Immigration and the Prison Industrial Complex

In the past year, the struggle over immigration rights continued along a broad array of fronts.  There were significant setbacks, such as the implementation of the “Remain in Mexico” policy that made asylum nearly impossible to attain.  But there were also victories, such as a federal judge’s ruling in November that required the government to provide health services to thousands of parents and children traumatized by the family separations carried out in accordance with the Trump administration’s “zero-tolerance” policy.

As we head into a new decade, it is useful to map the ongoing struggles in order to see the broader landscape of conflict, and there is one concept, that of the prison industrial complex (or PIC), that can help provide such a map.  The concept of PIC was developed by scholars and activists associated with the prison abolition movement, and the abolitionist organization Critical Resistance offers this clear definition:  “the prison industrial complex is a term we use to describe the overlapping interests of government and industry that use surveillance, policing, and imprisonment as solutions to economic, social, and political problems.”

If we look over some of the major battlefields involved in immigration, the concept of the PIC can help pinpoint major areas where corporate interests and government overlap. These include detention, surveillance, consulting services, and border wall construction.

With respect to detention, it’s important to note that 52,000 people are currently incarcerated in America’s detention facilities, and that about two-thirds of them are kept in for-profit facilities run by corporations like the GEO Group and CoreCivic.  The business in for-profit detention runs to about $3 billion a year, and the companies involved have made substantial campaign contributions ($1.7 million in 2016, $1.9 million in 2018).  They have also actively lobbied both federal and local officials for years.  The private detention facilities have been cited in numerous grievances and a number of reports for a wide range of abuses, including medical negligence, inedible food, and sexual assault and abuse.  Reports have continued to surface about deaths in detention of both migrant adults and children.

With regard to surveillance, there has been a growing awareness in the past year-and-a-half of the role that tech companies have played in identifying and tracking immigrants.  Particular attention has focused on the software company Palantir, which has a $38 million contract with ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) to provide data analytics and data case management.  It’s likely that these kinds of data services were employed in the kind of workplace raids carried out by ICE last August at companies in Mississippi.  Moreover, it should be noted that Palantir’s programs are hosted by Amazon’s web services subsidiary, and the ICE connections of both companies have been targeted for protest by both employees and activists.  Other tech companies, such as the software developer Github, have also been targeted for protests for their connections to ICE, and it’s likely that such protests will continue into the coming year.

Yet another corporate area continuing to exert influence over the implementation of immigration policy involves consulting services.  Major companies like Booz Allen Hamilton, Deloitte Consulting, PricewaterhouseCoopers, and McKinsey & Company have contracted with ICE, and it is the latter which has gained the most notoriety for its connections.  McKinsey concluded a $20 million contract with ICE in July, 2018 amidst intense controversy over the family separations and other abuses associated with the Trump administration’s zero tolerance policy.  McKinsey consultants, it turned out, had recommended significant cuts in detention facilities for food services, medical care, and staffing.   It currently has contracts with Customs and Border Protection.

Finally, with many asylum seekers trapped in unsafe conditions in Mexico under the “Remain in Mexico” policy, it’s appropriate to include the construction of Donald Trump’s border wall as part of immigration’s prison industrial complex.  Of particular relevance is the recent decision by the Pentagon’s Inspector General to investigate the awarding of a $400 million contract to a North Dakota Company, Fisher Sand and Gravel, that Trump had personally lobbied for, despite the fact that it had never been awarded a construction contract before, and despite the fact that military officials had raised objections about the company’s standards.

Certainly, immigration’s prison industrial complex predates the Trump administration.  For-profit detention facilities date back to the early 1980’s, and surveillance and the fortification of the border have been going on for years.  But Trump has pushed government/industry relations more sharply into an anti-immigrant direction, using racist messaging to criminalize migrants and shrink asylum and immigration to new lows.

As resistance to his policies continues, it will be helpful to invoke the concept of the prison industrial complex as a way of seeing the big picture.  The PIC offers a lens for seeing how any particular protest is related to a broader struggle on behalf of certain values and understandings:  that immigration is essential to the continued vitality of the nation, and that inclusion, enfranchisement, and human rights – not fear and criminalization – are keys to a democratic future.

This article was distributed by PeaceVoice.info and first published in the LA Progressive.

Raising the Stakes in the Struggle Over Immigration Detention

As the struggle for immigrant rights continues to be fought across America, new battlegrounds may come into view, then fade from public attention.  For many months, our border drew intense scrutiny, as family separations shocked and horrified millions.  Recently, the fate of DACA and 700,000 Dreamers moved back briefly into headlines, as the Supreme Court took up arguments over the Trump administration’s efforts to terminate the program.

