It is hard to ignore the current news cycle and claims that Trump intends for the US could “take over” and “own” Gaza, resettling its population in the process. Whether he legally or feasibly can is another blog article waiting to be written but as this ordeal unravels something I wanted to reflect on, something that has been big in the news recently both from the defunding of USAID and other countries like the UK speaking of crackdowns on the funding of asylum seekers.
In recent years, the global refugee crisis has intensified, with millions seeking safety from conflict, persecution, and environmental disasters. While the international community often emphasizes solidarity and shared responsibility, a glaring disparity exists in how refugees are received and supported across different regions. This disparity is particularly evident between the Global North and the Global South, both in terms of the number of refugees hosted and the financial resources allocated for their care.
Despite possessing fewer economic resources, countries in the Global South host a significant majority of the world’s refugees. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), low-income countries, which represent about 9% of the global population and only 0.6% of the global gross domestic product (GDP), host approximately 18% of all refugees. (unhcr.org) In total, developing nations accommodate around 85% of the global refugee population. (thenewhumanitarian.org)
The Centre for Global Development’s analysis reveals that in 2023, OECD countries allocated $29 billion of Official Development Assistance (ODA) to hosting refugees and asylum seekers domestically. Notably, the United Kingdom reported the highest per capita expenditure, approximately $26,000 per refugee, surpassing other nations by a significant margin. This elevated cost is attributed to factors such as the UK’s reliance on private-sector accommodation and extended asylum processing times, which prolong support periods before refugees can enter the workforce. (Center for Global Development)
In recent developments, both the UK and the USA have initiated substantial reductions in international aid funding. The UK has decreased its aid budget from 0.7% to 0.5% of GDP, with a portion redirected to domestic refugee support. Simultaneously, the USA, under President Trump’s administration, has paused foreign aid funding and withdrawn from the World Health Organization. These actions have led to halted aid distributions and significant humanitarian setbacks globally. (The Guardian, Financial Times)
Curtailing international aid can have adverse effects on both donor and recipient countries. For donor nations like the UK and the USA, reducing aid may undermine global health initiatives, economic development, and geopolitical stability, potentially leading to increased migration pressures. Investing in international aid addresses root causes of displacement, such as conflict and poverty, thereby reducing the need for costly domestic refugee support. Therefore, maintaining robust international aid budgets is a strategic approach to fostering global stability and mitigating the long-term financial and social costs associated with hosting refugees.
While many host nations and communities display remarkable generosity, the prolonged presence of refugees can strain local economies, infrastructure, and social cohesion. Economic competition and cultural differences sometimes lead to tensions, exacerbating existing challenges in host countries.
Lebanon, for instance, has taken in over a million Syrian refugees, significantly burdening its already fragile economy. The strain on infrastructure, employment, and housing has fueled social unrest and heightened anti-refugee sentiment, contributing to the country’s ongoing economic collapse (Amnesty International, 2023).
In South Africa, xenophobic violence against foreign nationals — including refugees and asylum seekers — has erupted periodically. Accusations that migrants are taking jobs and overburdening social services have fueled resentment, leading to violent attacks and calls for stricter immigration policies (Human Rights Watch, 2023).
Turkey, home to nearly 3.6 million Syrian refugees, has witnessed growing tensions as political parties exploit anti-refugee sentiment to rally nationalist support. This has led to increasing restrictions on refugee rights and mobility, further marginalizing displaced populations (Reuters, 2022).
One of the most significant challenges of hosting refugees is the potential spillover of conflict. Neighboring countries often become entangled in the geopolitical consequences of regional crises. For instance, Chad, which hosts thousands of refugees fleeing violence in Sudan, faces rising instability. The influx of displaced people has intensified competition over scarce resources, escalating local conflicts and threatening national security (International Crisis Group, 2023).
The UK has also shifted its refugee and asylum policies in recent years, focusing on limiting support for asylum seekers. This shift aligns with broader trends in the Global North, where restrictive policies are gaining traction. These policies include reducing financial support for asylum seekers, increasing deportations, and tightening visa restrictions.
