The
New Abolitionists
By Nina Shapiro, Seattle Weekly. Posted August 30, 2004.
Freeing 'sex slaves' is now at the top of the human rights agenda, thanks largely to Christian evangelicals. How did the anti-trafficking crusade evolve, and is it being overhyped?
A In 1999, the hell-raising conservative Christian populist Linda Smith
left Congress and disappeared from public life. It was like a whirlwind
suddenly stopping in midstorm. Hailing from Vancouver, Wash., Smith
had improbably made it to the House of Representatives two terms before
as a write-in candidate. Once there, she became nationally known as
one of a new breed of Republican women leaders crusading for traditional
values and helping Newt Gingrich put a female face on his tax-cutting,
welfare-reforming agenda. The New Republic once profiled her in a story
titled "Invasion of the Church Ladies." But Smith was more
interesting than that. Much to her own party's chagrin, she was also
an early and strident champion of campaign finance reform, a role that
gave her some crossover appeal in her 1998 bid for Patty Murray's Senate
seat, which she nonetheless lost.
Last year, Smith resurfaced. She was now, of all things, working with
young girls and women who had been forced, or "trafficked,"
into prostitution in Southeast Asia and elsewhere. She had founded a
nonprofit organization that was setting up homes for these women, called
Shared Hope International. And she was a leading organizer of an international
conference on trafficking held last February under the auspices of the
State Department in Washington, D.C. She brought several previously
trafficked girls from India with her for press interviews then, and
took one of them to Disney World.
From shaking up congressional politics to providing social services,
from campaign finance reform to Asian prostitution, it seemed a puzzling,
if virtuous, transformation. In her Vancouver office one day in June,
surrounded by a few old brassy political posters and many more tranquil
pictures of her wearing saris and surrounded by girls in India, the
54-year-old Smith explains what happened this way: During her last year
in Congress, she got a call from a man who had visited missions in India
affiliated with the Assembly of God Church, to which Smith belonged
for many years. Through the missions' work with prostitutes, he had
seen "little girls in cages," and he wanted Smith to know
about it.
"I thought it was a bit much," Smith recalls, "but I
couldn't sleep. So I called my staff and told them, 'I have to see it.'"
Within days, she flew to India, where a representative from the Assembly
of God organization Teen Challenge took her into the red-light district.
"It was one girl, one day," who changed her life, she says.
The girl was about 11 years old, and for some reason, she hugged Smith.
"She felt so frail in my arms. I can feel her today." She
reminded Smith of the girls she knew from Sunday school, of her own
granddaughter. She felt an unaccustomed wave of emotion. "It was
so different for me. I'm pretty cut-and-dry." As she looked down
at the girl, she asked herself, "What do I believe?" and answered,
"I believe you are made by God." Right there and then, she
made a resolution: "Today I'm going to act on my faith." She
returned to her hotel and immediately started fund-raising for homes
she wanted to build for these girls.
There's a mythic quality to her story, the way she dropped everything
and found revelation in a single moment. It's easier to understand,
though, if you take into account the changing currents around her. Smith's
redirection reflects that of the religious right as a whole. Looking
past the divisive social issues that ignited the movement for much of
the '80s and '90s, conservative evangelicals have turned their attention
to international human rights, forging new and unlikely allies along
the way. One of the biggest issues to seize their imagination is that
of human trafficking.
The archetypal case - a young girl, tricked into leaving her impoverished
homeland by the promise of a respectable job, then brutally held captive,
raped, and forced into prostitution - strikes deep moral chords. Making
common cause with feminists also fired up about the issue, evangelicals
are largely responsible for turning the issue into a top priority of
the U.S. government.
Leading the government's charge is former three-term Republican Congressman
John Miller of Seattle. Although Jewish, Miller's convictions and record
on human rights - he opposed granting most-favored-nation status to
China despite Boeing's ardent lobbying for it and labored against Soviet
control of Eastern European countries - helped to make him the pick
of evangelicals working on the issue to take over the State Department's
Office to Monitor and Combat Trafficking in Persons. President George
W. Bush appointed him to the post in December 2002 and this June empowered
him with the title ambassador at large. Miller has used his authority
to make sure the issue is a top priority of governments around the world
as well. His energy and bipartisanship have generated enormous goodwill
among groups on both the right and the left. An inspiring spokesperson
for the cause, Miller brands human trafficking "modern-day slavery"
and calls it "the emerging human rights issue of the 21st century."