What hasn’t yet come to full attention, however, is the struggle over the future of immigration detention itself, a conflict whose outcome may have far-reaching consequences for immigration reform in years to come.

Last month, Governor Gavin Newsom signed a bill prohibiting California from entering into, or renewing, contracts authorizing companies to run private, for-profit detention centers in the state.   Currently three companies (the GEO Group, CoreCivic, and the Management & Training Corporation) run four different facilities that, collectively, house up to 4000 people, or about 8 percent of the approximately 49,000 people in immigration detention nationwide.  The California bill will take effect on January 1, 2020, forcing the closure of the four facilities whose contracts will expire over the course of that year.

For immigration activists, the closures will represent the beginning of the end of a tragic, violent period in our immigration history.  They cite numerous reports on abuse and neglect perpetrated by the for-profit operators of these facilities, including a 2019 Inspector General report that cited thousands of deficiencies nationwide, deficiencies “that jeopardize the health and safety of detainees,” including failure to notify ICE about sexual assaults.  Adelanto, the largest facility in California, has been cited numerous times for medical neglect, and has been the site of several deaths in recent years.

To prevent people currently detained from being transferred to remote locations outside the state, immigrant rights groups are working strenuously to raise bond funds that would allow them to pursue their asylum cases outside of detention.  This approach is consonant with a broader goal of eliminating immigrant detention entirely and replacing it with community accompaniment programs that help asylum seekers advance their cases while living and working productively in communities.  Activists describe the overarching theme of this strategy as “community, not cages.”

Companies operating the for-profit facilities maintain that legal obstacles will block the implementation of the new California measure.  A company spokesperson for the GEO Group, for example, declared that the bill should face a successful legal challenge because it violates the Constitution’s supremacy clause (Article VI) that gives federal law precedence over state lawmaking.  But constitutional experts supporting the measure argue that California has the authority to take this step, saying that the state has the power to regulate private companies; it isn’t trying to regulate the federal government.

ICE, meanwhile, has taken matters into its own hands.  Five days after Governor Newsom signed the new legislation on October 11, ICE began soliciting contracts for new for-profit detention facilities, contracts that would be approved prior to the January 1, 2020 date that California’s new measure would take effect.  The contracts are for facilities in the same geographical areas as the existing four detention centers, and would run for five years, with the option to renew for two additional five year terms.

California officials and immigration activists maintain that ICE’s move violates federal procurement protocols by narrowing the bidding process to favor the existing companies and facilities.  They argue that by attempting to rush the contracts before the January 1 deadline, ICE is making a blatant attempt to circumvent California law.   At this point, it’s unclear how the conflict will play out legally in the near future.

Nevertheless, California immigrant rights activists remain undeterred, seeing their state’s legislative actions as part of a bigger national reform movement.  They cite Illinois’ recent ban on private immigration detention as well as proposed national legislation that would place a moratorium on the expansion and construction of detention facilities, while increasing oversight over existing facilities.

It remains to be seen exactly where and how the coming battles over detention will be fought.  Much may happen in the courts, but for many activists the key issue will remain one of visibility:  making continually clear to the public what it means to criminalize and incarcerate asylum seekers – and to run profitable, multi-billion dollar businesses in so doing.

Immigrationspeak

Whether or not Donald Trump continues in office in the near future, he has already contributed to a language of immigration that’s both larger than him and that will outlast him.  The language is spoken by members of the Trump administration and its allies in the media and in restrictionist think tanks.  Grounded in a narrative of threat from within and without, it’s a language that sanctions and rationalizes violence against immigrants.  For convenience’s sake, I’ll call it “immigrationspeak.”

Immigrationspeak ranges in register from the inflammatory to the cool.  Inflammatory language has been central to Donald Trump’s rhetoric since the day he announced his candidacy, declaring that Mexico is “. . . sending people that have lots of problems, and they’re bringing those problems with us. They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people.”  Since then he has continued to frame an incendiary narrative of menace, tweeting on several occasions that caravans of Central American migrants constituted “invasions” of the U.S. border.

Trump isn’t the only one to contribute significantly to a narrative of menace.  Often in the cooler language of policy analysis, think tanks like the Federation for American Immigration Reform (FAIR) and NumbersUSA have been depicting a wide range of threats – to the environment, to Americans’ jobs and safety, to the economy in general – that can only be countered by substantial restrictions on immigration.

