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border militarization
Joe Biden and the Dems Helped Build up Trump’s Border-and-Deportation Arsenal
Donald Trump is inheriting the most fortified border in American history, increasingly run by private corporations, and he’s about to use all the power at his disposal to make it more so.
Feb 06, 2025
It didn’t take long for the border and immigration enforcement industry to react to U.S. President Donald Trump’s reelection. On November 6, as Bloomberg News reported, stock prices shot up for two private prison companies, GEO Group and CoreCivic. “We expect the incoming Trump administration to take a much more aggressive approach regarding border security as well as interior enforcement,” explained the GEO Group’s executive chair, George Zoley, “and to request additional funding from Congress to achieve these goals.” In other words, the “largest mass deportation operation in U.S. history” was going to be a moneymaker.
As it happens, that Bloomberg piece was a rarity, offering a glimpse of immigration enforcement that doesn’t normally get the attention it deserves by focusing on the border-industrial complex. The article’s tone, however, suggested that there will be a sharp break between the border policies of Donald Trump and former President Joe Biden. Its essential assumption: that Biden adored open borders, while Trump, the demagogue, is on his way to executing a profitable clampdown on them.
In a recent article, “The Progressive Case against Immigration,” journalist Lee Fang caricatured just such a spectrum, ranging from people with “Refugees Welcome” yard signs to staunch supporters of mass deportation. He argued that Democrats should embrace border enforcement and “make a case for border security and less tolerance for migrant rule-breaking.” This, he suggested, would allow the party to “reconnect with its blue-collar roots.” Fang’s was one of many post-election articles making similar points—namely, that the Democrats’ stance on free movement across the border cost them the election.
Biden left office as the king of border contracts, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, since he received three times more campaign contributions than Trump from top border-industry companies during the 2020 election campaign.
But what if the Biden administration, instead of opposing mass deportation, had proactively helped construct its very infrastructure? What if, in reality, there weren’t two distinctly opposed and bickering visions of border security, but two allied versions of it? What if we started paying attention to the budgets where the money is spent on the border-industrial complex, which tell quite a different story than the one we’ve come to expect?
In fact, during President Biden’s four years in office, he gave 40 contracts worth more than $2 billion to the same GEO Group (and its associated companies) whose stocks spiked with Trump’s election. Under those contracts, the company was to maintain and expand the U.S. immigrant detention system, while providing ankle bracelets for monitoring people on house arrest.
And that, in fact, offers but a glimpse of Biden’s tenure as—yes!—the biggest contractor (so far) for border and immigration enforcement in U.S. history. During his four years in office, Biden’s administration issued and administered 21,713 border enforcement contracts, worth $32.3 billion, far more than any previous president, including his predecessor Donald Trump, who had spent a mere—and that, of course, is a joke—$20.9 billion from 2017 to 2020 on the same issue.
In other words, Biden left office as the king of border contracts, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, since he received three times more campaign contributions than Trump from top border-industry companies during the 2020 election campaign. And in addition to such contributions, the companies of that complex wield power by lobbying for ever bigger border budgets, while maintaining perennial public-private revolving doors.
In other words, Joe Biden helped build up Trump’s border-and-deportation arsenal. His administration’s top contract, worth $1.2 billion, went to Deployed Resources, a company based in Rome, New York. It’s constructing processing and detention centers in the borderlands from California to Texas. Those included “soft-sided facilities,” or tent detention camps, where unauthorized foreigners might be incarcerated when Trump conducts his promised roundups.
The second company on the list, with a more than $800 million contract (issued under Trump in 2018, but maintained in the Biden years), was Classic Air Charter, an outfit that facilitates deportation flights for the human-rights-violating ICE Air. Now that Trump has declared a national emergency on the border and has called for military deployment to establish, as he puts it, “operational control of the border,” his people will discover that there are already many tools in his proverbial enforcement box. Far from a stark cutoff and change, the present power transition will undoubtedly prove to be more of a handoff—and to put that in context, just note that such a bipartisan relay race at the border has been going on for decades.
