Why do American landlords love refugee tenants?

One week a refugee family is fleeing the brutality of civil war and living in a shipping container near the Syrian border, and the next they might be moving into a furnished apartment in Cleveland.

Completing this trek from war-torn villages to safety in the United States can take years and involves a complex apparatus of donors, volunteers, non-profit organizations, and State Department personnel. But the resettlement process ends just like every American apartment rental story: with a signature on a lease.

Welcoming refugees to the United States has become a highly charged political issue in the wake of last week's terror attacks in Paris that killed 129 people.

But the small group of U.S. property owners who lease homes to refugees have come to learn something that has been noticed in this heated debate: Renters from regions suffering the gravest instability tend to make the most stable tenants.

Renting to refugees, it turns out, has become a surprisingly steady business.

For the last five years, Daryl Anderson has been buying foreclosed homes in Cleveland, usually for less than $8,000. He fixes them up and rents most of the homes to new arrivals from Iraq, Somalia, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo, among other places mired in conflict.

About 80 percent of the tenants in his 40 rental units are refugees.

'I've never had to evict a refugee family,” says Anderson, 36, who built his apartment portfolio after serving in the U.S. Marine Corps. 'When they come here and get a quality house, they take care of the stuff that they're provided.”

Keith Raynor, who has rented apartments in Utica, N.Y., for the three decades, also prefers to sign leases with refugees. 'There was less turnover, which helps with the bottom line,” he says. 'I'm not doing this for charity.”

Anderson's business has been able to grow because of consistent demand from newcomers. Most of his tenants - who typically pay $750 a month for a three-bedroom unit - are referred by Us Together, a local affiliate of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, one of nine resettlement agencies that contract with the U.S. government to provide services to refugees.

When a tenant moves out, Us Together helps Anderson fill the vacancy. When he finishes a new renovation, the non-profit often has someone ready to move in.

Once a refugee is referred to the U.S. by the United Nations High Commission for Refugees, it takes an average of 18 to 24 months to process the application. But things move quickly after a refugee is allocated to a resettlement agency and placed with local non-profits.

The U.S. government requires resettlement agencies to equip refugees' new homes with basics like a box frame, mattress, can opener, alarm clock, pen and paper, said Danielle Drake, a community outreach coordinator for Us Together.

To house refugees upon arrival, the resettlement agencies need property owners who will rent to tenants sight-unseen, usually without so much as a credit check. (Before they arrive in the U.S., refugees are vetted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Department of Homeland Security, and other federal agencies.)

Refugees receive a one-time stipend of up to $1,125, which must cover all initial expenses, including housing. That often means convincing landlords to waive all or part of a security deposit.

To convince landlords that it makes sense to work with refugees, advocates emphasize reliability. Resettlement agencies and their affiliates provide strong job placement support and, at times, private funds to help refugees through a rough spell. That can give landlords a measure of confidence that tenants will be able to pay the rent.