It is being treated as such by the press as well as nonprofit groups
and government agencies. Thousands of stories have been written on the
subject in the last year, including a cover story in The New York Times
Magazine under the headline "The Girls Next Door," stressing
that trafficking is all around us, even in the "normal, middle-class
surroundings" of Main Street, U.S.A.
There's only one catch. There's widespread confusion about what exactly
trafficking is and how big a problem it might be. Consider this: Washington
state has its own anti-trafficking task force - the first in the country
- charged by the Legislature to study the scope of the problem locally.
In June, the task force, run out of the Office of Crime Victims Advocacy
in the Department of Community, Trade, and Economic Development, released
a 92-page report. Congratulating the state for "leading the country
in taking collaborative action against human trafficking," the
report asserts that "Washington possesses many of the underlying
conditions that support trafficking of persons," such as its border
status. Midway through the report, however, it notes the number of cases
brought under a year-and-a-half-old state trafficking law: zero.
The Christian Right: The Next Generation
"It just jumped off the pages of the newspaper." Richard Cizik,
the influential vice president for government affairs of the National
Association of Evangelicals, is talking about how human trafficking
became a cause for crusade. He remembers reading a piece about the trafficking
of women in Eastern Europe, where the harsh economic realities following
the collapse of Communism made many vulnerable to false promises. "If
we truly stood for human rights for all, surely the trafficking of young
girls and boys for the purposes of human slavery could not go unchallenged."
Cizik helped put together a coalition of groups across the religious
and political spectrum to work the issue. Gloria Steinem sent a representative
to meetings. So did the B'nai B'rith. The coalition succeeded in passing
federal anti-trafficking legislation in 2000 that created Miller's office.
The coalition did not come about by accident. It was part of a deliberate
strategy to move away from the unyielding methods of formative leaders
like Jerry Falwell. "Second-generation leaders - people my age
- saw the initiatives of the 1980s crash and burn and decided we had
to do things differently," the 52-year-old Cizik explains. If evangelicals
wanted to accomplish anything, they would have to build coalitions with
people they previously considered opponents, on issues they could agree
on. Not only did they form alliances with feminists on human trafficking,
Cizik says, evangelicals worked with Jews, Catholics, and Buddhists
on passing the 1998 International Religious Freedom Act, monitoring
religious persecution around the world; with the Congressional Black
Caucus on bringing about the Sudan Peace Act of 2002; with the American
Civil Liberties Union on pushing through last year's Prison Rape Elimination
Act; and with gay people on securing more international AIDS funding.
Speaking by phone from Washington, D.C., Cizik sounds practically giddy
as he considers the victories won. He notes that some evangelicals take
issue with the notice they are getting for their global activism, insisting
that it is nothing new. "The difference is this," he tells
them. "We have been internationally involved for 100 years, but
we have never been successful before on Capitol Hill." Cizik recognizes
that having a born-again Christian in the presidential office hasn't
hurt.
If leaders like Cizik set a new alliance-building course for the evangelical
movement, the topics that rose to the top of the agenda came more from
the grass roots, according to Allen Hertzke, director of religious studies
at the University of Oklahoma and author of the forthcoming book Freeing
God's Children: The Unlikely Alliance for Global Human Rights. Hertzke
maintains that the dramatic growth of evangelical churches around the
world has led "American evangelicals to an awareness of the plight
of their brothers and sisters" in impoverished, often repressive
societies.
The religious viewpoint of evangelicals has not been irrelevant in the
way they have perceived that plight. It is a reason that human trafficking,
more than almost any issue they have worked on, has stood out as an
urgent matter. "In some ways, I think having a moral view has actually
helped the community see the issue more clearly," Hertzke ruminates.
"Trafficking was in a kind of netherworld," he says. It wasn't
the kind of human rights issue traditionally addressed by secular groups
like Amnesty International, which focused on government abuses of citizens.
Hertzke believes that evangelicals saw past that because they came with
the understanding that "this is not the way children of God were
meant to live."
Out of all the ungodly miseries of the world, though, why did evangelicals
pick human trafficking as their clarion call? For one, the notion of
modern-day slavery resounded with them, reminding them of the leading
role evangelicals like the British parliamentarian William Wilberforce
played in the abolitionist movement of the 18th and 19th centuries.