The Bipartisan Border Consensus
In early 2024, I was waiting in a car at the DeConcini Port of Entry in Nogales, Arizona, when a white, nondescript bus pulled up in the lane next to me. We were at the beginning of the fourth year of Biden’s presidency. Even though he had come into office promising more humane border policies, the enforcement apparatus hadn’t changed much, if at all. On either side of that port of entry were rust-colored, 20-foot-high border walls made of bollards and draped with coiling razor wire, which stretched to the horizon in both directions, about 700 miles in total along the U.S.-Mexico border.
In Nogales, the wall itself was a distinctly bipartisan effort, built during the administrations of Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama. Here, Trump’s legacy was adding concertina wire that, in 2021, the city’s mayor pleaded with Biden to take down (to no avail).
There were also sturdy surveillance posts along the border, courtesy of a contract with military monolith General Dynamics. In them, cameras stared over the border wall into Mexico like dozens of voyeurs. Border Patrol agents in green-striped trucks were also stationed at various points along the wall, constantly eyeing Mexico. And mind you, this represented just the first layer of a surveillance infrastructure that extended up to 100 miles into the U.S. interior and included yet more towers with sophisticated camera systems (like the 50 integrated fixed towers in southern Arizona constructed by the Israeli company Elbit Systems), underground motion sensors, immigration checkpoints with license-plate readers, and sometimes even facial recognition cameras. And don’t forget the regular inspection overflights by drones, helicopters, and fixed-wing aircraft.
Since 2008, ICE and CBP have issued 118,457 contracts, or about 14 a day.
The command-and-control centers, which follow the feeds of that digital, virtual, expansive border wall in a room full of monitors, gave the appropriate Hollywood war-movie feel to the scene, one that makes the Trump “invasion” rhetoric seem almost real.
From my idling car, I watched several disheveled families get off that bus. Clearly disoriented, they lined up in front of a large steel gate with thick bars, where two blue-uniformed Mexican officials waited. The children looked especially scared. A young one—maybe three years old—jumped into her mother’s arms and hugged her tightly. The scene was emotional. Just because I happened to be there at that moment, I witnessed one of many deportations that would happen that day. Those families were among the more than 4 million deported and expelled during the Biden years, a mass expulsion that has largely gone undiscussed.
About a year later, on January 20, Donald Trump stood in the U.S. Capitol building giving his inaugural speech and assuring that crowded room full of officials, politicians, and billionaires that he had a “mandate” and that “America’s decline” was over. He received a standing ovation for saying that he would “declare a national emergency at our southern border,” adding, “All illegal entry will be halted. And we’ll begin the process of sending millions and millions of criminal aliens back to the places from which they came.” He would, he insisted, “repel the disastrous invasion of our country.”
Implied, as in 2016 when he declared that he was going to build a border wall that already existed, was that Trump would take charge of a supposedly “open border” and finally deal with it. Of course, he gave no credence to the massive border infrastructure he was inheriting.
Back in Nogales, a year earlier, I watched Mexican officials open up that heavy gate and formally finish the deportation process on those families. I was already surrounded by decades of infrastructure, part of more than $400 billion of investment since 1994, when border deterrence began under the Border Patrol’s Operation Gatekeeper. Those 30 years had seen the most massive expansion of the border and immigration apparatus the United States had ever experienced.
The border budget, $1.5 billion in 1994 under the Immigration and Naturalization Service, has risen incrementally every year since then. It was turbocharged after 9/11 by the creation of U.S. Customs and Border Protection (or CBP) and U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (or ICE), whose combined budget in 2024 exceeded $30 billion for the first time. Not only were the Biden administration’s contracts larger than those of its predecessors, but its budget power grew, too. The 2024 budget was more than $5 billion higher than the 2020 budget, the last year of Trump’s first term in office. Since 2008, ICE and CBP have issued 118,457 contracts, or about 14 a day.
