Howard Fletcher: The Hidden Bias in Immigration Enforcement
By Howard Fletcher
In recent years, the discourse surrounding immigration enforcement in the United States has become increasingly polarized and disturbingly opaque. While policymakers tout “law and order,” the actual data on who is targeted, detained, and deported remains elusive—raising troubling questions about transparency and racial bias.
Why are comprehensive numbers on European or Asian immigrants so challenging to find? It’s a fair question to ask when the focus of enforcement seems disproportionately concentrated on Black and Brown populations, especially those from Africa and Latin America.
Reports and data often highlight the surge in deportations of nationals from Mexico, Central America, and increasingly, Venezuela and other South American nations. Meanwhile, European immigrants—whether asylum seekers or tourists overstaying visas—rarely seem to be a focus of enforcement, and comprehensive data on their numbers and treatment are notably absent.
This discrepancy is not accidental. It underscores a persistent pattern: enforcement efforts are directed more aggressively toward Black and Brown communities, reflecting racial biases rather than a balanced approach to immigration control. The lack of transparent, publicly available data on European or Asian immigrants suggests a clear double standard.
Why does this matter?
For one, it erodes trust in the fairness of immigration policies. When enforcement appears to be based on racial profiling, it fuels fear and division, undermining the very ideals of justice and equality. Moreover, the focus on Latin American and African immigrants often ignores the broader economic, cultural, and humanitarian contributions these communities make, instead framing them as “problems” to be solved.
Without proper data, policymakers and the public are left in the dark about the scope and impact of enforcement on different communities. For instance, the Department of Homeland Security does not publish detailed breakdowns of arrests and deportations by race or country of origin beyond a handful of Latin American nations. That absence makes it nearly impossible to assess whether ICE is targeting migrants equitably or disproportionately focusing on specific groups.
Consider a 2025 congressional inquiry led by Representatives Juan Vargas and Darren Soto, which revealed that nearly 90% of ICE street arrests involved people of Latin American descent—even though migrants from Europe, Asia, and Canada also make up a significant share of the undocumented population in the U.S. Though we may have our suspicions, without comprehensive demographic data, it’s impossible to determine whether or not that figure reflects accurate population proportions.
This lack of transparency doesn’t just obscure potential bias—it also prevents meaningful policy reform. If ICE and DHS released comprehensive, disaggregated statistics on all immigrant groups, the public could hold the system accountable and identify inequities early, rather than relying on scattered reports, whistleblowers, or civil rights lawsuits to reveal them years later.
Are European immigrants being detained and deported at similar rates? Are they being subjected to the same level of scrutiny? (We know they’re not.) The silence suggests that enforcement is not applied evenly but is instead used as a tool to publicly target those perceived as “other.”
This selective enforcement echoes historical patterns of racial discrimination that have long plagued our immigration policies. From the Chinese Exclusion Act to the targeting of Mexican workers, the United States has a troubling legacy of marginalizing non-white populations under the guise of national security or economic necessity. The Trump administration’s policies continue this pattern, prioritizing deportations that disproportionately impact communities of color, often without transparent justification or data to support such focus.
Furthermore, the rhetoric used to justify these policies often dehumanizes the targeted populations, perpetuating racial stereotypes and undermining America’s commitment to human rights and the rule of law.
The question then becomes: why is there such a lack of transparency? The answer likely lies in political convenience. Focusing enforcement on Black and Brown communities provides a narrative that aligns with certain political agendas—one that emphasizes “securing borders” and “cracking down” on specific populations, often at the expense of truth and fairness.
To move toward a more equitable immigration system, transparency must be prioritized. Data should be publicly accessible, comprehensive, and disaggregated by country of origin, race, and ethnicity. Take California’s Racial and Identity Profiling Act (RIPA), for example. After the state began requiring police departments to collect and publish data by race and ethnicity, analysis revealed stark racial disparities in traffic stops and searches. Those findings prompted several departments—including Los Angeles and San Francisco—to revise training protocols, limit pretextual stops, and increase oversight of enforcement practices.
If America truly aspires to be a nation of laws, it must first be a nation of truth. Transparency in data isn’t a bureaucratic demand—it’s a moral one, a measure of whether our justice system serves equality or enforces hierarchy. Until we confront who is being targeted, and why, we cannot claim that our immigration system reflects the values we so often preach to the world.
Howard Fletcher is a freelance journalist, writer, and podcaster based in the Washington metropolitan area. His work explores the intersections of politics, culture, and social justice with a sharp, human-centered lens. He also writes on his Substack, Ninja in the Woodpile, where he offers commentary on the stories shaping American democracy and identity.
