Why does even a guaranteed deployment to an active front line, by itself, not establish eligibility for asylum in the United States?
Why is this so even when the United States considers the underlying war unlawful?
Why has this legal framework survived four decades and only continued to strengthen?
What exceptions exist, and how can Russians, Ukrainians, and nationals of other countries at war turn their fear of conscription into a viable immigration case?
1. Overview
2. The Gap Between Humanitarian Danger and Legal Eligibility
3. What "Asylum" and "Refugee" Actually Mean Under U.S. Law
3.1. Two Paths to Relief
3.2. Grounds Most Relevant to Russia and Ukraine
4. War and Generalized Violence Do Not Establish Asylum Eligibility
5. Conscription, Draft Evasion, and Desertion: Prosecution, Not Persecution
6. Federal Circuit Courts: A Uniform Position
7. Matter of N-N-B- (2025): Reinforcement in the Russia-Ukraine Context
8. The Bottom Line
9. Exceptions to the General Rule
9.1. Compelled Participation in War Crimes or Inhuman Conduct
9.2. Group-Level Discriminatory Conscription
9.3. Individual-Level Punitive Conscription or Disproportionate Punishment
9.4. Summary of Exceptions
10. Russia: Available Arguments
11. Ukraine: A Substantially Harder Road
12. Practical Takeaways
13. Table of Cases
Under settled U.S. immigration law, neither military service, nor conscription, nor war — standing alone — constitutes a basis for asylum. Although this article focuses primarily on Ukraine and Russia, the legal principles discussed apply to all countries. The analysis draws on dozens of precedential BIA decisions and federal appellate rulings, including the United States Supreme Court. A complete list of cases with brief holdings is provided at the end of this article.
What constitutes "persecution" and what "asylum" actually means under U.S. law.
Why war, conscription, and mobilization have not qualified as independent grounds for asylum for four decades.
How a recent BIA precedent confirmed this framework in the specific context of the Russia-Ukraine conflict.
What narrow exceptions exist under established case law.
How Russians, Ukrainians, and nationals of other countries experiencing armed conflict can build a viable asylum case around conscription and mobilization.
Everyone involved in the immigration system — including immigration judges, trial attorneys, and asylum officers — understands that war is not abstract. Fear of military service, mobilization, and combat is real and well-founded. People die. People return maimed. Children lose parents. Cities are reduced to rubble. This is happening every day.
Unfortunately, the gap between what feels like it should qualify for asylum and what the law actually requires is enormous. For most people, the logic is straightforward: "there is a war, I will be drafted, I may be killed — therefore I am entitled to asylum." It sounds reasonable. But U.S. immigration law says otherwise.
This gap is the reason thousands of Russians and Ukrainians build their asylum cases around mobilization — and the overwhelming majority lose. Not because the judge is hostile. Not because the system is broken. The law simply demands something different, and it has demanded it for four decades. The statute says what it says, and until Congress changes it, these rules will remain in place.
"Asylum" and "refugee" are not colloquial terms. They are legal terms of art, defined by the Immigration and Nationality Act. They carry specific meaning.
A "refugee" is a person who is unable or unwilling to return to his or her country because of persecution or a well-founded fear of persecution on account of one of five protected grounds: race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or membership in a particular social group. That sounds simple, but virtually every word in this definition carries a specialized legal meaning, shaped by decades of administrative and judicial interpretation.
The applicant must demonstrate a nexus — a causal connection — between the persecution and one of the five statutory grounds. In other words, the applicant must prove that the persecutor is motivated to inflict harm because of the applicant's race, nationality, religion, social group, or political opinion, and that this protected ground is one central reason for the persecution — though not necessarily the only reason.
Persecution means serious harm or the threat of serious harm: physical violence, torture, prolonged unlawful detention, threats to life. The concept of persecution is extreme. Harassment, discrimination, or similar mistreatment is almost never sufficient. Nor does the enforcement of ordinary, facially neutral laws applicable to everyone constitute persecution. If you are imprisoned for committing a crime, that is not persecution. This includes punishment for draft evasion — a point discussed in detail below.
