They are not acceptable in our nation. I’ll be open and honest with you, okay. Someone will say, “Oh, that’s not politically correct.” I’m not interested. In our nation, I don’t want them. For a reason, their country is no good.
On the first day of an immigration crackdown targeting their community, President Donald Trump said this. He argued that Somali migrants have made Minnesota, a state where 2 percent of the population is of Somali descent, into a “hellhole” and should be “out of here.” Trump then vented his ire at Ilhan Omar, a Democratic representative from Minnesota who was born in Somalia, who was also a vocal critic. Her close friends are garbage. These individuals do not perform work. These people don’t say, “Let’s go, come on, let’s make this place great,” they just say.
None of this is, of course, novel or unexpected. Immigration and asylum seekers have always been the pillars of Trump’s MAGAverse. Who can forget that several MAGA Republicans seriously attempted to revoke Zohran Mamdani’s US citizenship before his cordial meeting with Trump at the White House? Since Trump’s ascent to power, hostility toward immigrants has become a guiding principle in American politics.
However, Trump’s increasingly isolated America and its validation and promotion by those in positions of power are not exclusive to this. Other countries are adopting similar rhetoric and strategies, which shows a global trend that extends far beyond the United States. One such example is Denmark.
Denmark has recently grown to be one of Europe’s most restrictive states on immigration and asylum, despite its long-held reputation as a progressive, compassionate, and orderly society built on universal healthcare, Lego, highly liveable cities, and minimalist designer aesthetics. Islamophobic rhetoric was prominent during the recently concluded local elections, and the ruling Social Democrats have put their campaign’s emphasis on addressing the alleged immigration issue.
The supposedly progressive Labour government in the United Kingdom appears eager to emulate the Danish example across the border. Prime Minister Keir Starmer wants to put an end to a quappy chapter of British immigration policy under the pressure of the far right and Reform UK’s enduring rise in the polls. He has promised that immigration will drop as a result of his government’s reforms, and that the UK could end up with a population of strangers if immigration is drastically reduced. That is a promise. Most strikingly, Home Secretary Shabana Mahmood recently traveled to Denmark to look into its immigration and asylum laws, which highlights how severely Labour’s position has weakened.
Outside of the West, xenophobia is also becoming more prevalent. It serves as a constant source of policy and practice for countries as far as South Africa, a sign that anti-immigrant politics are now a global tool of government.
In Libya, migrants traveling through Europe are subject to horrific levels of abuse and violence. They are subject to prolonged arbitrary detention, forced disappearances, torture, rape, unlawful killings, extortion, and forced labor, according to Amnesty International. These abuses occur within a system that is effectively funded by European governments, which have given Libyan coastguard units tasked with intercepting migrants before they enter international waters funding, training, and equipment. Despite being aware of the consequences, European Union countries have outsourced border control to Libya in an effort to stop the flow of migrants across the Mediterranean, allowing the authorities to carry out measures that the UN says are likely to be crimes against humanity.
Further west, Black African migrants have experienced years of intermittent violence in Tunisia. Tunisia became a purely African nation without any affiliation to the Arab or Islamic countries in the early 2023s, according to President Kais Saied’s claim in the beginning of a criminal plan to change the country’s demographic makeup through irregular migration. His statements sparked a rise in violent attacks on Black people, including asylum seekers, students, and immigrants. Additionally, there were more arrests, and it appeared that police were pursuing Black African foreigners based on their appearance. Undocumented migrants, registered refugees, asylum seekers, and immigrants with valid credentials were among those detained, a stark illustration of how state policies can change once xenophobia is legislated for political gain.
In post-apartheid South Africa, xenophobia has always been a constant feature of life and politics, just like it has been with immigrants from other African nations. There have been 1, 295 recorded incidents since 1994, including displacement, looting of migrant-owned businesses, and killings, according to Xenowatch, a project hosted by the University of the Witwatersrand that tracks xenophobic discrimination and violence. In 2008, there were 150 incidents and 72 fatalities. The overall number of xenophobic incidents again reached 2008 levels in 2025, underscoring the persistent nature of the crisis, which included 16 fatalities.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, the government consistently cut off migrant communities, cutting many out of relief efforts, and placing South Africans’ protection at the top of the priority list. Despite having only 11 confirmed COVID-19 cases at the time compared to South Africa’s 1, 845, the state constructed a 40-kilometer fence along the border with Zimbabwe to stop infected or undocumented people. Current myths about foreign-owned businesses posing health risks were reinforced by politicians. Khumbudzo Ntshavheni, the then-Minister of Small Business Development, declared that only South African-owned, managed, and run shops would remain open when he announced that spaza shops could remain open.
Additionally, there is a rise in explicitly anti-immigrant mobilization in South Africa. On September 23, 2020, a coalition of civil society organizations called for the widespread deportation of African migrants and marched to the Nigerian and Zimbabwean embassies, claiming that foreigners contribute to South Africa’s social problems like drug use, human trafficking, and child abductions.
Following the former president’s imprisonment, in 2021, the vigilante organization Operation Dudula emerged as a result. Despite its claims to address crime and drug use in Gauteng communities, Dudula, which means “force out,” in isiZulu, accurately sums up its true focus. The organization is more well known for urging mass deportations, preventing immigrants from using hospitals and clinics, and launching foreign-owned businesses.
I could continue, of course, from increasing restrictions in nations like Colombia, Peru, Chile, and Ecuador that are intended to stop the flow of Venezuelan immigrants to Indian authorities forcibly expelling ethnic Bengali Muslims from Bangladesh for lack of respect for their rights, including international human rights standards, claiming they are undocumented. Xenophobia is now ingrained into the political life of nations all over the world, not just in any ideology or region.
Why are we so eager to accept xenophobic ideologies and policies? partly because they are practical. They make it easier for governments and societies to externalize domestic failures, providing an easy explanation for issues that are much more complicated and frequently rooted in political and economic mismanagement at home, in austerity, worsening inequality, and precarious work than in stranger arrivals.
In this way, the migrant functions as a ready-made scapegoat, a person we project all of our beliefs as a threat to who we are or what we stand for. Then it becomes simple to make claims that immigrants are a part of some hideous plan to alter the country’s demographic or cultural fabric by adhering to dangerous ideologies, using strained national resources, carrying diseases, or using migrants as part of a dangerous ideology or strategy.
Reality is realized through perception. By blaming those who live outside our borders, we can see where the threat is hiding, giving us peace of mind that we are not the problem. The saddest part is that our own systems’ dysfunctions and corruptions remain unaffected. And scapegoating the ostensible outsider doesn’t help our societies become fairer, safer, or more compassionate; it just wastes time for those who are unwilling to face the crises they contributed to.
