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Immigrants Aren't Invaders; Often, They Are Fleeing US or European Invasions
The West has a long history of destabilizing countries the world over and then attacking the people who flee those wars.
Jan 31, 2026
After a year of gutting the United States government, deploying armed jackboots to American cities, and bombing at least seven countries, the Trump administration kicked off 2026 by invading Venezuela and kidnapping its president, Nicolás Maduro, and his wife, Cilia Flores. In the wake of that assault, President Donald Trump doubled down on his abandonment of the isolationist positions he once supposedly held, threatening military action against Colombia, Cuba, Iran, and Mexico. He then vowed that the US would come to “own” Greenland either “the easy way” or “the hard way.”
In truth, American imperialism defines much of this country’s history, but the latest escalation comes at a time when Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents have also been deployed around the nation to grab immigrants off the streets and whisk them to detention centers. Meanwhile, Trump has continued to preach the jingoistic gospel of stopping the arrival of new refugees and migrants, while blasting European governments over migration—even as he vows to launch military campaigns that will undoubtedly result in further mass displacements and fleeing people crossing borders in search of safety.
Destabilizing countries the world over and then attacking the people who flee those wars is, of course, nothing new. From the September 11 attacks in 2001 until September 2020, this country’s war on terror, according to one study, displaced an estimated 37 million people in eight countries. And that figure doesn’t even include several million displaced during smaller conflicts the US participated in from Chad to Tunisia, Mali to Saudi Arabia. Nor does it include the number of people displaced by Israel’s five wars since 2008 in and around the Gaza Strip; its land theft in the occupied West Bank; or its frequent airstrikes in Lebanon, Syria, and even Iran, all made possible thanks to Washington’s financial and military support.
When it comes to Washington demonizing the people displaced by its weapons, just ask the Palestinians. Millions of them live strewn across the map of the Middle East and beyond thanks to Israel’s ongoing military occupation and the American tax dollars that have enabled it.
“Eight Lives, Gone Just Like That”
In March 2015, I sat in the back of a taxi bound for Saida, a Lebanese coastal city a little less than an hour south of Beirut. The taxi hummed down the highway, the sea blurring through the windows to our right, and then swerved inland. Saida is more than 30 miles north of the country’s boundary with Israel and some 50 miles west of the border with Syria, but even that deep inside Lebanon, a de facto border appeared in the front windshield. The driver made a series of turns, braked, and inched toward a military checkpoint outside Ain al-Hilweh, a Palestinian refugee camp.
Lebanese soldiers appeared on either side of the vehicle. Their job was to decide who could—and could not—enter the camp. After reading over our documents and ensuring that we had the proper military permission to enter the camp, the soldiers motioned the driver to move forward. We eased in amid a sprawl of ramshackle homes, many built atop one another. It was a dusty, humid day, but people clogged the streets. Children punted a soccer ball back and forth in the road. Motorbikes trembled over potholes. Men stood around in knots, smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee, and some walked by with Kalashnikovs slung over their shoulders.
Along with an American photographer and a Lebanese reporter, I had gone to Ain al-Hilweh, the largest of Lebanon’s 12 Palestinian camps, to speak to people who had been doubly displaced by the war in neighboring Syria. As that civil war tore through the country—a war that drew interventions from the US, Great Britain, France, Israel, Russia, Iran, and several other places—Palestinian refugees from Syria found themselves fleeing to Lebanon. The population of Ain al-Hilweh alone had swelled by tens of thousands.
"For my whole life, I’ve seen Palestinians move from tragedy to tragedy, and from nakba to nakba.”
Of the Palestinians we met that day, the only ones who had ever set foot in their ancestral homeland were those who had been born before—and lived through—the 1948 war that led to Israel’s creation. What we’d soon learn, however, was that a term like double displacement failed to capture the extent to which borders had governed every aspect of their lives in permanent and repeated exile.
In a corner store with barren shelves, we found Afaf Dashe sitting in a small chair near the counter. At 70 years old, she had survived the Nakba—Arabic for catastrophe, the term Palestinians use to describe the ethnic cleansing of their country since 1948—as a three-year-old girl when her family fled to Syria. She had grown up in a suburb of Damascus, married, and raised children. When civil war started to rip through Syria in 2011, she and her family gritted it out through four years of barrel bombs, airstrikes, and shelling before they finally escaped.
