Outsourcing Control: The Politics of International Migration Cooperation 9780228005193

Citation preview

Acknowledgments

OU T SOU RCING CONT ROL

i

human dimensions in foreign policy, military studies, and security studies Series editors: Stéphanie A.H. Bélanger, Pierre Jolicoeur, and Stéfanie von Hlatky Books published in the Human Dimensions in Foreign Policy, Military Studies, and Security Studies series offer fresh perspectives on foreign affairs and global governance. Titles in the series illuminate critical issues of global security in the twenty-first century and emphasize the human dimensions of war such as the health and well-being of soldiers, the factors that influence operational effectiveness, the civil-military relations and decisions on the use of force, as well as the ethical, moral, and legal ramifications of ongoing conflicts and wars. Foreign policy is also analyzed both in terms of its impact on human rights and the role the public plays in shaping policy directions. With a strong focus on definitions of security, the series encourages discussion of contemporary security challenges and welcomes works that focus on issues including human security, violent conflict, terrorism, military cooperation, and foreign and defence policy. This series is published in collaboration with Queen’s University and the Royal Military College of Canada with the Centre for International and Defence Policy, the Canadian Institute for Military and Veteran Health Research, and the Centre for Security, Armed Forces, and Society. 1 Going to War? Trends in Military Interventions Edited by Stéfanie von Hlatky and H. Christian Breede 2 Bombs, Bullets, and Politicians France’s Response to Terrorism Christophe Chowanietz 3 War Memories Commemoration, Recollections, and Writings on War Edited by Stéphanie A.H. Bélanger and Renée Dickason 4 Disarmament under International Law John Kierulf 5 Contract Workers, Risk, and the War in Iraq Sierra Leonean Labor Migrants at US Military Bases Kevin J.A. Thomas 6 Violence and Militants From Ottoman Rebellions to Jihadist Organizations Baris Cayli 7 Frontline Justice The Evolution and Reform of Summary Trials in the Canadian Armed Forces Pascal Lévesque

8 Countering Violent Extremism and Terrorism Assessing Domestic and International Strategies Edited by Stéfanie von Hlatky 9 Transhumanizing War Performance Enhancement and the Implications for Policy, Society, and the Soldier Edited by H. Christian Breede, Stéphanie A.H. Bélanger, and Stéfanie von Hlatky 10 Coping with Geopolitical Decline The United States in European Perspective Edited by Frédéric Mérand 11 Rivals in Arms The Rise of UK-France Defence Relations in the Twenty-First Century Alice Pannier 12 Outsourcing Control The Politics of International Migration Cooperation Katherine H. Tennis

preface

Outsourcing Control The Politics of International Migration Cooperation

K AT H ER INE H . T ENNIS

McGill-Queen’s University Press Montreal & Kingston • London • Chicago

iii

iv

preface

© McGill-Queen’s University Press 2020 isbn 978-0-2280-0407-3 (cloth) isbn 978-0-2280-0519-3 (epdf) isbn 978-0-2280-0520-9 (epub) Legal deposit fourth quarter 2020 Bibliothèque nationale du Québec Printed in Canada on acid-free paper that is 100% ancient forest free (100% post-consumer recycled), processed chlorine free

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Title: Outsourcing control : the politics of international migration cooperation / Katherine H. Tennis. Names: Tennis, Katherine H., 1985– author. Series: Human dimensions in foreign policy, military studies, and security studies ; 12. Description: Series statement: Human dimensions in foreign policy, military studies, and security studies ; 12 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200312413 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200312537 | isbn 9780228004073 (hardcover) | isbn 9780228005193 (pdf) | isbn 9780228005209 (epub) Subjects: lcsh: Emigration and immigration—International cooperation. | lcsh: Emigration and immigration—Political aspects. | lcsh: Emigration and immigration—Government policy. Classification: lcc jv6035 .t46 2020 | ddc 325—dc23

This book was typeset by True to Type in 10.5/13 Sabon

Acknowledgments

To Phil and Edie

v

vi

Acknowledgments

preface

vii

Contents

Tables and Figures ix Preface xi Acknowledgments xvii 1 Why Do Weak States Cooperate? A Typological Model 3 2 Where Did Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements Come From? A Historical Comparative Perspective 38 3 Tumultuous Relations in the Caribbean: Haiti and the US

70

4 Expanding Cooperation with a Democratizing Regime: Mexico and the US 96 5 North African Strongmen and Their Successors: Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy 115 6 Democratic Pragmatism in West Africa: Senegal and Spain 7 Conclusion 158 Appendix: Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements between Major Destination States and Nearby Potential Partner States 181 Notes 193 Index 245

145

viii

Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Tables and Figures

tables 1.1 Ideal-type typological classification of common partner state behaviours 21 1.2 Summary of cases and outcomes 33 2.1 The number of states that signed agreements with each destination state 41 7.1 Typological classification of negotiation episodes 159 7.2 Summary of negotiation episode 160–61 7.3 Summary of partner state behaviour 175 A.1 Extraterritorial interdiction agreements between major destination states and nearby potential partner states 184–92

figures Net migration into the US, eu, and Australia 27 Map of agreements internationally 39 US Customs and Border Protection apprehensions data 45 US Coast Guard interdictions 46 Net migration into Italy and Spain 54 Frontex data on illegal border crossing into Europe 55 Total Australian maritime arrivals by calendar year 58 Haitian regime characteristics over time 71 US Coast Guard interdiction and apprehension rates of Haitian migrants, by year 73 4.1 Mexican regime characteristics 98 5.1 Tunisian regime characteristics 116 1.1 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 3.1 3.2

x

Tables and Figures

5.2 Libyan regime characteristics 117 6.1 Senegalese regime characteristics 146

Foreword

xi

Preface Today, we have a new Checkpoint Charlie … Its name is Lampedusa. It’s the crossing between the south and the north of the world. Angelino Alfano, interior minister of Italy1

Why do states cooperate with each other on transnational security initiatives, even when those initiatives do not directly serve their interests? Powerful states often try to promote their national security and foreign policy goals abroad by enlisting the cooperation of international partners. From the “war on drugs” to the “war on terror,” many of these cooperation initiatives target nonstate actors that operate out of materially weak states but have the capacity to impact powerful states. There are practical benefits to this preemptive approach: interventions occur early, before threats can escalate, and before the targeted actors can do much damage. But they raise legal dilemmas and contracting issues, not to mention sovereignty concerns – especially in partner states. Given the asymmetric power structure, powerful states are often able to convince weak states to cooperate by using a combination of incentives and threats. But sometimes partner states refuse to cooperate or only cooperate in exchange for extremely costly concessions. Some partner states cooperate on paper but are poor allies in practice. Others refuse to sign formal agreements but provide de facto cooperation. Why do materially weak states differ in their willingness to cooperate with powerful states on transnational security issues? This book focuses on cooperation to counter a very specific type of transnational threat: irregular migration, including human smuggling and trafficking. In 1981, Ronald Reagan turned to an unlikely ally to help manage a major immigration crisis. He signed an agreement with

xii

Preface

Jean-Claude Duvalier (the notoriously oppressive and corrupt ruler of Haiti) that enabled the US to interdict and return Haitian migrants found en route to the US. The agreement worked: almost immediately the boats stopped arriving, ending one of the biggest and most politically damaging influxes of migrants in US history to that date. Around the same time, the international community (largely through the auspices of unhcr) negotiated a complex set of agreements to end the Indo-Chinese refugee crisis, relying heavily on the participation of Vietnam (the primary country of origin for the refugees) to prevent departures and accept the return of people whose claims were not strong enough to justify refugee status abroad. Fast-forward a few decades and we see that this strategy of “cooperatively” tackling irregular migration has caught on globally. The US has signed extraterritorial interdiction agreements with many of its neighbours. European states have adopted the same tactics in their own neighbourhood. And Australia has pioneered the approach in the Pacific. Partner states as diverse as Mexico, Indonesia, and Libya have been enlisted to help manage shared borders and to prevent emigration by policing irregular migration at its source. When the US signed the 1981 agreement with Haiti, American human rights advocates were enraged. How could the US enlist the help of the same person whose ruinous economic and political policies the migrants were fleeing? Indeed, critics have often derided these types of agreements as cynical efforts to evade domestic legal commitments in destination states. The debate about whether countries’ commitments to nonrefoulement (not “pushing back” or “returning” refugees) apply in operations conducted outside of their territories has generated fierce controversy. Opposition also hinges on concerns about freedom of exit – a human right codified in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. On the other hand, proponents of such agreements argue that cooperative approaches to migration control prevent human smuggling and trafficking, save migrants from dying at sea, and promote orderly international migration flows. These debates raise important questions: Whose responsibility is it to secure borders? Where does responsibility for migration lie? Can border security be managed cooperatively? Should it be? The legal and ethical concerns of such agreements for destination states are important. But in this book I focus on how extraterritorial interdiction agreements are understood, negotiated, and mobilized in countries of origin and transit, which I will refer to as “partner states”

Preface

xiii

throughout the book unless I am explicitly discussing differences between countries of origin and transit. Partner states have also expressed concerns about these agreements, though generally for different reasons than human rights advocates in destination states. Mobility rights matter, and many countries of origin try to promote opportunities for emigration. But overt support for irregular exit has become taboo – especially as irregular migration has become more dangerous and entangled with criminal networks of smugglers and traffickers. Partner states’ concerns are most often expressed in terms of national sovereignty – though migrants’ rights and protections of citizens on the move are also important. Many partners have been uncomfortable with the idea of allowing powerful migrant destination states access to their territories and giving them licence to conduct migrant containment or return operations. This has led to concerns that these states are being bullied into playing the role of “gendarmes” or policemen for more powerful states in the global north2 or that they are being called to do these states’ “dirty work.”3 But other partner states have praised extraterritorial interdiction agreements as mutually beneficial solutions to the problems of human smuggling and trafficking. For example, in June of 2019 the US and Mexico agreed to expand joint enforcement measures, including through a “surge” of Mexican National Guard deployments.4 Newly elected president López Obrador had promised on the campaign trail that he would not to do the dirty work of US immigration enforcement. But once in office, he announced the deal as a great victory, proclaiming in a spirit of cooperation that “I’m not raising a clenched fist, but an open and frank hand [to the US president]. We reiterate our disposition for friendship, dialogue and cooperation.”5 This stands in marked contrast to early Mexican administrations’ refusal to cooperate with the US on anything that involved preventing human movement over the Mexican–US border and their insistence for decades that they could not violate constitutional commitments to freedom of exit. This complex rhetorical relationship with policing irregular migration was also evidenced in 2016 when the eu and Turkey made an arrangement for a “coordinated response” to the surge of asylum seekers that had been moving across the Mediterranean, many of whom were fleeing conflict in nearby Syria. Turkey agreed to expand its surveillance and interdiction efforts and agreed to a “one in, one out” returns scheme with Greece to deter migrants from trying to reach