Then there is the sexual side of the issue. "It certainly fits
with an evangelical concern for sexual integrity," says Ron Sider,
founder of the Pennsylvania-based Evangelicals for Social Action, which
challenges his peers to work for economic and racial justice. By sexual
integrity, he means that "sex is to be reserved for a marriage
relationship where there is a lifelong covenant between a man and a
woman" - a tenet clearly abridged by prostitution.
The fact that prostitution was being forced upon people, that even children
were being held as "sex slaves," seemed all the more horrible
but also fit into their world view. "This is just another example
of depraved moral behavior," says Clyde Wilcox, a Georgetown University
government professor who writes about the Christian right. "The
world is a sinful place." Human trafficking resonates with many
Christians in the same way that recovered memories of satanic sex rings
did in the '80s and '90s, and the way white slavery did at the turn
of the century - phenomena, incidentally, that were hailed as endemic
until they were scrutinized more closely.
In some respects, the evangelical worldview is similar to that of certain
strains of feminism, which also see the world as full of evil - perpetrated
by men on women, with sex a primary means of exploitation and abuse.
Hence, Equality Now, a New York organization that works on international
women's rights and has Gloria Steinem on its advisory board, is enthusiastically
working with religious groups on trafficking. The famous feminist University
of Michigan law professor Catharine MacKinnon, also affiliated with
Equality Now, and whose fervent antipornography views have put her in
alignment with the Christian right before, is deeply involved with the
cause.
Sex, however, is only one side of human trafficking, which encompasses
all forms of coerced labor. The biggest case brought by the U.S. Justice
Department, revealed in 2001, concerns a garment factory in American
Samoa, where, according to the department, more than 250 Vietnamese
and Chinese nationals were forced to work in a guarded compound "through
extreme food deprivation, beatings, and physical restraint." When
one victim objected, she had her eye gouged out with a jagged pipe.
Trafficking victims are also forced to work as domestic servants, on
fishing boats, on cocoa plantations, and elsewhere.
There has developed a thinly veiled fault line in the anti-trafficking
world, with the evangelical-feminist alliance on one side and, on the
other, the kind of liberal, do-gooding groups that traditionally toil
in international causes like famine relief and family planning. To the
liberal groups, it seems as if the evangelical- feminist bloc, which
has the Bush administration's ear, has placed an undue emphasis on sex
trafficking. While defenders respond that such is the most common form
of trafficking, statistics that back that up are controversial, and
critics argue that the emphasis on prostitution is for ideological reasons.
"The general public gets confused," says Christina Arnold,
founder of an organization called Project Hope International (no relation
to Linda Smith's group), which is starting the first shelter on the
East Coast for trafficking victims. "All they hear about is prostitution.
... It's gotten to the point where other organizations are having to
mount re-education campaigns."
Good Deeds and a Brand-New Power Base
Certainly, Linda Smith has focused on the sexual side of trafficking.
The $1.8 million State Department conference she lobbied for and helped
host last year went by the heading "Pathbreaking Strategies in
the Global Fight Against Sex Trafficking." Similar to other like-minded
activists, she has harnessed the trafficking issue to fight against
prostitution in general, even where it's legal. "I encourage the
administration to consider countries with legalized or tolerated prostitution
as having laws that are insufficient to eliminate trafficking,"
she said in testimony at a congressional subcommittee hearing on trafficking
in 2002. "Tolerated prostitution," she argued, "provides
cover for the traffickers," a line of reasoning that has become
the official position of the Bush administration. It does not penalize
countries for maintaining legalized prostitution, as it might through
its new policy of sanctioning nations considered to be inadequately
fighting trafficking. It does, however, withhold funding from nongovernmental
groups that are judged to "promote" prostitution.
The fact that Smith (along with three other groups, two of them faith-based,
that make up the War Against Trafficking Alliance) co-hosted the State
Department conference and testified before Congress is a testament to
how religious groups have finally made it on Capitol Hill. There is
a nexus of connections surrounding the Bush administration of which
Smith is a part. She and Attorney General John Ashcroft have had a friendly
relationship since her days in Congress. They both belonged to Assembly
of God congregations and would see each other at functions for visiting
church leaders. "I saw him right after he was sworn in," Smith
recalls. She used the moment to talk about trafficking. Smith also counts
John Miller as a friend. The two met years ago after Miller wrote an
op-ed piece praising Smith's stance on campaign finance reform. They
socialize. "We're both single in D.C.," Smith says, "so
we have dinner." (Both have spouses living in Washington state.)