While Ain al-Hilweh offered some respite, it offered neither true safety nor stability. In Lebanon, decades of state repression, lethal Israeli interventions, and failed Palestinian rebellions had left such refugees particularly vulnerable. Rather than setting down new roots in that dismal camp, Afaf explained, three of her daughters, along with five of her grandchildren, had decided to risk taking the long, often deadly journey to Europe. After crossing from Syria to Lebanon, they parted with Afaf and continued on by sea to Libya. They then paid smugglers to board a boat bound for Italy. As Afaf reached that point in her story, tears gathered in her eyes and she paused, for a long moment staring into the distance, seemingly at nothing, before turning back to us. The boat carrying her family, she said, had capsized in the Mediterranean Sea. “Eight lives, gone just like that. For my whole life, I’ve seen Palestinians move from tragedy to tragedy, and from nakba to nakba.”
More than once in her life, it occurred to me, wars had pushed her, her children, and her grandchildren across borders and, in a distinctly embattled world, borders decided where she and her loved ones could possibly move, where they could live, and where they could die. I thought about the US passport in my pocket, the relative ease with which I had crossed borders throughout my adult life, and the American tax dollars that helped doom Afaf to a life of permanent exile. She would be the first person I met who had lost loved ones simply looking to cross a border to find safety, but by no means the last.
Violent Borders
For tens of millions of people, borders are not merely places where the risk of violence is present. Borders are, by definition, violent. Borders are not merely crossed. Borders must be survived and endured. Borders are not only walls and razor wire. Borders are guards and police, surveillance cameras and drones, batons and bullets. For those tens of millions of people, borders don’t stop where one country ends and the next begins; they stalk and haunt across endless miles and years. Borders are both crime scenes and crimes, with nationalism the motive.
For people forced to flee, the violence doesn’t stop once they escape countries being bombed or economically strangled. The journey itself offers its own slate of dangers. The International Migration Organization has recorded more than 33,200 instances of refugees and migrants dying or going missing in the Mediterranean Sea alone since 2014. Between 1994 and 2024, rights groups estimate that more than 80,000 people died in the deserts or rivers on and around the US-Mexico border.
Perhaps more than anything else, the idea of strong borders has fueled the fascist-style surge that now grips the United States and significant parts of Europe.
Throughout the last decade, I’ve traveled along the European refugee trail, stopping off in countries across the Balkans and Central and Western Europe, while also reporting from American communities along the heavily militarized US-Mexico border. Wherever I’ve gone, the displaced have horror stories to tell—of people drowned at sea, of migrants shot along borders, and others who simply disappeared along “the refugee trail.” At a shelter in Belgrade, Serbia, Afghans who had fled the fallout of the US war in their country and walked the endless land route from Turkey spoke of the Bulgarian border police who had detained, threatened, or beaten them along the way. On the Serbian border with Hungary, Moroccans and Algerians told me of policemen who beat their feet with batons to deter them from ever trying to cross the border again. In Greece, young men from Sudan and Somalia—their countries no strangers to US intervention—described the tear gas and rubber bullets they faced on the country’s northern border with Macedonia. In Turkey, Syrians told me about the dogs that Bulgarian border police sicced on them. In Arizona, people recalled walking for so long in the Mexican desert that the soles of their shoes tore apart.
Perhaps more than anything else, the idea of strong borders has fueled the fascist-style surge that now grips the United States and significant parts of Europe. From the time Donald Trump first entered the Oval Office in January 2017, far-right and ultranationalist parties around Europe have also gained ground in ways that would once have been unimaginable—and where the far-right has yet to take power, center-left and liberal parties have often swung hard to the right on their immigration and border enforcement policies.
In one breath, even Democratic Party officials in the United States, still singing praises of liberal democracy, are also promising to crack down on immigration and strengthen border enforcement in a desperate bid to appear tougher in the age of Donald Trump. In the United Kingdom, the center-left Labour Party ousted the Conservatives in 2024, only to put into practice anti-immigrant policies that align with those even further to the right, like Nigel Farage and his UK Independence Party. In Greece, even after the violent neo-Nazi Golden Dawn party was banned, following years of anti-immigrant violence, the nominally center-right New Democracy Party adopted and repackaged its rhetoric in slightly modified form, while placing a former fascist in charge of its migration ministry. From the United States to Europe, immigration is ever less often discussed as a humanitarian issue and ever more often described in terms of an “invasion,” functionally recasting desperate civilians as armed soldiers.
Politically, the invasion story is more easily digestible than the grim actual stories of displaced people. Unsurprisingly, it has found ever larger audiences. And consider that a grim irony, since so many of the people crossing into the US and Europe, even before they faced deadly journeys at sea and militarized borders, were driven from their countries at least in part due to American and European involvement in mass violence and policies designed to foster economic collapse in their homelands.
