Magical Thinking Won’t Produce Cuba’s Final Hour 

Robert Albro, Associate Director, Center for Latin American and Latino Studies, American University 

Fulton Armstrong, Research Fellow, Center for Latin American and Latino Studies, American University 

Philip Brenner, Emeritus Professor of International Relations and History, American University 

William LeoGrande, Associate Vice Provost for Academic Affairs and Professor of Government, American University 

“A block in the Vedado neighborhood of Havana, Cuba.” Source: Robert Albro 

In 1992, veteran Miami Herald journalist Andrés Oppenheimer brazenly forecast the downfall of the Cuban government. He reportedly asked Simon & Schuster to rush Castro’s Final Hour into print because the collapse seemed imminent. In the wake of the U.S. abduction of Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro and his wife Cilia, pundits are once again predicting that the Havana government’s days are numbered. Based on our research during a recent visit* to Cuba, we conclude that headlines echoing Oppenheimer’s prediction are wrong again. 

The feeding frenzy has been fueled by President Donald Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. Early in January Trump called Cuba a “very badly failing nation,” and later asserted that “Cuba looks like it is ready to fall.” Rubio remarked at Trump’s January 3rd press conference that “Cuba is a disaster…it’s in total collapse.” Sources tell us that the Trump team believes regime change will occur by the end of 2026: the deepening immiseration of the Cuban people will lead dissenting government officials or military officers to declare that it’s time for the country to become a capitalist democracy, and poof, as if by magic, it will happen. Exactly how is unclear. Recent reports say Washington does not actually have a plan to bring this about but is in search of someone to lead the rebellion. Meanwhile, the U.S. goal remains fixed on creating a humanitarian disaster in Cuba.   

The electrical blackouts that have plagued Cuba for the past several years will certainly get worse as Trump maintains the current policy of blocking Venezuelan oil shipments to the island. The small increase in oil coming from Mexico is hardly enough to replace the reduced supply from Venezuela. Most of the Cuban population already is suffering from shortages of food, medicine, medical care, gasoline, and necessities that regular electrical power would provide, such as functioning water pumps, lights, and working refrigerators. U.S. sanctions – which include severe limitations on tourism, remittances, and most trade, as well as the financial straitjacket the Trump administration imposed without justification by placing Cuba on the State Department’s list of “State Sponsors of Terrorism” – are the major source of Cuba’s misery.  

But the organization of Cuba’s economy also contributes to its dysfunction. Subsidies for inefficient state enterprises, regulations that discourage foreign investment, and limitations imposed on farmers and private sector companies stifle productive economic activity. Cuba imports roughly seventy percent of its food despite an abundance of arable land and supply of fish. In 2025 it purchased more than $300 million in agricultural commodities, such as frozen chicken, from the United States. Notably the government had to sell some of its precious Venezuelan oil to China to earn enough hard currency to continue that level of food importation.  

Lists of proposed economic reforms circulate in Havana, but while proposals may have merit in theory, they rarely take into account the constraints—both economic and political—under which the government is operating. Cuba is trying to implement a macroeconomic stabilization program with almost no foreign reserves, an intensifying U.S. embargo, and no access to help from the World Bank or International Monetary Fund.   

On prior trips to Cuba, we were dismayed that some Cuban officials expressed little recognition that Cubans were becoming desperate and the government was facing a crisis of legitimacy. But in December we found this attitude had changed. The change became evident earlier in the year when President Miguel Díaz-Canel fired the Minister of Labor and Social Security for denying that there were real beggars looking for food in trash bins. Now there seems to be a sense of urgency, a recognition that the Cuban regime can no longer survive by muddling through. 

Shortly after we arrived, the Communist Party took the unusual step of canceling the party congress scheduled to convene in April. In the past, party congresses have been the venue for announcing major reforms, so the reason for the cancellation became the focus of widespread speculation. One explanation we dismissed was that under the circumstances, the cost of bringing and housing so many delegates would be prohibitive or at least unseemly. Three other explanations struck us as more plausible. One was that party leaders were still arguing over which economic reforms the government should make. A congress that did not announce major changes would demoralize the population even further. A second explanation was that popular discontent was so great the leadership feared a convocation of grassroots party delegates might produce harsh criticism of the leadership’s handling of the crisis. A third, about which several of us are skeptical, was that national party leaders had reached consensus on reform measures but felt a need to move swiftly rather than wait for four months to conduct the grassroots discussion that normally precedes a party congress.  

In any event, it appears that serious economic change might actually occur this year. While we were there, the government took two steps it had long resisted: it legalized the use of U.S. dollars in retail sales and floated the Cuban peso against the dollar and various other foreign currencies.  Frustrated with the lack reforms, Vietnam and China have made deeper cooperation contingent on change. With the loss of Venezuelan oil, Cuba will need to rely even more on its international friends and will need to make the reforms necessary to reassure them that Havana is a reliable economic partner.   

Reforms are not the only reason the Cuban government is unlikely to collapse. Economic despair does not automatically generate an opposition movement capable of overthrowing the government. Foreign diplomats in Havana told us that they perceive organized opposition in Cuba is weaker today than at any time in recent memory. Spontaneous anti-government demonstrations are likely to continue. But without a sustained organization to channel discontent security forces will be able to contain occasional outbursts. Moreover, the “maximum pressure” policy of the Trump administration is having exactly the opposite of its intended effect. Even Cubans who freely criticize government policies and leaders told us they resent U.S. actions and statements they view as exploiting their current difficult conditions to humiliate and dominate them.  

In short, President Trump is more likely to realize his commercial interests in Cuba by sitting down with the government to see what sort of a deal can be made rather than waiting for the government to collapse—something U.S. presidents have been anticipating ever since 1959. 

*The authors traveled to Cuba this past December 14-19. 

Does Colombia Pose a Threat to U.S. Security?

By Jorge Rojas Rodríguez

Former Deputy Foreign Minister of Colombia 

Gustavo Petro in 2022. (Source: Wikimedia)

The question in the title would seem to have no logical basis were it not for the fact that President Donald Trump, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Secretary of War Pete Hegseth have all accused the president of the South American nation, Gustavo Petro, of being “a drug trafficking leader” and “sponsor of narco-terrorists,” and the U.S. has cancelled his visa and put him on the sanctions list of the Treasury’s Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC).

At the same time the Trump administration implemented operation “Southern Spear,” deploying U.S. naval and air forces in the Caribbean and directing attacks, with missiles, against vessels accused of transporting cocaine in the Caribbean and Pacific. As of this writing, 23 boats have been destroyed and 87 persons killed. Official sources indicate that at least one of these attacks occurred in Colombian waters.

Initially, Washington justified these actions in terms of the need to “protect our homeland from drugs that kill our people.” But the U.S. has subsequently begun referencing “antiterrorist actions,” accompanied by assertions of operations along the Colombian-Venezuelan border involving armed groups such as the FARC dissident groups,[1] the ELN,[2] and Hezbollah.

Clearly this military deployment by the U.S., and attacks, are disproportionate, leading to civilian deaths that could be declared war crimes, because they violate international humanitarian law. In addition, the cocaine allegedly destroyed represents a fraction of the volume of drugs transported on ships that cross the Pacific Ocean, not the Caribbean. Furthermore, as has been explained by U.S. intelligence agencies, neither Colombia nor Venezuela produces or traffics in fentanyl, the cause of most drug deaths in the U.S. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, in 2023, 107,500 Americans died from overdoses, 74,700 from fentanyl, and 29,000 from cocaine. In 2024, deaths totaled 70,596, with fentanyl the main cause of death from overdoses.