xiv

Preface

Europe illicitly.6 But, in contrast to López Obrador’s conciliatory rhetoric, Turkey’s Erdoğan pursued a tough negotiation tactic with the eu. Calling Europe on its hypocritical disconnect between protection-based rhetoric domestically and containment-oriented practices abroad, he pushed for exorbitant concessions and threatened the eu when they hesitated: “So how will you deal with refugees if you don’t get a deal [with me]? Kill the refugees?”7 These very different framings of analogous cooperative outcomes present an empirical puzzle: despite facing similar pressures from destination states to cooperate, some partner state regimes have avoided signing extraterritorial interdiction agreements while others have been willing to cooperate. What explains these differences? This book argues that partner states’ responses to overtures for cooperation are conditioned by their domestic institutions. International pressure from powerful destination states usually determines which partner states are targeted to negotiate these types of agreements and when negotiations begin. But partner states’ regime type and the strength of these regimes affect how similar pressures translate into different negotiation outcomes. Nondemocratic regimes respond to overtures for cooperation differently than do democracies. And strong regimes respond differently than weak regimes. Based on these two institutional dimensions of regime type and regime strength, I distinguish between the way that three different types of partner state regimes navigate tensions between international and domestic pressures when deciding whether or not to cooperate. First, autocratic regimes tend to sign agreements – not because of a shared normative commitment to tackling human smuggling and trafficking but because agreements provide them opportunities to ensure powerful states’ support and to gain concessions in issue areas that help them sustain their power domestically. Second are weak democratic regimes and regimes undergoing an incomplete democratic transition. Because these fragile democracies face high levels of domestic insecurity, they have a tendency towards nationalism and populist rhetoric. These regimes are the least likely to sign formal agreements and the most likely to publicly raise concerns about sovereignty violations or human rights. Finally, I argue that strong democratic regimes are likely to sign if destination state pressure is strong. But unlike the autocracies, these regimes often publicly frame the negotiations in the context of shared normative commitments to orderly migration – even if they privately demand concessions in exchange for cooperation.

Preface

xv

Extraterritorial interdiction agreements have had a profound impact on migration patterns internationally, trapping millions of people in countries where they do not want to be and creating a game of cat-andmouse as smugglers and traffickers adjust to ever-changing landscapes of border closures. These agreements have pushed migrants to adopt ever more dangerous routes, regardless of the reasons why they are travelling and whether they require international protection. This externalized architecture of border control has pushed the dirty business of border control further from the view of lawyers, advocates, and nationalists in destination states. We know a lot about how and why destination states have decided to adopt these types of policies. But we know much less about how these arrangements play out in partner states. And partner state behaviour matters a great deal. The international power asymmetry may not be in their favour. But there is usually a limit to how much powerful destination states are willing to do to induce weaker states to cooperate. Carrots and sticks are expensive. And partner states ultimately have the final say about whether or not they cooperate.

xvi

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I am grateful to all of the people who took time out of their busy lives to speak to me, both in the US and abroad. These accounts helped me to understand the politics of migration governance in very different contexts around the world. Some of these people are recognized by name in this text but many preferred to remain anonymous. I thank them just the same. I began this project at American University in Washington, dc, where I owe huge thanks to my dissertation committee. Christopher Rudolph chaired my committee, helped me conceptualize the project, provided guidance along the way, and didn’t let me cut corners – even when I thought I was ready to call it quits. Kelly Greenhill generously agreed to serve as an external committee member from Tufts University. She probably took on more than she bargained for, and this project would not be what it is without her insights, feedback, and continued engagement. I was particularly fortunate to have her onboard given that her book Weapons of Mass Migration was a crucial intellectual influence for this project. Finally, a huge thankyou to Rachel Robinson. In addition to her methodological guidance and feedback on countless drafts, she has helped me find my way in the weird world of professional academia without losing track of my goals and values. Sharon Weiner and Boaz Atzili both also acted as mentors above and beyond their roles as program directors at au. The research for this project would not have been possible without financial support from the American University’s Provost’s Doctoral Student Research Award as well as summer research awards from

xvii

xviii

Acknowledgments

American University’s School of International Service. The fieldwork was also enabled by a Royal Air Maroc travel award, cosponsored by the African Studies Association. In the summer of 2016 I benefitted from an eu-Borders Visiting Researcher Fellowship at the University of Victoria’s Centre for Global Studies. Supervised by Emmanuel Brunet-Jailly, I also was fortunate to receive feedback on portions of the work from Brian Bow, Benjamin Muller, and many other people associated with the cgs. Conducting research abroad always brings particular challenges, and I am thankful for the people who helped facilitate this research. In Haiti, Raul David Avalos and Josanda Jinnette generously hosted me, and Mackenrood Lacour facilitated introductions and made sure my time in Port-au-Prince was both productive and fun. In Senegal, I am particularly grateful to Cheikh Adiouma Kane who facilitated numerous introductions and helped me understand the country’s migration politics. Since 2017, I have been based at the University of Denver. I am deeply thankful to both my colleagues and my students who create a supportive intellectual and professional community. A special thanks to Rebecca Galemba, Kelsey Norman (now at the Baker Institute), and Walid Hedidar for reading portions of the work and providing feedback, and to Jen Evans for her editing help. Portions of this research have been presented at conferences, especially at the International Studies Association meetings. The work is greatly improved thanks to numerous discussants, copanelists, and audience members who engaged with the material, and provided feedback along the road. These people are too numerous to list but include Noelle Brigden, Michael Kenney, Jonathan Kent, Rey Koslowski, Gallya Lahav, Jeanette Money, and Gregory White. I also owe thanks to the two anonymous reviewers at McGill-Queen’s who provided excellent constructive feedback, as well as to my editor, Jacqueline Mason. Finally, this project would have never been completed without the support of family, friends, and colleagues. Emma Fawcett read entirely too many drafts of too many chapters, and deRaismes Combes offered solidarity over countless cups of tea. Thanks to my parents and my partner for their constant support, and to my daughter for tolerating my writing time.

OUT SOU RCING CONT ROL

Life without Earlids

1

Why Do Weak States Cooperate? A Typological Model

Immigration control is often imagined as a purely domestic competency. The ability to regulate who enters a country’s territory has long been viewed as a core component of state sovereignty: you cannot defend against marauding armies if you cannot control your borders.1 But this does not mean that the actual work of securing the border happens on the physical territory of the state that is the migrant’s destination. These days, it is often not even conducted unilaterally. This study focuses on one particularly prevalent and influential tool of immigration control: bilateral extraterritorial interdiction agreements signed between major destination states and countries of origin and transit. These agreements shift responsibility for controlling irregular migration onto sending and transit states and enable preemptive interdiction – before migrants actually reach destination state borders. I include in this category all formal agreements that specify mechanisms for physically controlling irregular migration in order to interdict migrants before they reach destination state territory that are signed between a migration destination state and a partner state (again, throughout this book I will refer to countries of origin and transit as “partner states” unless I am explicitly addressing differences between sending and transit states). Sometimes the mechanism for achieving this goal is granting the destination state the necessary legal authority to patrol in the partner state’s waters or territory. In other instances, the two countries may operate joint patrols or the partner state may operate patrols with destination state support. These types of agreements should be differentiated from other types of migration agreements, including labour agreements and return or repatriation agreements. While some labour migration agreements

3

4

Outsourcing Control

include “ceilings” on the number of migrants allowed to enter2 and “migrant control” policies exist in many states to prevent integration or otherwise try to control immigrant populations, bilateral extraterritorial interdiction agreements are different because their primary intention is to prevent unauthorized entry. Migrant return/ readmission agreements have become extremely common internationally, but these do not share the same preemptive character and only apply to migrants that have already entered the destination state.3 I limit my focus to major south–north migration flows and to agreements with destination states that are liberal democracies. Unwanted migration into wealthy liberal democratic states presents a unique set of challenges that set these flows apart qualitatively from other types of global population movements. As argued by Hollifield,4 liberal democratic states face a “liberal paradox”: They are trapped between, on the one hand, the desire to grant rights and liberties to all persons regardless of status and, on the other hand, the increasing volume of unwanted immigration and the associated democratic push-back against immigrant populations. With widespread domestic pressures to adhere to legal obligations for things like refugee protection, family reunification, and human rights protections it is very difficult for them to send populations back to where they came from once they arrive. But antimigrant sentiment translates into votes lost for leaders who are too permissive. Extraterritorial interdiction agreements can be contentious. Because they are based on preventive policing measures, they often take place in partner states’ territory and are thus often seen as infringing on partner states’ sovereignty. The agreements also limit peoples’ opportunities to seek asylum abroad and constrain mobility rights. Indeed, one of the main incentives for destination states negotiating these agreements is avoiding the numerous legal commitments that are triggered when migrants reach their shores – including commitments to process asylum claims and to not return people who have been granted protection.5 Critics also argue that the agreements merely push migrants to ever more dangerous routes. But despite these objections, the agreements are widely seen as being effective. For destination states, the agreements offer the obvious benefit of stopping irregular migrants from entering their country and thereby allowing these states to bypass the political and legal controversies that often follow mass undocumented arrivals – for example because of disagreements between human rights advocates

A Typological Model

5

and nationalists or between different regions of the destination state. For their part, partner states who participate in the agreements may gain substantial benefits in terms of assistance in managing border control challenges, better capacity to control transnational crime, fewer of their citizens dying along dangerous journeys, or concessions in other issue areas. While some partner states have denounced the idea of allowing destination states to police migration in their states, others have accepted the agreements with only limited objection. This is empirically puzzling. Why have some partner states cooperated while others have not? Why do different partner states allow for different degrees of cooperation? And why are the agreements so much more contentious in some partner states than in others? UNDERSTANDING PATTERNS OF COOPERATION IN MATERIALLY WEAK STATES

Exterritorial interdiction agreements are unique in many ways. But the decision to sign these agreements parallels the decisions made by states everywhere each time they are faced with the question of whether or not to cooperate with other states – especially on issues relating to security, such as intelligence sharing, extradition arrangements, counterterrorism, or counternarcotics. When a state commits to cooperating with another state, they necessarily limit their own autonomy by promising to act in certain ways or to fulfil future commitments regardless of what their future interests may be. But cooperation on these issues also has the potential to yield valuable benefits – else why would states so frequently commit to cooperative arrangements? In his now-classic article “Diplomacy and Domestic Politics: The Logic of Two-Level Games” Putnam argues that in order to understand the outcomes of international-level negotiations, we have to pay attention to both international and domestic pressures on state negotiators.6 He likens the pressures that these negotiators face to a “twolevel game” in which any agreement reached at the international level must also be ratified at home.7 Putnam’s framework helps explain how and under what conditions international and domestic factors influence each other. Specifically, Putnam argues that three sets of factors will be most influential in determining the likelihood and terms of an international agreement: (1) international relations, (2) domestic politics, and (3) state institutions.8