As I watched that family somberly walk back into Mexico, the child still in her mother’s embrace, it was yet another reminder of just how farcical the open-borders narrative has been. In reality, Donald Trump is inheriting the most fortified border in American history, increasingly run by private corporations, and he’s about to use all the power at his disposal to make it more so.
“Is He Going to Be Like Obama?”
Fisherman Gerardo Delgado’s blue boat is rocking as we talk on a drying-up, possibly dying lake in central Chihuahua, Mexico. He shows me his meager catch that day in a single orange, plastic container. He shelled out far more money for gas than those fish would ever earn him at the market.
“You’re losing money?” I ask.
“Every day,” he replies.
It wasn’t always like this. He points to his community, El Toro, that’s now on a hill overlooking the lake—except that hill wasn’t supposed to be there. Once upon a time, El Toro had been right on the lakeshore. Now, the lake has receded so much that the shore is remarkably far away.
According to forecasts for the homeland and border-control markets, climate change is a factor spurring the industry’s rapid growth.
Two years earlier, Delgado told me, his town ran out of water and his sisters, experiencing the beginning of what was about to be a full-on catastrophe, left for the United States. Now, more than half of the families in El Toro have departed as well.
Another fisherman, Alonso Montañes tells me they are witnessing an “ecocide.” As we travel along the lake, you can see how far the water has receded. It hasn’t rained for months, not even during the summer rainy season. And no rain is forecast again until July or August, if at all.
On shore, the farmers are in crisis and I realize I’m in the middle of a climate disaster, a moment in which—for me—climate change went from the abstract and futuristic to something raw, real, and now. There hasn’t been a megadrought of this intensity for decades. While I’m there, the sun continues to burn, scorchingly, and it’s far hotter than it should be in December.
The lake is also a reservoir from which farmers would normally receive irrigation water. I asked every farmer I met what he or she was going to do. Their responses, though different, were tinged with fear. Many were clearly considering migrating north.
“But what about Trump?” asked a farmer named Miguel under the drying up pecan trees in the orchard where he worked. At the inauguration, Trump said, “As commander and chief I have no other choice but to protect our country from threats and invasions, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. We are going to do it at a level that nobody has ever seen before.”
What came to mind when I saw that inauguration was a 2003 Pentagon climate assessment in which the authors claimed that the United States would have to build “defensive fortresses” to stop “unwanted, starving migrants” from all over Latin America and the Caribbean. The Pentagon begins planning for future battlefields 25 years in advance, and its assessments now invariably include the worst scenarios for climate change (even if Donald Trump doesn’t admit that the phenomenon exists). One non-Pentagon assessment states that the lack of water in places like Chihuahua in northern Mexico is a potential “threat multiplier.” The threat to the United States, however, is not the drought but what people will do because of it.
“Is he going to be like Obama?” Miguel asked about Trump. Indeed, Barack Obama was president when Miguel was in the United States, working in agriculture in northern New Mexico. Though he wasn’t deported, he remembers living in fear of a ramping-up deportation machine under the 44th president. As I listened to Miguel talk about the drought and the border, that 2003 Pentagon assessment seemed far less hyperbolic and far more like a prophecy.
Now, according to forecasts for the homeland and border-control markets, climate change is a factor spurring the industry’s rapid growth. After all, future projections for people on the move, thanks to an increasingly overheating planet, are quite astronomical and the homeland security market, whoever may be president, is now poised to reach nearly $1 trillion by the 2030s.
It’s now an open secret that Trump’s invasion and deportation spiels, as well as his plans to move thousands of U.S. military personnel to the border, have not only proved popular with his large constituency but also with private prison companies like GEO Group and others building the present and future nightmarish infrastructure for a world of deportation. They have proven no less popular with the Democrats themselves.
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How to Argue With the Deportation Advocates in Your Family This Holiday Season
I work with Latino migrants every day—here’s the history to help you stand up for people like my students during Christmas dinner.