Smith's access and standing as a former congresswoman have undoubtedly
helped her build her organization. She received $930,000 in federal
funding over the last two fiscal years. Shared Hope's total annual revenue
last year was almost $1.7 million, including private donations and foundation
grants. The former congresswoman didn't exactly run off to become a
humble, self-sacrificing Mother Teresa (if that's how you see the soon-to-be
saint). Worthy as her work may be, Smith has discovered in it a new
power base: a sprawling, well-funded, influential organization riding
one of the hottest issues in the world.
Not that you'd be able to tell that from her office. It lies in a modest,
nondescript building in a leafy neighborhood of Vancouver. Past a small
reception area are winding corridors that lead farther than you might
imagine. Smith, who travels almost constantly, meets me on a rare day
that she is there. She has stayed in town a few days longer than expected
because she picked up a bug the week before during a fact-finding mission
to the Czech Republic. The next day, she plans to fly to Washington,
D.C., for the release of the annual Trafficking in Persons Report, which
comes out of Miller's office. The report is to incorporate Smith's documentation
of trafficking cases in Australia, where she worked with a local women's
group that has been challenging the government's contention that it
doesn't have a problem. A few days after that, she's on to Johannesburg,
where the War Against Trafficking Alliance is joining with the South
African government in putting on a follow-up conference to the one held
in D.C. last year. The alliance has received federal funding to put
on six such conferences around the world.
Despite the bug, Smith looks cool and collected in a black jumper and
sandals, her short brown hair streaked with highlights. She has an aloof
manner, accentuated by a somewhat regal timbre to her voice. But she's
intense. She begins talking about subjects as if she were in the middle
of a conversation, seeming to pick up threads of thought that come into
her head, and which she would like me to know. Within minutes, she mentions
a "partner" who's a Muslim. She's referring to Mohamed Mattar,
co-director of the Protection Project, a research institute based at
Johns Hopkins University that is the only secular group in the War Against
Trafficking Alliance. She also repeatedly alludes to the personal financial
commitment she and her husband, Vern, have made to the cause, adding
a money-conscious note to her generosity. They threw a lavish wedding
in January for a woman named Ganga, the same one she took to Disney
World, now living in a Shared Hope facility in India. "I don't
know if Ganga even realizes . . . ," she says of the expense. "We
gave her a full Indian wedding for 500 people."
In Nepal, they're also raising another young girl, named Mannisha, whose
mother was a prostitute. Although they have not adopted her, they're
paying for her education and living expenses. "That's our baby,"
she says, pointing to a picture on the back wall of a girl about 8 or
9 years old in a pink dress, smiling broadly, holding what Smith says
is the first doll she ever had.
Smith seems genuinely wrapped up in her mission. She talks for hours
about trafficking routes and destination points and which group of organized
crime is doing what to which nationality of girls. Moldovan girls brought
to the Dominican Republic, Thai girls to South Africa, Nepalese girls
to India. India, the place she got into this work, is her touchstone.
She relates how she met young women who were forced into prostitution
in order to repay money that had been given their parents, a classic
tale. "They were trying to preserve their dignity even though they
were given no more than a day off for the birth of a baby," she
says. She bemoans the plight in general of girls in India. "A nonperson
is a nonperson," she says of the prevailing attitude. Her response:
"These girls can do anything they want."
Her greatest contribution is the way she is trying to help them do so.
A number of anti-trafficking groups "rescue" women into the
void, with no home for them to go to other than nasty government facilities
and no plan for what they might do next. In Mother Jones late last year,
Maggie Jones wrote about one rescue in Thailand orchestrated by the
International Justice Mission, a religious-based group aligned with
Smith in the War Against Trafficking Alliance. Feeding information to
police, IJM succeeded in shutting a brothel down, but many of the girls
had in one month's time "run away from being saved," according
to Jones.
Smith, in contrast, is building homes for trafficking victims, offering
them educational and vocational options and sticking with them for the
long haul. Michele Clark, the other co-director of the Protection Project,
says that Smith understands that "you can't just say, 'Here's a
bed for 30 days; go back into the same world from which you were trafficked.'
She understands that it can take years for a woman to recover."
