In 2026, the 1951 Refugee Convention marked its 75th anniversary. However, despite states’ longstanding commitments to protecting refugees under international law, people fleeing persecution continue to face detention, deportation, barriers to asylum, racism and xenophobia. The paradox lies in the gap between commitment and practice: states can uphold their formal commitments to international refugee law while adopting policies that make its protections increasingly difficult to access.Developments in Egypt and Malaysia illustrate how this happens. They also raise important questions about the growing role of national authorities in refugee registration and status determination (RSD), functions historically undertaken by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) in these contexts.The sleight of hand begins with language.Refugee protection starts with a person’s circumstances, understood in the context of the wider conditions in their country of origin – why did they flee, what might happen if they return, do they face persecution or other serious harm. The Refugee Convention provides the legal framework for assessing whether a person qualifies as a refugee. UNHCR’s protection mandate places these questions at the centre of its work.Immigration enforcement often begins elsewhere. Did the person enter lawfully? Do they possess valid documents? Are they considered a security risk? Are they an irregular or illegal migrant?These questions are not necessarily incompatible with refugee protection. States can regulate their borders, and immigration status can be relevant to administrative procedures. But the framing matters when immigration enforcement takes precedence over assessing a person’s need for protection.A person fleeing persecution can be recast as an illegal migrant. A movement of people escaping war can become a problem of border security. People seeking asylum can be described as potential infiltrators and threats to national stability. The underlying circumstances do not necessarily change, but the category through which the state views them does.Egypt: Bringing protection under state controlBy March 2026, Egypt’s treatment of refugees and migrants had reached an unprecedented crackdown. UNHCR sources estimated that at least 3,000 refugees and asylum seekers had been arrested during the first two months of 2026. Some lawyers put the figure at between 5,000 and 10,000, while one protection actor estimated that nearly 5,000 people, most of them Sudanese, had been arrested in a two-week period beginning in the third week of January. Refoulement incidents involving registered refugees increased by 150% between 2024 and 2025, while arrests of registered refugees and asylum seekers rose by 56%.It is against this backdrop that Egypt’s asylum legislation must be assessed. In March 2024, Egypt entered a Strategic and Comprehensive Partnership with the European Union, backed by a €7.4 billion financial package for 2024-2027, including €200 million earmarked for migration-related cooperation. Nine months later, in December 2024, Egypt enacted its first domestic asylum law, transferring refugee registration and status determination from UNHCR to a Permanent Committee for Refugee Affairs under the Prime Minister’s authority.This sequence does not establish that the EU partnership caused the legislation. It does, however, raise a critical question: when migration cooperation prioritises border management and the prevention of onward movement, what safeguards ensure that refugee protection is not subordinated to migration control?This concern extends beyond Egypt. The Italy-Libya arrangement illustrates the wider externalisation of European border control: keeping migration away from European shores. Despite extensive documentation of torture, arbitrary detention and other serious human rights violations against migrants in Libya, Italy has continued its arrangements with Libyan authorities to intercept and return migrants. Such arrangements raise fundamental questions about how states can pursue migration-control objectives beyond their borders while ensuring that their human rights obligations are respected. Europe can push its borders outward, but it cannot push its human rights obligations out of sight.Under Egypt’s new asylum law, a government-appointed committee controls the recognition and withdrawal of refugee status, while broad grounds relating to national security and public order give authorities considerable discretion to deny or withdraw protection. The law also refers to undefined “societal values and traditions” and restricts political activity. Such vague provisions risk making refugee protection conditional on whether a person’s conduct conforms to the authorities’ expectations. Those perceived as stepping out of line could face the denial or withdrawal of protection.Although the implementing bylaws introduce some procedural safeguards, applicants face strict deadlines: those who enter Egypt irregularly must apply for asylum within 45 days, while those whose claims are rejected have only 15 days to appeal. The absence of a general guarantee of legal assistance makes it harder for applicants to understand the process and challenge adverse decisions.Taken together, these provisions