The harm must come from the government of the applicant's country of nationality, its agents — the military, police, security services — or, in narrow circumstances, from non-state actors whom the government is unable or unwilling to control. Harm inflicted by private individuals acting on their own initiative is insufficient.
All of these elements must be present simultaneously: serious harm — by the government — on account of a protected ground. Remove any one of them, and there is no case — even if the applicant faces certain death.
The burden of proof rests on the applicant. Not on the government. Not on the judge. On you. There are limited exceptions: for instance, if you establish past persecution, the burden shifts to the government to demonstrate changed country conditions.
First — establish that you were already persecuted in the past. This is the preferred route, because it gives rise to a presumption that persecution will continue in the future. It also confers certain procedural advantages, including the possibility of a discretionary grant of asylum even if conditions in the home country have changed and the threat no longer exists.
Second — prove that you have a well-founded, objectively reasonable fear of future persecution, even if you were never harmed in the past. The key here is demonstrating a genuine threat upon return. If conditions have changed and persecution would no longer occur, the case fails.
Both paths require concrete evidence. As current practice demonstrates, evidentiary standards are returning to pre-2020 levels. Quality matters. And even if you clear these hurdles, the road ahead is long: filing deadlines, firm resettlement bars, changed country conditions, criminal history, and a range of other statutory and discretionary grounds for denial all stand in the way.
In cases involving Russia and Ukraine, the protected grounds most commonly at issue are political opinion (actual or imputed), membership in a particular social group, and religion.
Russia is a country with a well-documented history of persecuting political opponents at every level: anti-war activists, journalists, opposition figures, and anyone who fails to support the government's policies. Ukraine presents a similar dynamic in certain respects. If you are being persecuted for your political beliefs, that can form the basis of a viable case.
A separate ground — refusal to participate in war crimes — represents a very narrow exception discussed in detail below.
However, fear of military service as such — "I will be drafted, I will be sent to the front, I will be killed" — does not fall within any of these categories without something more. And that "something more" is precisely what most applicants cannot prove.
The doctrine discussed in this section is not new. It is not an invention of the current administration. It has existed since at least 1985 and has been affirmed over four decades by the Board of Immigration Appeals, the United States Supreme Court, and every federal circuit court of appeals. Forty years. One consistent position. No material change.
In 1985, the BIA held that the refugee definition requires harm "on account of" a protected ground and distinguished harm arising from generalized civil strife or conditions of upheaval from persecution targeting someone for a specific reason. Matter of Acosta, 19 I&N Dec. 211 (BIA 1985). Generalized chaos that affects everyone does not qualify.
Shortly thereafter, the BIA confirmed that violence and disruptions arising out of civil war or internal strife are generally not persecution unless there is specific evidence that the applicant is targeted on a protected ground. Fleeing civil war, by itself, does not qualify one as a refugee. Matter of Sanchez & Escobar, 19 I&N Dec. 276 (BIA 1985).
Three years later, the Board held that coercion by guerrillas and danger from generalized violence during civil war — including threats from both the government and armed groups — did not, without more, show persecution on account of a protected ground, but rather reflected the hazards of civil conflict. Matter of Rodriguez-Majano, 19 I&N Dec. 811 (BIA 1988).
Decades later, in 2008 and 2014, the BIA reaffirmed the core principle: general societal violence, civil strife, and crime — even if severe — do not amount to persecution absent a clear nexus to a protected characteristic. Matter of S-E-G-, 24 I&N Dec. 579 (BIA 2008); Matter of M-E-V-G-, 26 I&N Dec. 227 (BIA 2014).
Everyone suffers from war. If war alone were sufficient, the entire population of any country at war would theoretically qualify as refugees.