Dec 23, 2024
Once again, the holiday season is upon us. Whether we choose to celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa—or simply participate in ongoing festivities—we can all agree that it’s a special time of the year, graced by extended time with family and friends, good food, and merrymaking. For obvious reasons already enumerated in countless media outlets, it can also be a stressful time, a lonely time, and a sad time. This year, but a few weeks after the 2024 Presidential Elections, the stakes are even higher. The probability of uncomfortable dinners has grown, perhaps exponentially, as we take stock of how deeply divided our nation truly is.
2025 will bring us Trump Show 2.0, with the president-elect promising mass deportations of undocumented immigrants, many from Latin America. Indeed, immigration was THE issue of the 2024 presidential election, so conditions should be ideal for Christmas dinners, family get-togethers, and champagne toasts to be riven by divergent opinions on the influx of newcomers to the U.S., whose growth over the past years was significant enough to be labelled, at least by some news outlets, a “surge.”
How can we talk productively about our historical moment and ourselves as we sip eggnog beside the yule log and under the mistletoe? How can we gift our interlocutors with arguments wrapped not in vitriol but rather, history? How can we look beyond the ill-willed gaslighting particular to once-a-year family reunions? For some of us talking more cogently about these delicate topics may lessen the pressures of the holiday season. For others, a more humane and reasoned public discourse may be a matter of life and death. After all, nothing less than the weight of history itself has brought them here.
Migrants and residents, undocumented and documented individuals, are living the same neoliberal moment, in which wages are pushed down, the informal economy grows, and workers experience a new flexibility as precariousness.
While I teach Spanish and Latin American culture at the collegiate level during the day, I teach both ESL and a Spanish-language version of the GED during the evening hours. These two roles inform how I think through our present moment. Let’s give ourselves the gift of both history and experience for Christmas—headlines and heartbeats, doubt and decisions.
First is the formidable list of number ones we enjoy in the United States. We are both number one in terms of consumption and, less joyfully, prisons. We are simultaneously the biggest mall and the biggest jail the world has ever known. We are a nation defined by emphatic commerce on one hand and, on the other hand, consequences for those who don’t follow along.
Our bounties are especially notable in terms of foodstuffs and, perhaps even more notable in terms of who produces our food. Latinos make up roughly one-third of those employed in the poultry industry—a major economic force for documented and undocumented workers alike in places like rural Missouri, Virginia’s Eastern Shore, and Mississippi. Slaughtering chickens is no easy task, but catching chickens may be even more difficult. Latinos also have a foothold in the dairy industry; cows can, in fact, be milked three times a day, so those working will have to be available during the early morning hours. Gardening, construction, and drywall are also significant employers of Latino labor in the United States.
Beyond what newspapers and anthropologists tell us, I know that my ESL and GED students—some of them documented, some of them not—often work in these sectors. They also work in places that are closer to home for most of us: restaurants, hotels, and even Walmart. Indeed, the behemoth retailer Walmart was sued once some 20 years for abusing undocumented workers. If I am listening to my students correctly, it may be time again to examine the chain’s labor practices. Staffing agencies seem to be crucial in allowing the continued employment of undocumented labor: They provide a means to muddle up paperwork, intake non-English speakers, and forge employer-employee connections.
In both of my evening classes, my Latino students come and go. Their enthusiasm is palpable, but so is their exhaustion. Almost no one enjoys perfect attendance given the heinous flexibility of their jobs. Roofers can’t lay shingles in the rain. Housekeepers don’t clean rooms where guests haven’t slept. But when they are called in, they seemingly can’t afford to say no. Their education, naturally, is pushed on the proverbial backburner. It’s no fun being fungible.
In my GED class, we have studied how to develop arguments for the expository essay section. When asked to justify their claims in writing, my Latino students inevitably signal financial concerns as paramount. No matter the prompt and no matter what issue students are asked to weigh in on—junk food in high schools, obligatory military service, the humaneness of zoos, etc.—students consistently turn to personal finances to back their arguments. Maybe junk food is a low-cost alternative to cooking? Does the army pay well? Can zoos be self-funded? For my students, personal financial matters are preternaturally totalizing and give me a glimpse as to what they are really thinking about on a daily basis.