risk making refugee protection conditional and precarious, rather than ensuring fair decisions and effective protection against return to a country where a person may face persecution or serious harm. Transferring responsibility to national authorities is not, in itself, incompatible with refugee protection. The question is whether the resulting system provides the independence, procedural safeguards and substantive protections necessary to make the right to seek asylum meaningful.Malaysia: Registration without a secure statusMalaysia presents a different but related concern. It is not a party to the 1951 Refugee Convention or its 1967 Protocol and has no comprehensive domestic legal framework recognising refugee status. Under Malaysian immigration law, refugees and asylum seekers can be treated as undocumented migrants, exposing them to arrest, detention and deportation. A person recognised by UNHCR as a refugee may therefore remain without lawful immigration status in Malaysia, and UNHCR documentation does not itself guarantee protection against detention or removal.Data disclosed by Malaysia’s Ministry of Home Affairs shows that immigration authorities arrested over 65,000 individuals between January and mid-October 2026, averaging approximately 6,840 arrests per month during the first nine-and-a-half months of the year. These figures concern immigration arrests generally, not refugees alone. Nevertheless, they illustrate the enforcement environment in which refugees and asylum seekers may be caught. The central legal question is not whether Malaysia can regulate the entry and stay of non-citizens, but whether immigration powers can be exercised against people requiring international protection without adequate safeguards against refoulement and other serious human rights violations.In the absence of a domestic refugee-status determination system, UNHCR has historically played a central role in identifying and documenting refugees and asylum seekers in Malaysia. Although UNHCR registration does not confer Malaysian immigration status or the full range of rights associated with formal legal recognition, its documentation has provided an important form of recognition for people who might otherwise be treated solely as undocumented migrants. It has also helped establish their need for international protection.It is against this backdrop that Malaysia’s shift towards government-led refugee registration and assessment through the Dokumen Pendaftaran Pelarian (DPP) must be considered. The change represents more than the introduction of a new administrative database. In the absence of a comprehensive domestic refugee law framework, control over registration and the assessment of protection needs carries significant consequences: it can shape who is recognised as requiring protection and how they are treated within the state’s legal and administrative system.Malaysian authorities have not clarified whether the DPP system will incorporate essential safeguards for refugee status determination, including non-discrimination, criteria grounded in international law, confidentiality, data protection and access to an effective appeal or review mechanism. This uncertainty is significant because, in the absence of a comprehensive domestic refugee law framework, registration and status assessment can shape whether people are recognised as needing protection or remain vulnerable to arrest, detention and removal. The DPP therefore marks a significant shift in the institutional architecture of refugee protection in Malaysia. Whether it strengthens protection will depend on the legal status it confers, the functions it performs and the safeguards governing its implementation.These concerns are particularly acute for the Rohingya, who have fled persecution and violence in Myanmar and face growing hostility in Malaysia. In June 2026, an online petition calling for the “removal” of Rohingya refugees from Malaysia reportedly attracted nearly half a million signatures before being taken down following concerns raised by human rights groups. Anti-Rohingya hostility has also extended beyond online campaigns, with reports of harassment, threats and the closure of schools serving Rohingya children. These developments point to a shrinking space for Rohingya refugees to live safely and access essential services. In this environment, the legal status and safeguards attached to refugee registration take on particular significance: identification alone does not guarantee protection from discrimination, detention or removal to danger.The consequences extend beyond registration itself. In July 2026, Malaysia announced an arrangement with Myanmar for the repatriation of 5,000 Rohingya. On September 29, it began the first phase of returns, involving 1,476 Myanmar nationals held in immigration detention. Although the Malaysian government described the returns as voluntary, questions remain about whether those concerned could make a genuinely free and informed choice, particularly given their detention and lack of secure legal status.More than 160 civil society organisations called for the returns to stop, citing continuing violence and the risk that Rohingya could be pressed into armed groups. The Myanmar military continues to fight the