Drug policy in Colombia changed since leftist Gustavo Petro became president in 2022; his administration decided to attack the clandestine laboratories, seize the cocaine already processed (especially at sea), extradite large-scale drug-traffickers and go after their wealth. Petro’s is a very different policy from that of previous administrations, which focused their efforts on attacking those who grow the coca leaf, considered the weakest link in the chain.

The result is that the current administration has seized 2,700 tons of cocaine, destroyed approximately 15,000 laboratories, and extradited 400 drug traffickers to the U.S. In contrast to these figures, the volume of coca leaf grown has expanded during the same period. According to the UN’s Integrated System for Monitoring Illicit Crops, Colombia today has 255,000 hectares of coca and produces approximately 2,664 tons of cocaine that is exported illegally to the U.S., Europe, and Asia.

The government of Colombia has undertaken a policy of the voluntary eradication of coca crops, substituting legal agricultural alternatives in place of coca, while supporting peasant farmers with agricultural land –  a policy that has shown positive results, even though its effects are slower in coming.

It is clear that the government of Colombia is engaged in combatting drug-trafficking, the president has been firm in fighting the drug mafias, and the arguments brandished by Washington show a profound lack of knowledge of what drug-trafficking has meant for this Andean country.

President Petro has proposed a policy of cooperation to Trump to combat the cultivation of coca leaf, production and commercialization of cocaine, as has been done with prior governments over the course of the long strategic relationship between the two countries. There has been no response and some have begun to wonder whether drug-trafficking isn’t just a pretext for the Trump administration to intervene politically in Latin America, encouraged by sectors of the far right in Florida, as has now happened in Venezuela.

The paradox is that the problem of cocaine cannot be resolved by militarizing the Caribbean, invading countries and killing civilians on the high seas but instead by adopting a harm reduction policy that works to better understand the harms to both producers  and consumers, to prevent continued drug consumption, and provide effective and publicly available treatment options for those who continue to be trapped in the world of drugs. In this way the current figure of 5.3 million habitual users of cocaine in the U.S. would decline.

While the United Nations takes steps to improve upon failed models of the past, and is forming an independent commission to evaluate the “war on drugs” of the last 50 years, the U.S.  is backsliding toward militaristic policies that, while they might serve any number of purposes, will not overcome the trafficking and consumption of cocaine.


[1]   Factions of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, some of which did not go along with the 2016 peace deal between the Government of Colombia and FARC, and others that demobilized in 2016 and then took up weapons anew.

[2]   ELN: National Liberation Army, which has fought the government continuously since 1964.

This piece was authored by Jorge Rojas Rodríguez, translated by Charlie Roberts, and edited by Robert Albro, CLALS Associate Director.

El Salvador Risks Becoming a Zone of Silence  

By Sonja Wolf 

Research Professor, School of Government and Economics, Panamerican University, Mexico

Nayib Bukele on Salvadoran Independence Day in 2024. (Source: Wikimedia)

On December 17, 2025, a local court released lawyer Alejandro Henríquez and pastor José Ángel Pérez. Seven months earlier, the two activists had been arbitrarily detained under El Salvador’s state of emergency and charged with public disorder and aggressive resistance. The arrests occurred when Henríquez and Pérez were attending a peaceful rally of the El Bosque cooperative outside President Nayib Bukele’s private residence. The El Bosque cooperative is a farming community that had obtained its lands because of agrarian reforms in the 1980s and was now making a last-ditch effort to prevent the eviction of more than 300 families from their plots. In a bittersweet turn of events, Henríquez and Pérez pled guilty to regain their freedom after an abbreviated judicial process. Each received a suspended three-year prison sentence that essentially prohibits them from participating in protests during this time. The verdict criminalizes social movement activity and is a reminder that the state of emergency has become a tool to silence critical voices. 

Generalized citizen discontent with the country’s traditional parties and his own anti-establishment campaign had propelled Bukele to the presidency of El Salvador in 2019. Since then, he has quickly established an electoral authoritarian regime that retains a democratic façade but sees him wield executive control over other branches of government. His party, Nuevas Ideas, obtained a legislative supermajority in both the 2021 and 2024 elections. Bukele capitalized on these wins to neutralize all checks and balances on his power and to engineer his successful run for an unconstitutional second mandate in 2024. A secret pact with the country’s street gangs helped mobilize voters and contributed to Bukele’s early triumphs at the ballot box. In late March 2022, the breakdown of this agreement prompted gang members to kill 87 people in three days. By then, Bukele no longer needed the gangs to consolidate his rule.  

Following this latest escalation in violence, he asked the Legislative Assembly to declare a state of emergency to crack down on these groups. The measure, which suspends certain constitutional rights and allows extended pretrial detention, dismantled the gangs as the country knew them and sharply cut the number of registered homicides. While the administration appears to be manipulating crime statistics, its perceived results made the state of emergency widely popular with Salvadorans and helped Bukele’s re-election in 2024. Far from being of a temporary nature, the measure has come to fulfill an essential function in the regime’s propaganda and repression. Some 90,000 people have thus far been detained, including human rights defenders and political opponents. Often apprehended on the spurious charge of illicit association, individuals find themselves mired in a justice system that does not ensure a fair trial. Civil society groups have extensively documented the systematic human rights violations committed under the state of emergency. The abuses are particularly egregious in the prisons where, by December 2025, they had occasioned at least 473 deaths. 

The weaponization of the state of emergency follows the progressive closure of El Salvador’s civic space. Bukele’s regime has severely restricted access to public information, making it difficult for reporters and transparency activists to obtain data about government policies, contracts, spending, and statistics. If anything, this opacity has increased under the state of emergency. Since he came to power, Bukele has denied independent journalists access to press briefings and subjected them to systematic campaigns of stigmatization and delegitimization. Efforts aimed at undermining critical media workers range from online harassment and defamation to surveillance and abusive legal tactics such as Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation or SLAPPs, initiated to exhaust targets financially and emotionally.  

At El Faro, an award-winning investigative outlet, journalists received physical threats and Pegasus spyware attacks. Advertisers were harassed, and the newspaper faced spurious money laundering accusations and frivolous audits. Jorge Beltrán is a veteran reporter who had been covering organized crime and gangs for El Diario de Hoy, one of El Salvador’s oldest mainstream newspapers. In 2022 Beltrán was targeted with a $10 million SLAPP after an exposé about Israeli cyber espionage firms in Mexico. A relative of the director of El Salvador’s state intelligence agency was mentioned in the piece and subsequently sued both the newspaper and Beltrán for moral damage. While the court rejected the compensation claim, it required El Diario de Hoy to publish an apology and withdraw the article. Beltrán himself went into exile in June 2025 because of a reasonable fear of being arrested on fabricated criminal charges.  

For Salvadoran civil society, however, it was the arbitrary detention of Ruth López that constituted a watershed moment. As lead anti-corruption investigator for Cristosal, a prominent human rights NGO, López had worked on cases of government corruption and irregularities in public contracts involving Bukele’s relatives. Her arrest in May 2025 on spurious grounds of illicit enrichment had a chilling effect. Since 2020, at least 130 journalists and human rights defenders have gone into exile, though most of them left El Salvador in the aftermath of López’s capture to avoid meeting a similar fate. In addition to individual departures, NGOs and independent media organizations also felt compelled to exit the country. El Faro had already moved its legal office to Costa Rica in 2023, whereas Focos and the Journalists’ Association of El Salvador (APES) did so two years later. As government repression increased throughout 2025, El Faro and Cristosal moved all of their staff abroad for their own safety. The decision to reduce the organizations’ in-country presence,  while understandable, will pose new challenges to documenting abuses of power, defending its victims, and holding officials accountable. 