Outside Mumbai in India, Smith partnered with Teen Challenge to develop
a 72-acre facility known as the Village of Hope. There's a mango orchard
on it, and Smith says she's looking at putting a mango processing plant
there to make the facility self-sustaining. Smith funded the facility's
start-up, while Teen Challenge runs it day to day, a partnership model
that she uses on all her projects. In Fiji, she and a local group have
established another facility with a bakery. In South Africa this summer,
Smith dedicated a renovated farmhouse where she wants to put another
bakery as well as a toilet paper factory. While residents would have
an opportunity to learn job skills from such enterprises, Smith says
she also makes sure they get a basic education and, in some cases, pays
for them to go to college. She appears to spend atypically large amounts
on individual cases. "We have $10,000 on one girl," she says.
Yet it's curiously hard to pin Smith down on details of her operations.
Asked how many people live in the Village of Hope outside Mumbai, she
shrugs dismissively and says, "I don't know." It has a capacity
for 300 to 500, she had told me, but is not at capacity. She never quite
comes up with a figure for how many homes she has opened in all, despite
being asked repeatedly, finally saying it's hard to calculate because
some have closed while others have opened. Going through them one by
one, it emerges that there are at least 10 facilities in six countries.
"We intend to not have press coverage," she says at one point,
indicating that the dangerous, illicit nature of what she is up against
mandates a need for secrecy. So, in some cases, do her methods. "If
we identify a child" in a brothel, she says, "we will have
her physically removed." Asked how, she responds, "I'm not
going to go there."
Obviously savvy to sensitivities around proselytizing, she is wary of
talking too much about the religious aspect of her work. Smith's spiritual
life has evolved. About 18 months ago, she left her Assembly of God
congregation to attend a multi-denominational church that ministers
to those coming off the streets and out of prison. But religion is still
a central part of her life. In a promotional video about her homes that
she plays for me, she says to the camera about those she is helping,
"When they find there's a God, one God, that loves them - it changes
them." When I ask her about it, she says that workers at the homes
"are not trying to convert somebody to a religion," though
they are open about the fact that "they're there because of what
they believe."
Donald Wilkerson, the executive director of Global Teen Challenge, based
in Virginia, is more up-front about the religious nature of the Village
of Hope, which his organization oversees on a daily basis. "It's
clearly a Christian program," he says, one that entails a regimen
of religious instruction and daily prayers. Many of the women that come
to the village learn about the facility through a church Teen Challenge
has set up near Mumbai's red-light district.
While there might be some specific reasons for Smith to be vague, there's
an amorphousness that lingers over the entire trafficking field.
Is All Prostitution 'Sex Slavery'?
Leigh Winchell, head of the regional office of the federal Immigration
and Customs Enforcement, sits in his high-up downtown Seattle office
overlooking Puget Sound. ICE, as it is known, is charged with conducting
trafficking investigations domestically. Winchell recently popped up
in newspaper coverage of a June prostitution bust in Bellevue. Two of
the alleged prostitutes were illegal immigrants from China. Winchell
told the Seattle Times reporter writing about the case: "Human
trafficking in the sex trade is alive and vibrant, particularly in the
Northwest." Yet the Bellevue police, who helped conduct the raid,
say they do not believe the women were being held against their will.
When I ask Winchell about that, he tells me that he did not intend to
suggest that this was a trafficking case. "Any comments I made
in regard to the Bellevue case were more global in nature."
A tall, burly former cop, Winchell affirms that he has made trafficking
a top priority, both because of directives from top brass and because
of his judgment of the local landscape. "My agents tell me that
about half of the women smuggled across the Pacific Northwest border
are going into the sex trade." I wonder aloud whether they're being
trafficked or going willingly. He acknowledges that some may be willing,
but says: "All they have to do is be brought into the U.S. for
purposes of the sex trade, as I currently understand it."
"But doesn't trafficking require some measure of force or deceit?"
I ask.
He falters and reaches for some papers on the subject from a senior
official at the Department of Homeland Security. "I have to research
it. I believe just the fact that they are being smuggled alone falls
into the area of fraud."
A few minutes later, he returns to the subject. "Where do you draw
the line between smuggling and human trafficking? A person is smuggled
in and put to work in the orchards. Are they being held against their
will? They may have come here with a debt to pay and knowingly did that.
So were they forced or coerced? I don't know."