Arakan Army in Rakhine State, the region from which many Rohingya fled. Against this backdrop, calling these returns repatriation does not establish that they are safe, voluntary or sustainable. Nor does returning people to their country of origin resolve the conditions that forced them to flee. The principle of non-refoulement requires states not to return people to places where they face persecution or other threats covered by applicable international protection obligations.The sleight of hand lies in treating state-led registration as progress in refugee protection without establishing whether registration translates into meaningful rights and safeguards. In Malaysia, government control over registration is expanding while refugees remain vulnerable under immigration law, anti-Rohingya hostility grows, and returns to Myanmar proceed despite serious protection concerns. The question is not simply whether the state can identify refugees, but whether those identified can remain safe – and whether those denied recognition can challenge that decision without being exposed to detention or return to persecution.India offers a particularly revealing contrast. Unlike Egypt and Malaysia, where national authorities are increasingly assuming responsibility for refugee registration and status determination, India has no comprehensive domestic refugee law and is not party to the 1951 Refugee Convention. UNHCR continues to register and determine the claims of certain refugees and asylum seekers, including Rohingya from Myanmar, but recognition by the agency does not confer secure legal status or guarantee protection against detention and deportation. The gap between international recognition and domestic protection was particularly evident during a Supreme Court hearing in May 2025 concerning the detention and alleged deportation of Rohingya refugees holding UNHCR cards. Justice Dipankar Datta remarked that if Rohingya were foreigners covered by the Foreigners Act, they would have to be dealt with under that legislation. The Court declined to grant interim protection against deportation. The episode illustrates how, in the absence of a domestic refugee framework, people recognised as refugees by UNHCR can nevertheless remain subject to the ordinary machinery of immigration enforcement. The racial dimension of protectionAcross different jurisdictions, mechanisms such as the designation of “safe countries of origin,” the use of “safe third countries,” accelerated asylum procedures and fast-track deportations can restrict access to protection and make it harder for people to have their claims fairly assessed, depending on how these measures are designed and implemented. The transfer of refugee registration and status determination from UNHCR to national authorities in Egypt, and Malaysia’s move towards state-led registration through the DPP system, raise related concerns.These developments must also be understood through the lens of contemporary forms of racism and xenophobia. The 2001 Durban Declaration and Programme of Action, whose 25th anniversary falls in 2026, calls for action against racism, racial discrimination, xenophobia and related intolerance. In Egypt, human rights organisations have documented racial profiling of Black refugees and asylum seekers, particularly Sudanese and other Sub-Saharan African nationals. In Malaysia, the Rohingya have faced escalating xenophobic rhetoric and online campaigns calling for their removal. These examples illustrate how people fleeing persecution can be portrayed not as individuals entitled to protection, but as populations to be controlled, excluded or removed.Digital platforms can amplify racist and xenophobic narratives, shaping public attitudes towards refugees and migrants. As the UN Special Rapporteur on racism has highlighted, digital technologies can reproduce and amplify racial discrimination. Such hostility can help create a climate in which restrictive migration policies gain legitimacy, and measures that exclude, detain or remove racialised groups are more readily justified in the name of state sovereignty and national security. This does not mean that online hostility directly causes every restrictive policy, but it can help normalise the exclusionary assumptions on which such policies draw.The sleight of hand is that states are increasingly adopting policies and procedures that preserve the appearance of compliance with the Refugee Convention while undermining its spirit and purpose.Should refugee protection be subordinated to state immigration control, or should immigration laws and policies be constrained by international human rights law? When the state holds immense power over a person’s safety and future, are legal safeguards obstacles to immigration enforcement or essential restraints on state power?Seventy-five years after the Refugee Convention was adopted, its continued existence is no guarantee that its promise is being fulfilled. What does the right to seek asylum mean if the systems meant to protect people instead shut them out? And what is left of refugee protection when its guarantees endure in law but fail those who need them most?Jayalakshmi Itla Ragiri is an associate lawyer at the International Justice Counsel. Views expressed are personal.