By itself, a narrative of threat won’t advance an immigration agenda as ambitious as this administration’s.  Immigrationspeak requires a veneer of legality, a vocabulary of criminalization, to move its agenda forward.  Within five days of Trump’s inauguration, the White House issued an executive order, “Enhancing Public Safety in the Interior of the United States,” that rescinded Obama-era enforcement priorities focusing principally on undocumented persons who committed violent crimes.  By removing these priorities, the Trump administration widened the net of potential enforcement to all of the 10.7 million people living in the U.S. without documentation.  How to label these persons?  “Removable aliens.”

Lest there was any ambiguity about the change, the then-Acting Director of ICE, Thomas D. Homan, stated at a hearing in Washington, “If you’re in this country illegally, and you committed a crime by entering this country, you should be uncomfortable.  You should look over your shoulder.”  Soon after the issuance of the executive order, the administration began sweeping people up in ICE raids:  a restaurant worker and father of four, an evangelical Guatemalan minister, a student activist.  These were people I knew, or came to know, in my own community in Los Angeles.  Similar apprehensions were occurring all over the country.

But interior enforcement is just one part of a vast picture, and legalistic language just one instrument in the immigrationspeak toolbox.  Falsehood, denial, and a faux humanitarianism play significant roles too, particularly in advancing a policy of aggressive deterrence at the border.  When the administration provoked outrage last year by separating migrant children from their parents, by incarcerating children in cages, and by denying them basic necessities like soap, toothbrushes, or beds, administrative spokespersons like former Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen argued that the children were being used by smugglers and traffickers to get into the country illegally.  As she attempted to explain, “we are trying to protect the children, which is why I’m asking Congress to act.  We are a country of compassion.  We are a country of heart.”

As these tools haven’t succeeded in quelling outrage, the administration has turned to other devices.  Silence and secrecy also play their role, as when journalists and other observers are denied access to the new “tent courts” set up at the border to expedite hearings for asylum seekers stuck in Mexico under the administration’s controversial “Remain in Mexico” policy.  Fences, locked gates, and barbed wire constitute a language all their own.

One can only assume that the current administration would like to see immigrationspeak become a lingua franca:  a common way of speaking, thinking, and writing about immigration.  But America remains a stubbornly multilingual nation.  Dialects of defiance and resistance haven’t been suppressed.  I recently attended an immigration rights rally in Los Angeles, where a young woman, one of the organizers of the event, got up and said:  “I may not be able to vote, but that won’t stop me from getting out the vote.  I am undocumented, but that won’t stop me from continuing to speak out and organize.”

This article was first published by PeaceVoice.info

The Many Faces of Immigration Resistance

For the most part, major news organizations like the New York Times, CNN, the Washington Post, and the Los Angeles Times have provided comprehensive, accurate coverage of major immigration-related developments.  Significant policy changes and their impacts on people have been presented with careful regard for both detail and larger issues.  This is as it should be.  Nevertheless, coverage often falls short in underplaying a critical dimension of unfolding events:  the extraordinary depth and breadth of resistance to the Trump administration’s policies.

One reason for the shortcoming has to do with patterns of reporting.  Media outlets may typically cover a Trump administration initiative followed by reactions from courts, state or local governments, or activist groups.  This was the pattern when the Trump administration recently issued new regulations overturning the Flores agreement, the consent decree limiting the number of days that migrant children could be kept in detention.  Prominent coverage was given to the Trump initiative and, subsequently, to the lawsuit filed against it by 19 states and the District of Columbia.

High-profile resistance needs to be reported, but resistance also manifests widely in the everyday actions of ordinary citizens.  This past July, for example, when President Trump announced that ICE raids would take place in cities throughout the country, activists stepped up efforts to counsel people on their rights, including the right not to answer the door when ICE knocked.  As the raids played out in cities like Houston, Chicago, Atlanta, and Los Angeles, neighbors posted photos and other information on social media about ICE sightings, and, in some cases, documented specific arrests or attempts to arrest.  The raids, collectively called “Operation Border Resolve” were intended to apprehend 2105 undocumented immigrants, but community efforts help limit the arrests to a total of 35 individuals, 18 of whom were identified as “collateral apprehensions” (i.e. individuals who had not been originally targeted).

