José Jorge Mendoza

There are two competing ways of understanding nefarious expressions of nationalism in countries like the U.S., either as xenophobia or racism. In this essay, I offer a way of capturing what is attractive in both accounts: a way of thinking about the xenophobia of U.S. nationalism that does not miss or minimize the role that race plays in condemning such expressions, but at the same time does not risk overextending the definition of racism. To do this, the essay makes a case for decoupling and slightly revising the meaning of the terms “racialization” and “racial formation” while also proposing a third term, “racial disintegration.” In doing so, we find that the xenophobia directed at certain pan-racial groups, at least in places like the U.S., promotes a unique brand of White supremacy and does so in ways that maintain or reshape the nation's understanding of race and specifically its racial categories.

In their article, “Immigrant legalization: A Dilemma Between Justice and The Rule of Law,” Sarah Song and Irene Bloemraad address rule of law objections to policies that would regularize the status of undocumented immigrants in the United States. On their view, justice requires that liberal democratic states (i.e., states that are committed to individual liberty and universal equality) provide pathways for undocumented immigrants to regularize their status. We do not disagree with Song and Bloemraad’s account: rule of law and regularization policies are not inconsistent, and in fact regularization supports rule of law, when properly understood. Our view is that there needs to be a deeper investigation into the motivations of “rule of law” objections considered in Song and Bloemraad’s account. We argue that the real purpose of these objections is not necessarily to serve as an alternative to the justice-based claims of undocumented immigrants, but as a way to undermine them. On our account, these rule of law objections accomplish this undermining task through the mechanisms of dog whistling, discrediting and distorting, and ostracizing.

Until recently, much of the philosophical literature on refugees has focused on what Serena Parekh (2020) in No Refuge: Ethics and the Global Refugee Crisis, calls the “first refugee crisis,” i.e., the refugee crisis as experienced from Europe, understood as the arrival of large numbers of asylum seekers and the political handling of this situation. This literature has therefore dealt primarily with questions about who really counts as a refugee and when states acquire obligations to admit non-citizens. Rarely, however, do philosophers talk about the ethical implications of what Parekh calls “the second refugee crisis”: the crisis for refugees themselves, who “are unable to access the minimum conditions of human dignity while they wait for a more permanent solution.” In short, when philosophers debate the ethics of asylum and refugeehood, the conclusions or insights they come to will, at best, be applicable to about 10 percent of the world’s forcibly displaced. In this review essay, I briefly outline Serena Parekh’s (2020) argument, showing how her reframing of the refugee crisis provides a much-needed intervention in the current philosophical literature. I then extend these insights into questions concerning immigration enforcement. In doing so, I argue that in order to adequately deal with the second refugee crisis we must be more receptive to the open borders position than Parekh seems to allow.

In (Re)Defining Racism, Alberto Urquidez argues that conflicting philosophical accounts over the definition of racism are at bottom linguistic confusions that would benefit from a Wittgensteinian-inspired approach. In this essay, I argue that such an approach would be helpful in disputes over the definition of metaphysically contested concepts, such as “race,” or semantically contested concepts, such as “racialization.” I disagree, however, that such insights would prove helpful or do very little for disputes concerning normatively contested concepts, such as “racism.”

In her book, Socially Undocumented: Identity and Immigration Justice, Amy Reed-Sandoval discloses and criticizes a kind of oppression that is uniquely suffered by a group she identifies as "socially undocumented." The problem with her account is not with the identification of this group nor in her conclusions or recommendations, but in taking an overly constrained version of liberalism as her starting point. This non-radical version of liberalism does not have the necessary resources to properly recognize as unjust the kind of oppression that Reed-Sandoval is most concerned with. I therefore argue in this essay that in order to properly recognize this kind of oppression as unjust, one must either subscribe to a “Goldilocks” version of liberalism or rely on a political theory that gets beyond liberalism.