Such invasion stories about immigrants are, of course, anything but new, after centuries in which a nationalistic desire for hard borders has undergirded so many claims that war and violence are necessary. In 1908, a decade before she herself was deported from the United States, the Lithuanian-American anarchist Emma Goldman pointed to the violence at the heart of such nationalism during a speech in San Francisco. “Patriotism assumes that our globe is divided into little spots, each one surrounded by an iron gate,” she told her audience. “Those who have had the fortune of being born on some particular spot consider themselves nobler, better, grander, more intelligent than those living beings inhabiting any other spot. It is, therefore, the duty of everyone living on that chosen spot to fight, kill, and die in the attempt to impose his superiority upon all the others.”
Hope in the Pushback
In the decade since I started covering migration and borders, I have also witnessed what resistance to the anti-immigrant far-right might look like. In Greece, activists and volunteers, anarchists, socialists, and everyday people worked together to do what they could to offer an alternative to the grim realities displaced people were experiencing. On Greek islands like Lesbos, humanitarians gathered by the shore to help the displaced disembark from boats. Others headed out to sea to rescue people from sinking vessels. In Athens, anarchists and other leftists occupied abandoned buildings, refashioning them into squats that displaced immigrants could inhabit without the overcrowding and decrepit living conditions of the official camps. In Germany, everyday people opened their homes to newly arrived refugees. In Austin, Texas, the congregants of a church told me about how they had taken in asylum-seekers facing deportation.
And today, Americans in cities from Chicago to Los Angeles have rallied to push back against the Trump administration’s immigration raids. Ever since an ICE agent shot and killed Renee Good in Minneapolis in January, ever more protesters have taken to the streets in growing numbers to voice their opposition to state-sanctioned murder and the Trump administration’s drive to carry out mass deportations fueled more by cruelty than any concern for the country’s safety. As the president deepens federal deployments and threatens to use the military against what he calls the “invasion from within,” those demonstrators undoubtedly understand that their own fates are wrapped up with those of immigrants and refugees. Squats, humanitarian aid, and mass protests may not stop the cruel wheels of the anti-immigrant political machine, but they do offer glimmers of hope at a time when hope is in short supply.
You can buy into the claim that the most powerful countries on the planet are the victims of invasions or remember that actual invasions and the military campaigns that create lethal cycles of mass displacement are happening in all too many places on this planet.
In the early months of 2026, that hope may be needed more than ever, in part because all too many Americans and Europeans continue to empower politicians who recycle the tired argument that, if there were fewer immigrants, life in their countries would be more prosperous and peaceful. In the lead-up to the 2024 election, Donald Trump bluntly assured Americans that immigrants were invaders who were “poisoning the blood of our country.” During the first year of his second term, his administration snatched international students off the streets, separated families, and shipped immigrants off to foreign prisons. Meanwhile, he continued to repeatedly tell Americans that they were being “invaded,” a story that comes with a painful body count, while courting what inevitably loiters behind nationalism and nativism: fear.
In her novel White Teeth, Zadie Smith put all of that in perspective this way: “But it makes an immigrant laugh to hear the fears of the nationalist, scared of infection, penetration, miscegenation when this is small fry, peanuts, compared to what the immigrant fears—dissolution, disappearance.”
Last year, the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR) estimated that more than 122 million people across the world had been displaced as a result of war, violence, or persecution, a number that marked a decade-long high and was also the 10th consecutive year that the total number of people displaced across the globe had increased. Worse yet, war and military campaigns are still driving people from their homes globally.
Sooner than later, such wars and other disasters will result in yet more people seeking safety in Europe and the United States. When that happens, there is little doubt that far-right leaders, hoping to offload the blame for their own failures, will once again stand in front of us and claim that state violence is necessary to protect our country from an “invasion.” Then, you’ll have to make a choice: You can buy into the claim that the most powerful countries on the planet are the victims of invasions or remember that actual invasions and the military campaigns that create lethal cycles of mass displacement are happening in all too many places on this planet. That choice will determine just how much hope there is for a world where desperate people escaping disasters they had no hand in creating don’t have to consider crossing a manmade line a matter of negotiating their very survival.
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120+ Groups Call on EU to Resist Trump's 'Fossil-Fueled Imperialism' and Cancel US Trade Deal
"The EU is at a fork in the road: It can follow the US down a volatile, destructive path or it can forge its own course toward stability."