As wealthier nations limit their support, the responsibility of hosting and supporting refugees falls more heavily on developing countries. This shift is evident in Greece, where stringent EU migration policies have led to overcrowded and underfunded refugee camps, leaving thousands in dire conditions (The Guardian, 2023).
Additionally, humanitarian crises in transit countries have worsened. Libya, for example, has seen a rise in migrant detention centers with reports of human rights abuses, as EU-backed policies prevent refugees from crossing into Europe (Amnesty International, 2022).
These policies also present moral and ethical dilemmas, as limiting asylum and aid contradicts long-standing commitments to human rights and humanitarian principles. The UK’s Rwanda asylum policy, which aims to deport asylum seekers to Rwanda instead of processing them in the UK, has been widely criticized for violating international human rights standards (BBC, 2023).
The defunding of USAID and the limitation of international aid funding in general threatens global stability. Without adequate support, already fragile regions will face increased economic and social turmoil, leading to further displacement and conflict. The Global North’s retreat from responsibility creates a vacuum that developing nations cannot fill alone.
Strengthening international cooperation is critical in addressing the refugee crisis. Wealthier nations must collaborate to distribute the refugee burden more equitably through resettlement programs and increased funding for humanitarian efforts. Increasing funding for host nations should be a priority, ensuring that developing countries are not left to shoulder the responsibility alone.
This can be achieved through initiatives like the Global Compact on Refugees, which aims to enhance burden-sharing. Finally, advancing sustainable solutions is essential. Long-term strategies, including economic development and conflict resolution, should be at the forefront of international aid efforts.
Programs such as the World Bank’s Jobs Compacts in Ethiopia and Jordan have demonstrated success in integrating refugees into local economies while benefiting host communities (World Bank, 2022).
Without urgent policy shifts and renewed commitments to international aid, the crisis will only deepen, with far-reaching consequences for global stability and human rights.
I was inspired to watch Bad Hombres (2017) after seeing a news report where members of a suburban community were interviewed following the deportation of one of their neighbours. What struck me was how distraught they were — praising this man’s hard work, his community spirit, and how he had contributed to their area. And yet, they had all voted for Trump. They subscribed to the “Bad Hombres” rhetoric but saw this particular person as an exception — their “Good Hombre.”
This reminded me of a recurring theme I’ve encountered in my research on refugee camps — the categorization of refugees into “good” and “bad.” There’s always a perceived distinction between those deemed “deserving” of safety and those considered a threat. It’s an idea I plan to explore further, but for now, I want to share my thoughts on this documentary.
Directed by award-winning journalist Stef Biemans, Bad Hombres (2017) is a compelling documentary that offers an intimate look at life along the U.S.-Mexico border. Biemans, known for his immersive, boots-on-the-ground storytelling, approaches this subject not with sweeping political statements but by listening to those directly affected — migrants, border patrol agents, ranchers, and activists.
At a time when discussions about immigration, security, and identity dominated U.S. political discourse, Bad Hombres captured a specific moment in history — Trump’s first term, a time when anti-immigration rhetoric about the border was at its peak. Now, revisiting this documentary as Trump’s second administration begins, it feels like opening a time capsule. The faces and stories may change, but the underlying tensions remain the same.
Rather than presenting a binary narrative of right vs. wrong, Biemans uncovers the contradictions within border communities — people who live with the daily consequences of migration policies yet still support the systems that create these struggles.
Within the first minute, Bad Hombres establishes its tone: sharp, observant, and occasionally ironic. Biemans stands at the border wall speaking through it to Roberto Mendoza, a cattle rancher. When asked about the wall, Mendoza responds, “It’s great. Keeps our cattle from straying.”
This single statement encapsulates a larger truth — how the border, often framed in political debates as a matter of national security, is, for many, simply a part of their daily existence. The people in these border towns don’t engage in theoretical discussions about walls; they live with them.
Biemans travel along the border, meeting people on both sides — some desperately trying to cross, others trying to stop them. He speaks to:
Each interaction reveals a different layer of the border crisis, moving beyond headlines and statistics to show the human cost of policies and prejudices.
The documentary shifts tone abruptly with a jarring voicemail message from the National Socialist Movement — a white nationalist group that claims to be “the only party in America dedicated to white interests.” Their message: “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.”
