When Refugees Suffer in Silence

For many people, the word "refugee" might trigger images of hope, of international solidarity, or at least the belief that global organizations like the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) are providing protection. But the reality on the ground is often far from the polished reports or charity campaigns people see online. As a political refugee stuck in Malaysia for over a decade, I can say with certainty: refugees are suffering in silence.

The UNHCR regularly launches global fundraising campaigns, publishing emotional videos and photos of families in need, urging the world to donate. The message is always the same: “Your donation can change a life.” But for many refugees in Malaysia, especially those who have lived for years under the label of "pending resettlement," the promised support rarely — if ever — arrives.

Malaysia is home to tens of thousands of refugees from different corners of the world, including Syria, Myanmar, Yemen, Sudan, Palestine, and Algeria. Despite the existence of the UNHCR office in Kuala Lumpur, many of these refugees find themselves completely abandoned, with little or no response to emails, phone calls, or visits to the office. Their questions are met with silence, and their struggles are ignored.

As someone who has lived this reality since 2013, I can testify that the system feels more like a trap than a safety net. Being a political refugee means not having the right to work legally. It means facing daily discrimination, constant financial pressure, and — worst of all — isolation from both the world and your own future.

In my personal case, my passport was blocked by the Algerian government in 2013. Since then, I have lived in legal and personal limbo. I am now 40 years old. I have spent the best years of my life waiting for protection, unable to get married, unable to establish a career, and continuously moving from one temporary solution to another just to survive. UNHCR has been informed of this, but their silence is as heavy as the injustice itself.

The most painful part is the hypocrisy surrounding refugees’ rights. The Algerian government speaks of sovereignty and national honor, but violates the basic rights of its own citizens abroad, especially those it considers “unwanted” for political reasons. France, which often preaches human rights, turns a blind eye to the corruption of the Algerian regime, protecting its financial and diplomatic interests instead of standing for justice.

As the relationship between Algeria and France becomes more complicated — full of double standards and backroom deals — it is the average Algerian citizen who pays the price. Whether inside Algeria or abroad, people are left to face hardships without protection. Corruption has become the air we breathe. Whether you are a political dissident or just someone who crossed the wrong official, your life can be destroyed with no explanation and no accountability.

My story is only one example of this wider problem. A problem that remains invisible to most of the world, even as international organizations continue to collect donations in the name of refugees like me. Refugees are not just numbers in a report or faces in a fundraising video. Behind each label is a real human life, a story of injustice, and a voice that is too often silenced.

The world must do better. Both governments and humanitarian organizations need to be held accountable, not just praised for appearances. Because as long as this silence continues, refugees will continue to suffer — alone and unheard.