But again: the specter of deportation and possibility of changing hearts at the dinner table.
What the current debate misses is the deep history of these contemporary phenomena. Few Americans are aware of the Bracero Program or Operation Bootstrap, two accords (one between the U.S. and Mexico, another between the U.S. and Puerto Rico) that first brought thousands of workers to the lower 48. As American servicemen and women fought in two theaters overseas during World War II, workers were still needed to operate wood lathes, pull weeds, and lay railroad tracks. The briefest survey of amazing photographs culled from this mid-century moment make plain how we should think about that time. For Latino workers, it was a story of both commerce and control, opportunity and degradation, pride and poverty. Above all, what we should remember at the dinner table was that it was an invitation—an offer to enter the world’s largest mall and its biggest prison. During downturns—or, after soldiers returned to the U.S.—these actions were reversed.
The next bit of history that helps to explain our present moment takes us to 1994.
The late 1990s and early 2000s were a pivotal time in the southwestern United States borderlands. The passage of NAFTA in 1994 marked a new era of trade between the United States, Mexico, and Canada, aimed at boosting the flow of goods by loosening trade restrictions. This shift allowed the U.S. economy to dominate the Mexican market, leading to instability in Mexico’s labor force and driving many to seek opportunities in the U.S., resulting in a surge in undocumented crossings at the Southern border.
While NAFTA was intended to open borders for trade and close them for people, the increased migration highlighted the human impact of market policies. These changes coincided with a shift in U.S. border policy under President Bill Clinton, focusing on prevention through deterrence. This strategy involved concentrating surveillance forces in urban areas like El Paso and San Diego, pushing undocumented migrants into the harsh terrain of Arizona.
As immigration from Latin America has risen, anti-immigrant sentiment has also grown. You may see some of this at Christmas dinner. It has also led to stricter laws, a more controlled border, and U.S. pressure on Mexico to militarize. Discussion of building a wall on the U.S.-Mexico border may arise during your merrymaking, too. Most of us don’t realize that even in places with the roughest terrain, where building a fence would be amazingly difficult, individuals find ways to cross. Conversation may then turn to ideas about the “sovereignty” of a nation. But defining what a nation is has—and continues to be—a rather difficult task. Others gathered for the festivities may put forth that immigrants sap social services. The fact is, however, a great many undocumented workers pay taxes. Finally, others that are present at your Christmas gatherings may claim that migrants are stealing away jobs from other Americans. The truth may be, however, that migrants and residents, undocumented and documented individuals, are living the same neoliberal moment, in which wages are pushed down, the informal economy grows, and workers experience a new flexibility as precariousness.
Perhaps around the time that dessert comes out, you may introduce a bit of theory to your guests—the Foucauldian notion that workers, within capital, whether documented or undocumented, have been increasingly rendered “docile bodies” over the past 50 or so years: powerless, susceptible, and constantly in movement. This is not to say we should forever characterize migrants as passive agents, thrown to the wind, capable of little more than provoking liberal guilt. Rather, we should interrogate what about our present moment created the most flexible, most fungible, most vulnerable—and perhaps, most usable—population in the history of humanity.
I, for one, will raise a glass at the end of my Christmas meal, toasting my students, their work ethic, and their hopes for a better life. I hope they can return to my classroom in the New Year, not dragged off by the promise of another siding job, another garden gig, another chicken coop in the next state over.
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What is the Progressive Working-Class Policy on Immigration?
That we don't know the answer to this question is the first problem that must be addressed.
Dec 10, 2024
So what is the progressive working-class policy when it comes to immigration?
I don’t know the answer and neither does anyone else, because there isn’t one. Why is that?
To date there has been no serious effort to bring together the leaders of labor unions and immigrant workers centers to discuss common approaches to immigration that speak to the needs of all working people.
Further, and perhaps even more importantly, there has been no sustained educational dialogue at the local level that brings together immigrant and non-immigrant workers to discuss their hopes, fears, and desires.