In 1992, the United States Supreme Court addressed the issue directly. A Guatemalan man who refused to join a guerrilla organization and was targeted for forced recruitment fled to the United States and applied for asylum. The Court denied relief, holding that a person resisting guerrilla recruitment must show that the guerrillas' motive was to persecute him on account of his political opinion — not simply that he wanted to avoid fighting. Mere exposure to violence or coercion in civil war conditions does not automatically equal persecution on a protected ground. INS v. Elias-Zacarias, 502 U.S. 478 (1992).
The result is clear: war, by itself, is not a basis for an asylum claim. This is not new. This is not politics. This is forty years of law.
Under U.S. law, any sovereign state — including Ukraine and Russia — has the right to require military service of its citizens and to punish those who refuse. Courts generally treat this as ordinary law enforcement, not persecution within the meaning of the Immigration and Nationality Act.
In 1987, the BIA held that compulsory military service and associated penalties do not ordinarily amount to persecution. Only where the applicant can show that conscription is enforced or punishment is imposed because of a protected ground — political opinion, religion, ethnicity — does it cross the line into persecution. Matter of A-G-, 19 I&N Dec. 502 (BIA 1987). For example, being drafted despite holding a valid deferment, as retaliation for political speech.
The following year, the BIA characterized punishment for military desertion as legitimate prosecution, not persecution — absent evidence that the government's motive is to punish the individual on account of one of the five protected grounds. Matter of Vigil, 19 I&N Dec. 572 (BIA 1988).
In the same year, the Board addressed conscientious objection. Even where refusal to serve is based on conscience, religion, or political conviction, the applicant must show that the state's response is persecutory rather than ordinary enforcement of its conscription laws. Simply not wanting to serve in a war — even a brutal one — is not enough. Matter of Canas-Segovia, 19 I&N Dec. 697 (BIA 1988). Put simply: if the penalty for desertion is one year in prison, the same as for everyone else, that is not persecution. If the penalty is fifteen years — it might be.
Similarly, the BIA recognized that danger inherent in military service during civil war and fear of combat conditions, while grave, are viewed as risks incident to military duty, not persecution, unless there is an overlay of protected-ground targeting. Matter of Fuentes, 19 I&N Dec. 658 (BIA 1988).
The same framework holds across the federal circuits, coast to coast, though each adds its own emphasis.
The Second Circuit held that only compelled participation in atrocities condemned by the international community, or disproportionately severe punishment tied to a protected ground, can constitute persecution in the conscription context. Islami v. Gonzales, 412 F.3d 391 (2d Cir. 2005).
The Ninth Circuit determined that where an applicant refuses to serve on grounds of conscience, the burden of proof is extremely high. Evidence must be compelling. Canas-Segovia v. INS, 970 F.2d 599 (9th Cir. 1992).
The First Circuit and numerous other circuits have held that a nation has the right to enforce its laws of conscription, and normal penalties for evasion of military service are generally not considered persecution. Mekhoukh v. Ashcroft, 358 F.3d 118 (1st Cir. 2004).
The BIA cited Mekhoukh in a recent precedential decision involving a Russian national. Matter of N-N-B-, 29 I&N Dec. 79 (BIA 2025). The decision was designated as precedent by the Attorney General in May 2025, meaning every immigration judge in the country is bound to follow it.
An important preliminary note: N-N-B- is a Convention Against Torture (CAT) case, not an asylum case. In one sense, CAT is simpler — there is no requirement to establish a nexus to a protected ground. On the other hand, the evidentiary standard is significantly higher: "more likely than not," as opposed to "well-founded fear" in asylum cases.
Nevertheless, the decision is broadly relevant — including to those seeking protection from persecution — because the BIA found as a factual matter that the most common real-world punishment for draft evasion in Russia is fines, that the conscription age is limited, and that a claim built on a "series of suppositions" — stringing together hypothetical steps without independently establishing that each is more likely than not to occur — does not satisfy the applicable standard. If such a claim could not survive even under CAT, where no nexus is required, the prospects in an asylum case — where the applicant must prove everything CAT requires plus a connection to a protected ground — are, in all likelihood, even worse.