David Miller’s defense of a state’s presumptive right to exclude non-refugee immigrants rests on two key distinctions. The first is that immigration controls are “preventative” and not “coercive.” In other words, when a state enforces its immigration policy it does not coerce noncitizens into doing something as much as it prevents them from doing a very specific thing (e.g., not entering or remaining within the state), while leaving other options open. Second, he makes a distinction between “denying” people their human rights and “deterring” people from exercising their human rights. On this view, when those assigned to protect or fulfil human rights are also tasked with performing immigration enforcement duties, undocumented immigrants are not being denied their human rights, even when this deters them from exercising those rights. In this article, I argue that Miller’s two distinctions have an implication that he might not have foreseen. Specifically, I argue that these distinctions provide ideological cover for what has come to be known as “crimmigration” and that we have strong reasons for wanting our theory of immigration justice to reject this, even when doing so leaves open the possibility for an indirect open-borders argument.

This essay argues that Latinx philosophers are not only already providing important and original contributions to standard open-borders debates, but also changing the very nature of the ethics of migration. In making this case, the essay is divided into two parts. The first summarizes some of the important and original contributions of Latinx philosophers to the standard open-borders debate. Among the highlights are Jorge M. Valadez’s “conditional legitimacy of states” argument; José-Antonio Orosco’s communitarian-based argument for a more liberalized admissions policy; Javier S. Hidalgo’s claim that people have a moral right (and often an obligation) to disobey immigration laws; J. Angelo Corlett’s defense of immigration restrictions on grounds that such restrictions serve to protect Indigenous people’s sovereignty and rightful claims to territory; and Amy Reed-Sandoval’s freedom of movement argument based on the collective right of trans-border communities. The second section outlines four ways Latinx philosophers have pushed discussions within the ethics of migration beyond the standard open-borders debate. First, they have made persuasive arguments about why we ought to reject, or at least be suspicious of, approaches to migration justice that begin by assuming the legitimacy of states. Second, they argue that the issue of enforcement has been overlooked in standard open-borders debates. Third, they argue that philosophers must not avoid dealing with the social (as opposed to merely juridical) implications of labeling people “illegal” or “anchor babies.” Fourth, they show how current debates over the ethics of migration are too Euro- or Anglo-centric and therefore could benefit from the inclusion of non-European and non-Anglo voices.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A "Nation" of ImmigrantsJose Jorge MendozaIntroductionIn "Nations of Immigrants: Do Words Matter?" Donna Gabaccia provides an illuminating account of the origin of the United States' claim to be a "Nation of Immigrants." Gabaccia's endeavor is motivated by the question "What difference does it make if we call someone a foreigner, an immigrant, an emigrant, a migrant, a refugee, an alien, an exile or an illegal or clandestine?" (Gabaccia 5). This question is very important to the immigration debate because, as Gabaccia goes on to show, "[t]o ponder this question is to explore the vastly differing ways that human population movements figure in nation-building and in the historical imagination of nations" (Gabaccia 5-6). In this paper, I am going to delve deeper into Gabaccia's claim and argue that the issue of immigration is important for philosophers to consider because it is an issue that lies at the heart of the intersection between political philosophy and philosophy of race—an intersection that shows, more than anywhere else and in particular in the debate surrounding the use of the word illegal, how and why words do matter.The Braid of WhitenessDavid Roediger, in his book Working Toward Whiteness, argues that it is problematic to read "ethnicity" back into earlier accounts of race, specifically in the United States during the period from 1860-1924. Roediger argues that the term "ethnicity," at least as we use it today, does not really appear during this period. He goes on to show how the use of racialized language during that period was in fact very messy and would not fit neatly into the strict biological/phenotypic definitions that we give today. He writes: [End Page 41]This loose, state-endorsed linkage of biology to culture, history, and class can mislead modern historians of race who characteristically attempt to disentangle the biological from other rationales for oppression, regarding the former as underpinning racism and the latter as underpinning other kinds of prejudice. But what was so striking about restrictionist and racist thought at the beginning (and indeed, at the end) of the twentieth century was its very entanglement of the biological and the cultural.(Roediger 66)In short, Roediger is arguing that the distinction we currently make between race and ethnicity was not nearly as sharp at the turn of the century as it is now and that this messiness was most clearly present in the debates surrounding immigration.Roediger, for his part, argues that we do not need to fear this messiness or inability to neatly distinguish between race and ethnicity at the turn of the century, but instead we should allow for a space of "in-betweeness" within the strict white/nonwhite binary. In allowing for this space, Roediger claims we can come to understand how the "new immigrants" (i.e., Irish, Italians, Jews, and immigrants from Southern and Eastern Europe who emigrated to the United States between 1860-1924) went from being nonwhite to white and in so doing, solidified our current understanding of whiteness (Roediger 3-130). While I am not sure Roediger does enough in his account to warrant dismissing the race/ethnicity distinction at the turn of the century, I think he is right in emphasizing whiteness as central to racism. He is also correct to note the key role that restrictions on immigration played in the construction and solidification of the U.S. nation-state as a white nation.To be clear, the term whiteness, in its more technical sense, does not simplistically refer to skin color, but denotes the dominant race and/or ethnicity as it passes for the nonracialized and non-ethnic norm upon which the "other" is differentiated. As George Yancy, a current philosopher of race, writes:To say that whiteness is deemed the transcendental norm is to say that whiteness takes itself to be that which remains the same across a field of difference. Indeed it determines what is deemed different without itself being defined by that system of difference. Whiteness is that according to which what is nonwhite is rendered other, marginal, ersatz, strange, native, inferior, uncivilized, and ugly.(Yancy 3)This privilege that whiteness enjoys is...