Jan 29, 2026
As the European Parliament debates the trade agreement reached last year by President Donald Trump and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen, more than 120 civil society groups from across Europe and the globe on Thursday warned that the demands Trump has made on the bloc and his "contempt for international law" have made clear that the US is currently "no longer a good-faith partner."
In solidarity with countries that have been directly threatened with Trump's "fossil-fueled imperialism"—Venezuela and Greenland—the EU must reduce its reliance on US fossil fuels and cancel the negotiation and implementation of the trade deal, said Oil Change International, one of the signatories of the open letter that was sent to von der Leyen and other top EU officials.
The letter notes that Trump has already shown that in a deal with the US, the EU will be pressured to "dilute its own climate commitments" and "enrich US fossil fuel companies" at the bloc's expense.
"His administration has attacked the EU's methane regulation and its Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence Directive, seeking to weaken Europe's ability to hold corporations accountable for climate and human rights harms," reads the letter, which was also signed by Coal Action Network in the UK, Urgewald in Germany, and a number of US-based groups including Public Citizen.
Von der Leyen agreed to the deal last July after Trump threatened the bloc with "economically devastating tariffs," the groups wrote, ensuring the EU would import $750 billion in US energy products including liquefied natural gas (LNG).
Those imports will "contaminate the air and water of nearby communities, increasing their risk of cancers, asthma, and other serious health harms," warns the letter, while also being projected to raise energy costs for households across Europe.
Up to 1 in 4 homes in the EU already struggle to adequately heat, cool, or light their homes, wrote the groups.
James Hiatt, executive director of the US group For a Better Bayou, called on EU leaders to "side with communities like mine, not the fossil fuel executives bankrolling Trump, by ending its reliance on US gas.”
“There’s nothing clean about US LNG," said Hiatt. "This industry has destroyed wetlands, damaged fishermen’s livelihoods, and condemned Gulf South communities like mine to higher rates of heart conditions, asthma, and cancer. We’re also on the frontlines of hurricanes and flooding made worse by continued fossil-fuel dependency Europe keeps importing."
The groups wrote that "every euro spent on US non-renewable energy, and every fossil fuel investment made by European companies and banks in the United States, fuels Trump's authoritarian agenda at home and his imperial ambitions abroad."
"The only way Europe can reach energy independence and free itself from outside pressures is by implementing a just transition away from fossil fuels and relying on energy sufficiency/efficiency and homegrown renewable energy," reads the letter. "Done well, this can support decent jobs and sound local economies."
By ratifying the deal with the US, the groups added, the EU will only be "switching one dangerous dependency for another," following its phase-out of oil imports from Russia.
The bloc will also be "giving up its sovereignty bit by bit, losing the competitiveness battle, deepening the climate crisis which will be putting its own people's lives at even higher risk from extreme weather, and jeopardizing its ambitions to be seen as a global climate leader," reads the letter.
Trump's threat to seize Greenland from the Danish kingdom and his illegal strikes on Venezuela—aimed, his administration has admitted, at taking control of its oil—have shown how willing the president is to violate international law if it serves his own interests, the groups suggested.
The groups made specific demands of EU leaders, calling on them to:
- Stand in solidarity with Latin American nations threatened by the US, including Venezuela, and with Greenland, affirming that "it is up to its people, and only them, to decide on their future";
- Put forward a motion at the United Nations condemning the Trump administration's "blatant violations of international law";
- Immediately cancel negotiations and implementation of the US-EU trade deal;
- Engage with EU member states to renew the European Green Deal and establish a binding roadmap for the phase-out of fossil gas, in particular US LNG;
- Defend the existing EU Methane Regulation and ensure it is applied to imports; and
- Support the First International Conference on the Just Transition Away from Fossil Fuels, organized by the governments of Colombia and the Netherlands.
“Under Trump, the US has become a rogue state that violates international law and bullies sovereign nations into submitting to its ‘energy dominance’ agenda," said Myriam Douo, false solutions senior campaigner for Oil Change International. "The EU must stop wasting money on risky, expensive US fossil fuels, which threaten climate goals, put people at greater risk of climate disasters, and harm communities with toxic pollution."
"The EU is at a fork in the road: It can follow the US down a volatile, destructive path or it can forge its own course toward stability," said Douo. "It can save billions, build a resilient economy, and ensure its long-term energy security and independence through a just transition to renewable energy."
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Greenland: How the EU Remembered International Law
After having participated in and refused to condemn military aggression by others, the EU is ringing the alarm when that aggression threatens its shores.