This scene lays bare the extremism that has seeped into mainstream political discourse. On the surface, it seems like a clear-cut issue — white nationalism is dangerous, intolerant, and fundamentally anti-democratic. But Biemans doesn’t just dismiss these individuals as radicals and move on. Instead, he digs into why people adopt these beliefs.
In Arizona, he meets a man actively “hunting for immigrants.” His association with Nazi ideology is unmistakable — his dog shares a name with Hitler’s, and Nazi symbols appear in later scenes. He is, by all definitions, a racist. But when pressed about his motivations, his response is revealing: “I’m not a fan of any politician. They’ve systematically betrayed us.”
This statement echoes throughout the documentary. Migration, in many ways, becomes a scapegoat for broader systemic failures. The struggles of working-class Americans — job losses, economic instability, declining public services — are real. But rather than blaming corporate greed or government policies, many redirect their anger toward migrants, who are easier to label as “the other.”
Biemans also highlights how these groups use carefully crafted language to distance themselves from the historical atrocities of Nazism. When referring to Nazi symbols, they call them “cultural symbols”, pointing out that the swastika has existed for thousands of years. When discussing their ideology, they insist they are simply “national socialists,” avoiding direct Nazi references. The goal is clear — to make their ideology seem less extreme, and more palatable, even when their actions suggest otherwise.
One of the most striking elements of Bad Hombres is its use of contrast to challenge dominant narratives. The same objects, places, and actions take on drastically different meanings depending on who is telling the story.
In Arizona, black water jugs are described as “the icon of drug and human smuggling.” For border patrol agents and vigilantes, these jugs symbolize criminal activity, left behind by those attempting to cross illegally. They are framed as evidence of lawlessness — proof of the chaos unfolding at the border.
But moments later, Biemans takes us into a small migrant supply shop, where these same water jugs are sold alongside other survival gear — shoes designed to leave no footprints, food rations, and basic medical supplies. Here, the jugs tell an entirely different story: one of desperation. They are not tools of crime, but lifelines, carried by migrants who have no choice but to face the brutal desert heat with only a few liters of water to sustain them.
This contrast — between a symbol of crime and a symbol of survival — forces viewers to reconsider how narratives are shaped and manipulated.
A similar contrast emerges in the discussion of “La Bestia”, the freight trains used by migrants to cross Mexico. To many, the train is infamous — a “migrant killer,” known for causing countless deaths and injuries. Authorities and media depict it as an extension of the dangers posed by migration. These contrasting narratives highlight the complexity of the border crisis. Objects and actions are not inherently good or bad — it is the lens through which we view them that dictates the story.
The migrant journey depicted in Bad Hombres carries an undeniable spiritual weight. From the very beginning, the path north is marked by symbols of faith, sacrifice, and suffering, echoing the hardships of historical pilgrimages.
At the start of the journey, crosses line the landscape, with solemn reminders of those who never made it. In migrant shelters, red dots on maps mark places where travellers perished — silent testaments to the dangers ahead. These markers serve both as warnings and as sites of remembrance, much like shrines along ancient pilgrimage routes.
This religious undertone extends beyond symbols — it is found in the acts of generosity that sustain the migrants. Just as medieval pilgrims relied on the kindness of strangers for food and shelter, modern migrants depend on volunteers, churches, and aid workers who provide them with supplies. These moments of human compassion stand in stark contrast to the hostility they face from governments and border patrols.
Biblical allusions arise naturally in the retelling of migrant struggles. After being robbed at gunpoint and stripped of his belongings, one Guatemalan migrant recalls how he had nothing left but banana leaves to cover himself. The moment sparks a discussion about Adam and Eve, drawing a parallel between his forced vulnerability and the biblical story of exile. Like Adam and Eve cast out of Eden, he is left exposed, forced to continue his journey with nothing but hope and perseverance.
The documentary’s sound design plays a crucial role in shaping its emotional depth, subtly guiding the viewer’s perception of the unfolding narratives. The first montage of the border is accompanied by a hauntingly familiar melody — one that feels reminiscent of The Last of Us theme. Whether intentional or not, this musical choice immediately evokes themes of loss, survival, and resilience, mirroring the harsh realities faced by those living along the border.
