Donald Trump’s recent executive
orders, including banning entry from 7 predominantly Muslim countries,
refusing to welcome refugees, and an unwavering although still logistically
unclear commitment to building a wall on the southern border with Mexico, puts
the U.S. in the lead for exclusionary and divisive nationalism. These policies,
which materialized the rhetoric from Trump’s campaign trail (including the
infamous accusations
that Mexican immigrants are drug-dealers and rapists), reflect more clearly
than ever how minorities continue to be the scapegoat for dissatisfied white
people, struggling with economic anxiety, a national “identity crisis,” and
potential challenges to their status, privilege, or positions of power. With
only a week in office, Trump quickly implemented policies that place external
blame, rather than address longstanding structural issues. And who better to
take the blame than those deemed different, the powerless, the “other”?
The U.S. has a long history of
institutionalized racism and exclusionary, selective immigration policies, including
the 1882
Chinese Exclusion Act, and 1920s quotas meant to deter
immigrants from less desirable countries, particularly in Eastern and Southern
Europe. Nonetheless, as migration patterns and globalization over the past few
decades have altered country demographics around the world, we see parallel
tendencies to base exclusionary policies on negative characterizations of
immigrants—as delinquents, criminals, and terrorists. Trump’s radical moves
have only further invigorated existent xenophobic sentiments.
In France, Marie Le Pen of the right wing
“National Front” party is leading polls for the Spring presidential elections,
under a platform
that aims to restore the French national identity, curb immigration, and
maintain “secularism” against the “threats of Islam.” The Vice President of the
National Front, Steve Briois, told
Agence France-Presse that the party would be open to replicating Trump’s ban,
which seeks to protect the territory from terrorists. As demonstrated by
growing nationalistic rhetoric, terrorist attacks in France over the past few
years have contributed to a strong association between immigrant, particularly
Muslim immigrant, and terrorist. In turn, in
Migrant Mobilization
and Securitization in the U.S. and Europe Ariane Chebel d’Appolonia argues that being labeled as a suspected threat
has made immigrant integration in France particularly challenging, aiding
marginalization, segregation, and in extreme circumstances, radicalization.
And just this week, in Argentina,
President Mauricio Macri signed a government decree,
which modifies the relatively liberal 2004 Immigration
Law, in an effort to crack down on “criminal” immigrants. The new policy
would accelerate the deportation of foreigners accused of grave crimes,
including drug trafficking, and would also put in place greater entry controls
for immigrants with a criminal record. On September 1st, a controversial detention
center opened in Buenos Aires to hold undocumented immigrants, although the
extent of its use is still unclear. This new decree now increases the
likelihood that migrants deemed dangerous by the state be detained in such a center.
This decree is in large part a response to
statements by Security Minister Bullrich, who stated: “Peruvians and Paraguayans
end up killing each other for control of drugs” and that she intends to reduce
“the concentration of foreigners committing drug crimes.” She based these
assertions on the statistic that 33% of people incarcerated for drug related
crimes in Argentina are foreign. However, immigration and human rights
advocates highlight both the inaccuracy of Bullrich’s figures, and the dangers
of associating Argentina’s immigrant communities—largely from Paraguay,
Bolivia, and Peru—with criminal activity.
According to the human rights
organization CELS, the
figure cited by Minister Bullrich misleadingly refers only to people detained
in Federal Penitentiaries. According to CELS, foreigners
represent 6% of the prison population, and 10% of the overall prison population
for drug related crimes. Moreover, of those arrested for drug related crimes in
the country, 83% are argentine and 17% are foreign, and only 0.06% of
foreigners in Argentina are arrested for drug crimes. In an Op-Ed
published in Argentine newspaper Pagina 12, Raul Kollman argues that despite
its purported intention, this policy is unlikely to impact established narcos with unlimited resources and
connections, but rather, the dark-skinned, poor, Bolivians, Peruvians, Colombians,
and Paraguayans will become the “suspects.” Fearing detention, deportation, and
discrimination, immigrants marched
in Buenos Aires to protest this backwards policy, which challenges Argentina’s
historical openness to immigrants, and temporary
work residency among Mercosur countries. Argentina has a rich history of
immigration, with waves of immigrants coming from Spain, Italy and Eastern Europe during the 19th
and 20th centuries. However, like the U.S., Argentina’s romanticized
image as a home to immigrants falls short when it comes to immigrants of color,
from poorer neighboring countries with large indigenous populations.
Trump’s actions set a dangerous
precedent, and legitimize xenophobic forces around the world. In Argentina, the
U.S., France, and elsewhere, the tendency to associate immigrants with criminal
behavior serves an intentional political purpose. It justifies discriminatory
stereotypes, deflects blame from longstanding economic and social problems, and
protects existent distributions of power. While recent rhetoric and policies
suggest otherwise, migrants and refugees are not entering your country to
commit crimes, to take your jobs in a zero sum game, or to disrupt whatever fixed,
collective values your country apparently cherishes. Although motives may be
varied, and essentializing immigrant experiences can be dangerous, many move in
search of a better life, often fleeing violence, economic desperation, or
persecution, sacrificing the comfort of their own home for the future
opportunities of their children. To reject or deport these people increases the
divisions that contribute to violence. Actively combatting baseless stereotypes
about immigrants and representing heterogeneous experiences are critical
components of advocating for more humane immigration policies. Justifying
exclusion with inaccurate characterizations about immigrants says more about
“us,” than about “them.”