It says something about the non-intuitive nature of what this crime
is that the man responsible for investigating it here has to check his
papers in order to grasp it. His confusion is understandable. There
are varying definitions. The United Nations definition has three essential
elements: some kind of transportation of an individual, some form of
coercion or deception, and the ultimate result of one person "having
control over another person for the purpose of exploitation." As
this year's federal trafficking report notes, "many nations misunderstand
this definition, overlooking internal trafficking or characterizing
any irregular migration as trafficking." The differing U.S. definition
"does not require that a trafficking victim be physically transported
from one location to another," as the report states. But it does
require "force, fraud, or coercion," unless the victim is
a minor. To complicate things further, Washington state has its own
definition, which is so loose as to include exploitative mail-order
bride situations as a form of trafficking.
In fact, a number of evangelicals and feminists fighting trafficking
consider virtually all prostitution, whether forced or not, a form of
trafficking. "In reality, there is no distinction between them,"
says feminist scholar MacKinnon of prostitution and trafficking. She
refers to the "inherent exploitation of the buying and selling
of people for sex, which is what prostitution is - paying for sexual
abuse, typically paying a third party [a pimp] to sexually abuse someone
else."
It's an argument that Miller is sympathetic to. "Yes, people can
be voluntarily in prostitution," says the trafficking czar. But,
he says, "the more usual situation is that there is coercion or
force or threats or psychological pressure." He points to research
published this January in the Journal of Trauma Practice, worked on
by University of Washington psychologist Ann Cotton among others, who
interviewed current and former prostitutes around the world. Many had
been raped or abused in their past. Eighty-nine percent said they wanted
to leave prostitution. "I don't know of any other occupation where
89 percent of people want to escape," Miller says.
There is an argument to make that people who go into prostitution do
not truly do so of their own free will but have been driven by economic
desperation and abusive circumstances. But does that make them, literally,
slaves? What about sweatshop workers? Poorly paid janitors? They're
not as demeaned as prostitutes, but surely they're dying to leave their
profession, too. One gets the impression when Miller talks about the
"emerging human rights issue of the 21st century" that we
are dealing with a new, shocking crime. It seems an odd label for prostitution,
the oldest crime in the book.
Part of the problem in understanding trafficking is that there are a
lot of assumptions made from afar about the ostensible victims, argues
Joanna Busza, a lecturer at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical
Medicine. "Nobody's bothered to ask them how they got there and
if they're exploited," she says. She and two fellow researchers
spent time in Mali and Cambodia interviewing people that had been identified
by local nongovernmental organizations as trafficking victims. They
published their findings this June in the British Medical Journal. Of
1,000 young people identified in Mali, many of whom had returned from
working on cocoa plantations in the Ivory Coast, "only four could
be classified as having been deceived, exploited, or not paid at all
for their labor." Talking to Vietnamese prostitutes in Cambodia,
just six of 100 women "reported having been 'tricked' into sex
work or betrayed by an intermediary." Many of the women, however,
were working under a "debt bondage" system, paying back loans
made to them or their families, and were unhappy with their sometimes
violent working conditions.
Busza's study has tapped into a reassessment some are making within
the anti-trafficking movement about the scope of the problem. "The
situation has been exaggerated; that seems to be the reality we're learning,"
says Ann Jordan, the director of a trafficking program run by the International
Human Rights Law Group in Washington, D.C., who has worked on the issue
since living in China 15 years ago. Jordan, who works with a network
of service providers nationwide, notes that the feds keep changing the
statistics regarding the number of people trafficked into the U.S. At
one time, they said there were 50,000 trafficking victims here, then
18,000 to 20,000 and now, according to the latest State Department report,
14,500 to 17,500.
"I only know that all our partner NGOs [nongovernmental organizations]
are busy with clients all the time," Jordan says. "But they
have nowhere near that number. Either we have tens of thousands of people
in the U.S. sitting in slavery or their numbers are off. I don't know."
According to Ashcroft's report on trafficking to Congress this May,
the federal government had identified just 450 trafficking victims domestically
in the 2003 fiscal year who were eligible to receive certain benefits,
including the newly created "T" visa. In King County, the
Refugee Women's Alliance received a grant of approximately a quarter
million dollars to lead a "trafficking response team" that
would provide services to victims. It has handled only about 10 cases
in more than a year.
"A lot of the stats are, if not made up, then certainly the basis
for which they are derived is never given," says David Feingold,
who coordinates regional trafficking projects for the United Nations
Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) in Bangkok.
Speaking by phone from there, he says that a lot of the estimates come
from nongovernmental organizations that have no training in research.