As a general rule, a sovereign state has the right to conscript its citizens into military service, to mobilize them for war — even when the United States considers that war unlawful — and to punish those who evade the draft. None of this constitutes "persecution" within the meaning of immigration law. Exceptions exist — but they are very narrow. American courts at every level have confirmed this dozens of times.
Neither military service, nor mobilization, nor war, standing alone, creates eligibility for asylum. What, then, can be done? The answer is to build the case around the narrow exceptions that decades of appellate practice have carved out. This is not easy — the exceptions are narrow, do not always succeed, and require substantial evidence, particularly in the Ukrainian context. But if mobilization is your only foothold, there is no alternative. You will have to try. Most of these exceptions were established in the BIA's precedential decision in Matter of R-R-, 20 I&N Dec. 547 (BIA 1992).
The first exception involves the threat of military service that would require the applicant to participate in war crimes or other systematic atrocities condemned by the international community. To prevail, the applicant must prove three things: that the military of his or her country systematically engages in conduct condemned by the international community; that the applicant specifically would be compelled to participate in such conduct; and that the applicant would face persecutory punishment for refusing to serve. Systematic torture, war crimes, deliberate killing of civilians, or similar acts — by the military as an institution.
In the context of the Russia-Ukraine conflict, this exception sounds promising, but in practice it works poorly.
As of this writing, no international tribunal has convicted Russia or Russian military officials as an institution of war crimes or other acts that would fall within these definitions. War crimes undoubtedly occur, but the evidence does not establish the kind of systematic, institutionalized pattern that this exception requires. There is no formal international judgment. There has been no trial. Russia does not recognize the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court, is not a party to the Rome Statute, and in December 2025 a Moscow court convicted the ICC prosecutor and eight judges — who issued the arrest warrant for President Putin — in absentia.
As a result, in practice the only way to satisfy the first element is to construct an argument about "international condemnation" based on reports, investigations, and allegations rather than a binding international judgment. This is an enormous evidentiary mountain that is very difficult to overcome. Many country condition reports do not support this theory at all and generally take the position that Russia is conducting hostilities in a comparatively clean manner. Yes, crimes occur, but they are not systematic and generally pertain to individual servicemembers, not the military as a whole. At a minimum, not systematic to the degree the law requires.
Very few applicants win on this ground, and those who do tend to lose on appeal.
Even if you resolve the first problem, you must still prove the second element: that you personally would be compelled to commit atrocities. A conscript assigned to a supply depot in Saratov is not a conscript committing war crimes — even if the military as a whole engages in them.
For Ukrainian applicants, this exception is essentially unavailable. Ukraine is the defending party. There is no comparable body of international condemnation of Ukrainian military conduct. In practical terms, this exception is nearly toothless.
The second exception involves discriminatory conscription at the group level. Persecution may be established where a government deliberately sends a particular ethnic, religious, or political group to the front lines or to the most dangerous assignments. For example, in the context of both Russia and Ukraine, there is evidence of disproportionate conscription of ethnic minorities — Buryats, Kalmyks, Dagestanis in Russia; Armenians or individuals with Russian ties in Ukraine. This can serve as the basis for a case. In practice, proving it is difficult, particularly in immigration court. There has been no wave of approvals on this basis. The majority of Russian asylum applicants in the United States are ethnic Russians, to whom this argument simply does not apply. The situation is similar in Ukraine, although in affirmative cases before USCIS, approvals occur more frequently.
The third exception involves punitive conscription or disproportionate punishment directed at a specific individual. This is the broadest and most viable of all the exceptions. There are two theories on which a case can be built.
