Trump's Cruel Expulsions Are An American Tradition
Notice: Yes, this is another 'long read' but an important reminder of a road the US have traveled before, long before Trump, who is just following the same playbook
Trump’s expulsions are jaw-droppingly cruel. But they’re part of an American tradition.
By Steven Hahn/The Guardian
Wed 16 Apr 2025 06.00 EDT
Since colonial times, self-designated ‘communities’ have used expulsions to address supposed threats. It helps to explain how easy it has been for Trump to win support
The recent expulsion of Kilmar Armando Ábrego García, a protected legal resident who had committed no offense, is only the latest example of the Trump administration’s unbounded efforts to detain and rapidly expel any immigrant, undocumented or not, who may come into its grasp.
Although expulsions – often known as deportations – of undocumented men, women and children have been regular features of life under Democratic as well as Republican presidents in recent years, those of the new administration have been jaw-dropping in their cruelty and utter defiance of federal law and judicial due process, in their heralded scale and in the lust with which they have been carried out. And we would be mistaken to believe that immigrants will be the only victims of what is in effect a widening campaign of political expulsion. After all, Trump has just requested a sixfold increase in funding for detention facilities.
Unprecedented as they may appear, the expulsive policies that Trump and his supporters relish, in truth, have a very long and worrisome history in this country. Indeed, they have been integral to political and cultural life since the colonizing settlement of the early 17th century, almost always expressing the will of a self-designated “community” against those accused of threatening its security and integrity. Puritans had barely established the colony of Massachusetts Bay before they expelled Anne Hutchinson and Roger Williams for challenging their religious doctrine and civil authority. Others, of less notoriety, would follow them, not to mention the many women who suffered lethal expulsions owing to witchcraft accusations before the century was out.
The enlightened republicanism of the 18th century offered little respite and, in some cases, further provocations. Thomas Jefferson expressed the belief that slavery could not be abolished unless the freed Black population, whom he regarded as inferior to the white, was expelled to some foreign territory. His perspective, soon sanitized as “colonization”, would be embraced by most white people in the antislavery movement, including Abraham Lincoln, until well into the civil war. During the revolutionary and constitutional periods, those holding objectionable political views could be treated to tar-and-featherings, ridings on the rail and other well-known rituals of humiliation and expulsion.
Over time, expulsions became more common and widespread, almost routine methods of resolving problems
The early republic and Jacksonian eras, when political democracy appeared to be on the march, were in fact awash with violence-laden expulsions. The targets included Catholics (long associated with “popery”), Mormons (not seen as Christian), abolitionists (accused of promoting miscegenation) and Masons (reviled for their political secrecy) as well as Native peoples who were subjected to the largest mass expulsion in all of our history, forcibly driven out of their homelands east of the Mississippi River to “Indian” territory in the west. Both Alexis de Tocqueville and Abraham Lincoln feared at the time that the tyranny of public opinion and the rule of the mob, found north and south, were eating at the vitals of the young United States, and threatened to turn the country into a despotism.
Yet, over time, expulsions became more common and widespread, almost routine methods of resolving problems as communities – however large or small – saw them. For African Americans, expulsions came in the form of segregation, political disenfranchisement, red-lining, the destruction of their settlements (think Greenwood, Oklahoma, and Rosewood, Florida), and the brutal treatment of those who attempted to find housing in white neighborhoods. For unwanted and politically radical immigrants, expulsions came in the form of deportations, vigilante violence and federal repression. And for the poor, expulsions have long come in the form of turning-outs, confinements to workhouses, the denial of political rights and housing, and arrests for vagrancy. At all events, expulsions depended on paramilitary enforcement, whether by armed patrols, the Ku Klux Klan, the American Legion, citizens’ associations or neighborhood watches.