This essay argues that we should find Crimmigration, which is the collapsing of immigration law with criminal law, morally problematic for three reasons. First, it denies those who are facing criminal penalties important constitutional protections. Second, it doubly punishes those who have already served their criminal sentence with an added punishment that should be considered cruel and unusual (i.e., indefinite imprisonment or exile). Third, when the tactics aimed at protecting and serving local communities get usurped by the federal government for immigration enforcement purposes, they often undermine these original aims or get used in ways that conflict with the U.S. Constitution. These concerns should prompt us therefore either to reject the government’s plenary power over immigration or require the federal government to be more consistent about maintaining the separation between criminal law and immigration law.

In her book, The Ethics and Mores of Race, Naomi Zack offers her readers a critical and historical examination of philosophical ethics. This comprehensive and illuminating examination of philosophical ethics concludes by yielding twelve requirements for an ethics of race. While these twelve requirements are not in-themselves an ethics of race, the hope is that these requirements will be sufficient to finally allow us to explicitly engage in ethical treatments of race. My view is that Zack’s argument is basically on solid footing, but that her exposition she does not pay enough attention to the issue of immigration. This is not to say that Zack ignores the issue completely, but to say that, much like the issue of slavery (although very different in many important ways), immigration has historically played an important role in the construction of “whiteness,” in particular in the establishment of “white privilege,” and in the perpetuation of “white supremacy.” So similar to the way slavery is specifically prohibited by requirement 8, I believe that the issue of immigration merits its own specific “requirement of content” within the lager set of requirements for an ethics of race.

In this chapter, I outline what philosophers working on the ethics of immigration have had to say with regard to invidious discrimination. In doing so, I look at both instances of direct discrimination, by which I mean discrimination that is explicitly stated in official immigration policy, and indirect discrimination, by which I mean cases where the implementation or enforcement of facially “neutral” policies nonetheless generate invidious forms of discrimination. The end goal of this chapter is not necessarily to take a side, but to outline the terrain and provide the reader with an adequate entryway into these philosophical discussions over discrimination and immigration.

Given the oncoming demographic changes—which are primarily driven by the growth in the Latinx community—the United States is predicted to become a minority-majority country by around 2050. This seems to suggest that electoral strategies that employ “dog-whistle” politics are destined for the dust-bin of history. Following the work of critical race theorists, such as Ian Haney-Lopez and Derrick Bell, I want to suggest that pronouncing the inevitable demise of dog-whistle politics is premature. This is because there are reasons to suspect that certain segments of the Latinx community—much like the Southern and Eastern Europeans in the early part of 20th Century—might be co-opted into American whiteness.



