No one expects to be enslaved. All who find themselves in these abusive situations also find themselves staring down an unfamiliar maze of checks and legislation, and their lives and dignity depend on being able to navigate it successfully. Survivors do not have the time or resources to prepare to save themselves, and a very small subset of the population is ever educated on the warning signs, prevalence, and supports.
I myself faced barriers as a survivor of modern slavery who was too ‘atypical’ to receive substantial support. I am a native English speaker and educated white-collar professional who never thought I would be forced to work under constant surveillance and abuse for pennies, only to be threatened with the removal of my visa and social circle if I spoke out or got away. In finally breaking free and reaching out, I was confronted not only by a chasm where legal supports should be, but I also faced individuals who refused to pass along my case because I ‘never should have come here’ [to Northern Ireland] and other similar biased rationale. Rather than resigning myself to the abuse or giving up on my adopted home, I decided to give back and push for updates to the Modern Slavery Act and the support systems designed to uphold it.
In response to these gaps, I began working with Migrants at Work, a national organisation committed to labour justice, legal access, and anti-racism rooted in lived experience. Our work across the UK builds structural solutions around data, early warning systems, and migrant-led reporting — because if institutions won’t see us, we will make ourselves visible. We have liaised with politicians across the country to bring these gaps and stories to light, and we have already brought questions to the Minister for Justice in the Northern Ireland Assembly in regards to expanding legal training and funding to grow the dwindling immigration and human rights legal community here in Northern Ireland.
We also work closely with community groups and trade unions across sectors to challenge the culture of silence and complicity in the workplace. Through union workshops, we train both migrant and non-migrant workers to recognise signs of trafficking, challenge misinformation, and become proactive upstanders. This is critical: modern slavery thrives not only in isolation, but in environments where no one asks questions.
In 2015, The Modern Slavery Act was passed in the hopes of streamlining support to ensure that survivors were helped, and perpetrators held to account. While the act has achieved this aim in some cases, loopholes in wording and the stagnation and stripping of community and government supports have left many without access to justice. Ten years on, the Modern Slavery Act remains more promise than protection — especially in Northern Ireland. The law’s intent was clear: identify victims, support them, and hold perpetrators accountable. But intent is not impact.
The number of potential victims of modern slavery referred to the UK’s National Referral Mechanism (NRM) continues to rise year-on-year. Home office reports show that in 2024, 19,125 people were referred into the National Referral Mechanism (NRM) – the formal system for formally identifying and providing support for victims of trafficking and slavery in the UK. These numbers represent a 13% rise in cases from the previous year. Unfortunately, a large number of cases are likely to go completely unreported, and a growing proportion receive no meaningful follow-up or support.
Even in cases where an individual is found to be a likely victim of modern slavery and human trafficking, thousands of potential survivors are now choosing not to enter the NRM. The rationale for doing so is many and vary based on demographics like country of origin. The most common reasons include: Fear of authorities, Distrust of government systems, and Desire to avoid re-traumatisation. Survivors often see the formal identification process as invasive, slow, and unlikely to lead to safety or justice – and they’re not wrong.
The backlog of unresolved modern slavery cases is so severe that conclusive grounds decisions can take over 500 days. A Home Office review claimed the backlog could be cleared in two years, a time that these individuals may not have if leaving their abuse has left them without a stable visa. Decision times are longer, and the likelihood of a positive outcome is less likely for those facing additional marginalisation – women and children. Women and girls face some of the longest wait times and harshest criteria, with the positive conclusive grounds decision rate for women in dropping significantly from 2022 to a positive decision rate for 2024, hovering around 60% – barely higher than a coin flip. This disproportionately affects those escaping sexual exploitation, compounding trauma with systemic disbelief.
Survivors awaiting conclusive grounds hearings or whose cases have been denied remain in extended limbo. During this time, they often lack access to housing, employment, and legal protection from their abusers. This leaves a very high risk of re-exploitation, deportation, or destitution, and it also leaves the public at greater risk of being trafficked or enslaved by the abusers who were effectively set free.
Cases often fall through the cracks due to a fragmented and under-resourced body of support. Nowhere are these failures more pronounced than in Northern Ireland — a region where enforcement is aggressive, but support is almost nonexistent. From the cross-border trafficking and forced adoption of infants through mother-and-baby homes, to the brothels and labour exploitation rings uncovered today, Northern Ireland has a long and painful history with modern slavery. However, this doesn’t translate to a longstanding history of support and accountability. Rollout of legislation and support in Northern Ireland is painfully slow. The region lacks the solicitor training, trauma-informed pathways, data transparency, and coordinated response needed to uphold survivors’ rights.
This delay in infrastructure and education also means that public understanding of trafficking remains dangerously limited. When cases are complex and require effort from limited and overtaxed support, they are often ignored or misclassified. For example, recent Department of Justice research confirmed that children exploited into criminality by paramilitaries in Northern Ireland are often not recognized as victims at all, even when they clearly meet the legal criteria. Despite being eligible for support and leniency under the Modern Slavery Act, these children are routinely misclassified as offenders and face prosecution instead of receiving protection.
In 2023, Women’s Aid Belfast and Lisburn reported that it was supporting over 230 women who had experienced trafficking — a dramatic increase from just 47 in 2021. That same year, the PSNI confirmed that six women had been forced into prostitution, and Women’s Aid documented a shocking case of organ harvesting, involving a woman trafficked in transit to Northern Ireland. These cases were often overlooked because they were considered “atypical” — or simply because many people didn’t want to believe this could happen on the streets of South Belfast.
The same patterns of denial and delay are reflected in the rampant use of immigration raids. Belfast now has the highest per capita rate of immigration enforcement in the entire UK, with the top two postcode areas each experiencing over 100 times the number of raids seen in most non-top-ten areas. Yet when local politicians began to investigate, they found themselves shut out of data, uninformed on protocol, and unsure how to intervene — even in cases where raids uncovered evidence of trafficking or abuse. Some officials who tried to help survivors reported being given no follow-up about whether the survivors were supported or how the abuse had occurred in the first place.
This disproportionate enforcement, paired with a vacuum of accessible support, makes Northern Ireland especially hostile terrain for survivors of modern slavery. The gap between punitive immigration measures and protective services does not simply represent bureaucratic inefficiency — it deepens trauma, destroys trust, and drives vulnerable people further underground.
We call upon our legislators, coworkers, and neighbours to look out for each other and to help us push for reforms and safety nets that leave no refuge for modern slavery and trafficking to go unseen. Most of all, we call for a shift in attitude: to stop asking “why didn’t they leave sooner” and start asking “why did we build a system that made it so hard to be believed?”
Because no one expects to be enslaved. But we should all expect a system that acts — and acts with care — when it happens.
Nina Briggs is a policy analyst for Migrants at Work.
Image credit: Simon Goldstein via Unsplash