Letter from Ethica from Trish Maskew
June 6, 2003
Dear Readers,
Some who read our paper on the Child Trafficking Standard of Evidence may be familiar with my background as an agency representative and my role in advocating for cases during the Cambodian adoption crisis. The Cambodia crisis was, in many ways, a life-changing situation for me. Those events led to much contemplation on the current state of adoption, which in turn led to the formation of Ethica itself. For those familiar with the details of the situation, it may seem odd that I so adamantly fought for the clearance of those cases only to find myself writing 18 months later about the difficulty of proving child trafficking.
In the fall of 2001, I was employed by an agency as a program coordinator for Viet Nam and Cambodia. While none of the first 12 Cambodia families whose adoptions were investigated were my clients, I became involved early on as the co-chair of the Joint Council Cambodia caucus. The failure of the Immigration Service to conduct adequate investigations was well known in the adoption industry, and over the years I had seen many families bring their children home after months-long appeals that proved the inadequacy of the investigations.
From the very beginning of the Cambodia situation, my co-chair and I were adamant in our refusal to condone improper and illegal behavior by adoption workers. At the same time, we felt equally strongly that those 12 families should not be denied their children without evidence to prove allegations of wrongdoing. Nine of the 12 families allowed us to review the Notices of Intent to Deny (NOIDS) that they received, and we were quite troubled by the inadequacy of the investigations. They contained errors in names, genders and birthdates of the children and often mixed cases up entirely. Most troubling was the fact that the INS had not interviewed key players in the adoptions and that the NOIDS were filled with accusations not supported by fact. One contained a section describing an interview "with a man who drove up on a motorcycle…" who claimed to have facts about the lack of abandoned children in the area. However, the NOID not only was devoid of any evidence of the man's stated position in the village, it failed to even provide his name! Therefore, I had no problem at all in insisting that the INS had failed to prove its allegations and advocating for the approval of the cases. Those 12 children were issued humanitarian paroles and allowed to immigrate, but the Service then declared a moratorium on adoptions from Cambodia, leaving several hundred families stranded in the middle of their adoptions.
That action sparked a massive advocacy effort that brought us in contact with many people in INS, the Department of State and Congress—and the subsequent events dominated my life for the next year. There is no way to adequately describe the emotional impact on the families involved. I witnessed their tremendous pain firsthand, and the effects on their health, well-being and family life were immense. Those of us who were trying to help felt compelled to fix the situation, and were often powerless to do so. Children suffered while waiting months to join their families, some contracting illnesses with lifelong implications, others coming home bearing the signs of prolonged abuse. The pain of the children and families provided the fuel we needed to work long hours for months on end.
But at the same time, there were troubling events that began to affect me in a much different way. Stories began to emerge of troublesome practices: agencies falsifying home studies, giving referrals months after the imposed moratorium and asking families for non-refundable fees,
withholding medical information, "switching" kids, perpetrating visa fraud. And worse, there was the continuing question of where the children had been found for adoption, and whether they had been "trafficked" as purported by the INS.
The actions of many adoption professionals sometimes left me feeling disillusioned about the profession I had chosen, and the level of competition and animosity among agencies and facilitators was astounding. I expected people to vent anger about the serious allegations of fraud and child trafficking, and to feel the need to adamantly defend those not yet proven guilty. But I was taken aback by the fierce competition at the base level, where it affected how children were located for adoption, and by the vastly important role money played in an industry that is meant to provide for homeless children.
I also came to know many remarkable people during that time—both in agencies and in government offices—who cared intensely for the families and children involved, including some who felt strongly that children were at risk of being exploited. During that time, I continued to gather and read case histories, which are available to the public, of INS investigations into orphan cases. Most investigations were so poorly done it was impossible to determine what really happened, and I continued to press for the processing of cases in which no evidence was found.
Then, in late spring, I read the case that is highlighted in our paper on the Standard of Evidence. And read it again. And again. I went back and read the statute that governs child buying, and I read the portions of the field manuals used by the investigating officers that are in the public domain. The realization that it was virtually impossible for INS to prove child buying floored me. Even worse was the realization that we would likely never know whether the cases we were pushing so hard for might contain some in which children really were bought. In working with the folks at INS to get cases processed, I witnessed the conflict many felt toward wanting to help the families and children while simultaneously needing to investigate concerns. And with my newest discovery, I was finally able to understand that they were struggling mightily between wanting to clear cases they felt were okay and trying to figure out how to deny ones they were truly concerned about.
I also got to know some Congressional staff who struggled with issues of their own—how to advocate for their constituents’ cases while trying not to condone the illegal and unethical activity of some agencies, how to work on individual cases while being able to see the larger issues that clearly needed to be addressed, how to fix this system to keep another Cambodia from happening—and how to do it all in 15-minute snatches between other big issues such as terrorism and war.
The combination of all of these events led me to where I am today. Do I think that adoption is a bad thing that must be eliminated? Not at all. In fact, I believe that the majority of people who work in adoption do so for the right reasons—to help children. I also believe that the adoption system needs reform badly. There are too many good agencies that are being placed in unworkable situations and even being run out of business by those who don't do things ethically. There are too few resources for families who need help dealing with agencies who take advantage of their desire to be parents. And, most importantly, there are too few protections for the children who cannot protect themselves.
The system must be fixed, and I believe it can be fixed through the cooperation of those who are true advocates of adoption, both in the adoption industry and on the governmental levels. Cambodia taught me many things—both good and bad—and it clearly showed the need for an independent group that could speak out on the ethical issues affecting adoptions today. It is our hope that Ethica will be able to play a role in improving and changing the world of adoption, so that no child or family or agency or advocate will ever again have to wonder if anyone is really protecting the children.
Sincerely,
Trish Maskew