These recent actions represent only a fraction of ongoing activities undertaken by many people involved in assisting immigrants:  visiting individuals held in detention, raising bond funds and finding legal assistance for detainees, finding shelter and employment for people released from detention. and engaging in political advocacy for immigrants’ rights, to name just a few.

But it would misrepresent these efforts to suggest that pro-immigrant attitudes and actions are limited to border states or blue states with high immigrant populations.  As Alan Cross, a Southern Baptist minister, recently reported in the New York Times (“Alabama is More Pro-Immigrant Than You Think,” May 1), Alabama has seen a significant influx of Central American immigrants in the past two decades, and many Alabamans have come to welcome the newcomers, often on the basis of religious beliefs that foster a welcoming of the stranger.  Interviewing a conservative columnist for one of the state’s newspapers, a columnist who wrote last year in support of DACA, Cross asked her why she took that position.  She told him, “We had so commingled our faith with our politics that our faith had become politicized.   I had to become thoughtful about disentangling those things, to treat the precepts of my faith as primary and let our politics flow out of that.”  As another Alabaman explained, “Once people get to know them [immigrants], their hearts change.  The perception that people have against them mostly comes from the news.”

It would be untrue to suggest that the resistance to Trump’s immigration policies is cohesive, networked, or self-aware in any kind of collective fashion.  But it would also be misleading to to characterize the struggles over immigration simply as matters of policy:  choosing, say, asylum policy X over policy Y.  These issues are entangled with deep cultural attitudes, attitudes having to do with values of human dignity, human rights, and truth itself:  bearing witness to needless human suffering and the lies that sustain it.

It would not be wasted time or effort for any serious observer to call out and elucidate the connections that say, “resist!”  These are the connections that still uphold and maintain a civil society.

This article was originally published by PeaceVoice.info

Asylum as a Human Right

In the past year the Trump administration has been applying increasingly restrictive policies to block asylum seekers from pursuing their claims in the U.S.  The most recent measure, now temporarily barred by a federal judge’s injunction, would have required migrants traveling through another country such as Mexico to show proof that they had applied for, and were denied, asylum in that country.  That policy would most likely have barred almost all migrants from Central America, as well as many Africans, Haitians, and Cubans traveling through Mexico.   This policy comes on top of other restrictive measures, including a practice called “metering,” which limits the number of asylum applications processed each day, as well as “Remain in Mexico,” which requires asylum seekers to stay in Mexico until the day of their hearing.

The results of these policies have forced thousands of people to languish in shelters and camps in Mexico, while thousands who have managed to cross the border are detained in overcrowded, squalid facilities that were cited in a recent report by the Department of Homeland Security’s own Office of Inspector General.  News about these conditions, along with the family separations dominating headlines last year, have brought asylum, the right to safe haven from persecution, to public consciousness in a way that it never has been before.

Yet the importance of asylum to the migration crisis facing our country has not been fully understood for a variety of reasons, including Donald Trump’s constant harping on his political opponents’ advocacy of “open borders.”  This claim, of course, is a canard.  U.S. borders have not been “open” in any meaningful sense for 100 years, nor is it likely that candidates for Trump’s job would advocate such a change, any more than they would advocate eliminating TSA screenings or customs inspections at U.S. airports.

Yet the phrase “open borders” still resonates for many people who fear the influx of thousands of people into the country.  To a large extent, Julian Castro and other Democratic presidential candidates have sought to address these fears by calling for a decriminalization of illegal entry and making such an entry a civil, rather than a criminal, violation.

But this position fails to address the critical significance of asylum itself as the underlying issue in the debates over immigration.  On a practical level, as a number of immigration experts have pointed out, the closing off of access to asylum processing only magnifies people’s motivation to enter the U.S. illegally, increasing the the number of illegal crossings and putting thousands of adults and children at risk of serious injury and death.  As many observers have reported, individuals are willing to take these risks because the alternatives available to them and their children in their home countries – fates involving destitution, violence, or death – have left them little choice.

This is why a human rights perspective, centered on asylum as articulated in the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights and in U.S. federal law, is critical to any discussions of the border and to immigration in general.  Human rights are grounded in a recognition of human dignity – the intrinsic worth of every human being – no matter what his or her background or identity may be.  This recognition, allied closely to empathy and compassion, helps undergird a responsibility to protect the rights of others, not just one’s own.  From a human rights perspective, democracy itself is sustained by understanding our interdependence, our mutual ties to one another:  ties that cross borders and boundaries.