Bukele’s regime found an additional mechanism to quash dissent with the Foreign Agents’ Law passed in May 2025. The legislation requires non-profits to register with the interior ministry and pay a 30 percent tax on all foreign funding they receive. The decree gives the administration broad powers to monitor, sanction, and dissolve organizations that fail to register or that engage in political activities that threaten the stability of the country. In response, some NGOs voluntarily decided to close, many others try to keep operating with a low profile. The Jesuit Central American University, long a vocal advocate for the poor and oppressed, is known in El Salvador for its research, public opinion surveys, and human rights reports. Its leadership, however, must now hope to avoid a repeat of what happened in Nicaragua where the Ortega regime seized the school’s property and assets in 2023. In El Salvador, meanwhile, proposed reforms to the rules governing communal associations suggest a government intent upon hindering community organizing. For anyone working in NGOs, media, and academia, self-censorship becomes a survival strategy. As journalist Raymundo Riva Palacio remarked, regarding the erosion of press freedom in his native Mexico, self-censorship is the most effective form of censorship, because it leaves no trace, creates no scandal, and normalizes silence.  

Self-imposed exile and self-censorship are turning El Salvador into what the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights has called a “zone of silence.” The term is typically associated with areas where violence against journalists leaves entire communities misinformed, as has happened in Mexico. A similar trend is occurring in El Salvador since the Bukele administration is deploying “technologies of censorship” to inhibit public scrutiny and criticism. The resultant information vacuum is filled by the official narrative, extensively promoted through government-controlled television channels, newspapers, and social media accounts. Influencers and pro-Bukele trolls do their part to spread regime propaganda and attack human rights defenders, journalists, and opposition politicians. Since citizens primarily rely on television and social media to access information, Salvadorans are likely relatively unaware of major government decisions and their impacts on people’s lives. 

Exiles may have escaped state terror at home. Some stay out of the public eye to keep their relatives in El Salvador out of harm’s way. Others continue their professional work as best as they can, but they have started to be impacted by Bukele’s methods of transnational repression. The United Nations Human Rights Office defines transnational repression as acts that a state or its proxy commits to deter or punish advocacy directed towards it from abroad. It can take various forms, including digital attacks, reprisals against in-country relatives, the arbitrary refusal of consular services, harassment through INTERPOL red notices, and physical violence. Ingrid Escobar directs Socorro Jurídico Humanitario, a legal aid organization that assists victims of the state of emergency, and has repeatedly been subjected to online defamation campaigns. Ivania Cruz and Rudy Joya of the human rights organization UNIDEHC were targeted with INTERPOL red notices but managed to have these lifted. 

Given the Bukele regime’s persistent attempts to intimidate journalists and activists, it is vital that these groups create international pressure to denounce abuses and demand respect for human rights. It is equally important that exiles find spaces for collective solidarity and resistance. Their ability to continue their work is key, more so since parts of the international community are either reluctant to criticize the democratically elected Bukele or perceive his security “model” as effective. APES documents and reports abuses against journalists and offers media workers safety guides and legal assistance. In Mexico City, Casa Centroamérica has become a home for Central Americans fleeing political and legal persecution. The NGO can provide recent arrivals with temporary shelter, is building an archive of national publications, and researches the causes of exile. 

Realistically, the state of emergency only stands a chance of being dismantled if El Salvador returns to democracy. Many citizens choose not to report abuses or speak out against Bukele’s regime for fear of being arbitrarily detained. Constitutional reforms passed in July 2025 extend the presidential term to six years, permit indefinite re-election, abolish the runoff election, and brought the next presidential election forward to 2027. Bukele can comfortably perpetuate himself in power if abstention levels are high and the political opposition fails to present a compelling alternative to his vision of the country. During Bukele’s time in government, economic growth has been weak, and poverty has increased as soaring debt and corruption have depleted state resources. A fiscal adjustment insisted upon by the International Monetary Fund requiring a smaller public sector has already led to massive job losses in areas such as health and education. These cuts will affect the quality of public services and likely fuel social discontent. The country’s economic woes, which Bukele will be unable to resolve as quickly as the security situation, may ultimately help bring about the demise of his regime.

Understanding Deportation for Children, Teens, and Their Parents

By Ernesto Castañeda

If you are a young student in the United States and you are worried that you, a classmate, or a loved one could be deported by ICE agents, as you have seen on social media, TV, or in your neighborhood, this short text is for you.

School dance. Photo by Ernesto Castañeda.

Why are people in pseudo-military clothes and vests with the initials ICE, HSI, CBP,* and others patrolling the streets and aggressively arresting people in public? It all starts with the popular but dangerous idea that a country must have closed borders, allowing only invited people to pass through. This makes sense for private houses, schools, and other large private institutions, but cities and countries do not work like that. Think about it most people born in the United States can move in their cities, towns, as well as to other cities or towns in the 50 states without having to ask permission from any political authority. They can even move to Guam, the Virgin Islands, or Puerto Rico.

*ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement], HSI [Homeland Security Investigations], CBP [U.S. Customs and Border Protection, agency that houses the Border Patrol which has now also being mobilized to both coast and Chicago] are all immigration enforcement agencies within the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). Under the current administration other federal and local agencies have also been assigned to help carry out raids and aid in deportation efforts.

People in Any Country Are Not All the Same  

Another dangerous myth is that all the people in a country must share a language, culture, and even look the same, as if related by blood. But countries are not big extended families, so this is a fable. But many adults believe this was true in the past and want it to happen soon in the places where they live. As you know, not everyone is the same. Even within the same family, a student club, or sports team, people have differences that make them who they are.

People in some large cities complain about a few people around them speaking a different language in the streets or having a different religion. This is not new; some people have always done so in any booming city. 

Even While Most People Stay Put Most of the Time, Mobility is Normal 

Many people go to other countries to travel, study, work, or visit family members and friends. Most people get visas, which are permits from a country’s government to visit or move in with permission. People from the United States and Europe rarely need visas to visit other countries, but it is not the same the other way around. People from most of Africa, Asia, and Latin America need vetted visas to visit Europe, the United Kingdom, the United States, Canada, or Australia. 

In some exceptional cases, people have to leave the countries where they were born because of war or persecution because of their religion, ethnicity, or political views. It may be hard for them to get immigration visas after that. Other countries are supposed to provide refuge, a safe place to stay for groups facing persecution. But many countries’ governments like to look the other way or play hot potato with people.

Work Abroad is Often More Available than Working Papers 

Other people may have informal verbal (spoken) job offers from restaurants, farms, and small businesses in the United States, but they cannot get visas because the people in charge of approving visas in U.S. consulates abroad think those people would stay in the country, and they think they do not have the savings and education to make them “desirable” to come to the United States. These are not necessarily the views of the people approving visas, but the informal instructions they are told to follow by their bosses.  

Nonetheless, some people from towns with a long history of long-distance migration from point A to B have the contacts, paths, and know-how to go to other countries without the U.S. government’s permission. This is what people refer to as “illegal immigration.” 

Remember, we should not use the term illegal to name a person, because a living human being cannot be “illegal,” but people can commit acts that go against the law, in this case, entering another country without getting their passport inspected and stamped. 