Jan 21, 2026
Denmark and other European Union states are deploying additional troops to Greenland, world leaders are exchanging messages of concern with US President Donald Trump, Canada moves to expand its trade relations with China, and tariff warfare is being explored by both sides of the Atlantic. As the US threatens to annex Greenland, potentially putting major NATO allies against each other, the political commotion is real. The US’ imperial ambitions, combined with Greenland’s rich mineral and freshwater resources, are an understandable concern for EU leaders.
Examining the EU’s stance on recent violations of international law by the US and Israel, and expanding our analysis to include how the EU has responded to US military aggression in other regions, it is hard not to see the hypocrisy in urging the US to adhere to international law now. Let’s look at that hypocrisy up close.
“Concerns” and a Lack of Concrete Action Over Principled Condemnation and Accountability
When it comes to speaking out against aggression by the US and Israel, a state that bombed six countries and attacked three more in their territorial waters just in 2025, the EU’s record shows a grim example of moral gymnastics.
For example, the EU has not released an official statement condemning Israeli aggression against Yemen. Yet it had no problems accusing Yemen of what it called “indiscriminate attacks against international maritime shipping in the Red Sea, and against Israel.” When Israel bombed Iran in June 2025, which, in turn, sent rockets to Israel, the EU did not express a condemnation but its “deepest concern”:
The EU reiterates its strong commitment to regional security, including the security of the State of Israel, and calls on all sides to abide by international law, show restraint, and refrain from taking further steps which could lead to serious consequences such as potential radioactive release.
Notice how it is the security of Israel—the party that initiated military aggression in this case—that the EU chooses to mention, and not the country whose territorial integrity was infringed upon first.
What is more revealing than the refusal to express any written condemnation is the fact that the EU’s statements to this day have not been accompanied by any concrete punitive action toward Israel. There are no significant sanctions in place, and the suspension of the EU-Israel Association Agreement, a framework that guides their bilateral trade, has been proposed but not officially discussed, and is currently being pushed by a citizens’ initiative. What the EU has granted Israel for violating international law grossly and continuously has been only complete impunity. Let’s not forget that not even the July 2024 ruling by the International Court of Justice declaring Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories unlawful and demanding it withdraw from the territories and provide reparations was a factor for the EU to hold Israel accountable to follow through in any way.
Most recently, when the US attacked Venezuela on January 3, 2025, kidnapping its head of state, Nicolás Maduro, and his wife, and murdering tens of people and injuring over a hundred, the EU had an opportunity to condemn a violation of the United Nations Charter. Instead, as in Iran’s case, a statement encouraging both sides to refrain from further escalation of violence was issued; the aggressor was neither identified nor condemned. In fact, the EU took this opportunity to reiterate that it considers the Maduro government illegitimate, as if such a view legally justifies the breach of any state's sovereignty.
When Stronger Language Becomes Possible
The EU has shown that, in certain cases, it can condemn one country’s attacks on another sovereign state. To spot this, contrast the abovementioned language with how Russia’s attacks on Ukraine have been assessed in official EU communications. Here, Russia’s military aggression and the infringements of Ukraine’s territorial sovereignty are clearly condemned, sometimes even “strongly”—language the EU still has not applied to Israeli military actions in Gaza.
In Russia’s case, the aggressor is identified; it is not about both sides being encouraged to refrain from further escalation. Suddenly, we see a firm stance and the EU’s ability to identify the violations of basic international law principles.
One Cannot Condemn What One Supports
The EU’s decision to continually bow down to and appease the US, the world’s military strongman, either out of fear or a lack of moral compass (or both), has left Europe in a situation it might never have expected: the potential for US aggression to turn on one of its member states.
Speaking at the World Economic Forum at Davos, Switzerland, Emmanuel Macron said it was “not a time for new imperialism or new colonialism,” a phrase that only Eurocentric thinking can produce, completely disregarding the US history of the past six decades around the world.
Because there is nothing new about US imperialism, and if we look at which countries sent troops to support the US' illegal invasions over the past two decades, we see neither the EU nor Denmark is an innocent bystander in this neocolonial quest. “We have fought shoulder-to-shoulder with your soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq,” says Julie Rademacher, chair of Uagut, an organization for Greenlanders in Denmark, on Democracy Now!, suggesting this collaboration in the US-led military endeavors should make Europe immune to becoming one of them.
Now, we will see whether diplomacy can curb the US’ imperial ambitions in Europe, something both military support and the EU's lack of moral leadership have only emboldened around the world.
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