Following Trump’s Playbook: How Scapegoating Justifies Exclusionary Immigration Policies

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 19^th and 20^th 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.”