“No Human Being is Illegal.”  Elie Wiesel

People without a legal immigration status, who we can call undocumented, are not automatically bad people. They are just caught in a hard and vulnerable situation. Some adults say they should respect the law of a country and “get in line,” but for many of them there is no line to wait in. And for some of the people with close family members legally in the U.S., the wait in line to reunite can be ten years of longer. Therefore, some people live for over a decade away from their parents or minor children. As we recount in the book, Reunited: Family Separation and Central American Youth Migration.

Middle schoolers playing soccer. Photo by Ernesto Castañeda.

For most of U.S. history, lawyers have not labeled this a crime but more a “civil” infraction, something like a minor driving infraction, such as driving without insurance, or watching a movie without paying a ticket. But in those examples, people are getting something without paying or putting others at potential financial risk. Immigrants come to the U.S. to work, to pay for all of their expenses, those of their family members, and to send money to loved ones who stayed in the places they came from. Preventing people from moving to a country, and more appropriately to a particular city or neighborhood, even if they can pay for their housing, is like public parks or libraries not allowing only certain people in. 

The problem with the label of “illegal” (rude name-calling) is that it conjures or brings together the idea of coming as a family without a visa, along with generalizations and stereotypes that only people who are poor and of different races are “illegal.” That “illegals” are inferior, potentially dangerous criminals, a threat to the homogeneity (looking or being similar) of a country. These all false.

In recent U.S. history, the label of “illegality” has been applied to people from Mexico and Central America with limited English and/or African and indigenous features working in sectors such as agriculture, construction, contracting, food preparation, etc. There are business owners who are undocumented as well as people from Canada and Europe, but it is easier for them “to pass.” 

Immigrants who commit violent crimes are not immune (protected) from being stopped by police and imprisoned. But for many decades, people in the news have said that people without papers are dangerous and taking things from U.S. citizens. Many adults have come to believe this after hearing it so many times. 

Some politicians run for office sometimes with as little as promising to “get rid of” all the undocumented people in a country. This has been the case of President Trump, and he has acted on this words. His team has set ambitious goals to find people without valid visas or immigration permits and to remove them from the country, which is what we call deportations. He and his team campaigned on closing the border to new arrivals, deporting people with criminal convictions, and with the signs and slogans of mass deportation

How do you carry out mass deportations quickly in a country with over 350 million people, where less than 3% of the population is undocumented? 

Unlike a classroom, there is no list of everyone living in the U.S. that includes everyone’s immigration status. So, this federal administration is trying to reach its goal is by deporting under any pretext some people who are renewing visas, trying to get papers to stay longer, become citizens, or get protection from deportation because they fear for their safety if they were sent back to dangerous places. 

Another shortcut by ICE is to go to places where many stereotypical potentially undocumented immigrants gather and stop and ask for papers from people based only on their physical appearance, job, and accent. (Lawyers call this racial profiling).

Communities with many Latinos are specially afraid about deportations hitting close to home. Over 68,000 people are in immigration detention centers at the end, so of them will be let go after proving they are citizens or have valid permits. Many others will eventually be deported without their family members. 

Because of this, families with undocumented members are afraid of spending time in public and may always fear it may be their last day together. So, it is important to be patient and supportive of people who could be in that situation. It is understandable if your classmates or even friends do not want to talk about this. Their parents may have told them not to share their immigration status or that of their parents, afraid that it could be used against them. Many live with the continuous fear that an enemy could call la migra (ICE) on them. The have lived with this fear sometimes for decades.

ICE Arrests from Immigration Enforcement Dashboard

People who are undocumented have to try to act perfectly

Afraid about her only daughter being caught by surprise, an interviewee we talked to confidentially, recounts that she told her 13-year-old daughter this year that she was “illegal,” and that she should be careful not to skip class, misbehave, or even think about experimenting with illegal drugs, alcohol, or marijuana because this could cause her deportation and that of her mother and maybe other family members too. 

She had never before realized she was undocumented; she thought she was like anyone else in her class, and she is and so she is at risk of deportation. She cannot help but be worried, but how worried should her best friends be? Well, there were around 11 million individuals who were undocumented when Trump became president again on January 20, 2025. Because of changes to immigration laws, procedures, and programs, there may be 14 million people out of status a the end of 2026. 

In 2025, the Trump admin, with its aggressive policing, raiding, and detaining, forcibly deported between 200k and 600k people. Self-deportation is a luxury that many immigrants do not have. The official estimates for this are not credible. 

So, let’s do some simple math for the probability of being forcible deported by DHS by dividing the maximum estimate for 2025 deportation by a medium-high estimate for the number of undocumented: 600,000/14,000,000=.04 or 4%. This is the probability that an undocumented person is deported each year that these mass deportation goals continue along with large federal agent deployments and police collaboration in some localities [287(g) agreements]. The probability of being detained while attending an immigration court appointment is also low. So, while it is possible this may happen to you, your mom, or your friend, most immigrants won’t be deported. Clearly, the likelihood varies by location. In some places, other certain groups are targeted, like Somalis in the Twin Cities recently. But detaining people and deporting them in this way is very expensive, damaging for the U.S. economy and society, and currently very unpopular. Over 60% percent of U.S. adults oppose these policies. Tell the people you know in this situation not to despair or give up.

Deportation by City. Immigration Enforcement Dashboard

Despite sad cases about children receiving cancer treatment, nurses and care worker women being deported, the numbers show that, because of profiling, most of the people deported are working-age men from Mexico, Guatemala, and Honduras. Over 70% of them have no criminal record whatsoever, and only a very small percentage have a violent crime conviction. Meaning most people are innocent hard workers, fathers, sons, but they have been deported because they look like the stereotype. There are good and bad people everywhere. This may remind you of why some teachers and adults may tell you the importance of not generalizing, not falling for common stereotypes and prejudices, and of getting to know people from all backgrounds and with origins in all parts of the world. Learning how to put yourself in their shoes is the best way to understand them, comfort them, and protect them, in the future, by changing the way we aim to deal with undocumented immigration, not by mass deportations or having people afraid of deportation, but by giving them a way to become documented through new laws voted in Congress. Your care and your voice matter.

Ernesto Castañeda is a Professor at American University, where he leads the Immigration Lab and the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies. He has been studying immigration scientifically for over 20 years and has written many books on the subject, among them “Reunited: Family Separation and Central American Youth Migration” and “Immigration Realities: Challenging Common Misperceptions.”

Can Peru’s Democracy Recover?

By Cynthia McClintock*

Photographs from the early hours of the Generation Z protest in Peru, 2025
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Since 2021, democratic backsliding has been severe in Peru, and Peruvians are furious. Peru’s Congress is loathed. In 2025, the approval rating for Peru’s President, Dina Boluarte, fell below 3 percent and she became the most unpopular president on the planet. Finally, in October, Boluarte was impeached on the grounds of “permanent moral incapacity”; it was the fifth time since 2018 that a president had been impeached or had resigned upon imminent impeachment.  Per Peru’s constitution, Boluarte was succeeded by the Congress Speaker, José Jerí. Presidential and Congressional elections are scheduled for early 2026.

Why are Peruvians so angry? What does their anger mean for the 2026 elections (with the Congressional elections and the first round of the presidential elections scheduled for April 12 and a likely runoff on June 7)? Is it possible that the elections can lead to a democratic recovery?

Why are Peruvians So Angry?

The key reason is not “the economy stupid,” but an escalation of organized crime and the perception that Peru’s political leaders are part of the problem rather than part of the solution.

Between 2019 and 2024 the number of homicides doubled and the number of reported extortions jumped sixfold. Extortion is hurting huge swathes of lower-middle class Peruvians. Transport workers have been particularly vulnerable; so far in 2025, approximately 50 bus drivers have been killed for refusing to make extortion payments.

