“Massachusetts: Beneficios para Refugiados” was the title of a brochure that Carlos Muñoz received while applying for asylum in South Texas in early September. A devoted father and electrical engineering student, Muñoz traveled thousands of miles from his home in Venezuela to the United States in search of a better life for himself and his son. He wanted his son to get the opportunity to receive a good education and a sustainable job. After arriving in Texas, lured by the brochure and countless other promises by government officials, including work permits and several months of cash assistance, Muñoz boarded a flight bound for Boston with around 50 other migrants. Midway through the flight, however, the refugees were informed that their final destination would be Martha’s Vineyard, a small island off the coast of Cape Cod.
After his long journey through the Venezuelan jungle, across Central America, and past the perilous southern border, Muñoz was lied to. His trip to Massachusetts was conceived not to provide him the opportunity to work, but instead as a political stunt to instigate conflict over the issue of immigration. Muñoz’s experience was the culmination of years of preparation and travel through hazardous conditions, yet he was used as a pawn. Against the backdrop of every partisan squabble over immigration are thousands of stories like that of Muñoz—stories of livelihoods uprooted and hopes quashed by an unforgiving immigration system. Migration politics in the United States crosses deep cultural divides and contains rhetoric of race, prejudice, and demonization, but it tragically lacks in legitimate policy proposals.
The situation at the Southern border has become increasingly dire over the past two decades, as waves of asylum-seekers, economic migrants, and unaccompanied minors have challenged the capacity of our bureaucracy year after year. Immigration courts are backlogged more than ever before, and wait times for migrants seeking a hearing are often several years long.
The way our leaders have approached immigration does not reflect this dire need for reform. Rather than rallying around concrete solutions, they have chosen to use immigrants to score cheap political points. Carlos Muñoz’s flight to Martha’s Vineyard was the brainchild of Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, a harsh critic of Democratic proposals to offer amnesty to, and otherwise be more tolerant of, undocumented immigrants. DeSantis, while taking credit for the flight, called it a necessary protest of Democratic immigration policies. In concert with DeSantis’s efforts, Texas Governor Greg Abbott chartered similar flights for undocumented immigrants to locations including the front lawn of Vice President Kamala Harris’s family home. DeSantis and Abbott’s petty actions complicated the already difficult lives of Muñoz and dozens of other migrants.
As expected, the opposing side of the aisle’s response has been swift and grating. Democrats were quick to point out the inhumane way the migrants were treated, as well as its potential illegality and cost to Florida’s state budget.
DeSantis responded, however, accusing his critics of hypocrisy. “All those people in DC and New York were beating their chests when Trump was President saying they were so proud to be sanctuary jurisdictions. The minute even a small fraction of what those border towns deal with every day is brought to their front door, they all the sudden go berserk and they’re so upset that this is happening,” claimed DeSantis. The Florida governor’s commentary on sanctuary cities not only grossly mischaracterizes what policies “sanctuary cities” actually use, but it also ignores the fact that the most common response from Democrats was moral outrage, not the mere fact that there were undocumented immigrants in their states.
Political theatrics like chartering buses to bring migrants to another state are not unheard of in our hyperpolarized partisan environment. But the extreme detachment between immigration rhetoric and the on-the-ground policy situation is uniquely problematic. The asylum process in the United States is long and arduous—to truly solve the issue would involve streamlining the application process, amending immigration jurisprudence, and hiring more asylum judges, among many other things. Instead, Republican politicians are chartering private planes to New England sea towns, and Democratic pundits are filing lawsuits against governors. Our political parties seem eager to talk about immigration on the stump and with the media but are notably less keen on prioritizing immigration reform legislation. Political wins or losses are not worth much to people like Muñoz, who are innocently caught up in the latest iteration of an American culture war.
Immigration has been a contentious issue in the United States for centuries, but the harsh lines of today’s debate emerged in the 1980s and 90s. Immigration to the United States skyrocketed in the late 20th century mostly because of migration from Central and South America. Many of these newcomers, desperate to escape poverty or war, were not able to go through the legal process. However, there is an important difference between undocumented immigrants and asylum-seekers. The migrants that were deceived into flying to Martha’s Vineyard are not traditional immigrants—they were seeking asylum. Asylum-seekers are fleeing violence, which entitles them to amnesty by international law, making the DeSantis stunt that much more cruel. Regardless of immigrants’ motives, though, the nation’s immigration system is in dire need of reform. It would be no less wrong if DeSantis sent traditional immigrants to Martha’s Vineyard.
The contemporary debate over immigration revolves primarily around whether or not undocumented immigrants should be allowed to stay in the United States, and if so, under what circumstances. Republican governors of states on the Southern border have argued that the overflow of migrants makes it impossible for them to effectively screen and process them, and that communities on the border are being overwhelmed and endangered by this crisis. Democrats are critical of the strategies Republican governors have employed to control the crisis, but it’s easy to see these criticisms as meritless—after all, most Democratic governors are spared involvement in the crisis simply due to geography.
While the Obama administration failed to push through comprehensive immigration reform, it managed to establish the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which granted legal status to children who came to the country undocumented but were raised and educated within its borders. The Trump Administration’s approach was to take a hard line against illegal immigration, which it did to varying degrees of success through increased deportations, the Remain in Mexico policy, and attempts to construct a border wall. President Biden sought to reverse these policies, and introduced the US Citizenship Act to Congress. In addition to rolling back Trump-era executive orders, the bill would provide a path to citizenship for undocumented immigrants, eliminate country-specific limits on visas, and allow families to stay together in the United States while they await a visa. Considering the balance of the Senate, though, the likelihood of this bill becoming law is almost zero. Proposing reform but not implementing it has become a staple of American immigration policymaking over the past decade.
Every incremental step toward reform is surrounded by all-consuming rhetoric, be it Democrats spouting idioms about hope and dreams or Republicans spewing hateful stereotypes about the type of people entering via the southern border. This rhetoric, though it may evoke emotion from partisan extremes, does little to impact the experience of migrants coming to the United States. Through all of the speeches given, think pieces written, and screaming matches heard, the waitlist for immigration court has only grown longer and the process to gain legal status has remained byzantine.