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The recent debate over word choice has taken turns that undermine humanitarian principles and cloud the view of how migration is unfolding. The , the , the , the , and others have examined the usage of 鈥榬efugees鈥� versus 鈥榤igrants鈥� over the past week. The general impression is that 鈥榤igrants鈥� are being thrown to the wolves. The most insidious contribution, sadly, comes from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR).

But first, the origins of the current debate: in mid-August 2015, Al Jazeera that the network will no longer refer to 鈥榤igrants鈥� in the Mediterranean. This word, an online editor argued, has become 鈥榓 tool that dehumanises and distances, a blunt pejorative.鈥� The network鈥檚 solution is to drop 鈥榤igrants鈥� and instead use 鈥榬efugees.鈥� The announcement was met with a groundswell of cheering in social media.

The essence of Al Jazeera鈥檚 argument is that if we sympathise with people, we should call them refugees in order to humanize them. But, as Judith Vonberg argued in her lone and brave , 鈥楢l Jazeera gives credence to the illiberal voices telling us that migrants are not worthy of our compassion.鈥�

A few days after Al Jazeera鈥檚 announcement, the UNHCR published a on its website, entitled 鈥樷�淩efugee鈥� or 鈥渕igrant鈥濃�揥hich is right?鈥� To encourage dissemination through social media, the article was accompanied by an image of a distressed mother and two children, with the words 鈥楻efugee or Migrant? Word choice matters鈥� superimposed.

The UNHCR doesn鈥檛 call for dropping migrants, but asks that the people crossing the Mediterranean be labelled 鈥榬efugees and migrants.鈥� This stance appears to be a reasonable compromise, but is equally unsettling. It reflects the agency鈥檚 insistence that refugees and migrants are 鈥樷�� from each other.

The refugee agency makes the case that a specific usage is correct, and that anyone who refers to the people who cross the Mediterranean by boat as 鈥榤igrants鈥� either doesn鈥檛 realize that 鈥榳ord choice matters鈥� or has a political interest in denying protection. In an with the New York Times, the agency argued that since countries are free to deport undocumented migrants, but not refugees, 鈥榠t is not surprising that many politicians in Europe prefer to refer to everyone fleeing to the continent as migrants.鈥�

But such claims about politically motivated rhetoric can also be turned around. The UNHCR is an agency that strives for influence in a crowded landscape of humanitarian and migration actors. It makes perfect sense to launch a campaign that presents a black-and-white world with two kinds of people: the special people鈥�our people, refugees鈥攁nd the other people, migrants.

The 鈥榯wo kinds of people鈥� rhetoric is troubling on many levels. First of all, it undermines the humanitarian principles that should guide our response to emergencies. When people drown at sea or suffocate in lorries, our first question should not be 鈥榮o, which kind were they, refugees or migrants?鈥� Narratives about 鈥榯wo kinds of people,鈥� are, paradoxically, a central ingredient in many of the conflicts that thousands are forced to flee.

The UNHCR has no monopoly on defining 鈥榤igrants.鈥� In fact, there is no universally accepted definition, and abound. The UNHCR鈥檚 approach reflects the agency鈥檚 own perspective: migrants, in their view, are the residual after refugees have been identified.

By contrast, the United Nations鈥� on migration statistics define an international migrant as 鈥榓ny person who changes his or her country of usual residence.鈥� Understood in this way, migrants are people who move under different circumstances and for a variety of reasons鈥攊ncluding fear of persecution. It corresponds to current usage by many academics, media organizations, and governments. While Al Jazeera discredits the word 鈥榤igrant鈥� for being an umbrella term, that鈥檚 exactly why it鈥檚 valuable.

People on the move are in limbo between two possible approaches to labelling. First, their reasons for departure can be used to make distinctions. Fleeing a war, seeking employment, or reuniting with family, for instance, are commonly understood motivations for migration. The challenge, of course, is that motivations can be blurred and overlapping, defying neat categorization.

The other approach to labelling starts from the bureaucratic apparatus that migrants enter. Unlike motivations, immigration legislation is clear-cut. Some individuals are recognized as refugees, for instance, while others are given residence permits as labour migrants and yet others enter on student visas.

When someone risks their life to cross the Mediterranean on a boat, we don鈥檛 know exactly what made them leave, whether they will apply for asylum, or what will be the outcome of their case. The UNHCR is right in emphasizing diversity, but wrong in insisting on a black-and-white picture. Even in retrospect, when cases have been processed, the grey area is large: more than a third of Somalis and Afghans who last year were neither recognized as refugees nor deemed to have the possibility of safe return.

The distinction between refugees and other migrants is often couched in terms of 鈥榟aving to move鈥� versus 鈥榗hoosing to move.鈥� Over the past few decades, researchers have made headway towards . All prospective migrants face a mix of opportunities and constraints, and make decisions that reflect multi-faceted considerations. What differs is the nature of this mix; for some, the choices are few and frightening.

In a recent about debates over terminology, Loren Landau said that his extensive research in Southern Africa 鈥榮uggests that people who claim asylum or become refugees are, for the most part, little different in experiences or needs from those who don鈥檛.鈥� Saying so publicly is difficult, he added, because it鈥檚 seen to support the case for placing more limits on asylum.

But perhaps it鈥檚 rather the UNHCR鈥檚 rhetoric that is undermining the right to seek asylum. The agency chooses to promote a definition of migrants that rules out protection needs, or, as Alexander Betts , the view that 鈥榤igrant鈥� means 鈥榥ot a refugee.鈥� What we need, however, is a migration policy that takes the starting point that migrants may or may not have well-founded fears of persecution.

Determining refugee status can be a messy and unpredictable process. Caseworkers who handle applications for asylum frequently lack the resources or information to make decisions with confidence and the applicants often dispute the outcome. Many asylum seekers are denied protection in Europe, but still have a genuine fear of returning to their own country. We have no better alternative than to uphold the and examine individual cases with care, but it鈥檚 unhelpful to insist that refugees and other migrants are fundamentally distinct. 鈥楳ixed migration鈥� is not a checkerboard of black and white, but a jumble of different histories, resources, and entitlements.

The 鈥榯wo kinds of people鈥� argument is further undermined by the drawn-out trajectories of many current migrants. A Nigerian arriving in Italy might have left Nigeria for reasons other than a fear of persecution, but ended up fleeing in Libya. Conversely, a Syrian might have crossed into Jordan and found safety from the war, but been prompted by the bleak prospects of indeterminate camp life to make the onward journey to Europe. Regardless of the legal status that each one obtains in Europe, they are both migrants who have made difficult decisions, who deserve our compassion, and whose rights need to be ensured.

The controversy over migrants versus refugees comes only a few months after another debate on terminology swept through social media: why, , are white migrants distinguished as 鈥榚xpats鈥�? The debates, then and now, reflect hierarchies that cast 鈥榤igrants鈥� as undesirable leftovers.

We need to embrace the inclusive meaning of 鈥榤igrants鈥� as persons who migrate but may have little else in common. In that way, we respect both the uniqueness of each individual and the human worth of all.

This post was on the Border Criminologies blog, based at the University of Oxford.