The reasons behind the crime escalation are various. Demand for cocaine remains high and, over the last decade, Peru’s coca cultivation has increased. As the price for gold jumped, so did illegal gold mining. Peru’s gangs are fragmented—and therefore hard to track—and they have developed nefarious new strategies such as using WhatsApp for extortion.

But, Peruvians believe, the reasons also include the government’s complicity. In part because illicit operators have provided campaign finance, in 2024 approximately half of Peru’s legislators were under criminal investigation; these same legislators have passed laws to impede investigations and prosecutions. Boluarte herself is under investigation for various crimes, including illicit enrichment. She sported a Rolex watch priced at $19,000, despite no evident financial means for such extravagance.

Further, from the start large percentages of Peruvians did not deem Boluarte a legitimate president. In 2021-2022, Boluarte was Vice President under President Pedro Castillo. Leading a far-left party in fraught elections during COVID, Castillo was an accidental, unprepared president. He was virulently opposed by the dominant right-wing forces in Congress, in particular Fuerza Popular, the party of Keiko Fujimori, the daughter of former authoritarian President Alberto Fujimori. As Vice President, Boluarte had said that, if Castillo were impeached, she too would resign, triggering new elections. However, in the event of Castillo’s December 2022 impeachment, Boluarte stayed on, despite massive protests and ubiquitous calls for new elections.

As President, Boluarte appeared indifferent to Peruvians’ concerns. Between December 2022 and February 2023, 49 civilian protesters were killed by the security forces. Boluarte’s response was support for an amnesty law. And, amid an October 2025 transport workers’ strike, Boluarte’s advice to Peruvians worried about crime was that they should not open text messages from unfamiliar people—placing blame for crimes on the victims.

What Does Peruvians’ Anger Mean for the 2026 Elections?

Peruvians’ anger spells difficulties for its incumbent parties and advantages for parties that can claim an “outsider” mantle. Fujimori’s Fuerza Popular is widely considered the dominant party in the Congress, and it will struggle against this perception. Its presidential candidate, Fujimori, is running for the fourth time and is likely to have worn out her welcome.

Not surprisingly, demands for an “iron fist” against crime are strong. The current presidential frontrunner is Renovación Popular’s Rafael López Aliaga (aka “Porky”), a Trump-like far-rightist who placed third in the 2021 election and was subsequently elected Lima’s mayor. López Aliaga promises a hardline strategy against organized crime, including implementing similar imprisonment policies to those of El Salvador’s Nayib Bukele. But Renovación Popular holds the fourth largest number of seats in Congress and it will be difficult for López Aliaga to claim an “outsider” mantle.

A candidate likely to claim an “outsider” mantle is Mario Vizcarra, running as a proxy for his brother, former President Martín Vizcarra. As President in 2018-2020, Vizcarra confronted the dominant parties in Peru’s Congress, building his popularity but ultimately catalyzing his impeachment. After a strong showing in Peru’s 2021 legislative elections, he was disqualified from holding elected office for ten years. Yet, Vizcarra’s government was far from without fault. There are other candidates, including the popular former clown, Carlos Álvarez, who could seize the “outsider” mantle.

Can Peru’s 2026 Elections Lead to Democratic Recovery?

The challenges to Peru’s elections are serious. In recent years Fuerza Popular and other illiberal parties in Peru’s Congress have allied to skew the electoral playing field in their favor.  Interim President Jerí is, of course, new to his position and his possible impact on the elections is unclear. (His first-month record was better than was first expected.)

As elsewhere in Latin America, Peru’s illiberal parties have strategized to achieve the disqualification of viable candidates. As indicated, this strategy is currently being used against Vizcarra; it could also be used against a rising new candidate.

Peru’s illiberal parties have calculated that a plethora of candidates is in their interest. Currently, 39 party lists are registered. Such a head-spinning number is problematic for journalists trying to cover the campaign and problematic for voters trying to identify their preferred candidate, especially because pre-election polls are more likely to be inaccurate. Yet, Peru’s Congress cancelled a provision for a preliminary round of voting, in which parties would have been required to secure 1.5 percent of the vote in order to qualify for the “first round.”

Still, there are grounds for optimism. The massive protests of recent years have shown that Peruvians want their political views heard. Peruvians recognize the importance of honest, capable leadership and want to find it.

*Cynthia McClintock is Professor of Political Science and International Affairs at George Washington University.

Bolivia Decisively Enters New If Unknown Political Territory

By Robert Albro, Associate Director, CLALS

Rodrigo Paz is sworn in as president of Bolivia, 2025
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Centrist Rodrigo Paz’s victory in October’s runoff election signals a dramatic change of direction for Bolivian politics. The era of dominance of the Movement Toward Socialism (MAS) party, led by ex-president Evo Morales, is definitively over. For only the second time since 2006 the MAS will not control the presidency. As a result of the recent election, it now has a mere two representatives in the legislature’s lower house, and no one in the upper house. Though it does not hold an outright majority, Paz’s Christian Democratic Party is now the single largest presence in both legislative chambers. How did Bolivia get here?

Twenty years ago, the leftist-populist MAS swept into power, as a new and energetic grassroots alternative to the elite-run traditional parties that had traded off governing Bolivia since the end of dictatorship in 1982, or one could even argue, since the 1952 Revolution. The MAS’s popularity sprung largely from the dynamism of Morales, himself, then a coca grower union leader adept at organizing and leading large-scale protests in opposition to prevailing Washington Consensus policies and government efforts to sell off Bolivia’s non-renewable resources to transnational corporate interests. The MAS styled itself a bottom-up social movement and not a party. Its participatory “lead by following” approach to governance appealed to a great majority of indigenous voters and working-class people of indigenous descent.

Morales and the MAS proved historically consequential in undertaking a contentious but innovative rewrite of the country’s Constitution, which went into force in 2009. It fully embraced Bolivia’s “plurinational” identity and incorporated an unprecedented variety of collective indigenous rights of consultation, to their traditional territories, and perhaps most controversially, of judicial autonomy. The Morales administration also used a large surplus from the country’s extractive boom to finance a wide range of new social safety net provisions that halved the number of people living in poverty, including cash transfers to families, a pension program, minimum wage increase, as well as public investments in schools, hospitals, and other infrastructure. Perhaps most importantly, his presidency raised the public visibility of Bolivia’s indigenous majority, no longer as second class citizens but as political protagonists of their own present and future.

Morales and the MAS were immensely popular. But then cracks began to appear. In 2011 a plan to build a controversial highway through a protected indigenous reserve brought the MAS government into direct conflict with the reserve’s residents, damaging its support among some indigenous groups. When the extractive boom ended around 2014, Bolivia’s economy slowed considerably, and the MAS fiscal policies that had lifted so many out of poverty became increasingly unsustainable. Part of the problem was Morales, who served two presidential terms and aspired to another, without any thought to a succession plan. Constitutionally limited to two terms, in 2016 he soundly lost a national referendum in a bid for a third and then ignored the result, further alienating many former supporters.

The upheaval around the contested 2019 election, which eventuated in Morales going into exile in Mexico and the persecution of MAS loyalists by a rightwing caretaker government, set the stage for the party’s eventual fall from grace. The 2020 election restored the MAS to power. But soon Morales and the new president, his ex-finance minister Luis Arce, were in a pitched battle for control over the party, a bitter and increasingly personal rivalry that fatally fragmented the MAS into opposed camps. Their protracted feud, which paralyzed congress, strayed into surreal territory, with accusations of a staged coup and mutual assassination attempts. The credibility of the MAS was so fundamentally damaged that the incumbent Arce, with his poll numbers plummeting, suspended his campaign. Morales, meanwhile, remains holed up in his coca grower redoubt to avoid criminal charges.

