Being Tolerated in Germany: Lots of Responsibilities, Few Rights

It's 8:00 a.m. at the office for foreigners' affairs in Essen, western Germany. Fayssal Saado, 19 and his brother Sami, 17 are tired. They're here to extend their Duldung or "exceptional leave to remain" permits. Literally translated, the German word means sufferance, or toleration.

The civil servant types in a routine manner, prints out new passport stickers, and makes them official with a stamp. Fayssal goes through the same procedure every three months. But today, he's been asked to step into the office of Karl Rothvoss, the deputy head of the office. Rothvoss says the Saados have not tried hard enough to prove their identity.

"The mother has to clearly lay out the family structure for us, and also say what she's done, what possibilities there still are, or where things have perhaps gone wrong," Rothvoss said.

Lots of things are still unclear about the Saado family. In their file, it says that they came to Germany with fake passports, something the family denies. Fayssal's father had a so-called "stateless" passport that was issued in Lebanon, meaning that, at some point, he immigrated to Lebanon. Fayssal doesn't know when or from where. His father died 15 years ago. His mother claims to have been born and raised in Lebanon; Rothvoss wants to see some proof of that claim.

Lebanese families in limbo

The Saado family is one of around 1,500 Lebanese families living as refugees with unclear status in Essen alone. Nationwide, around 5,500 people of Lebanese descent are in a similar situation. Most of them came to Germany in the early 1980s to escape the civil war in Lebanon.

The German authorities were generous then and granted many residency permits. But years later, Turkish and Syrian passports were discovered for some of the refugees who said they were from Lebanon. They were deported, but their deception cast a general shadow of suspicion over the rest of the refugees. Their residence permits were frequently changed into "exceptional leave to remain" status -- a fate that befell the Saado family two years ago.

For Fayssal and his six siblings, that means lots of responsibilities, but hardly any rights. They are not allowed to apply for driving licenses, to leave their state of North Rhine-Westphalia, and they have a tough time getting job training opportunities, let alone real jobs.

Fayssal says he would like to work -- he did a traineeship with a supermarket chain and would like to get a certificate in retail sales.

"I would have sent my application but I knew that I didn't stand a chance," he said. "My boss even told me as much."

Lack of prospects

Fayssal finished school a year ago, and these days, has a lot of free time on his hands. He spends most of it at a local youth center, run by Stefan Hoeps.

Hoeps knows lots of kids and young adults who share Fayssal's problem -- a total lack of prospects.

"They're enormously frustrated," Hoeps said. "They ask why they should bother to do well in school, as it won't do them any good. They lack basic motivation."

Hoeps recognizes that Fayssal's problems stem from the fact that his mother doesn't have any documents to prove her Lebanese origin, but adds that the authorities are not to blame. Due to the legal situation, they have no choice.

"At some point, even the most compassionate staff member finds his hands are tied," Hoeps said. "And that's exactly the point -- it's a vicious circle. No papers, no chance."

But Bernd Brack of the human rights NGO Pro Asyl in Essen takes issue with the legal situation in Germany. He says it's "tragic" that the authorities insist on going so far back in a family's history just to determine their origin. Hardly any Germans could say for certain where their ancestors lived four generations ago, he argues.

Brack suggests a language test to indicate whether a refugee really comes from the country he or she claims. And in his view, at least the children born to refugees in Germany should be entitled to a residence permit. He is hoping these suggestions will be addressed at an upcoming interior ministers' conference in November.

Fayssal could tell the ministers exactly why he should be entitled to a permit.

"I've assimilated, I'm integrated, I've never committed a crime here, and I'm a normal person just like anyone else," he said. "Why shouldn't I be allowed to stay?"