Theory A — Punitive conscription. The state is drafting you specifically — not because you are a man of military age, but because you are a political opponent, an activist, a journalist, a member of a particular religion or nationality. Ordinary conscription becomes punitive. Under this theory, the applicant does not need to prove that the punishment is disproportionate. It is sufficient to prove that you were singled out from the general population, and that the reason is a protected ground.
Theory B — Disproportionate punishment for refusal to serve. You are subject to the same draft as everyone else. You refuse. But the punishment you receive is significantly harsher than what other draft evaders face. The reason for this severity is not the evasion itself, but who you are: your political views, religion, nationality, social group. Everyone else receives a fine, but you receive fifteen years because you are an opposition figure. Everyone else receives a suspended sentence, but you are sent to the front lines because you refused on religious grounds. The key word is disproportionality. Ordinary penalties for draft evasion — even imprisonment — are treated by courts as normal law enforcement, so long as there is no difference between what you receive and what everyone else receives.
This theory also encompasses so-called imputed political opinion — where the government treats your refusal to serve, in itself, as a political act of dissent. In theory, this can work for Russia. In practice, the evidence tends to show the opposite. In most cases, Russia does not go out of its way to track down draft evaders and rarely imposes penalties beyond what the law provides. "I simply do not want to fight" is not a political opinion in the eyes of the law. Without prior political activity, without public anti-war statements, without a documented history of confrontation with authorities, this argument typically collapses.
Both theories apply to any protected ground — political opinion, religion, nationality, social group. The difference between them is where the discrimination occurs: at the stage of conscription (Theory A) or at the stage of punishment for refusal (Theory B).
Of all the exceptions, the third is the most viable. Proving targeted pressure against a specific individual is easier than proving systematic war crimes or group-level discrimination. This framework applies to both Russia and Ukraine. Nevertheless, immigration courts may view these arguments with skepticism. Approvals occur only where the applicant presents strong evidence.
Each of these exceptions sounds promising on paper. In the courtroom, they are very difficult to win. The evidentiary bar is enormous, and most applicants are simply unable to clear it. Nevertheless, these are the only avenues for building an asylum case around mobilization. Of all available options, the strongest is demonstrating that the military is being used as a tool of direct, targeted pressure against you personally. And of course, the case can be strengthened by other arguments unrelated to military service — the adjudicator is required to evaluate the case as a whole, not in isolated parts.
Russian applicants have a broader range of potential arguments. Russia is an authoritarian state with a well-documented history of persecuting political opponents, anti-war activists, journalists, human rights defenders, and anyone who does not support the government's policies. This is not a secret — it is documented by the U.S. State Department, the United Nations, international human rights organizations, and what remains of the opposition within Russia itself. Immigration judges know this. Our colleague Gleb has also been researching this area and over the past year and a half has assembled a substantial evidentiary foundation.
If your case is built on persecution for your views, and the army is the instrument of that persecution — and you have evidence to prove it — you have a real chance of winning. Of course, concrete evidence of your views, public activity, opposition, and related matters is required. No one will take your word for it.
Potential lines of argument:
First — direct political persecution, where military service and conscription are used as a tool of pressure in response to your views, activism, or refusal to cooperate with authorities. The draft notice arrives not in the ordinary course, under a neutral law applicable to everyone, but as a response to who you are and what you do. This is the strongest argument.
Second — imputed political opinion, where the authorities treated your refusal to serve, in itself, as a political challenge and imposed or attempted to impose disproportionately severe punishment. The key word is disproportionate. If the consequence is merely a fine — forget it. Immigration judges and trial attorneys are well aware of the actual penalties Russia imposes on draft evaders. Do not attempt to convince them that you will receive a fifteen-year sentence. That will not happen, and they know it. Draft evasion is a low-severity offense. The typical penalty is a fine; imprisonment is possible but rare and for short terms.