6

Outsourcing Control

In the following sections, I discuss each of these three factors in turn, considering how they apply to extraterritorial interdiction negotiations specifically. I first show that neither the dominant strands of international relations theory nor theories about the domestic politics of migration in countries of origin and transit are sufficient to explain variation in partner state behaviors. Instead, I highlight the role of state institutions, focusing specifically on regime type and regime strength. I use these two variables to outline a typology of partner state responses to overtures for cooperation on migration management. International Relations between Destination and Partner States Negotiations between destination states and partner states take place under conditions of a chronic asymmetry of power. While the factors influencing migration are complex, on average, people tend to leave countries where opportunities are few (push factors) and go to places where opportunities are plentiful (pull factors). In other words, migrants tend to leave poorer and less stable countries for richer and more stable ones. This is especially true given that I limit my analysis to south–north migration flows and to agreements with destination states that are liberal democracies. This means that we can make some assumptions about states that are primarily sending states or destination states: not only are they net source and net destination countries for migrants respectively, but sending states will tend to be poorer, less stable, and generally less capable of exerting international power than destination states. Thus, partner states tend to be the materially weaker actors in the negotiating dyad, while destination states are materially stronger. Though these dynamics are unique to migration relations, they parallel power dynamics in many other types of transnational security cooperation negotiations. In counterterrorism and counternarcotics operations, for example, cooperation is often promoted by powerful states who seek the participation of weaker international partners to achieve their objectives. Long seen as an issue of domestic politics, scholars have come to realize that migration plays an important role in international relations as well.9 But different theories of international relations suggest that we should see very different outcomes when asymmetric actors negotiate. Structural realist and dependency theories, while radically

A Typological Model

7

different in many ways, both see little room for weak-state agency and suggest that the trajectory of agreements will predominantly follow powerful states’ goals. By contrast, neoliberal institutionalists and other theorists recognize more complex interests and constellations of power, and suggest there is more room for weak-state agency.

structural explanations Structural realist theorists of international relations (ir) argue that most international political outcomes can be explained by the material power relationships between states. Waltz’s seminal Theory of International Politics10 argued that the anarchical structure of international politics left states vulnerable to attack, protected only by their own self-help policies. If international outcomes are determined by powerful states’ interests, then it makes little sense to study the preferences of materially weak states. As a result, structural realists have generally limited their study of weak-state politics to how these states make alliance choices – specifically, whether they balance against11 or bandwagon with12 stronger and potentially threatening countries.13 While structural realists often seem to operate based on an implicit assumption that “might makes right,” dependency theorists start from a more critical normative position but similarly conclude that power structures are the most important determinants of international outcomes. Dependency theory has grown out of Marxism and Wallerstein’s “world systems theory.”14 It highlights material gaps between the “core” and “periphery” and suggests that historical and political forces have structured the international system so that outcomes are already strongly shaped by international power dynamics.15 Dependency theory helps to explain why certain states find themselves in positions of chronic structural weakness, but, like structural realism, it allows little room for the agency of materially weak states within this system. Starting from the premise that international outcomes are primarily determined by power relations between states, theorists in both of these schools of thought would expect that partner states would be more likely to sign extraterritorial interdiction agreements in cases where material asymmetry between the countries was greatest. Moreover, they would expect that variation in agreement outcomes would be dictated almost exclusively by destination state preferences. Whether or not they subscribe to structural ir models, many analysts of migration agreements have focused almost exclusively on

8

Outsourcing Control

destination states’ promotion of these types of agreements, bracketing decisions about cooperation in partner states.16 This is also true of legal studies which have focused primarily on the legal and ethical issues facing destination states.17 Analyses of the expansion of readmission policies in the European region have similarly highlighted the ways that European states have used trade, aid, and other incentives to force partners to commit to cooperation.18 More critical analyses of migration politics argue that the trade-offs in extraterritorial interdiction agreements serve to depoliticize the issue of migration security19 and that the agreements use cooperation to mask forms of social control and normalize global inequalities.20 These authors again tend to see any bilateral or regional efforts as being overwhelmingly driven by destination state interests in stemming irregular migration, even when they are framed in the context of more reciprocal partnerships.21 This emphasis on destination state preferences makes sense: extraterritorial interdiction agreements have proliferated internationally to become increasingly common elements of the architecture of irregular migration control.22 And this has happened largely because powerful destination states have promoted them and have been willing to invest resources in convincing partner states to sign. But this trend has not been unidirectional nor has it been uncontested. Mexico, for example, is the primary source of irregular migrants into the US by a wide margin. It is also heavily dependent on the US trade and security support. Yet for decades it resisted US overtures for greater border security cooperation (as discussed in chapter 4). Halfway around the world, East Timor is one of the newest and weakest states and is a close neighbour and ally of Australia. Australia and East Timor signed an extraterritorial interdiction agreement in 2002, but in 2010–11 East Timor risked a diplomatic row with its powerful and allied neighbour when it rejected Australian requests to bolster this cooperation by placing a processing centre on the island.23 These cases and many others suggest that while power relations are certainly important, there is more at stake in extraterritorial interdiction agreements than structural models would suggest. Moreover, cooperation often does not come cheap for destination states. In exchange for Libyan participation in border control efforts, Gaddafi received €5 billion in Italian aid, an apology for colonial era oppression, and help convincing the eu to drop its arms embargo. And partner states often found that once destination states depended on them

A Typological Model

9

to keep migration contained, they could gain even greater concessions for threatening to renege on an agreement. Given sufficient concessions, partner states may eventually be willing to sign. But these concessions can be extremely costly for destination states. To the extent that materially weak states are empowered to demand concessions that hurt the interests of powerful states, agreement outcomes no longer follow the predictions of structural theories.

explanations that give more agency to materially weak states Other scholars assume that weak states have much more agency in international relations. I distinguish between two different strands of these explanations. First, building on Keohane and Nye’s description of international politics as being characterized by “complex interdependence,”24 some authors have highlighted the ways that irregular migration itself has become a high-security issue and creates vulnerabilities in migrant destination states that otherwise weaker countries of origin can exploit to their advantage. A second strand of theorizing focuses on how different constellations of interests create different relationships between state actors and explores opportunities for cooperation by building on game theory. Keohane and Nye propose that the international system is characterized by “complex interdependence.” They suggest that military security logic still prevails in some issue areas but that in other issues areas, goals are not best achieved with military power. Under complex interdependence, states are seen as being reliant on one another through agreements that are net-positive sum but that are often heavily contested. If two states chose to end an agreement, both would suffer costs. But where these costs are asymmetrically distributed, the state that is less vulnerable to ending the relationship gains power – regardless of which state has more aggregate military capacity.25 In the case of extraterritorial interdiction agreements, complex interdependence encourages us to focus on comparing the degree to which destination states and partner states have come to rely on these agreements and how vulnerable each party is to their termination. Partner states gain power when destination states really need their help. Paoletti applies this theory to the case of Libyan–Italian migration control cooperation, highlighting how Gaddafi used migration as a bargaining chip with Italy. She points to the ways that this nontraditional source of leverage depended directly on the fact that Italy

10

Outsourcing Control

had become vulnerable to lapses in Libyan border control efforts: “the stronger the fears in the Northern countries, the more successful the migration-related tactics of the Southern countries are.”26 Tsourapas applies this concept to more recent migration negotiations in the Mediterranean region, finding that weaker states were able to exert power over Egypt by threatening to restrict migration opportunities after the Arab Spring when Egypt was more vulnerable, whereas prior to the uprisings it had been better insulated.27 Though it does not build explicitly on Keohane and Nye’s theoretical framework, Greenhill’s Weapons of Mass Migration provides compelling evidence of these dynamics at work, illustrating how asymmetrically weaker states around the world have used their ability to control irregular migration flows in order to achieve their goals in higher-order issue areas like economics or military security. In many cases, partner states have even gone so far as to generate or exacerbate irregular migration flows in order to put pressure on destination states to do their bidding.28 Other studies have explored the ability of countries of origin to leverage irregular migration in individual case studies of Cuba,29 Mexico,30 and Morocco31 among others. These studies generate ample evidence of the fact that partner states have used migration for coercive ends in international politics and, that under certain circumstances, they can derive a great deal of leverage over more materially powerful destination states through the tactical manipulation of migration flows. But that does not mean that all – or even most – extraterritorial interdiction agreements follow this template. And destination state concern about irregular inflows is a precondition for partner states’ decisions to leverage this issue for strategic ends. Indeed, it is often only through repeated negotiations, usually initially promoted by destination states, that partner states come to realize destination states’ vulnerability to irregular migration and to recognize that this is an issue that can bring destination states to their knees politically. While some partner states have threatened to use migration coercively from the beginning, most only discover this source of power later. And many partner states never resort to these types of tactics at all. By focusing only on these extreme cases of migration-driven coercion by partner states, we risk losing sight of the fact that in many other cases partner states have not tried to leverage this issue strategically and have often partnered with destination states to control irregular migration with little resistance or political fanfare.