The MAS-led government’s political fragmentation, and its ineffectual response to Bolivia’s increasingly disastrous economy, have left the party deeply unpopular. The country is currently floundering amid its worst economic crisis in 40 years. Its natural gas production is half of what it was in 2014, with nothing to replace it. Bolivia has failed to develop its large reserves of lithium. Depleted currency reserves and a scarcity of US dollars have driven up inflation, creating severe shortages of fuel and basic goods. Over the past year, ordinary Bolivians have angrily expressed their discontent with the country’s economic collapse through repeated strikes and protest actions.

Emerging from this bleak political and economic state-of-affairs is the surprise election winner, Rodrigo Paz. Son of onetime leftist president Jaime Paz Zamora, former mayor of Tarija, and recently a senator, Paz’s campaign focused on restoring Bolivia’s economy, but gradually rather than by instituting sweeping fiscal austerity measures as his rival in the run-off proposed. Non-indigenous, pro-business, and ideology averse, Paz successfully positioned himself as a pragmatic reformer. He has delivered a strong anti-corruption message, pledged to restore relations with the US and bring back foreign investment. His populist call for a “capitalism for all” hopes to thread the needle by mixing decentralization, lower taxes, support for small businesses, and greater fiscal discipline, with continued spending on popular MAS-era social programs.

Paz’s critics argue that what he proposes is an impossible fiscal balancing act. Desperate and impatient Bolivians will expect immediate results. But it remains far from clear whether Paz will be able to overcome likely regional opposition to at least some of his policies. And if he does not stabilize the country’s dysfunctional economy quickly, Paz’s political honeymoon might be brief.

The Rise, Decline, and Crisis of Ecuador’s Indigenous Movement

By Dr. Pablo Andrade Andrade

October 17 Demonstrations (Manifestaciones del 17 de Octubre)
(Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Just six years ago, in 2019, the three major organizations of the Ecuadorian indigenous movement were on the rise. CONAIE (the Confederación de Nacionalidades Indígenas del Ecuador) led the charge against Lenin Moreno’s government. For eleven days their widespread demonstrations posed a serious threat to the government’s stability. The “Paro Nacional” (Nationwide Strike) not only facilitated CONAIE’s alliances with the other two indigenous organizations (FENOCIN, the Federación Nacional de Organizaciones Campesinas, Indígenas y Negras, and FEINE, the Federación Ecuatoriana de Indígenas Evangélicos) but also broadened its coalition with a diverse range of civil society organizations, marking a significant shift in Ecuadorian politics. The impact of the indigenous movement on Ecuadorian politics was profound, as Moreno´s government was seriously weakened. Two years later, in 2021, CONAIE’s political party, Pachakutik, won substantial representation in the National Assembly and placed third in the Presidential elections.

In 2022 CONAIE’s president, Leonidas Iza, led a successful national strike against Guillermo Lasso’s right-wing government. His leadership, bolstered by unity among indigenous communities and their allies, made it the most powerful leftist organization. Newfound solidarity among indigenous communities and stronger ties with student, feminist, and environmental movements, enhanced Iza’s national and international reputation. Less than a year later, President Lasso had to end his term and called for early general elections. However, at that moment Iza´s radical wing of CONAIE also attempted to impose its agenda over Pachakutik and the Amazonian federation CONFENIAE, which proved to be a high-cost strategy. The internal conflicts that followed led, in 2025, to the most serious electoral defeats that both organizations had suffered in decades.

The 2023 general elections were marred by prison massacres and political assassinations, including that of presidential candidate Fernando Villavicencio and the mayor of Manta, among numerous other government officials. Amid this unprecedented turmoil, a young center-right candidate, Daniel Noboa, emerged victorious as interim president. His win signaled yet another shift in Ecuador’s political landscape, with the country’s fragile democracy once again at the mercy of a personalist, plebiscitarian president.

The first warning sign of the current political turn to populist rule came with the 2025 regular election. The President’s party (Alianza Democrática Nacional, ADN) and the opposition party (Revolución Ciudadana, RC) totalled over 80 percent of National Assembly representatives. Noboa won his first five-year mandate. Pachakutik saw its representation shrink to five members, who the government rapidly coopted. Free from legislative checks, Noboa advanced his economic adjustment program. In addition, amid the ongoing public security crisis, Noboa expanded the military’s role in maintaining domestic order. Although assassinations have risen since 2023, militarization has strengthened Noboa’s control over organized violence, boosting political support for his government.

As part of its economic program, in September 2025, the Noboa administration raised diesel prices, a decision that in 2021 and 2022 sparked the wrath of CONAIE. But the leaders misjudged the lasting strength gained in 2021 and 2022, failing to account for damage from the 2023 and 2025 leadership races. As a result, they  rushed to emulate the apparent successes of the past. This time, however, CONAIE was at its lowest point. Unable to coordinate a nationwide strike, organizations in the northern province of Imbabura were left to their fate. The indigenous peoples of Cotacachi, Ilumán, Peguche, and Otavalo sustained demonstrations for a month. Still, they paid a high price in lost lives, injured people, and detainees due to systematic and brutal repression at the hands of the Armed Forces and the Police. This time, the government did not back down; the solidarity of  allied urban groups was, in this case, mostly symbolic and ineffective.

If CONAIE’s crisis should not be seen as the end of the indigenous movement, its significance cannot be overlooked. While grassroots mobilization once seemed effective, Noboa’s strong appeal and military support present new challenges. The aftermath of the national strike has called into question CONAIE’s representativeness and capacity to organize. An emboldened Noboa is now proposing a national plebiscite, in which he will likely be victorious, while Ecuador’s civil society appears weaker than ever. The challenges ahead are complex. The failed challenge to Noboa´s government could herald a new era of competitive authoritarianism, a scenario made even more likely by renewed international tolerance of hybrid forms of democracy. The lost battle left the indigenous organizations of Imbabura with wounds that could be challenging to heal, and racism lurks underneath the surface of Ecuador’s still young experiment with intercultural co-governance.

Pablo Andrade Andrade is Professor and Chair of the Germánico Salgado Lectures, Universidad Andina Simón Bolívar

*This post continues an ongoing series, as part of CLALS’s Ecuador Initiative, examining the country’s economic, governance, security, and societal challenges, made possible with generous support from Dr. Maria Donoso Clark, CAS/PhD ’91.

Migrante vs. inmigrante: 10 términos de la política migratoria de Estados Unidos que debes conocer

Photo cerdits to Brandon Bell/Getty Images

ORLANDO, Florida.- La política migratoria en Estados Unidos se encuentra en el foco de la atención tras las recientes órdenes ejecutivas firmadas por el presidente Donald Trump en los primeros días de su mandato. Entre las medidas, se encuentran restricciones temporales para refugiados, la limitación de solicitudes de asilo en la frontera y la polémica orden para negar certificados de nacimiento a hijos de padres sin estatus migratorio regular.

Estos movimientos han generado demandas en 18 estados, argumentando que violan el derecho de ciudadanía por nacimiento, protegido por la 14.ª Enmienda de la Constitución.

1. Migrante

Un migrante es cualquier persona que se traslada lejos de su lugar de origen, ya sea dentro de su país o al extranjero. Algunos se ven forzados a moverse por violencia o desastres naturales, mientras que otros migran por razones económicas o familiares. Este término incluye tanto a quienes cruzan fronteras de manera documentada como no documentada.

