staring at her unpierced ears. â€Å"You wouldn’t happen to wear earrings, would you?† The girl eyed him strangely. She fished a tiny object from her pocket and held it out. Becker gazed at the skull pendant dangling in her hand. â€Å"A clip-on?† he stammered. â€Å"Hell, yes,† the girl replied. â€Å"I’m scared shitless of needles.† Chapter 70 David Becker stood in the deserted concourse and felt his legs go weak. He eyed the girl before him and knew his search was over. She had washed her hair and changed clothes-maybe in hopes of having better luck selling the ring-but she’d never boarded for New York. Becker fought to keep his cool. His wild journey was about to end. He scanned her fingers. They were bare. He gazed down at her duffel. It’s in there, he thought. It’s got to be! He smiled, barely containing his excitement. â€Å"This is going to sound crazy,† he said, â€Å"but I think you’ve got something I need.† â€Å"Oh?† Megan seemed suddenly uncertain. Becker reached for his wallet. â€Å"Of course I’d be happy to pay you.† He looked down and started sorting through the cash in his billfold. As Megan watched him count out his money, she drew a startled gasp, apparently misunderstanding his intentions. She shot a frightened glance toward the revolving door†¦ measuring the distance. It was fifty yards. â€Å"I can give you enough to buy your ticket home if-â€Å" â€Å"Don’t say it,† Megan blurted, offering a forced smile. â€Å"I think I know exactly what you need.† She bent down and started rifling through her duffel. Becker felt a surge of hope. She’s got it! he told himself. She’s got the ring! He didn’t know how the hell she knew what it was he wanted, but he was too tired to care. Every muscle in his body relaxed. He pictured himself handing the ring to the beaming deputy director of the NSA. Then he and Susan would lie in the big canopy bed at Stone Manor and make up for lost time. The girl finally found what she was looking for-her PepperGuard-the environmentally safe alternative to mace, made from a potent blend of cayenne and chili peppers. In one swift motion, she swung around and fired a direct stream into Becker’s eyes. She grabbed her duffel and dashed for the door. When she looked back, David Becker was on the floor, holding his face, writhing in agony. How to cite Digital Fortress Chapter 66-70, Essay examples