Throughout the film, the contrast in musical tones reflects the stark juxtapositions in the documentary’s storytelling. At moments of hope and determination, the soundtrack swells with warmth, reinforcing the sense of perseverance that drives migrants forward. But in scenes of fear, desperation, or violence, the music shifts — becoming more subdued, tense, or even absent, amplifying the weight of the moment.
One thing becomes abundantly clear by the end of Bad Hombres: for both migrants and members of the nationalist movements opposing them, this is more than just politics — it is a calling, a struggle that transcends borders and even life and death itself.
Revisiting this documentary in the context of a second Trump administration underscores a grim reality: this is not an issue that can be solved with walls, arrests, or policies rooted in fear. The border is not the true problem — it is merely a symptom of much deeper global injustices.
What Bad Hombres reveals so effectively is the sheer desperation that drives people to risk everything for a better future. When you witness the suffering, the resilience, and the hope of those making the journey, it becomes impossible to reduce migration to a simple issue of legality or sovereignty. Instead, it exposes a fundamental failure of the global system — one that forces people into impossible choices, tears families apart, and creates cycles of displacement that walls can never stop.
Ultimately, the documentary leaves us with an uncomfortable truth: until the root causes of inequality, violence, and economic disparity are addressed, migration will continue — not as an act of defiance, but as an act of survival.
Watch it here: Bad Hombres — Netflix
At first glance, this documentary, which follows three Syria Civil Defence volunteers as they work in Aleppo and across Syria without weapons, acting as first responders, appears to be a powerful testament to the bravery of individuals risking their lives to help their communities. Through raw and emotional storytelling, the film captures their tireless efforts in the midst of devastation, presenting a gripping narrative of resilience and sacrifice. The documentary immerses viewers in the harrowing realities of war, offering a first-hand look at the urgent and dangerous work undertaken by these volunteers.
However, a deeper exploration of the film and its subjects reveals a more complex and contested reception. While many have praised the documentary for shedding light on the humanitarian crisis and highlighting the courage of those on the front lines, others have questioned its portrayal of events and the organizations it features. Various interpretations and political narratives have emerged, leading to debates about its accuracy, objectivity, and underlying messages.
This article will first examine the documentary as a work of art, analysing its cinematography, storytelling techniques, and emotional impact independently of external perspectives. By considering the director’s approach, use of visuals, and narrative structure, we can assess the film’s artistic merit and its ability to engage and inform audiences. Following this, the article will explore the broader controversy surrounding the documentary, discussing the differing viewpoints and the reasons behind the divided reception. Through this dual lens, we aim to provide a balanced analysis that acknowledges both the documentary’s artistic achievements and the complexities of its subject matter.
The film opens with a scene of sheer desperation and terror. Over a black screen, the distant, hollowed-out echoes of an airstrike linger before the urgency of human voices takes over. A handheld camera thrusts us into the chaos, following rescuers as they scramble through rubble, pulling dust-covered children from the wreckage. The camera’s instability — sometimes obstructed, sometimes unfocused as the operator momentarily prioritizes helping over filming — adds a visceral rawness that feels too real to be staged. Just as a moment of clarity emerges, another missile strikes, plunging us back into confusion and devastation.
This jarring cold open evokes the stylized intensity of a Hollywood action thriller, but there’s no polish here — only dust, disarray, and the weight of reality. The disorienting urgency serves as both an emotional gut punch and a grim introduction to the world of the White Helmets.
Then, silence. Over a black background, stark statistics appear — undeniable, inescapable. A tense orchestral swell underscores the weight of these numbers, culminating in the title card. This transition cements the film’s message: behind every dramatic rescue, every moment of frantic survival, there is an ever-growing toll, measured in lives lost and saved.
When introducing the White Helmet volunteers, the film momentarily slows down, offering a brief respite from the chaos. Carefully composed establishing shots of food and daily life in Aleppo provide a glimpse into their world beyond the rubble. These scenes, rich in color and texture, contrast starkly with the destruction we’ve just witnessed.