2. Inmigrante

El inmigrante es un migrante que se establece en un país diferente al de su nacimiento. En Estados Unidos, los inmigrantes pueden tener diferentes estatus legales, desde la residencia permanente (Green Card) hasta visas temporales, como las de trabajo (H-1B) o estudio (F-1). También hay visas humanitarias, como la T para víctimas de tráfico humano y la U para víctimas de crímenes graves.

3. Inmigrante indocumentado o irregular

Este término engloba a personas que ingresan o permanecen en un país sin autorización legal. Algunos llegaron con visas que vencieron, mientras que otros cruzaron sin documentos. En Estados Unidos muchos indocumentados trabajan y pagan impuestos, aunque no reciben beneficios de seguridad social.

4. Solicitante de asilo

Es alguien que pide protección al llegar a un puerto de entrada o dentro del país, alegando peligro en su nación de origen por persecución política, religiosa, étnica o de otro tipo. El proceso puede tomar años y requiere pruebas contundentes.

5. Refugiado

Un refugiado solicita protección desde el extranjero antes de ingresar a Estados Unidos, generalmente escapando de conflictos armados o persecución. Una vez en el país, pueden trabajar legalmente y, al cabo de un año, solicitar la residencia permanente.

6. Niños no acompañados

Se refiere a menores que cruzan la frontera sin un tutor legal. Según las leyes estadounidenses, pueden permanecer en el país y buscar estatus legal, generalmente bajo el cuidado de familiares ya residentes.

7. Separación familiar

Esta práctica polémica, intensificada durante el primer mandato de Trump, consiste en separar a padres migrantes de sus hijos al cruzar la frontera. Aunque la administración Biden intentó reunificar familias, cientos de niños aún están separados de sus padres.

8. Detención migratoria

Es la detención de inmigrantes en centros similares a cárceles, gestionados por el gobierno o empresas privadas, mientras esperan audiencias o deportaciones. Estas condiciones han sido criticadas por su dureza, incluyendo el uso de “hieleras” con temperaturas extremadamente bajas.

9. Coyote

Es el término utilizado para describir a los guías que, a cambio de dinero, ayudan a migrantes a cruzar fronteras de manera clandestina. Esta actividad se ha vuelto más costosa y peligrosa debido al endurecimiento de las políticas fronterizas.

10. Jugadores clave del gobierno

La política migratoria en EE. UU. involucra varias agencias: el Departamento de Seguridad Nacional (DHS), la Patrulla Fronteriza (CBP), Inmigración y Control de Aduanas (ICE) y el Departamento de Salud y Servicios Humanos (HHS), que asiste a menores no acompañados.
Entender estos términos humaniza a las personas detrás de las estadísticas. En tiempos de políticas migratorias restrictivas, la empatía y el conocimiento son herramientas esenciales para abordar este tema con sensibilidad.

Con información de AP.

Credit to Univision for translation

Original Post

https://theconversation.com/what-is-a-migrant-what-is-ice-10-terms-to-help-you-understand-the-debate-over-immigration-247317

Ernesto Castañeda is the Director of the Immigration Lab and the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and a Professor at American University. 

Daniel Jenks is a Doctoral Student at the University of Pennsylvania,

What is a migrant? What is ICE? 10 terms to help you understand

By Ernesto Castañeda, Daniel Jenks

President Donald Trump aims to upend the immigration system in the United States in his first few days in office. On Jan. 20, 2025, Trump signed various executive orders that temporarily prevent refugees from coming to the U.S. and block immigrants from applying for asylum at a U.S. border, among other measures.

Another executive order calls on federal agencies to not issue passports, birth certificates or Social Security numbers to babies born in the U.S. to parents not in the country legally, or with temporary permission. Eighteen states sued on Jan. 21 to block this executive order that challenges birthright citizenship, which is guaranteed by the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.

We are scholars of immigration who closely follow public discussions about immigration policy, trends and terminology. Understanding the many different immigration terms – some technical, some not – can help people better understand immigration news. While not an exhaustive list, here are 10 important terms to know:

1. Migrant

A migrant is a person who moves from their place of birth to another location relatively far away. There are different words used to describe migrants and their particular circumstances. Internally displaced people, for example, means people who are forced to move within their own country because of violence, natural disasters and other reasons.

International migrants move from one country to another, sometimes without the legal authorization to enter or stay in another country. There are also seasonal or circular migrants, who often move back and forth between different places.

Between 30% and 60% of all migrants eventually return to their birth countries.

There is not much difference in why people decide to migrate within their own country or internationally, with or without the legal permission to do so. But it is easier for people from certain countries to move than from others.

2. Immigrants

The terms immigrants and migrants are often used interchangeably. Migration indicates movement in general. Immigration is the word used to describe the process of a non-citizen settling in another country. Immigrants have a wide range of legal statuses.

An immigrant in the U.S. might have a green card or a permanent resident card – a legal authorization that gives the person the legal right to stay and work in the U.S. and to apply for citizenship after a few years.

An immigrant with a T visa is a foreigner who is allowed to stay in the U.S. for up to four years because they are victims of human or sex trafficking. Similarly, an immigrant with a U visa is the victim of serious crimes and can stay in the U.S. for up to four years, and then apply for a Green Card.

An immigrant with a H-1B visa is someone working for a U.S. company within the U.S.

Many international students in higher education have an F-1 visa. They must return to their country of birth soon after they graduate, unless they are sponsored by a U.S. employer, enroll in another educational program, or marry a U.S. citizen. The stay can be extended for one or two years, depending on the field of study.

Mexican migrants prepare to turn themselves in to U.S. Customs and Border Patrol officers after crossing the border into Ruby, Ariz., on Jan. 5, 2025. Brandon Bell/Getty Images
Photo cerdits to Brandon Bell/Getty Images

3. Undocumented Immigrants, Unauthorized Immigrants and Illegal Immigrants

These three charged political terms refer to the same situation: migrants who enter or remain in the country without the proper legal paperwork. People in this category also include those who come to the U.S. with a visa and overstay its permitted duration.

Some of these immigrants work for cash that is not taxed. Most work with fake Social Security numbers, pay taxes and contribute to Social Security funds without receiving money after retirement.

Immigrants without legal authorization to be in the U.S. spent more than US$254 billion in 2022.

4. Asylum Seekers

An asylum seeker is a person who arrives at a U.S. port of entry – via an airport or a border crossing – and asks for protection because they fear returning to their home country. An immigrant living in the U.S. for up to one year can also apply for asylum.

Asylum seekers can legally stay temporarily in the U.S. while they wait to bring their case to an immigration judge. The process typically takes years.

Someone is eligible for asylum if they can show proof of persecution because of their political affiliation, religion, ethnic group, minority status, or belonging to a targeted group. Many others feel they need to leave their countries because of threats of violence or abusive relationships, among other dangerous circumstances.

A judge will eventually decide whether a person’s fear is with merit and can stay in the country.

Ukrainian immigrants attend a job fair in New York City in February 2023. Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images
Photo cerdits to Angela Weiss/AFP via Getty Images

5. Refugees

Refugees are similar to asylum seekers, but they apply to resettle in the U.S. while they remain abroad. Refugees are often escaping conflict.

The Biden administration had a cap of admitting up to 125,000 refugees a year.

Refugees can legally work in the U.S. as soon as they arrive and can apply for a green card one year later. Research shows that refugees become self-sufficient soon after they settle in the country and are net-positive for the country’s economy through the federal taxes they pay.