A Typological Model

11

The second strand of theorizing that sees more room for materially weak state agency builds on game theory models to better understand patterns and challenges for cooperative behaviours. These approaches are premised on the idea that states have identifiable interests and that we can infer behavioural outcomes based on these interests.32 Based on these considerations, some authors have argued that cooperation on irregular migration control is actually an area where we should see aligned interests and high levels of cooperation. Hansen, Koehler, and Money, for example, argue that cooperation will only occur if states cannot achieve their goals unilaterally and if they view cooperation as being in their interest. One area of possible aligned interests between sending and destination states lies in the mutual desire to overcome the criminal components of irregular migration – namely the transnational criminal networks involved in human smuggling and trafficking.33 Money and Lockhart disaggregate state interests in cooperating on labour migration, criminality in migration, migrant readmission, and migrant rights. In this framework, they similarly consider cooperation to prevent irregular migration through the lens of “criminality” and argue that it represents an area of mutual interest for receiving and partner sates, as the criminal elements involved in human trafficking undermine partner states’ authority.34 Lloyd and Simmons have also argued that developing states will be “allies in the effort to criminalize trafficking.”35 Rey Koslowski considers the prospects for cooperation around issues of irregular migration in the context of an “international travel regime,” suggesting that the same shared interest in orderly mobility that once drove mutual visa and passport recognition now drives efforts to cooperate to prevent illegal migration, smuggling, and trafficking.36 These perspectives are important as many states share an interest in combatting transnational organized crime and in eradicating human trafficking. But this does not mean that trafficking is the primary reason that either side shows up to negotiate or sign extraterritorial interdiction agreements. For destination states, the bigger issue is irregular arrivals, regardless of whether people were smuggled, trafficked, or made their way independently without the help of an intermediary. And for sending states, the emergence of an international regime that frames migration as a “crime” and their citizens as “criminals” has often been controversial. Trafficking and transnational crime as a lens for viewing irregular migration might better be described as the lowest common denominator of shared interests between the two sets of states. Kron illustrates this in her account of the

12

Outsourcing Control

Puebla Process migration negotiations in the Americas, where the need to counter trafficking was one of the only points that both countries of origin and destination could agree upon. But from this initial point of agreement, they began recasting the issue of irregular migration through the lens of “human smuggling and trafficking” – but this was largely driven by the US’s goal of migration control.37 Moreover, if game theoretic calculations of aligned interests around trafficking issues are the driving force behind extraterritorial interdiction agreements, then we would expect that partner states with very serious trafficking problems would be the first to sign. Yet trafficking levels do not closely align with cooperation outcomes. Indeed, countries that have some of the highest rates of human trafficking have been more reticent about signing agreements than countries where most of the movement is voluntary. Spain’s first extraterritorial interdiction agreement was signed with Morocco during a period when the country received the US State Department’s best possible trafficking in persons score. Only later did Spain sign agreements with countries in the region that had more serious human trafficking problems. After 9/11, Canada was much quicker to sign to a border control cooperation agreement with the US than Mexico, despite the fact that Canada consistently receives much better trafficking report rankings. These discrepancies highlight the fact that mutually aligned interests in combatting criminality are not the force driving states to cooperate on irregular migration control. Domestic Considerations While the politics of migration in countries of origin and transit is far less understood than the politics of migration in destination states, there is a growing body of work that focuses on the these states.38 These studies highlight a few factors that might shape domestic perceptions of extraterritorial interdiction agreements in partner states and might influence the degree to which domestic publics in partner states are predisposed to oppose or support extraterritorial interdiction agreements. I focus on four of these factors: the economics of migration, the association between criminality and migration, historical relations with the destination state, and the degree of transit migration. Migration decisions are usually guided by complex individual and community calculations, but one of the most basic structural push

A Typological Model

13

factors is poverty. Emigration has been described as a “safety valve,” allowing people the option to leave a country where they lack opportunities.39 Many countries have developed programs to promote labour migration abroad in order to reduce unemployment and encourage valuable foreign remittances. Emigrants come to depend on these opportunities, as do their families – who use remittances to build wealth and insure against local economic shocks.40 National economies have also become dependent on remittances as an invaluable source of foreign currency,41 and globally, remittances have been estimated to represent twice the volume of international aid.42 Thus, countries of origin have strong incentives to promote and enable opportunities for exit. But even if legal emigration has enormous benefits for countries of origin, what about irregular migration? Undocumented voyages are often dangerous, and countries of origin sometimes face public pressure to protect citizens from these dangers.43 Moreover, because it involves illegal activity, some states may be at least ambivalent towards irregular emigration44 or may view it as “an expression of a confrontation between self-selected or autonomous agents and the state.”45 But this is debatable. The benefits of emigration are substantial enough that states may turn a blind eye to undocumented departures – or even encourage them. Irregular migration fulfils many of the same functions as legal migration in so far as it can relieve unemployment, poverty, and political tensions.46 And there is evidence that some states collude with (and directly benefit from) criminal groups engaged in smuggling or trafficking migrants.47 States have even been known to turn a blind eye to human trafficking48 – the one issue that countries of origin and destination usually can agree on.49 Moreover, many people in countries of origin have resisted the emergence of a discourse in destination states that frames migration as a “crime” and their citizens as “criminals.” The role of public perception and discourse may be especially pronounced in cases where there is a legacy of colonization or imperialism between the destination and partner states. This is particularly important as many migration pathways develop between former colonies and colonizers, and these relationships play a strong role in shaping migration politics in partner states for years after independence.50 Partner states will be understandably more sensitive to sovereignty violations or to diplomatic slights if the destination state previously colonized or invaded the country. These concerns may

14

Outsourcing Control

become even more rhetorically powerful if destination states mistreat or stigmatize emigrants from the country.51 Indeed, the populist antiimmigrant rhetoric from destination states makes it difficult even for otherwise pragmatic partner states to control the domestic narrative and contain domestic backlash against cooperation in this issue area. Up to this point, I have ignored the differences between countries of origin and transit. But transit states are very different from countries of origin because the irregular movers are not citizens. Not only do these states have fewer obligations towards the noncitizen irregular migrants whose mobility would be impacted by a potential extraterritorial interdiction agreement. They also may feel downright negative towards these populations. Transit countries often become “receiving countries by default” if migrants become trapped and unable to reach their original destinations.52 They thus frequently develop the same nationalist and xenophobic sentiments towards migrant groups as witnessed in destination states. These countries may thus be receptive to extraterritorial interdiction agreements that also address the issue of transit populations but may be hesitant to sign agreements that trap transit populations in their territories. Nevertheless, many transit countries are able to use the power they gain from their position along the migration route to try to politically align themselves with the destination states of the global north and distance themselves from the South.53 State Institutions The domestic concerns identified in the section above (economics, criminality, colonial legacies, and transit) are important factors that matter in all of the cases examined in this study. But the existence of poverty, trafficking, transit populations, or a colonial legacy does not determine whether or not countries sign these agreements. Indeed, most countries considered in this analysis grapple with all of these challenges to different extents. So why do they become politically salient in some cases but not in others? I argue both domestic and international factors are mediated by domestic institutions, which shape the degree to which negotiations become publicly debated, the degree to which these issues are raised in public discourse, and thus the degree to which public backlash matters to the partner state regime in question. This aligns with Putnam’s argument that a state’s domestic institutions will impact its

A Typological Model

15

win-sets in a negotiation and that this in turn influences both the likelihood of an agreement and the agreement’s content. The issue at stake is the degree of “autonomy of central decision-makers from their Level II [domestic] constituents.”54 States with high levels of autonomy do not have to go through complicated channels domestically to ratify an internationally negotiated agreement. This means that agreements will be relatively easy to conclude but also that it will be harder for negotiators to claim at the international level that they are constrained by domestic pressures and thereby get a better deal. I focus on two different state-level institutional characteristics that can be expected to influence the degree of autonomy that central decision makers enjoy: regime type and regime strength.

why democracies and nondemocracies differ The first salient institutional factor is regime type. Different political systems incentivize different approaches to policy formation and governance. At the most basic level, democratically elected leaders will be more keenly attuned to approval ratings, as they need to secure reelection, while autocratic leaders are more concerned with maintaining security and avoiding uprisings. While public approval may help them achieve these goals, there are other pathways to sustaining their rule. Most can agree that democracy means “rule by the people,” but defining the concept beyond this is fraught with both normative and technical disagreements.55 At a minimum, democratic regimes are often defined as having competitive elections, universal suffrage, and a government that is responsible to the population – though a distinction is often made between “electoral democracies” (which just meet these criteria) and “liberal democracies” which add civil liberties, rule of law, accountability, and a well-functioning state to this list of attributes.56 Drawing on Dahl’s ideal type of democracy, we should see that democratic regimes have effective participation, voting equality, citizen understanding of government policy, popular control of the agenda, and inclusiveness.57 To the degree that these elements are present in a state, they force central decision makers to be more receptive to popular pressures and demands. Autocracies are different. I follow Levitsky and Way in defining an autocracy as a regime “in which no viable channels exist for opposition to contest legally for executive power” including both “closed regimes in which national-level democratic institutions do not exist … and hegemonic regimes in which

16

Outsourcing Control

formal democratic institutions exist on paper but are reduced to façade status in practice.”58 With no legal channels for contesting power, challenges to state authority in these regimes will take extralegal forms, such as coups, civil wars, or other means of violently ousting an administration. These differences have two implications for the way that autocratic leaders view their power. First, the stakes are higher for these leaders as losing power means at best exile and at worst a violent demise; leaders that are deposed through violence usually cannot look forward to a relaxed retirement of book tours and foundation work. Second, their toolkit for staying in power differs from that of democratic leaders. Like democratic leaders, Gershewski points out that autocratic rulers also rely on a base level of popular legitimacy to prevent people from attempting to overthrow them. But they rely at least as much on repression and on cooptation, which require tangible resources for achieving control.59 Glasius builds on Gershewski, arguing that these regimes do not just use these tactics at home but also abroad – engaging with their expatriates not as “citizens” with rights but as “subjects,” “outlaws,” “patriots,” “traitors,” or “clients” depending on the situation in order to ensure that they do not mobilize against them from abroad.60 Categorizing regimes as democracies or autocracies is not a straightforward task. There are differentiations between types of rule within each category, as well as a wide spectrum of regimes that fall somewhere between these two ideal types. To simplify the task of categorization, I imagine perfect democracy and perfect autocracy as two ends of a spectrum of possible regime types. I draw on the Polity Project’s coding of regime type61 (supplemented by Freedom House where gaps exist62) in order to provide a preliminary coding and an external check on my categorization of each case. But the case studies seek to develop a richer description of the actual mechanisms by which each regime sustains its control domestically. Despite the messiness of simplifying the vast differences between countries’ governance institutions into simple categories, differentiating between countries by regime type is useful to the extent that it helps explain different international outcomes. In this context, it has implications for what different partner states look for in agreements with destination states. To the extent that destination states rely on concessions and side payments to convince partner states to sign extraterritorial interdiction agreements, they may find that they have

A Typological Model

17

more luck with nondemocratic states. Rational choice theorists have argued that because autocratic leaders’ power can be sustained by a small number of staunch supporters, they can relatively cheaply offset any costs associated with an agreement by providing limited private goods for this select group.63 By contrast, in democratic states that require the vote of the majority of the population in order to stay in power, it is not possible to provide private goods to all supporters; the policy must be offset with public goods for the population at large. This is much more expensive and makes it much harder for donor states to impact policy outcomes.64 Because of the more strenuous obligations that democratic regimes have to their domestic populations, there is evidence, for example, that democracies are less likely to adjust their UN voting patterns in response to international aid65 and are less likely to formalize bilateral treaties in general.66 It is therefore unsurprising that extraterritorial interdiction agreements are subject to similar forces. But beyond these general dynamics, migration control agreements specifically have another important perk for autocratic regimes. Strong autocrats who have managed to quell dissent domestically may still face threats from abroad. The liberal democratic neighbours who promote extraterritorial interdiction agreements are also the same states who tend to critique autocratic states for their human rights abuses – sometimes even advocating for sanctions or leadership transitions. Extraterritorial interdiction agreements provide a tool for autocratic leaders to make themselves indispensable to destination states – and to do so (ironically) by relying on many of the same tools of physical control and containment that their liberal democratic neighbours otherwise object to. Moreover, Miller and Peters,67 Koinova,68 and Miliovic69 all point to the potential risks of expatriate populations for authoritarian regimes, as diasporas in democratic countries often mobilize for democratization back home. The fact that this is such a prevalent concern for these regimes also helps to explain why they might be more amenable to controlling exit. Of course, not all authoritarian regimes are purely opportunistic in pursuing their own survival. Many leaders have been deeply ideologically driven, seeking to export their revolutions abroad, and convince other countries to follow their lead, and this has been known to affect the ways that ideological autocrats structure their migration policies.70 However, Weyland argues that since the end of the Cold War,