The interviews are filmed with as close to studio-quality equipment as possible. The sharpness of the footage, the shallow depth of field — where the background blurs into soft bokeh — mirrors the dust and ash that filled the air in earlier scenes. This subtle visual choice links their personal reflections to the devastation they endure daily.
But calm is fleeting. As the volunteers sit down to eat, the distant, thunderous roar of jets cuts through the moment. The atmosphere shifts abruptly, and the polished cinematography gives way to the raw, unstable footage from the film’s opening. The camera jolts, horns blare, and we are once again thrust into the frenzied urgency of a rescue, racing through the city to the site of yet another explosion.
One of the most striking visual parallels is the comparison between birds and warplanes — both reduced to black specks in the sky, blurred and difficult to capture. The imagery is haunting: one represents freedom, the other destruction, yet from a distance, they are almost indistinguishable.
One of the documentary’s greatest strengths is its ability to capture a vast spectrum of emotions. Moments of pure joy and relief — such as the miraculous rescue of a newborn from beneath the rubble — stand in stark contrast to the sheer panic and dread upon hearing that an airstrike has hit the area where a volunteer’s family resides. The emotional weight of each moment is palpable, growing heavier as the attacks intensify. The faces of the White Helmets, once hopeful and determined, begin to show the strain of unrelenting devastation.
This raw emotional depth extends beyond the war zone. During their training in Turkey, the weight of separation and loss is deeply felt. One volunteer breaks down on the phone, his grief overwhelming. Another steps in, his voice carrying a stern frustration, while a third offers quiet reassurance. In this brief exchange, we see the unspoken bond between them — a brotherhood forged in crisis. Their pain, their isolation, and their resilience are undeniable.
Yet, despite everything, a thread of optimism runs through the documentary. The volunteers acknowledge the suffering, the desperation, yet remain unwavering in their commitment to saving lives. This persistence is embodied in the moments of hope: the “miracle baby” pulled from the ruins, Mahmoud’s quiet strength, and the young children who still dare to dream of a future. The image of a little boy kicking a football, unburdened by the horrors around him, is particularly powerful — proof that hope, no matter how fragile, endures.
The film’s score, composed by Patrick Jonsson, echoes these emotions with haunting precision. The swelling strings pull the viewer in, as if pleading for empathy, yet carry an underlying sense of determination. The music does not merely accompany the visuals — it amplifies them, making the sorrow deeper, the victories sweeter, and the perseverance of the White Helmets all the more inspiring.
I am not alone in recognizing The White Helmets as an extraordinary achievement in both cinematography and documentary filmmaking. Its impact was widely acknowledged, culminating in a win for Best Documentary (Short Subject) at the 89th Academy Awards. The film also received the Cinema for Peace Most Valuable Documentary of the Year Award in 2017. However, its success has been accompanied by political controversy, including the denial of entry to the U.S. for the film’s cinematographer, Khaled Khateeb, preventing him from attending the Oscars.
Critically, The White Helmets has been met with near-universal acclaim. It holds a 100% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes based on six reviews, with an average rating of 8.50/10. French news outlet France 24 described the documentary as portraying the White Helmets as “nothing less than heroes,” with widespread support for their nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize. The documentary highlights the group’s claims of absolute neutrality in the Syrian civil war, emphasizing their role as humanitarian rescuers.
However, not all perspectives align with this portrayal. Both the Syrian government and Russia have accused the White Helmets of supporting extremist factions, including the al-Nusra Front (which later distanced itself from al-Qaeda). Critics argue that the group’s operations predominantly take place in rebel-controlled areas, which has fueled skepticism about their neutrality. In a 2014 interview with France 24’s Observers, White Helmets leader Raed Saleh addressed this, stating: “On the ground, we don’t make distinctions between people. We will save anyone’s life. In practice, however, we mainly operate in areas that have been liberated or that are under the control of the Islamic State group, because that’s where there are bombings.”
The documentary does not shy away from this complexity. It openly acknowledges that one of the volunteers previously belonged to an armed group. Rather than concealing this fact, the filmmakers allow him to share his personal journey. In a particularly striking moment, he reflects: “Better to rescue a soul than to take one.” Another volunteer, Abu Omar, reaffirms their mission, stating: “Any human being, no matter who they are or which side they’re on, if they need our help… it’s our duty to save them.”