To be sure there are widely shared negative positions: Opposition to separating immigrant families; opposition to creating mass detention centers; and opposition to forcibly expelling undocumented workers who are working hard and obeying the law. But there is no broad-based discussion, let alone agreement, on what a progressive working-class policy should include.
This is a disaster for progressive politics. For without addressing what is perceived widely as an immigration crisis, the field is left open to demagogues who want to divide and exploit workers for political gain.
Elements of a Progressive Working-Class Policy
There are several proactive and positive avenues to developing new progressive immigration policies. The first is the need to rebuild Latin American economies so that residents of those countries can find secure and sustainable employment near home. As one labor leader told me last week, we need an immediate multibillion-dollar Marshall Plan for these countries so that their people do not need to risk life and limb to come to the U.S. for incredibly low-wage jobs.
Unless a working-class approach to immigration is developed, progressive politics will become increasingly alienated from working people, and the right will make greater and greater inroads into the working class by promoting a politics of fear and resentment.
Making these changes is a tall order, but the root cause of the migrant crisis needs to be identified and discussed again and again. People are fleeing violence, dictatorships, and collapsing economies that U.S. financial assistance can help to rectify, and one could argue, that Wall Street’s wealth extraction and U.S. foreign policy maneuvers helped to create.
There is also reason to believe that non-immigrant workers increasingly support a path to citizenship for undocumented workers. In researching my book, Wall Street’s War on Workers, we uncovered a remarkable change in the attitudes of white members of the working class.
The Cooperative Elections Study, which has over one-half million respondents, asked the following highly charged question on immigration in 2010 and again in 2020:
“Do you favor or oppose granting legal status to all illegal immigrants who have held jobs and paid taxes for at least three years, and not been convicted of any felony crimes?”
In 2010, only 32.1 percent supported granting such legal status. By 2020, those who favored a pathway to legal status jumped to a remarkable 61.8 percent.
These working-class respondents, however, also want more enforcement on the border. In 2020, 72.6 percent were in favor of “increasing the number of border patrols on the U.S.- Mexican border.” This is a 5 percent increase compared to those who supported this statement in 2010.
Working people who are citizens want to see a fair and just path forward for the millions of law-abiding undocumented immigrants who are already here. But they don’t want open borders or mass unauthorized immigration.
This is not just a white worker phenomenon. Hispanic voters also seem to support a firmly policed border. That can be deduced from the enormous change in voting patterns in South Texas. Among 14 mostly Hispanic counties, Trump won 12. In 2016 he won only five. And Trump, to be sure, in the last campaign increased his focus on stopping the flow of immigrants even while threatening to deport all undocumented workers.
An Educational Model
In the 1990s, the Labor Institute—which I direct—conducted dozens of workshops that brought together environmentalists and oil and chemical workers to discuss climate change and the regulatory elimination of toxic substances. The workshops created an educational base in both groups for the idea of Just Transition, a set of policies to help workers and communities deal with the job dislocation that was likely to result from efforts to reduce toxic chemical production and the use of fossil fuels. It also led to new organizations that brought together workers and community members, such as the Just Transition Alliance and the BlueGreen Alliance.
A similar model should be created today bringing together immigrant and non-immigrant workers in joint workshops to share with each other their concerns and hopes, and to discuss joint policies on immigrant reform.
If ever there was a time to start an on-going dialogue, this is it.
There’s no guarantee that such an educational model will, on its own, produce progressive working-class immigration policies. But it is highly doubtful that a new common direction can be built without listening to rank-and-file immigrant and non-immigrant workers. Workshops can provide a safe and productive space to frankly consider and evaluate alternatives.
One thing is certain. Unless a working-class approach to immigration is developed, progressive politics will become increasingly alienated from working people, and the right will make greater and greater inroads into the working class by promoting a politics of fear and resentment.
If ever there was a time to start an on-going dialogue, this is it. Not doing so would be just another sign that progressives are writing off the working class.
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