6. Unaccompanied Children

This is a U.S. government classification for migrant children who enter the U.S. without a parent or guardian, and without proper documentation or the legal status to be in the country. Because they are minors, they are allowed to enter the country and apply for the right to stay. Most often, they have relatives already in the country, who assume the role of financial and legal sponsors.

7. Family Separation

This refers to a government policy of separating detained migrant parents or guardians from the children they are responsible for an traveling with as a family unit. The first Trump administration separated families arriving at the border as part of an attempt to reduce immigration.

At least 4,000 children were separated from their parents during the first Trump administration. The Biden administration tried to reunite these families, but as of May 2024, over 1,400 children separated during Trump’s first term still were not reunited with their families.

Legal migration systems that lack avenues for immigrants who work in manual labor to move with their families, and deportations, both also create family separations.

8. Immigration Detention

Immigration detention refers to the U.S. government apprehending immigrants who are in the U.S. without authorization and holding them in centers that are run similar to prisons. Some of these centers are run by the government, and others are outsourced to private companies.

When a U.S. Customs and Border Protection official apprehends an immigrant, they are often first brought to a building where they are placed in what many call a hielera, which means icebox or freezer in Spanish. This refers to cells, cages or rooms where the government keeps immigrants at very low temperatures with foil blankets and without warm clothing.

Immigrants might then be quickly deported or otherwise released in the country while they await a court date for an asylum case. Other immigrants who are awaiting deportation or a court date will be placed in an immigration detention center. Some must post bond to be released while awaiting trial.

9. Coyote

A coyote is the Spanish word for a guide who is paid by migrants and asylum seekers to take them to their destination, undetected by law enforcement. Coyotes used to be trusted by the migrants they were helping cross into the country. As the U.S. has tried to make it harder to enter illegally, the business of taking people to and across the U.S.-Mexico border unseen has become more expensive and dangerous.

10. The Alphabet Soup of Government Players

The Department of Homeland Security, or DHS, is a law enforcement agency created after 9/11. It includes a number of agencies that focus on immigration.

These include U.S. Customs and Border Protection, or CBP, an agency that is in charge of collecting import duties, passport and document controls at airports, ports, and official points of entry along the border.

The Border Patrol is a federal law enforcing agency under CBP in charge of patrolling and securing U.S. borders and ports.

Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, is a branch of DHS that works within the U.S., within its borders, focusing on detaining and deporting immigrants.

The Department of Health and Human Services, or HHS, takes care of unaccompanied minors after they enter the country.

Ernesto Castañeda is the Director of the Immigration Lab and the Center for Latin American and Latino Studies and Professor at American University. 

Daniel Jenks is a Doctoral Student at the University of Pennsylvania,

This piece can be reproduced completely or partially with proper attribution to its author.

Bolsonaro’s Long Shadow and Brazil’s Ongoing Democratic Crisis

by Fernando Medici, Mackenzie Presbyterian University

Photo Credit to Amauri Nehn/NurPhoto via AP

Few people outside of Brazil are likely aware that this South American country endured its own version of a Capitol attack. On January 8th, 2023 — two years after the infamous U.S. incident — a mob of supporters of former president Bolsonaro stormed government buildings, including Congress and the Supreme Court. This brazen assault on democratic institutions highlights the dangerous influence of right-wing radicalization and rampant social mediatized fake news, which continue to undermine the nation’s fragile democracy by amplifying a hate campaign against Brazil’s Supreme Court, and pleas for military intervention, while  celebrating the insurrection that ended with Bolsonaro’s followers storming the Supreme Court Building.

Like its American counterpart, the unrest was fueled by unsubstantiated claims of election fraud following Bolsonaro’s defeat at the polls. However, what set Brazil’s crisis apart was the additional troubling involvement and support of several high-profile military figures.

Subsequently many of the insurgents were indicted, but until recently little had been done regarding the still unknown leadership of the movement.

That changed this past November as former President Jair Bolsonaro and 36 others were indicted by Brazil’s Federal Police for crimes including an attempted coup d’état, violent abolition of the democratic rule of law, and involvement in an alleged attempt on the lives of President Lula, Vice-President Geraldo Alckmin, and Supreme Court Minister Alexandre de Moraes.

Of course, despite the political weight of these charges, an indictment is not equivalent to a conviction and does not automatically lead to a trial. It only provides evidence for the Prosecutor General’s Office to decide whether to proceed with the case or not. This is not the first time Bolsonaro has been indicted. He was previously implicated in investigations for fraudulent vaccine records and for trying to conceal Saudi Jewelry he was gifted as president, which, according to Brazilian Law, belongs to the government. Both criminal proceedings are currently underway, and Bolsonaro is prohibited from leaving the country.

Regarding the coup d’état-related indictments, after an extensive investigation, the Brazilian Federal Police concluded that the alleged coup attempt was supposed take place in late 2022, after Bolsonaro’s election defeat and led by prominent military figures, including General and formal State-Secretary Mario Fernandes and General Braga Netto, Bolsonaro’s vice president candidate in the most recent election. According to the investigators, Bolsonaro was aware of and supported the coup efforts.

This case underscores the frail state of Brazilian Democracy after years of political radicalization and the unchecked spread of rampant fake news. In large part the proliferation of fake news has been fueled by Bolsonaro’s “Hate Cabinet”, a group led Bolsonaro’s sons Flávio and Eduardo and responsible for managing far-right social networks, the spread of misinformation, and promotion of hate campaigns against Bolsonaro’s political adversaries.  

Now, Brazilians await conclusion of the legal process. Expectations are that at the soonest a possible legal action could be filed next year, since the General Prosecutor’s Office will need months to go through the evidence.

Uncertainty surrounding the legal process and the timeline for potential action reflect the broader challenges facing Brazilian institutions and democracy. While the indictments represent a significant step toward accountability, the slow pace of the justice system underscores deeper institutional challenges, exacerbating political polarization and social mistrust. It also feeds narratives of persecution and bias, particularly among Bolsonaro’s far-right supporters, who often portray the judiciary as politically motivated. The credibility of the Brazilian Supreme Court, already eroded by its controversial role in the Lava Jato operation and its perceived partisanship during past political crises, now faces renewed scrutiny. In a country already deeply divided along ideological lines, its lack of perceived impartiality risks intensifying public skepticism, further destabilizing Brazil’s fragile democratic institutions.

It is not a surprise that Bolsonaro supporters have dismissed the allegations against him as political persecution and remain entrenched in their views, further deepening political rifts in Brazilian society. When large segments of the population operate under different understandings of reality, it becomes nearly impossible to foster the trust needed for a healthy democracy.

This scenario places Brazil’s democratic institutions under considerable strain. The 2023 storming of Congress and the Supreme Court demonstrated the vulnerability of these institutions when confronted with coordinated antidemocratic efforts. Now, with claims of military involvement, the alleged coup raises serious questions about how long Brazilian democracy can continue to withstand such blows.

The problem is made worse by Bolsonaro’s hate campaign against the Supreme Court, which has eroded trust in the institution, guaranteeing that any legal decision against him will be seen by a large subset of Brazilians as corrupt and politically motivated.

If Brazilian democracy is to survive, it will require more than just the prosecution of a few individuals, even if they are high-profile. A broader effort to rebuild trust in democratic institutions and to reduce the spread of misinformation will also be necessary. Without addressing the root causes of radicalization and polarization, Brazilian Democracy will continue to be vulnerable, whether to attacks by Bolsonaro’s followers or other political groups.

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