Third — ethnic discrimination in conscription, such as the disproportionate deployment of Buryats, Kalmyks, or Dagestanis to the front lines. This can work, but requires very strong evidence. In our practice, we have encountered this argument only on appeal. In every case, the courts ruled against the applicant due to insufficient evidence. If this is your situation, be prepared to invest in expert witnesses.
Fourth — war crimes under R-R-. As discussed above, this is theoretically possible but practically very difficult.
Each of these approaches requires concrete, documented evidence.
For Ukrainian applicants, the path is considerably more difficult. Ukraine is a democratic state that is fighting a defensive war — at least from the perspective of the United States. The international community overwhelmingly supports Ukraine, and there is no comparable body of international condemnation of the Ukrainian armed forces. The war crimes argument under R-R- is effectively unavailable. Again — not that violations do not occur, but neither Ukraine nor Russia has been formally convicted.
What may work:
First — and the most realistic option — punitive mobilization directed specifically at you. If you can demonstrate that mobilization is being used as an instrument of pressure because of your political views, journalistic activity, human rights work, or something similar, you have an argument. You will need ironclad evidence — significantly stronger than what would be required in a Russian case. Nevertheless, this approach can succeed.
Second — linguistic or ethnic discrimination in the context of conscription. If Russian-speaking Ukrainians or members of specific ethnic groups — for example, Armenians — are deliberately sent to the most dangerous front-line positions, drafted first, or treated substantially worse during service, this may constitute a basis for relief. In practice, proving that this rises to the level of persecution is extremely difficult. Discrimination and persecution are different things.
Applicants who lived in occupied territories — for example, in Melitopol — may have a somewhat easier path. The argument that those who left for the United States are being targeted as potential collaborators is significantly stronger, particularly in affirmative cases before USCIS.
The overall conclusion for Ukraine: the available arguments are far fewer, and each requires an even stronger evidentiary foundation than for Russia. "I am Ukrainian and I do not want to fight for my country" — in the eyes of an American immigration judge, that is betrayal, not persecution. Defending one's country is a civic duty. From practice: approximately 90% of Ukrainian asylum applicants lose in immigration court. In the affirmative context before USCIS, the picture is considerably better — roughly half of cases are still being approved. Evidence is everything.
Do not build your entire case on fear of military service or mobilization alone. If that is your only argument, you will almost certainly lose. Yes — at the beginning of the Russia-Ukraine conflict, this could still slip through. Not anymore. The precedent is clear, consistent, and four decades old. Every immigration judge is aware of it. Instead, frame your case around the established exceptions.
Many people who fear conscription also have other facts in their background that can form the basis of a stronger claim: political activity, anti-war statements, religious convictions, ethnic background, prior confrontations with authorities. An experienced attorney can identify whether your history contains material that can be leveraged toward a win. Do not bury a strong argument under a weak one.
Do not exaggerate penalties. If you tell the judge you face fifteen years in prison when the law provides only for a fine or two years — and even that only in exceptional circumstances — the judge will stop believing anything you say. Immigration judges and trial attorneys know or can find out the laws of your country, and deception can bury all your other arguments.
Remember the "series of suppositions" problem from N-N-B-. After that decision, courts will not permit applicants to build a case on a chain of assumptions. "I will be drafted — maybe. I will be sent to the front — maybe. I will be tortured — maybe." Maybe, maybe, maybe. Each link in the chain must be independently established as probable. Speculation kills cases.
If you do have a legitimate basis — political, religious, ethnic — build that case properly. Gather evidence, work with an attorney and relevant experts, document everything. Every publication, every detention, every threat, every communication. A good case is a prepared case. Do this in advance — assembling evidence from detention is, under current conditions, nearly impossible.
Consider alternatives. Depending on your situation, other forms of relief may be available: Temporary Protected Status (if your country is designated), withholding of removal, protection under the Convention Against Torture — though after N-N-B- we know how difficult that is — or entirely different immigration pathways, such as family-based options. Do not stake everything on asylum if the asylum case is weak. And do not rely on sympathy. Under current conditions, that is almost never enough.