And contrary to Trump’s claims, the U.S. needs immigrants; demographers and economists have pointed to a falling birth rate and to the aging of our population, trends that threaten economic growth and the vitality of our cities and rural areas.   Our economy and our communities need workers, and the communities that have welcomed immigrants have tended to thrive economically.

This is one reason why, if asylum is to be fully recognized along with the other rights we value as Americans, we need to disentangle the asylum process from the institutions and political culture of mass incarceration.  Today people undergo harrowing journeys and present themselves at our border, only to find themselves degraded and dehumanized in prison conditions.  We need to abolish detention altogether and substitute for it community-based, alternative-to-detention programs that are humane and cost-effective.

Making this change will involve many obstacles, but a number of Democratic presidential candidates have made proposals, including the proposal to end for-profit detention facilities, that point in the right direction.  These moves constitute a meaningful start.  But considering the magnitude and urgency of human suffering involved, the larger task ahead will be to foster a rights awareness that will lead to genuine, substantive change in the foreseeable future.

This article was originally published by PeaceVoice.Info.

Listening for Immigration at the Democratic Presidential Debates

If you’ve been repelled by the family separations and other immigration-related cruelties perpetrated by the Trump administration, and if you plan to watch either or both of the upcoming Democratic presidential debates, please listen carefully – not just to what the candidates are saying, but how they’re saying it:  how they frame the issues.  Will they present immigration as a discrete set of concerns (“fixing our broken immigration system”), or will they describe it in relation to broader historical struggles, distinctly American struggles, for human rights?  It’s possible that if any candidates are willing to articulate a broader story, they may find themselves in a stronger position against Trump – and, possibly, on a stronger footing for leading the nation.

Consider, for example, the issue of voting rights and the current conflict over the 2020 census.  For some time, the Trump administration has been trying to add a citizenship question to the census, and recently it was revealed that a Republican strategist, Thomas B. Hofeller, played a significant role in urging this change as a way of giving a “structural electoral advantage” to Republicans and “non-Hispanic whites.”  The Census Bureau’s own experts estimated that up to 6.5 million people, representing households that included noncitizens, would not respond to a census questionnaire that included a question about citizenship.  The result would be significant shifts in electoral representation.

This attempt to skew representation, based on the precarious status of millions of undocumented people in the U.S., is not unconnected to a larger effort to suppress votes, particularly of people of color.  One can look, for example, to the 2013 Supreme Court ruling that states with histories of discriminatory practices would no longer need federal clearance to make changes in voting policies.  Six years later, legal battles continue over Georgia’s 2018 gubernatorial election, battles in which allies of defeated Democratic candidate Stacey Abrams cite many practices (voter purges, precinct closures, absentee ballot cancellations) that they claim blocked many African-Americans from voting.  The battle over the census is certainly an immigration battle, but as an electorally related issue, it is not a stand-alone concern.

Or consider the issues of racism and xenophobia.  Though many opponents of Trump’s immigration policies portray the U.S. as “a nation of immigrants,” such portrayals often don’t go very far in accounting for the racism and prejudice that have riven American immigration history since the nation’s founding.  Nor do they acknowledge the work of countless activists who struggled in courts, in print, and in other venues to resist, for example, the racism of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, or the racially based immigration quotas of the Johnson-Reed Act of 1924, quotas not overturned until the mid-1960’s.  If candidates are unwilling to acknowledge this history, they’ll be less able to describe the broader pattern of Trump’s statements and actions.  This is a president who, in 2017, described white nationalist protesters in Charlottesville, Virginia as including “some very fine people.”  This is the same individual who declared his candidacy in 2015 by railing against Mexico for sending us “rapists,” drugs, and crime.  The cruel effects of the administration’s policies (deaths in detention, family separation, children in cages) flow from an inexorable, dehumanizing logic of white supremacy.

This is why a bigger picture is needed, and this is why candidates who seek to take on Trump must bear witness both to the dark sides of American immigration history and to ongoing struggles for justice and human dignity.  They must be willing to speak out about the false, invidious binary separating “documented” from “undocumented” human beings – and share stories reminding us that yesterday’s stranger is today’s neighbor and friend.  The young Eritrean woman whom I first met last year in California’s Adelanto ICE Detention Facility, dressed in prison fatigues and incarcerated for no other reason than her quest for asylum, is now out and a family friend – and a recent guest at my daughter’s wedding.