Ultimately, The White Helmets is a film that provokes discussion — not just about the war in Syria, but about the nature of humanitarian aid, neutrality in conflict, and the power of human resilience.
Donald Trump’s inauguration in 2025 has reignited intense discussions about the future of refugee and asylum policies, both within the United States and on the global stage. His first term, marked by sweeping and often controversial shifts in immigration policy, profoundly impacted asylum seekers and refugees. Now, with Trump returning to lead one of the world’s most influential nations, the stakes are higher than ever. What does this mean for the 435,333 refugees and 184,161 asylum seekers in the United States, and for the millions of displaced people worldwide? The implications extend far beyond America’s borders, shaping the global narrative on human rights
During his first term from 2017 to 2021, the Trump administration swiftly implemented policies that made it more challenging for asylum seekers to obtain protection in the United States. For example, the practice of “metering” was introduced, whereby the number of asylum applications accepted daily at ports of entry was limited. This led to asylum seekers being forced to wait in dangerous and often unsanitary conditions in Mexico. Reports from advocacy groups, including the Immigrant Legal Resource Center (ILRC), describe “metering” as a deliberate strategy to deter asylum seekers by making the process as arduous as possible. The ILRC emphasized that this policy exposed individuals to violence and exploitation, severely compromising their safety.
Another key policy was the Third-Country Transit Bar, which denied asylum to individuals who had travelled through another country without seeking protection there first. This rule disproportionately affected Central Americans fleeing violence and systemic corruption, as noted by the ILRC. Critics argued that this policy ignored the realities of migration, often putting asylum seekers at further risk in transit countries such as Mexico.
The Migrant Protection Protocols, commonly known as the “Remain in Mexico” policy, required asylum seekers to wait in Mexico while their U.S. cases were processed. A Human Rights Watch report highlighted the dire conditions in border cities like Tijuana and Ciudad Juárez, where limited resources and high rates of violence endangered the lives of those awaiting court dates. These policies collectively aimed to curtail asylum claims, justified by the Trump administration as measures to secure the border and reduce “fraudulent” applications.
Since his return to office, Trump’s administration has introduced new policies reshaping the asylum landscape in the U.S. One such policy is the imposition of asylum application fees, an unprecedented move in U.S. history. The ILRC has criticized this approach, arguing that “placing financial barriers on asylum applications undermines the core principle of offering protection to the vulnerable, regardless of their economic status.” This policy effectively limits access to asylum for those fleeing persecution who often arrive with little to no financial resources.
Another development is the increased detention of asylum seekers. Detention practices have been expanded under Trump’s second term, focusing on confining individuals awaiting asylum decisions. Reports from the ACLU describe detention centres as overcrowded and unsanitary, with prolonged confinement taking a severe psychological toll on families and children. Legal experts have emphasized that these practices not only dehumanize asylum seekers but also fail to address the root causes of migration.
Additionally, the administration has moved to restrict or eliminate asylum claims based on domestic violence or gang violence. This policy disproportionately affects women and children from countries like Honduras and El Salvador, where such threats are widespread. The ILRC has noted that this shift “ignores the lived realities of individuals fleeing persecution and undermines the U.S.’s obligations under international law.” By narrowing the grounds for asylum, the administration further limits access to protection for some of the most vulnerable groups.
The United States has long been a leader in international refugee resettlement and funding, but Trump’s policies are causing significant ripple effects worldwide. During his first term, Trump cut funding to organizations like the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), which supports Palestinian refugees. Similar cuts are being implemented again, exacerbating humanitarian crises in regions like Gaza. The BBC reported that the withdrawal of U.S. funding has “exacerbated the humanitarian crisis, leaving schools and healthcare facilities underfunded.” Such actions undermine the capacity of international agencies to provide essential services to displaced populations.
The BBC further reported that “Trump’s order to freeze foreign aid appears to have had immediate consequences,” especially in the case of refugees in conflict zones. Shawn Van Diver, the president of the non-profit #AfghanEvac that assists Afghan refugees who worked with the U.S., told the BBC, “Refugee families or anyone in the Special Immigration Visa program are stuck in limbo.” Additionally, Ukraine says “many” humanitarian programs funded by the U.S. have been suspended after the Trump administration halted nearly all foreign aid.
