A firsthand look at the horrors of immigration detention

by Allyson Hobbs and Ana Raquel Minian

Allyson Hobbs is an associate professor of history, director of African and African American Studies at Stanford University and author of "A Chosen Exile: A History of Racial Passing in American Life." Ana Raquel Minian is assistant professor of history at Stanford University and author of "Undocumented Lives: The Untold Story of Mexican Migration."

... Opened in 1892, Ellis Island Immigration Station— the iconic site of hope and opportunity that welcomed “poor, huddled masses” — was the first dedicated immigration detention facility in the world. It operated for nearly 60 years, closing in 1954 after the federal government reassessed the need for detention. The Supreme Court reaffirmed this change in 1958 in the landmark case Leng May Ma v. Barber, by ruling that “needless confinement” could be avoided through parole and asserting that “physical detention of aliens is now the exception, not the rule.”

Detention, the court argued, did not “reflect the humane qualities of an enlightened civilization.”

The understanding that there were more humane alternatives to detention evaporated in the 1980s. The Reagan administration renewed this practice, citing the fears about mass migrations from Central America, Cuba and Haiti. In an interview on Dec. 3, 1981, President Ronald Reagan said, “In 1980 — the administration then was caught by the great exodus from Cuba. … No planning had been made for that. We’re also looking at available sites and facilities for a detention center for those who are apprehended and are illegal aliens, who will probably be returned.”

Since then, the practice of detaining immigrants has expanded exponentially. Data released by the federal government shows that every day, 15,852 people are detained in Texas, 6,527 in California, 3,869 in Arizona, 3,717 in Georgia and 3,143 in Louisiana. That’s more than 33,000 people in five states every day. It’s no surprise that this practice seems normal.

In McAllen, this normalcy is reinforced by the intimacy between the town and the Border Patrol. Detention is big business for the town. In 2014, the Rio Grande Valley Sector employed more than 3,000 agents. Almost everyone we met knew Border Patrol agents. They are spouses, friends and neighbors. This familiarity creates an incentive to look the other way: Many people do not want to acknowledge that their loved ones are engaged in the violence of detention. Several people told us that the crisis has been “overblown.”

Most disturbing of all, though, is that the very practice of detention renders the men, women and children in the facilities as faceless and nameless as the drab buildings in which they are held. Only a few politicians and clergy members have been granted access to the facilities. There is little information available about who is inside, about their joys, fears, suffering, hope — all of the things that make us human. ...

Read entire article at The Washington Post