Behind the Visa Curtain: Why Europe Glides Through as Africa and Asia Face U.S. Visa Rejections.

WASHINGTON — New data released by the U.S. Department of State paints a stark picture of the deep disparities in visa approvals around the world. For millions of would-be travelers hoping to visit the United States, the odds of obtaining a B-visa — issued for business or tourism — vary dramatically depending not on what they submit, but where they come from.

According to figures from the State Department’s Fiscal Year 2024 report, travelers from some countries face rejection rates exceeding 70 percent. Among the hardest hit: Laos, with an adjusted refusal rate of 82.84 percent, followed closely by Liberia (79.38 percent), Somalia (77.02 percent), and Guinea-Bissau (76.59 percent).

These figures reflect the “adjusted refusal rate,” a metric that omits incomplete or withdrawn applications, focusing only on those who went through the full vetting process.

At the other end of the spectrum, several nations — including the Federated States of Micronesia, Liechtenstein, Monaco, and even North Korea — reported a refusal rate of zero. The United Arab Emirates, Cyprus, Romania, and Uruguay all saw denial rates under 3 percent, which may make them qualified for the Visa Waiver Program.

For applicants from West Africa, the process can feel like a foregone conclusion.

“I had all my documents. An invitation letter. A stable job. A return ticket,” said Okezie Adesiji, a 32-year-old software engineer from Lagos, Nigeria. “They asked me two questions, stamped something, and said I was denied. Just like that.”

Mr. Adesiji’s experience is not unique. In Guinea, the adjusted refusal rate was 70.25 percent in 2024. In Mauritania, it was 70.07 percent. And in Sierra Leone, nearly seven in ten applicants were turned away.

For many, the visa interview is less about personal qualification and more about the global perception of risk. Section 214(b) of the Immigration and Nationality Act requires applicants to prove they will return home after visiting the United States. The burden of proof lies entirely with the applicant — and often, so does the doubt.

“These numbers underscore how profoundly global inequality shapes the freedom to move,” said Dr. Daniel Ortega, a professor of international relations at Georgetown University. “It’s not necessarily about individual intent. It’s about national profiling.”

The B-visa rejection process is opaque. Applicants rarely receive detailed explanations beyond boilerplate language. Rejections under 214(b) can result from perceived weak ties to a home country, previous immigration history, or even a hunch from a consular officer.

Journalist Hanifa Adan, who covers migration and human rights from Nairobi, said the data confirms what many travelers have long suspected.

“Even when you meet the requirements, your nationality can override everything,” Ms. Adan said. “For many Africans, it’s not just about visas — it’s about dignity and perception.”

Indeed, the refusal rate among Senegalese applicants was 74.65 percent, while Sierra Leone stood at 69.36 percent. Togo and The Gambia each faced denial rates over 66 percent.

While U.S. embassies insist that each application is assessed individually, the global trend suggests a more systemic divide. Citizens from wealthier nations — particularly those in diplomatic partnerships or visa waiver programs — are overwhelmingly more likely to be granted access.

Some experts say this has less to do with formal policy and more to do with risk assessment models embedded into the system.

“Migration control is no longer just about borders,” said Dr. Ortega. “It’s about algorithms, economic markers, and institutional trust. And in that equation, poor countries are starting at a disadvantage.”

For those denied, the consequences are not only emotional but often financial. Application fees are nonrefundable — regardless of the outcome — and interviews can require extensive travel to distant embassies.

Applicants from conflict zones or underdeveloped regions often invest months preparing documentation, only to be rejected in minutes.

“It feels like being judged for your passport,” Mr. Adesiji said. “Like you don’t belong anywhere you want to go.”

The numbers raise uncomfortable questions for U.S. foreign policy, which frequently promotes openness and international exchange. As tourist and student flows recover post-pandemic, analysts say attention must turn to the growing divide between those who can move freely — and those who can’t.

“There is a moral contradiction here,” said Ms. Adan. “The same nations that promote globalization are building invisible barriers at their consulates.”

As the State Department continues to refine its visa protocols, many applicants in Africa, Asia, and parts of Latin America are left waiting — not just for a visa, but for fairness.