In 2008 Robert Lovato coined the phrase Juan Crow. Juan Crow is a type of policy or enforcement of immigration laws that discriminate against Latino/as in the United States. This essay looks at the implications this phenomenon has for an ethics of immigration. It argues that Juan Crow, like its predecessor Jim Crow, is not merely a condemnation of federalism, but of any immigration reform that has stricter enforcement as one of its key components. Instead of advocating for increased enforcement, I want to suggest that just immigration reform must adhere to two standards, equality of burdens and universal protections, and that only by doing so can the potential for Juan Crow be adequately avoided.

Philosophers of the American tradition should be more proactive in their inclusion of Latino/a thinkers, even when the work of these thinkers does not directly connect back to classical tradition of American philosophy. This argument has two mterrelated parts. First, if the American philosophical tradition is committed to a social and political philosophy that begins from "lived-experience," then one area it has largely overlooked is the Latino/a experience. Second, if the contributions of the Latino/a community go unrecognized as a part of the American tradition, then the American philosophical tradition is tacitly assenting to what Chavez calls the "Latino Threat Narrative." The Latino Threat Narrative puts forth a view of the Latino/a community as inherently anti-American, not to be celebrated, and to be avoided as a perpetual threat. Following Ch

This chapter looks at the history of US citizenship and immigration law and argues that denying admission or citizenship status to certain groups of people is closely correlated to a denial of whiteness. On this account whiteness is not a fixed or natural concept, but instead is a social construction whose composition changes throughout time and place. Understanding whiteness in this way allows one to see how white supremacy is not limited merely to instances of racism or ethnocentrism, but can also include instances of xenophobia. On this account, whiteness is more analogous to a braid of three interwoven strands: the racial strand (e.g., science, biology, or phenotypes), the ethnic strand (e.g., culture, customs, or heritage), and the national strand (e.g., territory, sovereignty, and citizenship). In emphasizing one or a combination of these strands, whiteness can be granted to social groups that previously were denied full white status, while at the same time it can be rescinded from groups that at different times and different places might have been considered (if only provisionally) white. Understanding whiteness in this way is important for dealing with issues of immigration and citizenship because it lets us see how nationality and xenophobia play a role in the construction of whiteness and thereby how terms like illegal help to reify the status of certain persons, including natural born citizens, as perpetual foreigners (i.e., non-whites).

In this essay, I argue that even when they appear to help, restrictions on migration are usually only an impediment, not an aid, to cosmopolitan justice. Even though some egalitarian cosmopolitans are well intentioned in their support of migration restrictions, I argue that migration restrictions are (i) not truly cosmopolitan and (ii) will not have the kinds of consequences they expect. My argument in defense of this claim begins, in section 1, by outlining a defense of migration restrictions based on egalitarian cosmopolitan grounds. Then in sections two and three, I reply to the harms this position associates with open borders and provide some reasons as to why restrictions on migration are incompatible with cosmopolitan justice.

The social trust argument asserts that a political community cannot survive without social trust, and that social trust cannot be achieved or maintained without a political community having discretionary control over immigration. Various objections have already been raised against this argument, but because those objections all assume various liberal commitments they leave the heart of the social trust argument untouched. This chapter argues that by looking at the socio-historical circumstances of Latino/as in the United States, an inherent weakness of the social trust argument gets exposed. Giving a political community discretionary control over immigration not only fails to deliver on the promise of social trust, but it actually seems to promote its opposite, social mistrust. This suggests that a far better way of promoting the goal of social trust, and at the same time abating social mistrust, is to actually circumvent a political community’s ability to control immigration by giving priority both to socio-historical circumstances and immigrant rights (at least in a minimalist sense) in determining immigration policy.