Matter of Acosta, 19 I&N Dec. 211 (BIA 1985) — Harm arising from generalized civil strife does not constitute persecution. A nexus to a protected ground is required.
Matter of Sanchez & Escobar, 19 I&N Dec. 276 (BIA 1985) — Violence and disruptions arising from civil war, standing alone, do not make a person a refugee.
Matter of A-G-, 19 I&N Dec. 502 (BIA 1987) — Compulsory military service and associated penalties do not ordinarily constitute persecution. Exception: where conscription or punishment is imposed on account of a protected ground.
Matter of Rodriguez-Majano, 19 I&N Dec. 811 (BIA 1988) — Danger from generalized violence during civil war, including threats from both the government and guerrillas, does not establish persecution on a protected ground.
Matter of Vigil, 19 I&N Dec. 572 (BIA 1988) — Punishment for military desertion constitutes legitimate prosecution, not persecution in the immigration sense.
Matter of Canas-Segovia, 19 I&N Dec. 697 (BIA 1988) — Conscientious objection to military service is insufficient standing alone. The applicant must demonstrate that the state's response is persecutory rather than ordinary enforcement of conscription laws.
Matter of Fuentes, 19 I&N Dec. 658 (BIA 1988) — Danger inherent in military service and fear of combat are risks incident to military duty, not persecution.
Matter of R-R-, 20 I&N Dec. 547 (BIA 1992) — Exception to the general rule: compelled participation in conduct condemned by the international community as fundamentally inhuman, or disproportionately severe punishment on account of a protected ground.
Matter of S-E-G-, 24 I&N Dec. 579 (BIA 2008) — General societal violence and crime, even if severe, do not constitute persecution absent a nexus to a protected ground.
Matter of M-E-V-G-, 26 I&N Dec. 227 (BIA 2014) — Reaffirmed S-E-G-: civil unrest and violence without a nexus to a protected ground do not constitute persecution.
Matter of N-N-B-, 29 I&N Dec. 79 (BIA 2025) — CAT claim based on a "series of suppositions" regarding Russian conscription fails. Common punishment for draft evasion is fines; conscription age is limited.
INS v. Elias-Zacarias, 502 U.S. 478 (1992) — Unwillingness to fight is not a political opinion. The applicant must prove that the persecutor's motive is to punish on account of a protected ground, not merely to compel military service.
M.A. v. INS, 858 F.2d 210 (4th Cir. 1988) — Ordinary penalties for draft evasion do not constitute persecution. The applicant must show disproportionately severe punishment or that military service involves conduct contrary to basic rules of human conduct.
Barraza Rivera v. INS, 913 F.2d 1443 (9th Cir. 1990) — Military service requirements, even in the context of internal armed conflict, do not by themselves establish persecution.
Canas-Segovia v. INS, 970 F.2d 599 (9th Cir. 1992) — Conscientious objection carries an extremely high evidentiary burden. The applicant must establish both nexus and the persecutory character of punishment.
Mitev v. INS, 67 F.3d 1325 (7th Cir. 1995) — Standard penalties for draft evasion or desertion constitute ordinary prosecution, not persecution in the immigration sense.
Mojsilovic v. INS, 156 F.3d 743 (7th Cir. 1998) — Only "grossly disproportionate" punishment tied to a protected ground may constitute persecution.
Mekhoukh v. Ashcroft, 358 F.3d 118 (1st Cir. 2004) — A nation has the right to enforce its laws of conscription, and normal penalties for evasion are not persecution. Cited by the BIA in Matter of N-N-B-.
Islami v. Gonzales, 412 F.3d 391 (2d Cir. 2005) — Ordinary conscription is not persecution. The line is crossed only by compelled participation in atrocities condemned by the international community, or disproportionately severe punishment tied to a protected ground.
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