Mass incarceration is but the awful culmination of an expulsionism that has been at the heart of criminal punishment since the advent of the penitentiary in the early 19th century. Enlightenment-inspired social reformers had begun to insist that convicted offenders be removed from their communities rather than punished in public, apparently to the benefit of all. From the first, however, those incarcerated were disproportionately poor and Black (wherever they were held), and subject to close surveillance and coerced labor, even when slavery and involuntary servitude were under attack. Recall the “exception clause” of the 13th amendment, which allows for slavery or involuntary servitude as criminal punishment. Expulsive incarceration was deemed an appropriate solution to growing social disorder and was quickly embraced when racial unrest became of concern to politicians and policymakers, who then roused an easily frightened public with warnings about crime and demands for law and order. The expulsions were political as well as social, disenfranchising felons not only during their time of incarceration but often for years thereafter as they fulfilled parole requirements and attempted to repay debts contracted while they were locked up. The state of Florida now has nearly one million formerly incarcerated people who are still expelled from the arenas of American politics.
Race-based gerrymandering, which denies the Black representation that a state’s population would have required, has enabled Republicans in some legislatures to in effect define themselves as a political community, set their own rules, establish rights that members could claim, and expel those who push back. In Tennessee, the general assembly recently expelled two duly elected Black legislators – and nearly expelled an “unruly” white female legislator – with some of the most explicitly racist language to be heard in public these days, clearly performances for their white Republican supporters. But they were only following politically expulsive traditions begun during the turbulent days of Reconstruction, when Black elected officials were expelled from their seats in legislatures, regularly run off after assuming local office, or murdered if they determined to stay in power.
This long history helps us understand how easy it has been for Donald Trump to attract millions of supporters by offering expulsions – soon, perhaps, of political opponents as well – as a solution to their fears of economic decline, diminishing opportunities, racial replacement and social unrest. As was true in the past, Trump has described “communities” under siege from internal and external enemies alike, and has encouraged summary punishments for those who have “invaded”, either from within or without. And as was true in the past, these are ethnic and political cleansings that should warn us of the illiberal cast infusing our democracy and of the dangerous road to its possible collapse. First they came for those who could be declared “illegal” and were accused of “poisoning the blood of our country”. Then …
It would be difficult to find a precedent for Trump’s expulsive policies in their potential reach and ambitions. Yet, frighteningly, in one form or another, they have happened before in America.
Steven Hahn is professor of history at New York University and author, most recently, of Illiberal America: A History.
Trump’s expulsions are jaw-droppingly cruel. But they’re part of an American tradition.
By Steven Hahn/The Guardian
Wed 16 Apr 2025 06.00 EDT
Since colonial times, self-designated ‘communities’ have used expulsions to address supposed threats. It helps to explain how easy it has been for Trump to win support
The recent expulsion of Kilmar Armando Ábrego García, a protected legal resident who had committed no offense, is only the latest example of the Trump administration’s unbounded efforts to detain and rapidly expel any immigrant, undocumented or not, who may come into its grasp.
Although expulsions – often known as deportations – of undocumented men, women and children have been regular features of life under Democratic as well as Republican presidents in recent years, those of the new administration have been jaw-dropping in their cruelty and utter defiance of federal law and judicial due process, in their heralded scale and in the lust with which they have been carried out. And we would be mistaken to believe that immigrants will be the only victims of what is in effect a widening campaign of political expulsion. After all, Trump has just requested a sixfold increase in funding for detention facilities.
Unprecedented as they may appear, the expulsive policies that Trump and his supporters relish, in truth, have a very long and worrisome history in this country. Indeed, they have been integral to political and cultural life since the colonizing settlement of the early 17th century, almost always expressing the will of a self-designated “community” against those accused of threatening its security and integrity. Puritans had barely established the colony of Massachusetts Bay before they expelled Anne Hutchinson and Roger Williams for challenging their religious doctrine and civil authority. Others, of less notoriety, would follow them, not to mention the many women who suffered lethal expulsions owing to witchcraft accusations before the century was out.
The enlightened republicanism of the 18th century offered little respite and, in some cases, further provocations. Thomas Jefferson expressed the belief that slavery could not be abolished unless the freed Black population, whom he regarded as inferior to the white, was expelled to some foreign territory. His perspective, soon sanitized as “colonization”, would be embraced by most white people in the antislavery movement, including Abraham Lincoln, until well into the civil war. During the revolutionary and constitutional periods, those holding objectionable political views could be treated to tar-and-featherings, ridings on the rail and other well-known rituals of humiliation and expulsion.