At the debates, the candidates will present their proposals, and I hope that at least some will make the case for abolishing the barbaric system of detention and shifting resources to the humanitarian support of people seeking safety and livelihood.  But as long as any candidate clings to a fragmented perspective and to the worn-out mantra of “fixing our broken immigration system,” he or she will miss a critical opportunity.  It is the opportunity to educate:  to inspire voters to rise to a new understanding of how the American experiment can involve a continuous reinvention and redefinition of human rights and democracy.  And it is an opportunity that the coming election season presents to us all.

This article was originally published by Counterpunch.

Getting it Right on Immigration

As the 2020 presidential campaign intensifies in the coming weeks and months, we’ll see candidates and pundits airing a wide variety of proposals on immigration policy.  We’ll get recommendations on border security, asylum, detention, the status of the Dreamers, the status of the 11 million people living in the U.S. without documentation, and the role of ICE, to name just a few issues.  But will the recommendations be grounded in reality?  Will candidates and commentators represent what’s truly going on?

Author and columnist Thomas L. Friedman’s recent foray into border security issues (“Trump is Wasting Our Border Crisis,” April 23) is worth considering in light of these questions.  Describing himself as “pro-immigration,” Friedman strongly criticizes Donald Trump’s immigration policies, and he makes some suggestions that are reasonable on face value.  But because he fails to present a broader vision of the real issues at stake – issues bearing on the future of our democracy – he ultimately subverts his own argument.  The failure is significant because the kind of argument Friedman offers is one that many people will consider realistic and sensible.

In early April, Friedman visited the San Ysidro Port of Entry at California’s border with Tijuana, Mexico.  Accompanied by Border Patrol agents, he gained a first-hand look at the enormous pressures being placed on our southern border, where 190,000 “family units” were apprehended since this past October, up from 40,000 a year ago.  (A family unit, in the government’s lexicon, consists of a parent or guardian accompanying a child under 18).

As a result of his border experience, Friedman came away “more certain than ever that we have a real immigration crisis and the solution is a “high wall with a big gate – but a smart gate.”  In making this statement, he essentially argued that we should accept immigrants “at a rate at which they can be properly absorbed into our society,” and that we should favor visa seekers who bring skills, knowledge, and talents that benefit the nation.  Being firm and selective in this way, Friedman maintained, will steer us away from the “unstrategic, far-too random, chaotic immigration ‘system’ we have now.”

Friedman argues for foreign aid that will help stabilize imperiled nations, giving greater assurance of safety and livelihood to tens of thousands of people who’d otherwise be motivated to migrate.  And, he says, we should “expand our immigration court system to quickly welcome those who deserve asylum and repatriate those who don’t.”  Above all, he wishes to convey a pro-immigration position that affirms the valuable role that immigration has played, and continues to play, in strengthening the nation.

Certainly a number of Friedman’s ideas are sound, e.g. maintaining aid to imperiled nations like Honduras and Guatemala, and expanding the immigration court system; such ideas should be part of any comprehensive immigration policy.  But by dealing with the border in isolation from other immigration issues, Friedman fails to recognize the big picture:  that Trump’s immigration policies represent a concerted assault on democracy.  The administration’s promotion of a citizenship question on the 2020 census, for example, is expected by the Census Bureau’s own experts to exert a chilling effect on families and households that include a noncitizen.  The Bureau’s experts estimate that about 5.8 percent of these households, representing approximately 6.5 million people, would not respond to a questionnaire that included a question about citizenship.   Such a change would dramatically impact the distribution of power in Congress, shifting representation away from areas with significant immigrant populations and effectively disenfranchising voters and non-voters alike.

This drive to disenfranchise, to isolate and marginalize, is not new for Trump or his allies.  There was, of course, the race-baiting that punctuated his presidential campaign and still colors his pronouncements and actions as president.    There are also the executive orders that appeared early in his presidency, orders that made anyone without documents, not just convicted criminals, subject to raids, detention, and deportation.

The pattern has been clear:  criminalize the migrant.  Normalize a demonic image of migrant men and women, and exclude them from the benefits of American society.  Poison the political atmosphere so as to render exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, pathways to citizenship for millions of people, none of them criminals.

If a good part of democracy means having a place at the table, having a significant say in the co-creation of our collective destiny, then Trump’s game is not only to expel the Other from the table but to throw him or her out of the room.  Only the elites and their base are to remain.

By presenting the issues without reference to other key pieces of immigration policy, Friedman fails to identify the broader threats that Trump’s policies pose to our democracy. In the weeks and months ahead, these threats will need to be called out and answered.

This column was first published by PeaceVoice.