18

Outsourcing Control

authoritarian regimes have been less ideologically minded and more focused on defensive alliances to preserve their power. This means that they tend to be more reactive and strategic,71 and may form alliances with wealthy democracies for more opportunistic reasons.

why regime strength matters The second factor that I argue influences negotiation outcomes is the strength and capacity of the regime – regardless of whether that regime came to power through democratic channels or not. Regime strength has been operationalized in different ways by different authors. A central theme, however, is the degree to which different political structures make governments more or less capable of independent and unchecked action domestically.72 Institutionalist understandings of regime strength built on early work by Katzenstein that highlighted differences between the statecentred policymaking environment in France (defined as a strong state) and the society-centred policymaking environment in the US (defined as a weak state).73 This approach was later described as an “institutional” approach to policy outcomes because it highlighted the way that state institutions mediated foreign policy outcomes through three main levels of institutions: (1) “administrative, congressional, and regulatory rules and procedures,” (2) “centralization and dispersion of power within the state,” and (3) the “normative order defining relations between state and society.”74 I take a broader approach to the concept of regime strength, looking beyond just the bureaucratic structures of the state and thinking about the degree to which a regime is able to impose its will and policies regardless of public preferences. This overlaps with the way that comparative politics scholars have operationalized state strength. But it is important to differentiate the idea of comparative domestic state strength (which refers to the capacity of what I will call the ruling regime to exert its will domestically) with the international relations understanding of state strength, which often refers to the economic and military clout of the state on the international stage or their material capabilities.75 In this book, when I describe weak or strong states, I am speaking of these international material dimensions of power that lead to asymmetries between states in the international system. And indeed, all of the partner states considered in this study are economically and militarily weaker than their destination state

A Typological Model

19

counterparts.76 But some of these materially weak states have regimes with substantial domestic power and stability while other regimes are extremely fragile and vulnerable to popular opposition. Focusing on the way regime strength mediates the impact of public opinion on foreign policy formation, Risse-Kappen defined domestic state strength in similar terms – primarily as centralization but also in terms of the strength of bureaucracies and the regime’s ability to impose policies regardless of public preferences: Weak states [regimes] have fragmented political institutions and are open to pressures by societal interest groups and political parties. Their ability to impose policies on society and to extract resources from it is fairly limited. Strong states, by contrast, consist of centralized political institutions with strong bureaucracies; they are able to resist public demands and to preserve a high degree of autonomy vis-a-vis society.77 Hanson and Sigman have operationalized state strength (what I am calling “regime strength”) from a comparative perspective as well, highlighting three components.78 First, following Tilly79 and North,80 they point to the importance of “extractive capacity” – the ability of a regime to collect taxes and raise revenues. Second, following the Weberian notion that the state is the entity holding a monopoly on the legitimate use of force,81 they point to the importance of “coercive capacity.” Finally, they argue that strong states possess “administrative capacity” – strong, independent, and professional government bureaucracies capable of managing the state, controlling corruption, and legitimize state authority. Historically, many institutionalist scholars limited their analyses to comparisons between wealthy liberal democracies. But if we expand our analysis of regime strength beyond this subset of states, there is actually much more variation on this variable than these authors explored. Many of the major sending and transit states considered in this study are extremely weak states in the international system and fall into the category of “developing” states with limited material capabilities. Scholars of the developing world like Mohammed Ayoob and Steven David argue that it makes sense to treat these states differently in ir analyses. While it can be problematic to generalize about such a diverse group of countries, we can sketch out a few com-

20

Outsourcing Control

monalities. Many only gained independence in the postcolonial era and inherited artificial and contested borders. Many have also had frequent and dramatic regime changes. As a result, they often have shorter legacies of state building and lack the internal cohesiveness found in many wealthy liberal democracies. They often face greater social tensions (between socioeconomic, ethnolinguistic, or other segments of society), have lower levels of legitimacy, face extreme economic development challenges, and have high levels of poverty in at least some sectors of society.82 Because of the low levels of legitimacy and the complex and overlapping political allegiances within the state, leaders in these newer states often face challenges from within the state that are at least as acute as threats from outside the state. Their main security concerns may be consolidating their regimes and ensuring domestic security, primarily through state making and nation building.83 They will have to focus on enhancing the legitimacy of the regime and state institutions, promoting greater social integration, and increasing the regime’s capacity to enact and enforce policies.84 As a result, foreign policy choices may be driven more by a need to consolidate domestic control and legitimacy than by a desire to advance the country’s power or resource accumulation capacities internationally.85 In these cases, regimes may be particularly weak: vulnerable to collapse or opposition, and lacking the ability to impose policies that go against domestic preferences. A T YPOLOGY OF PARTNER STATE BEHAVIOUR

Building on these insights about state institutions, I argue that partner states’ responses to overtures for cooperation are heavily conditioned by their domestic political institutions: both regime type and regime strength impact whether or not partner states sign agreements. To understand these differences, I propose a typological model of weak state cooperation behaviours, as described in table 1.1. Dividing partner state regimes by regime type and regime strength, I arrive at three categories of state behaviour: autocratic opportunism, fragile democratic nationalism, and democratic pragmatism. I suggest that most autocratic regimes behave opportunistically regardless of regime strength because both strong and weak autocracies tend to cooperate as long as the concessions are sufficiently lucrative. However, negotiation strategies differ between the stronger and weaker

A Typological Model

21

Table 1.1 Ideal-type typological classification of common partner state behaviours Regime type Regime strength

Weak

Autocratic

Robust cooperation; Limited resistance

Mixed regimes

Democratic

FRAGILE DEMOCRATIC NATIONALISM

Limited cooperation; High resistance

AUTOCRATIC OPPORTUNISM DEMOCRATIC PRAGMATISM

Strong

Robust cooperation; Strategic resistance

Robust cooperation; Limited resistance

autocracies. Strong autocracies can afford to leverage negotiations and hold out for better concessions. Weak autocracies are often quicker to cooperate. Strong democracies tend to be pragmatic. As democracies, they care about popular approval and sustaining the vote. But with robust party systems and complex interest groups influencing policy, they generally prioritize the economic and security benefits that accrue from good relations with the destination state and are less likely to politicize agreements for a short-term boost in popularity. The same is not true of weak democracies and mixed regimes. These regimes describe themselves as democratic. But personalist parties and the lack of clear channels for interest groups to influence policymaking mean leaders in these states have incentives to resort to nationalism and populist tactics to keep their supporters engaged. The cell of strong mixed regimes is left blank because it is empirically underpopulated. Democratizing regimes and mixed regimes tend to be weak. As described by Monty and Cole, these “anocratic” regimes tend to display “inherent qualities of instability or ineffectiveness and are especially vulnerable to the onset of new political instability events.”86 Like most typologies, these categories are ideal types, not perfect descriptions of all states’ behaviours in all negotiations. I do not expect regime type and regime strength to perfectly predict outcomes. However, I do argue that these categorizations provide a useful lens on partner state behaviour that help us to better understand why states behave the way that they do and can help us better predict

22

Outsourcing Control

the types of concerns that will condition their responses to overtures for cooperation in this issue area. Moreover, there are some unique features of extraterritorial interdiction agreements that may make these tendencies particularly pronounced. These agreements are subject to very different framings and interpretations. They have the potential to generate public push-back in partner states but are not guaranteed to do so. Partner state regimes who sign these agreements may be able to completely avoid domestic push-back if they carefully manage their rollout: either negotiating and signing them secretly or taking charge of the coverage and press that the agreements receive when they are implemented. If they are able to prevent domestic fallout from cooperating, these states stand to gain valuable concessions from signing, such as economic benefits, aid packages, and security assistance. But leaders of other partner states may calculate that they stand to gain more from publicizing destination state demands, framing the requests for cooperation as imperialist or neocolonial impositions, and painting themselves as the bold underdog David standing up to the Goliath of the powerful destination states. Autocratic Opportunism Because they rely heavily on tools like cooptation and repression at least as much legitimacy to sustain their power domestically,87 autocratic states may sign extraterritorial interdiction agreements with powerful states that can help them shore up control domestically. Surveillance equipment, boats, and trucks help them control their borders but also can be repurposed for internal control purposes, helping leaders buy off supporters and control their opponents. The weakest autocratic leaders may even struggle to gain international recognition or worry about foreign-assisted domestic opposition movements. Mastanduno et al. describe how such states may use international strategies of “external extraction” and “external validation” in order to achieve their domestic goals.88 By signing these agreements, these leaders affirm their external sovereignty and gain international recognition that they are the power with authority to control their states’ borders – a fundamental component of state sovereignty. Stronger autocratic leaders similarly rely on domestic repression and cooptation to sustain their rule. But because they have higher lev-

A Typological Model

23

els of indigenous capacity they are less reliant on external support. This means that they can be more demanding in negotiations and may be ready to bully destination states into doing their bidding – especially if they recognize how politically sensitive irregular arrivals are for their negotiating partners. But even strong autocratic leaders have little to lose from extraterritorial interdiction agreements. They often exert tight control over the press, so popular objections are unlikely to spread. And citizens who dare to protest these regimes tend to have much higher priority demands like basic services, human rights protections, or political and economic liberties. Why would protestors risk incarceration or state violence to stand up for the mobility freedoms of the countries’ very poor emigrants? Of course, authoritarian leaders may be ideologically as well as strategically driven. But Weyland argues that since the end of the Cold War and the rise of the democratic norm, most autocratic leaders are more focused on defensive alliances to preserve their power than they are on exporting an ideology.89 These interest-driven alliances have prevailed in an international climate that has generally become hostile towards autocracy. And many of the destination states in question are the very same ones that tend to advocate for democratic reform in the partner states in question. Cooperating on migration control initiatives may help autocratic leaders insulate themselves against democratic reformers, as they can leverage migration to impose direct costs of noncooperation or rhetorical “hypocrisy costs” on any destination state that threatens their power.90 Finally, while the “safety valve” theory suggests that exporting dissenters might help regimes minimize domestic opposition,91 autocratic leaders may be wary of allowing diaspora communities to form abroad as it may be easier for regime opponents to mobilize from the relative safety of exile.92 Thus, autocratic partner states that are countries of origin rather than transit for migrants may have independent reasons for wanting to keep migrants contained at home where they can be more closely controlled. In short, autocratic regimes have little to fear from signing extraterritorial interdiction agreements and much to gain. For this reason, they usually sign agreements opportunistically – as long as sufficient concessions are offered. More powerful autocrats may be harder negotiators than weak autocrats, holding out to try to achieve the best deals possible. But regardless of regime strength, autocrats tend to sign.