Moreover, U.S. immigration policies often set a precedent for other nations. A more restrictive stance by the U.S. could embolden countries in Europe and elsewhere to adopt similar measures, potentially leading to a global decline in refugee protections. Advocates have warned that this trend risks dismantling the international refugee system, making it harder for displaced individuals to find safety. The BBC highlighted the importance of U.S. leadership in maintaining global standards for asylum and refugee protection, warning that a retreat from these commitments could have devastating consequences.
The human cost of these policy changes is significant, as illustrated by the experiences of those directly affected. For example, on his first day back in office, President Trump signed an order ending birthright citizenship. This decision has created legal uncertainties for thousands of children born to immigrant parents. This measure was met with immense criticism and described by presiding Judge John Coughenour as “a blatantly unconstitutional order.” The order to end birthright citizenship had originally been slated to take effect on February 19; however, this was temporarily blocked.
The 14th Amendment was adopted in 1868 after the Civil War ended. The 13th Amendment abolished slavery, while the 14th settled the question of citizenship for freed, American-born former slaves. The amendment reads:
“All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the state wherein they reside.”
The last time there was a dispute about what the amendment meant was more than a century ago. In 1898, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed that birthright citizenship applies to the children of immigrants in the case of Wong Kim Ark v. United States. Courts have not re-examined the issue since, and for the last 127 years, the U.S. has granted citizenship to nearly anyone born on U.S. soil, regardless of their parents’ status (the few exceptions include children of foreign diplomats).
Another controversial policy proposal involves the relocation of Palestinian populations from the Gaza Strip to Egypt and Jordan. This suggestion has been met with widespread condemnation from UN representatives and Palestinian leaders, who have likened it to “ethnic cleansing.” A BBC report highlighted the impracticality of this proposal, quoting a UN spokesperson who described it as “a dangerous oversimplification of a complex issue.” Such policies not only fail to address the underlying causes of displacement but also risk violating international law.
It is important to note that none of these decisions have been made without some degree of reasoning. While highly criticized, supporters argue that these measures are necessary to protect national security, maintain economic stability, and ensure a fair and efficient immigration system. However, as a researcher specializing in humanitarian issues and a reader focused on refugee camps, I find that the concerns covered in this piece are significant and the framing of policies, source selection and language are indicative of my academic field.
As Trump’s second term unfolds, asylum seekers and refugees face an uncertain future. Policy proposals suggest a continuation or escalation of restrictive measures. The stakes are high, not only for the United States but for the global commitment to human rights and the protection of the vulnerable.
Recommended Article: What a second Trump term could mean for asylum | Immigrant Legal Resource Center | ILRC
On Thursday evening, a notification from The Guardian caught my attention: “Planned UK people-smuggling laws risk ‘criminalising’ asylum seekers.” Intrigued and concerned, I rushed home to read the full article on my laptop. The report outlined how the proposed legislation could impose a five-year prison sentence on asylum seekers who cross the Channel and refuse rescue.
This immediately raised red flags for me. The idea of penalizing vulnerable individuals fleeing conflict, persecution, or extreme hardship simply for seeking safety seemed not only harsh but also potentially in violation of international human rights agreements. The law appeared to blur the line between cracking down on criminal people-smuggling networks and punishing those in desperate need of asylum. Determined to learn more, I delved deeper into the topic, eager to understand the full impact of this controversial proposal.
One of the most controversial elements of Bill 173 is its provision that asylum seekers who refuse rescue while crossing the Channel could face up to five years in prison. The justification for this measure is unclear, as many who make the perilous journey are fleeing war, persecution, and human rights abuses. Human rights organisations argue that such policies punish the victims rather than the perpetrators of smuggling.
Enver Solomon, the chief executive of the Refugee Council, stated:
“Criminalising men, women and children who have fled conflicts in countries such as Sudan does not disrupt the smuggling gangs’ business model. When a refugee is clambering into a boat with an armed criminal threatening them, they are not thinking about UK laws but are simply trying to stay alive.”