Over time, expulsions became more common and widespread, almost routine methods of resolving problems
The early republic and Jacksonian eras, when political democracy appeared to be on the march, were in fact awash with violence-laden expulsions. The targets included Catholics (long associated with “popery”), Mormons (not seen as Christian), abolitionists (accused of promoting miscegenation) and Masons (reviled for their political secrecy) as well as Native peoples who were subjected to the largest mass expulsion in all of our history, forcibly driven out of their homelands east of the Mississippi River to “Indian” territory in the west. Both Alexis de Tocqueville and Abraham Lincoln feared at the time that the tyranny of public opinion and the rule of the mob, found north and south, were eating at the vitals of the young United States, and threatened to turn the country into a despotism.
Yet, over time, expulsions became more common and widespread, almost routine methods of resolving problems as communities – however large or small – saw them. For African Americans, expulsions came in the form of segregation, political disenfranchisement, red-lining, the destruction of their settlements (think Greenwood, Oklahoma, and Rosewood, Florida), and the brutal treatment of those who attempted to find housing in white neighborhoods. For unwanted and politically radical immigrants, expulsions came in the form of deportations, vigilante violence and federal repression. And for the poor, expulsions have long come in the form of turning-outs, confinements to workhouses, the denial of political rights and housing, and arrests for vagrancy. At all events, expulsions depended on paramilitary enforcement, whether by armed patrols, the Ku Klux Klan, the American Legion, citizens’ associations or neighborhood watches.
Mass incarceration is but the awful culmination of an expulsionism that has been at the heart of criminal punishment since the advent of the penitentiary in the early 19th century. Enlightenment-inspired social reformers had begun to insist that convicted offenders be removed from their communities rather than punished in public, apparently to the benefit of all. From the first, however, those incarcerated were disproportionately poor and Black (wherever they were held), and subject to close surveillance and coerced labor, even when slavery and involuntary servitude were under attack. Recall the “exception clause” of the 13th amendment, which allows for slavery or involuntary servitude as criminal punishment. Expulsive incarceration was deemed an appropriate solution to growing social disorder and was quickly embraced when racial unrest became of concern to politicians and policymakers, who then roused an easily frightened public with warnings about crime and demands for law and order. The expulsions were political as well as social, disenfranchising felons not only during their time of incarceration but often for years thereafter as they fulfilled parole requirements and attempted to repay debts contracted while they were locked up. The state of Florida now has nearly one million formerly incarcerated people who are still expelled from the arenas of American politics.
Race-based gerrymandering, which denies the Black representation that a state’s population would have required, has enabled Republicans in some legislatures to in effect define themselves as a political community, set their own rules, establish rights that members could claim, and expel those who push back. In Tennessee, the general assembly recently expelled two duly elected Black legislators – and nearly expelled an “unruly” white female legislator – with some of the most explicitly racist language to be heard in public these days, clearly performances for their white Republican supporters. But they were only following politically expulsive traditions begun during the turbulent days of Reconstruction, when Black elected officials were expelled from their seats in legislatures, regularly run off after assuming local office, or murdered if they determined to stay in power.
This long history helps us understand how easy it has been for Donald Trump to attract millions of supporters by offering expulsions – soon, perhaps, of political opponents as well – as a solution to their fears of economic decline, diminishing opportunities, racial replacement and social unrest. As was true in the past, Trump has described “communities” under siege from internal and external enemies alike, and has encouraged summary punishments for those who have “invaded”, either from within or without. And as was true in the past, these are ethnic and political cleansings that should warn us of the illiberal cast infusing our democracy and of the dangerous road to its possible collapse. First they came for those who could be declared “illegal” and were accused of “poisoning the blood of our country”. Then …
It would be difficult to find a precedent for Trump’s expulsive policies in their potential reach and ambitions. Yet, frighteningly, in one form or another, they have happened before in America.
Steven Hahn is professor of history at New York University and author, most recently, of Illiberal America: A History.