24

Outsourcing Control

Fragile Democratic Nationalism Democracies are different – especially weak democracies. In fact, the same concerns about regime consolidation that encourage weak autocracies to sign agreements may lead very weak democracies states to avoid them. Democracies depend more on popular legitimacy than do autocracies. But the sources of legitimacy in weak and strong democracies differ. Newly democratizing regimes and those in the process of incomplete democratic transitions have been found to be particularly belligerent and prone to nationalist rhetoric due to the lag between the extension of the popular vote and the establishment of institutions that can hold elected leaders accountable.93 Until they develop more robust accountability mechanisms, leaders may lean on nationalist rhetoric. This gives them a means of rallying support, even if they lack the ability to provide the types of goods or security that would normally sustain long-term legitimacy in a consolidated regime.94 And who better to blame for their country’s ills than their behemoth neighbours – the same powerful states to which so many of their citizens are trying to escape? The power of this scapegoating is further amplified if the destination state has a history of colonialism or imperial intervention in their territory. And given that migration routes often follow former colonial networks, this is not uncommon. Moreover, as will be shown in the case of President René Préval in Haiti, if these leaders try to take the high road and avoid this type of rhetoric, they open themselves up to critique by opposition leaders who can capitalize on the agreements signed by their opponents to argue that the incumbent “sold out” to a powerful neighbour. Given the asymmetry of their relationship with powerful destination states, leaders in weak democracies often recognize that they cannot completely avoid policing exit. But they often try to find alternative informal ways of cooperating away from the public eye, rather than overtly signing formal agreements or allowing destination states formal permission to police their borders. They also often try to offset these arrangements with political theatrics deriding the destination states and their migration control goals. Importantly, they are also more likely to get away with this type of rhetoric than weak autocracies: many of the destination states that rely on these extraterritorial interdiction agreements proselytize internationally about the virtues of democracy. They (at least profess to)

A Typological Model

25

prefer a fragile democracy to the autocratic alternative, and thus are more indulgent with these regimes than they would be with autocratic partners. Democratic Pragmatism What about strong democracies? While they similarly rely on legitimacy and reelection to stay in power, strong consolidated democracies have more complex channels of accountability. Reelection success – for leaders or their parties – is usually heavily influenced by economic and security outcomes. Thus, when extraterritorial interdiction agreements come coupled with sufficient benefits in terms of trade, aid, or security provisions from important and powerful international partners, they are often beneficial for these regimes. Strong democracies also tend to have more consolidated interest groups and activists who work to influence policy and the challenge for these leaders is to secure buy-in from these actors. Economic and trade interests tend to lobby for any agreement that will improve security and trade relations with a wealthy destination state neighbour. And human rights and migration activists may be persuaded by sufficient concessions in terms of legal avenues for migration and guarantees of protection for those who embark on dangerous journeys. There also may be diaspora pressure for good relations between the regimes, as diasporas may mobilize around shared democratic values for improved relations between the countries.95 For these reasons, strong and consolidated democracies are often more pragmatic in negotiations, recognizing that meeting destination states’ demands for cooperation may be a precondition for economic and security benefits that they depend on for reelection. Moreover, because these states tend to have more amicable relations with powerful but similarly democratic destination state neighbours, the negotiations will also tend to be more amicable: focused on broadening the relationship and ties between the countries, and using in-kind arrangements instead of delinked concessions in other issue areas. CASE SELECTION AND METHODS

Extraterritorial interdiction agreements have become an increasingly common part of the international architecture of border control. This study develops a “most likely” case design, focusing on dyads of coun-

26

Outsourcing Control

tries that we would most expect to have signed extraterritorial interdiction agreements. It does this in two steps. First, chapter 2 explores patterns of cooperation between fifty-three dyads of states that were highly likely to have signed agreements. The appendix provides a summary of these agreements. Second, the case studies in chapters 3–6 focus on just a few of these dyads in great depth in order to better understand the politics of these agreements in partner states. The focus of the research is on partner states’ responses to overtures for cooperation on migration management, and so my interest is in whether partner states signed an extraterritorial interdiction agreement given that a destination state had proposed concluding such an agreement. Negative cases (no agreement signed) are only interesting if there was an attempt to secure such an agreement in the first place. For example, given their geographic distance and lack of historical entanglements, it wouldn’t be very interesting to find out that Spain and Mongolia had not signed an extraterritorial interdiction agreement. But it would be very odd if Spain and Morocco had not. Following Mahoney and Goertz’s “possibility principle,” I thus focused only on dyads of countries where a positive outcome was probable. Specifically, dyads where (a) the destination state was known to have widely pursued this border control strategy, and (b) the partner state was a likely point of departure for irregular migrants to that destination state. Given the North–South power asymmetries and the prioritization of these agreements by powerful destination states, these are the cases where the structuralist arguments about power dynamics determining outcomes would most strongly predict that we would see agreements emerging. When partner states avoid signing agreements or only partially cooperate with migration control measures, we know that there must be something else going on. Because I focus on south–north migration into wealthy liberaldemocratic states, the universe of possible destination states is limited primarily to the oecd countries. The older (pre-1990) oecd states are located in North America, Europe, Australia, and Japan. Japan has had extremely exclusionary immigration policy and thus has not attracted the same legacies of migration.96 Within North America, Canada has been largely insulated from the types of land and maritime irregular migration pressures that the US has faced due to its geographic location, making the US the primary destination for the types of migration targeted by these agreements. A similar dynamic is at work in Europe where Italy, Spain, and Greece have been the first

A Typological Model

27

Figure 1.1 Net migration into the US, eu, and Australia

point of contact for most migrants crossing the Mediterranean. I focused on Italy and Spain since they received the bulk of the migration from the Africa–Europe migration system and since they were early innovators of these types of agreements in Europe (as will be discussed in chapter 2). Migration into Australia has been much lower than into the US or eu (as shown in figure 1.1).97 But nevertheless its geographic location and expansive maritime borders have made it a target for undocumented maritime migration, and it has similarly been very active in developing extraterritorial border control policies (as shown in chapter 2). I thus focus on three major migration “systems”: Latin America into the US, Southeast Asia into Australia, and North and West Africa into Spain and Italy. The fact that these destination states have been at the forefront of innovating these types of agreements is supported by other studies on extraterritorial interdiction98 and is further elaborated in chapter 2, which presents a description of the emergence of these agreements internationally. Which partner states are likely points of departure into these liberal democratic destination states? Major irregular migration flows tend to be heavily influenced by geography and by history. With opportunities for legal air travel severely limited by visa restrictions and carrier sanc-

28

Outsourcing Control

tions, irregular migrants often choose to try to reach destination states that are relatively nearby via land or sea. In the US, the largest migration flows are from Mexico, Latin America, and the Caribbean. In Europe (especially in Spain and Italy) there are large irregular maritime migration paths out of North and West Africa. And in Australia, a large share of the population trying to reach the country illegally either comes from or transits through Southeast Asia. I began my analysis looking at all potential partner states within each of these regions that fell within 2,500 kilometres of the US, Spain, or Italy and within 3,500 kilometres of Australia (because it is more geographically isolated, and thus its most proximate potential partner states are further away).99 If countries fall within 2,500 kilometres of both Italy and Spain, I paired partner countries only with the destination state that they were geographically closest to. This was also always the country that they signed the first agreement with. I further limited the selection to countries with a potential maritime migration routes – Nigeria, for example, falls within 2,500 kilometres of Spain as the crow flies, but its maritime route is substantially longer. It was therefore excluded. I also excluded cases where regional migration or travel zones have substantially changed migration and border control dynamics. This includes eu states relative to Spain and Italy as open border policies have completely changed their migration relationships and New Zealand relative to Australia as the TransTasman travel arrangement (signed in 1973) has substantially shaped the border control policies between the countries and made them less comparable to other potential dyads in the region. Selecting partner states based on geographic distance made more sense than selecting them based on migration flows for two reasons. The first reason was pragmatic: irregular migration data are notoriously unreliable and certainly not comparable between regions. Irregular transit data are even rarer and less reliable. But the second reason was that geographic distance provides a reasonable proxy of possible migration routes when one considers partner states that are both countries of origin as well as those that are transit states. As traditional migration routes have become ever more heavily guarded, irregular migrants and smugglers have sought new routes, often attempting to transit countries that don’t have a history of substantial migration flows. Thus geographic distance from the destination state provides a good proxy of possible migration pressures and a better proxy of transit migration routes.

A Typological Model

29

While extraterritorial interdiction agreements can also apply to land borders, maritime migration routes are different for a few reasons. First, they are harder to control as they cannot be fenced or physically sealed. Second, they follow different legal rules. There is little ambiguity about who is responsible for the area around land borders: the destination state’s sovereign jurisdiction begins where the partner state’s ends. Maritime jurisdiction is more complicated, as states exercise different degrees of sovereignty over their territorial seas, contiguous zones, and exclusive economic zones. And on the high seas, no country has sovereignty so interdiction requires flag state consent, making formal cooperation all the more essential. Finally, countries with a traversable maritime route to the destination state can be the final departure points for irregular migrants, regardless of whether or not there are other countries between them and the destination states along land routes. Chapter 2 describes how these types of agreements emerged in all three regions in the idiosyncratic context of Cold War migration politics. The appendix lists the first agreement between each relevant dyad of states. The second step of the analysis was the in-depth case studies. It was not feasible to conduct a full analysis of each negotiation episode in each of the fifty-three states listed in the appendix and explored in chapter 2. However, this preliminary analysis enabled me to identify partner states that had faced some of the strongest pressure to sign these types of agreements, which were thus the most interesting from the perspective of partner state reactions to overtures for cooperation. In order to allow for greater comparability between cases, I limited this part the analysis to only two regions: the US’s negotiations with its southern neighbours and European negotiations in North and West Africa. From there, the cases were chosen to represent full variation along the two typological dimensions of regime type and regime strength. The partner states included in this study are Haiti (vis-à-vis the US), Mexico (also vis-à-vis the US), Tunisia (vis-à-vis Italy), and Senegal (vis-à-vis Spain). I also include a single negotiation episode between Italy and Libya following the Arab Spring in order to compare Italy’s negotiations with a very weak autocracy in Libya with its negotiations with a very weak democracy in Tunisia following the Arab Spring upheavals in both countries. The data for the case study chapters come from diverse sources. I conducted thirty-three interviews in five countries (Senegal, Haiti, Tunisia, Belgium, and the US): six with researchers and academics in