There is also concern about the unintended consequences of this bill, particularly for parents travelling with children. A government impact assessment admitted:
“Although it is very unlikely, there is no absolute bar to prosecuting parents who have taken their children on journeys which come within the ambit of the endangerment offence, which could result in the breakup of families.”
Additionally, charities working with survivors of modern slavery fear that harsher criminal penalties could lead to victims being wrongly prosecuted. Many individuals who undertake these dangerous crossings are coerced, manipulated, or misled by smugglers, further complicating the ethical implications of criminalisation.
A recurring critique of Bill 173 is that it fails to address the root causes driving forced migration. Alison Pickup, executive director of the charity Asylum Aid, noted:
“Further criminalisation and measures blocking people from protection will do nothing to address the causes of forced displacement and unauthorised movement through Europe to the UK.”
Many asylum seekers embark on perilous journeys due to factors such as conflict, persecution, and economic instability. Critics argue that instead of increasing criminal penalties, the UK should focus on establishing safer legal pathways for asylum seekers, thereby reducing reliance on smugglers.
Rob Powell (Sky News, January 30) Powell provides an in-depth look at the escalating tensions along the French border. He reports that “cars have been set on fire, and local police officers have been followed home by those attempting to facilitate crossings.” His analysis also highlights the role of social media in people-smuggling operations, where traffickers use online platforms to coordinate and advertise their services.
Adam Parsons (Sky News, January 8) Before the bill was officially proposed on January 30, Parsons explored speculation surrounding its potential impact. At its core, the legislation seeks to cut off financing for what the Foreign Office describes as “organised immigration networks,” aiming to deter smugglers from profiting off human trafficking.
While the rhetoric behind the policy is strong, its effectiveness remains uncertain. In theory, if these individuals were in Britain, they could be arrested, and their assets frozen. However, enforcing sanctions will likely require cooperation with European nations — a process complicated by Brexit.
Parsons also notes a subtle but significant shift in language. For years, the government has referred to those crossing the Channel as “illegal migrants,” despite ongoing disputes between UK and international law regarding their legal status. Now, the Foreign Office is using the term “irregular migration.” Whether this signals a genuine shift in tone or is merely a stylistic choice remains to be seen.
Dominic Casciani (BBC, January 30) Casciani focuses on the legal and enforcement aspects of the proposed policy. He reports that endangering lives at sea will become a criminal offence carrying a prison sentence of up to five years — one of several measures aimed at cracking down on smuggling networks.
Additionally, Casciani elaborates that the government plans to introduce a 14-year jail sentence for those caught purchasing small boat parts. This measure, much like counter-terrorism-style powers, is intended to disrupt smuggling operations at an earlier stage, according to Home Secretary Yvette Cooper in an interview with the BBC’s Chris Mason.
Casciani also underscores the potential effectiveness of these measures by comparing people smuggling to drug trafficking. While the latter involves thousands of perpetrators, police estimate that smuggling networks involve “hundreds rather than thousands,” making it a crime where “concerted effort and legislation can make a real difference.”
In 2023, Keir Starmer vowed to “smash” people-smuggling gangs, delivering this message in front of the Europol building. He emphasized the importance of treating this issue with the same level of seriousness as terrorism, stating, “The reason operations here work so well is because they deal with terrorist cases. We need to put this vile trade — putting people into boats — into the same category, so it is dealt with as seriously.”
The Conservative Party argues that the current approach builds upon existing policies rather than introducing something radically new. However, there’s more to this agreement with the EU than meets the eye. Under the proposed deal, the UK would essentially mirror the arrangements in place for EU member states, where they have the right to send back asylum seekers but must also accept a quota of them.
One notable difference, however, is the new approach to enforcement. Current rules prevent law enforcement from intervening until after a small boat has crossed. The novelty of the proposed legislation is that individuals could be prosecuted before the actual crossing, based on evidence of preparations for trafficking.
For example, in a recent case, Amanj Hasan Zada was sentenced to 17 years in prison for organizing small boat crossings from Preston. The National Crime Agency only won the case last November, with evidence connecting his actions to specific crossings. Under the proposed new powers, authorities would only need to show that suspects, like Zada, were involved in preparatory activities, such as funding boats or promoting crossings.
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