His agency has put together an illuminating database of the many and
wildly varying trafficking statistics, cited along with their sources
(accessible online at www.unescobkk.org). The worldwide trafficking
estimates vary from 700,000 victims (in the range of the current State
Department figure) to 200 million.
"It's very embarrassing," Miller admits of the statistical
fluctuations. Within the federal government, he says, the varying numbers
reflect the increasingly intensive research effort.
The Victims Are Real, But How Many Are There?
Like Jimmy Carter and George Mitchell, Miller has achieved new renown
in his post-political life. "I've been around government for 25,
30 years, and I've never seen a guy as admired by people on both sides
of the aisle," says Michael Horowitz, a prominent neoconservative
affiliated with the Hudson Institute. Having left Congress in 1993 to
spend more time with his then 4-year-old son, the 66-year-old Miller
was chairing the Discovery Institute, a conservative Seattle think tank,
and teaching English literature at the Northwest Yeshiva High School
on Mercer Island when the president tapped him to take charge of the
national trafficking office. Since doing so, he has brought a new level
of forcefulness to an office that previously kept beneath the radar.
"My role has been to elevate the issue," he says, speaking
by phone during a vacation trip to Lake Chelan, "to make sure that
our embassies and the State Department and other agencies take this
very seriously, that they know that this is not just some throwaway
part of American policy." Miller has been willing to put pressure
even on allies of the U.S., including Japan, which in this June's trafficking
report was put on a "watch list" of problem countries. If
those countries fall to Tier 3, the lowest grading of countries evaluated
in the report according to their anti-trafficking efforts, then they
risk losing American aid and funding for cultural exchanges. Last year,
a Tier 3 rating so spooked Kazakhstan that its foreign minister went
on national television and gave a 30-minute address railing against
the scourge of trafficking.
Miller has met victims himself. He says one of the first was a woman
in the Netherlands. She had been living in the Czech Republic in a failing
marriage when a friend suggested she could make money waiting tables
in Amsterdam. Leaving a 2-year-old daughter behind, she crossed the
border with someone who turned out to be a trafficker, who handed her
over to another in Amsterdam who took her to the red-light district.
"You will work here," Miller says the trafficker told her.
When she said she wouldn't, the trafficker replied, "Yes you will,
if you want your 2-year-old daughter to live."
There are enough stories like hers, some far more brutal, to serve as
a reminder that trafficking is not a chimera. But as for how pervasive
it is, Miller maintains that it's impossible to know. "Victims
don't stand in line and raise their hands to be counted," he likes
to say in his booming, jovial voice. He minimizes the importance of
exact quantification. "All of us involved in the issue know enough
firsthand to know that the problem is huge." Pressed on the point,
he points to 8,000 trafficking prosecutions worldwide in 2003. "The
typical trafficker is involved with 20, 100, 500 victims," he says.
"If you just take those into account, you're clearly in the hundreds
of thousands."
But the difference between 20 victims per trafficker and 500 is the
difference between 160,000 and 4 million victims - sizably different
levels of magnitude. The difference is not academic. It's essential
to determining what should be done about the problem - if you can pin
down exactly what the problem is - and how many resources should be
put into it. The federal government spent $91 million fighting trafficking
in the last fiscal year, much of that money going to nonprofit groups
and government agencies around the world that accordingly have a vested
interest in trumpeting the problem and are refocusing their energies
around it. "Trafficking is big business not just for traffickers
but also for the international development community," write Busza
and her co-authors in their piece scrutinizing the prevailing wisdom
on Malian and Cambodian trafficking. The trafficking task force in our
own cash-strapped state recommends that a new funding pool be set up
to tackle the issue. Miller's office uses current trafficking estimates,
broken down according to country, to pressure governments around the
world to pass new anti-trafficking laws and spend money on the problem
- or risk facing sanctions.
The disconnect between the rhetoric on trafficking and the actual number
of documented cases, nowhere more evident than in Washington state,
does more than raise questions about the resources spent. It presents
a credibility problem that takes away from the horror of the real cases
out there.
Some in the anti-trafficking field consider it heresy to suggest that
the issue has been hyped. But the Human Rights Law Group's Ann Jordan
takes a more sanguine view. If the numbers are smaller, she reasons,
we probably can have more success in solving the problem.
Nina Shapiro is Senior Editor at the Seattle Weekly.