30

Outsourcing Control

partner states, seven with members of international organizations, four with members of nongovernmental organizations, five with civil servants of partner states, and eleven with civil servants of destination states – both posted at home and abroad in partner states. I also consulted four libraries abroad and the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in California and gathered information through two foia requests – one from Immigration and Customs Enforcement and one from the Department of State. I supplemented this with systematic online media archive searches using both LexisNexis and Factiva, drawing on both French and English language sources, both from abroad and from within the country whenever possible. And I used online government resources, policy archives, treaty lists and databases. All of these sources were supplemented by and triangulated with secondary sources. The units of analysis in the case study chapters are individual negotiation episodes with a given partner state. All of the states that were included faced substantial pressure from the respective destination states to sign extraterritorial interdiction agreements and often engaged in repeated negotiation episodes. But not only did different partner states react differently to these overtures for cooperation – the same partner states often reacted differently at different points in time, providing telling within-case variation. Negotiation episodes were usually (though not always) initiated by the destination state in an effort to convince the partner state to help them contain migration. It was much easier to identify positive cases (where an agreement was reached) than negative ones (where they did not reach an agreement) because positive cases are more likely to be covered in the media, to produce policy texts, or to lead to policy changes. Nevertheless, based on an exhaustive search of the literature as well as discussions with country experts in both destination and partner states, I was able to identify a large number of negative cases and expect that the number of negotiation episodes that I missed are limited. In addition to this absolute variation in outcomes (some negotiations ended with an agreement, while others did not) there was also variation between negotiation episodes in qualitative terms: the degree of partner state resistance to the agreement and the degree of cooperation that they eventually provided. The partner states also have very different domestic contexts, beyond their governments’ institutional arrangements. From a migra-

A Typological Model

31

tion perspective, one of the most notable differences is between countries that are primarily countries of origin versus those that are primarily transit states. In the Americas, Haiti is almost exclusively a source country whereas Mexico is both a source and transit point for migrants. In the African region, Senegal is primarily a source country, Tunisia is both a source and transit country, whereas Libya is almost exclusively a transit point for migrants. Economically, where Haiti and Senegal have extremely low gdps, Mexico and Libya are much wealthier, with Tunisia falling between. Haiti relies on remittances for upwards of 20 per cent of its gdp whereas Libya brings in almost none.100 Finally, the countries have different historical relationships with the destination states in question. In Africa, only Libya was colonized by the destination state it later negotiated migration control cooperation with (Italy). Tunisia and Senegal were both colonized but by France – not by Italy and Spain (the respective destination states for agreements). In the Americas, the situation is a bit more complicated. The US occupied Haiti from 1915 through 1934. Modern day Mexico was never occupied by the US, but the US did occupy and never return a huge amount of territory in the Mexican– American war. The fact that the typological model holds explanatory power across these different domestic contexts suggests that agreement outcomes are not just a function of differences in popular preferences or economic goals. Table 1.2 places the countries at the time of each negotiation episode into one of the three typological categories: autocratic opportunism, fragile democratic nationalism, and democratic pragmatism. These divisions are estimated using quantitative metrics of regime type and regime strength in order to visually illustrate this variation and the variation in outcomes. Each case study chapter also begins with a graphic representation of the quantitative metrics of regime characteristics in the relevant country over time. This provides a quantitative triangulation of the conclusions reached about regime characteristics in the qualitative case studies that follow. These quantitative metrics are drawn from a few sources. Regime type is estimated using Polity iv’s polity 2 scale, which indexes countries from consolidated democracy (+10) to hereditary monarchy (10).101 Democratic states had polity 2 scores of 7 or higher; mixed regimes were those with a score of 1 to 6; autocracies were those with a score of 0 or less. Regime strength is measured using the State Fragility Index (inverted so that high scores correspond to stronger

32

Outsourcing Control

states)102 and the logged regime “durability” score from the Polity iv project, which measures “the number of years since the most recent regime change (defined by a three-point change in the polity score over a period of three years or less).”103 Both variables are rescaled so that they range from 0 to 100,104 and I take their average to get an index that encompasses both the current strength of the regime and the duration of time since the last major political upheaval in a country. Scores above 40 were coded as “strong” regimes and scores of 40 and below were coded as “weak.” Table 1.2 also summarizes the outcome of the negotiations along two key dimensions: the amount of cooperation that the countries eventually agreed to and the amount of resistance that partner states raised to signing an agreement. First, there was variation in the amount of cooperation that partner states actually provided. Following Keohane, I operationalize cooperation not as the absence of conflict but rather as one possible response to conflicting interests whereby states use negative and/or positive inducements to convince each other to change their policies in order to arrive at a more compatible outcome.105 As such, cooperative outcomes can be imagined on a spectrum depending on how far policies are amended. On one end of the spectrum, some partner states flat out rejected an agreement or provided only informal cooperation without actually amending formal policies, a situation that Keohane might describe as “discord” and which I describe in table 1.2 as “no cooperation.” Other partner states barely changed their actions and acquiesced to the bare minimum: formally allowing destination states to conduct operations in their waters or in thin collaboration with their own security forces but going no further. In the table I describe this as “limited cooperation.” Finally, on the other end of the spectrum, some partners enthusiastically embraced border control cooperation, granting the destination state more access or operational leeway within their territory or facilitating and actively contributing to joint patrols (I call this “robust cooperation”). Resistance to the agreement is summarized as being either high or low. Low resistance negotiations are those where there is little or no evidence of partner state objections to the terms offered by the destination state. The partner state may have even publicly praised the agreement, exhibited independent enthusiasm for such arrangements, or framed them as being in the two countries’ shared interest.

A Typological Model

33

Table 1.2 Summary of cases and outcomes Regime type Regime strength

Autocratic

Weak

Democratic

(Haiti 2) 1991–94: Aristide [No cooperation and high resistance]

(Haiti 1) 1981: Duvalier [Robust cooperation and low resistance] (Tunisia 1 & 2) 1998 & 2003: Ben Ali [Robust cooperation and low resistance] (Libya) 2011–12: ntc [Robust cooperation and low resistance]

Strong

Mixed regimes

(Haiti 3) 1997–2002: Préval/Aristide [No cooperation and high resistance] (Mexico 1) 1980s–90s: Madrid/Salinas/Zedillo (pri) [No cooperation and high resistance] (Tunisia 3) 2011: Interim regime [Limited cooperation and high resistance] (Mexico 2) 2000-01: Fox (pan) [Robust cooperation and low resistance] (Senegal) 2006: Wade [Robust cooperation and low resistance]

At the other extreme are negotiations that saw high levels of resistance: partner states openly objected to or publicized destination state demands, often in acute language of sovereignty violations or human rights abuses. They often resisted signing an agreement or insisted that demanding terms be met in exchange for their cooperation. Of course, good negotiators recognize that they can get better deals if they make it look like they will face substantial domestic opposition if they sign an agreement.106 So I did not just take heads of state at their word. I looked for testimonies of other negotiators involved, the eventual terms of the agreement, and for evidence of domestic mobilization around irregular migration or other bilateral issues that would have imposed real constraints or penalties on leaders who signed agreements.

34

Outsourcing Control

OVERVIEW OF THE BOOK

Before delving into these case studies, it is necessary to situate extraterritorial interdiction agreements in their international historical and geopolitical context. The following chapter thus presents a comparative historical account of the emergence of these agreements across three regions internationally: in the Caribbean, the Mediterranean, and in Southeast Asia. Early agreements were usually emergency measures that were barely legal and usually only signed with nondemocratic regimes. More recently, while resistance to these types of agreements persists, they have become embedded in international law and are much more common – even with democratic states that are deeply concerned about their international reputations. Chapters 3 through 6 present the case studies of negotiations episodes, organized by partner state. I begin in the Americas, where both Haiti (chapter 3) and Mexico (chapter 4) are crucial cases for understanding migration control cooperation with the US. Both have seen profound political shifts over the past decades that allow for within-country comparison of the negotiation strategies of different types of regimes, as well as for comparison between the countries. Haitian migration has been less significant in overall numbers than immigration from Mexico but has occurred in acute waves and arrivals have been geographically concentrated in Florida, making “stopping the boats” a political priority for the US when these major migration events do occur. Haiti is also important for historical reasons. In 1981, the US and Haiti signed the first formal extraterritorial interdiction agreement, which set the template for future agreements in the region and beyond and represents a typical case of negotiations with an opportunistic autocratic regime. In the early 1990s, Haiti took extremely fragile steps towards democratization with the election of Aristide. But after he was ousted in a coup in 1991, he took the unprecedented step of revoking the 1981 agreement while in exile as a negotiating strategy against US President Clinton and as a way to consolidate his base of popularity with the poor at home. The country has remained a fragile quasi democracy ever since. Haiti’s unwillingness to conclude a real extraterritorial interdiction agreement with the US between 1997 and 2002 (despite substantial US pressures) illustrates how domestic political structures have favoured populist antihegemonic rhetoric over pragmatism in this issue area.

A Typological Model

35

In chapter 4, I turn to another of the US’s major migration control cooperation partners: Mexico. Mexico is the primary country of origin for immigrants into the US, and migration control along the US’s southern border has been a salient priority for the US for decades, making it a crucial case for understanding cooperation on this issue in the region. Mexico is unique among the countries studied for the fact that while it has a maritime migratory pathway to the US, the vast majority of irregular migrants cross the expansive land border. Controlling a land border requires different types of operations than controlling a sea border region, but the US has repeatedly put pressure on Mexico to partake in extraterritorial migration control initiatives in the border region and beyond. Mexico vehemently rejected any formal cooperation with the US on migration control or containment throughout the 1990s. At this time, the country was nominally democratic but functionally a one-party state under the pri, and they refused US demands despite the fact that they were was heavily dependent on the US, working hard to stay in the US’s good graces in other ways, and the largest source of irregular migration into the country. But things changed in the 2000s. While part of this was the US’s increased emphasis on border security following 9/11, the trend towards cooperation started earlier, as the country democratized under President Vicente Fox who pursued a more pragmatic approach to the issue of migration that prioritized broader bilateral economic and foreign policy relations. Chapters 5 and 6 shift the lens from the Americas to the EuroAfrican region. Chapter 5 explores the negotiations between Tunisia and Italy for migration control cooperation – both before and after the Arab Spring. The first two negotiation episodes in 1998 and 2003 occurred under Ben Ali’s administration, which was decidedly undemocratic. Ben Ali maintained control domestically by repressing dissent while simultaneously securing popular support through policies promoting security and economic stability. This required good relations with European allies. He had long encouraged European partners to ignore his nondemocratic practices by allying himself in operations against Islamist groups, and he extended this strategy to cooperation on extraterritorial interdiction. But like other autocratic leaders, he did not provide these concessions for free, using the agreements to extract resources, concessions, and political support.

36

Outsourcing Control

Everything changed in 2011. Protests that would eventually become the Arab Spring erupted in December 2010, forcing Ben Ali into exile. Italy was suddenly left to manage renewed migratory pressures on its own. Berlusconi quickly opened negotiations with the Tunisian interim regime, which was still extremely fragile but was already actively in the process of trying to set up elections in the country. The leaders of the interim regime had all been part of Ben Ali’s government, but they had been elected to their various positions prior to the uprisings. And so while the government was not completely democratic, its active steps towards democratic reform and relative degree of accountability made it at least partially democratic, though extremely fragile. Moreover, the interim regime was completely beholden to a still-mobilized population that had just endured great risk and sacrifice to bring down Ben Ali and thus behaved as a nominally democratic but still very weak regime, relying more heavily on nationalist appeal, sovereignty claims, and revolutionary rhetoric, which led them to disparage overt calls for cooperation as violations of the newly liberated country’s sovereignty. They couldn’t turn Italy away point blank and were willing to accept help in securing the country’s borders. But the regime turned down Italy’s two central demands for repatriation and joint patrols. Tunisia’s Arab Spring transformation to a fragile but nominally democratic regime stands in stark contrast to the outcome of the Arab Spring for neighbouring Libya, where escalating violence has repeatedly brought the country to the brink of state failure. But in 2011–12, a nebulous group of leaders calling themselves the National Transitional Council (ntc) claimed authority in the country. The ntc claimed democratic aspirations but in practice were the self-appointed representatives of a conglomerate of armed rebel groups. They had not been elected to any office, and the country was still too deeply embroiled in conflict to make realistic promises of democratization. Moreover, the rebel groups that they were beholden to were heavily armed and still engaged in conflict. These leaders thus negotiated opportunistically like extremely weak autocrats. The ntc recognized that their only hope for success was international support, and they pursued that support with single-minded determination, promising foreign powers whatever they could offer – from shares in the country’s future oil contracts to migration control cooperation. They quickly met Italy’s demands for cooperation on migration control, possibly

A Typological Model

37

even staging the detention of migrant vessels in order to prove their ability to be good allies in controlling Libya’s maritime borders. Finally, chapter 6 turns to a West African country that has been known for its long (if imperfect) democratic tradition: Senegal. When mass emigration towards the Canary Islands peaked in 2006, Spain approached Senegal for help controlling the movement. As a strong democratic regime, Senegal responded pragmatically and was extremely forthcoming with assistance in containing irregular departures, though President Wade wavered on the issue of readmissions. In part, this was due to Spanish willingness to provide robust economic concessions to the country. But it was also the result of domestic civil society mobilization. The irregular voyages were dangerous and many young people had died. Radical voices critiqued European securitized migration policies, but the vast majority of the population was more concerned about the immediate problem of deaths at sea and providing young people with employment opportunities at home. With well-established civil society and a reasonably responsive government, President Wade was encouraged to focus on improving employment prospects and preventing deaths at sea. Senegal agreed to migration containment operations on their territory and in their territorial waters, under joint European and Senegalese command, using European ships and planes – an extremely visible international presence. In exchange, Spain provided concessions that were designed to provide alternatives to irregular migration, including huge influxes of foreign aid in a number of sectors, particularly aimed at reducing youth unemployment. While these programs were probably not as effective as many had hoped, and there is evidence of some corruption in their administration, they were framed as linked concessions to prevent the root causes of irregular migration. Chapter 7 ties together the lessons learned from these very different country contexts. I focus on the role played by institutional characteristics of partner states and consider how these characteristics influenced the development of extraterritorial interdiction agreements internationally and might affect negotiations in other issue areas.

38

Outsourcing Control

2

Where Did Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements Come From? A Historical Comparative Perspective Sovereignty is nowhere more absolute than in matters of emigration, naturalization, nationality, and expulsion. Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism1

Extraterritorial interdiction cooperation to control unwanted migration emerged as a strategy in the early 1980s as a limited response to unique historical and political circumstances. But over time it evolved to become a much more widespread phenomenon, which has come to shape and define the migratory landscape in a number of regions internationally. Most notably, the US, Australia, and a number of European countries (especially Italy and Spain) have all pursued these types of agreements aggressively in their own regions, working to ensure that all major migratory pathways are closed off before migrants ever reach their borders. The appendix lists the first agreement between these destination states and the potential proximate partner states in their respective regions as outlined in chapter 1. It would be misleading to try to evaluate the presence or timing of these agreements quantitatively because it is impossible to know without the detailed case study work found in the remainder of this book exactly how or when negotiations for an agreement actually began, the degree of resources that the destination state devoted to concluding an agreement, or the actual practical degree of cooperation provided by the partner state beyond what was formally listed in the agreement (a challenge compounded by the fact that many of the agreements have not even been made public).

Figure 2.1 Map of agreements internationally

A Historical Comparative Perspective 39

40

Outsourcing Control

But the findings can tell us about patterns and trends in extraterritorial interdiction agreements today. Figure 2.1 illustrates the most important trend, which is that in all three regions, virtually all nearby countries that are important from a migration perspective have signed these types of agreements. The exact number of partner states that had signed in each region is detailed in table 2.1. In the Southeast Asian region, most of the countries that have not signed agreements with Australia are very small island nations. In the Americas, most of the countries that have not signed are either similarly small island nations or are not “frontline” states for immigration movements into the US. Moreover, every country except El Salvador has at least an agreement relating to “counter-drug operations,” “illicit drugs,” or “illicit maritime traffic.”2 These treaties usually say that they only apply to activities covered in the 1988 UN Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances. But some texts also obscure this, saying things like “‘illicit traffic’ also includes other illegal activities prohibited by international law.”3 In North and West Africa, most countries have signed such agreements. And while some of the non-eu Mediterranean states have not signed, they are generally bound by even more comprehensive agreements with the eu and Schengen region as a whole. Turkey, for example, signed an agreement with the eu to assist with halting the flow of especially Syrians into Europe in 2016 – expanding its capacity for surveillance and interception of irregular migrants and abiding by a “one in, one out” returns scheme whereby the eu could return anyone who arrived illegally in Greece in exchange for legally resettling someone else.4 In all three regions considered in this study, there have been striking parallels in the development of extraterritorial migration control policies. The US, Italy, and Australia all first tried to gain the cooperation of a Communist (or former Communist) state that had triggered an acute emigration wave by temporarily lifting Soviet-style exit controls. When these immigrants began arriving in unprecedented numbers, destination states opened negotiations with countries of origin, urging them to reassert unilateral control over exit. As migration pressures from other (non-Communist) states expanded in the 1990s, this template was then applied to other country contexts – even if they had never imposed unilateral exit controls. In part, this was the result of convergent evolution, as all three regions faced similar policy challenges. But there is also evidence of

A Historical Comparative Perspective

41

Table 2.1 The number of states that signed agreements with each destination state

Did not sign Signed Total

Australia

Italy

Spain

USA

Total

7 8 15

4 5 9

0 7 7

17 5 22

28 25 53

policy diffusion between regions. For example, Australia’s “Pacific Solution” was reportedly directly inspired by the success of the American “Caribbean Plan” to deter irregular arrivals.5 Europe first learned from and copied US policies of visas and carrier sanctions when designing the 1990 Schengen agreement.6 By the late 1990s, European member states were developing extraterritorial interdiction agreements that paralleled those developed in the US. And since the 2015 migration crisis, the eu has looked explicitly to the “Australian model” of interdictions, returns, and extraterritorial processing to help deter unwanted migrants. Southeast Asian states, Canada, and New Zealand have also mimicked the extraterritorial models rolled out in the US and Australia.7 Part of the policy diffusion process was driven by a change in the framing of this cooperation over time. Irregular migration pressures expanded throughout the 1990s, and more people began dying while trying to find their way around ever-more robust border control architectures. In response, destination states began framing the agreements in discourses about protecting migrants, especially in the context of safety of life at sea. In this context, migrant containment was presented as serving humanitarian ambitions. And following 9/11, this humanitarian language has often been replaced with an explicit emphasis on security cooperation – framing migration control cooperation as a necessary part of broader security cooperation between countries. It is in this context that we arrive in the current era of migration control cooperation, where most countries have signed some form of cooperative agreement. How did we get to this point of widespread adoption? At what point did extraterritorial interdiction become acceptable through the lens international law? And how have such similar templates emerged in different regions internationally? The rest of this chapter addresses these questions, looking first at the Cold

42

Outsourcing Control

War context in which the first agreements emerged and then turning to a region-by-region exploration of migration control cooperation policy development. While the remainder of this book focuses on the agreements from the perspective of partner states, this chapter provides historical context primarily through the lens of destination states’ policy goals and innovations. The contrast between the new framing of these agreements as measures to promote safety, human rights protections, or security and the fact that they have evolved in the Cold War era as heavy-handed measures to prevent departures is important. It means that potential partner states can frame the agreements very differently. And different partner states have incentives to frame the agreements differently depending on their domestic political contexts, as described in chapter 1. THE HISTORICAL MIGRATION CONTEXT

The modern preoccupation with limiting entry is so politically salient that it is difficult to imagine an era when this was not an overriding policy concern. However, in the mercantilist era the overriding concern was actually with controlling exit. This only began to change in the eighteenth century when the mercantilist emphasis on maximizing manpower and domestic production gave way to a liberal market approach to economics, and public opinion became more sceptical about immigration in the context of Malthusian concerns about overpopulation.8 The new emphasis on immigration prevention required new border control tools. Most controls were applied at the border, but destination states also started trying to prevent entry preemptively using tools like visas and carrier sanctions. Visas are the most common and well-known of these preemptive tools: entry permits issued by destination state authorities before a person embarks on a journey, designed to screen out anyone who might stay on illegally or is deemed an “undesirable” visitor for other reasons. Though the earliest visa restrictions date back at least two centuries9 and the US made them common practice starting with the 1924 Immigration Act,10 visas are a relatively novel border control tool in most destination states, and most countries only began requiring them in the 1980s as irregular immigration pressures began expanding.11 Visas have often been coupled with carrier sanctions – penalties imposed on transportation

A Historical Comparative Perspective

43

companies that transported people who lacked visas or other entry documentation required by the destination state. These measures again date back to the early twentieth century but did not become widespread until migration pressures expanded in the 1960s–80s.12 While both of these measures attempt to control migration preemptively, they are still imposed unilaterally by the destination state – unlike the eventual extraterritorial interdiction agreements that are the focus of this study. But even in the twentieth century, not everyone was equally worried about preventing entry. In the Cold War era, Communist states’ ideologies inclined them to fiercely guard against exit – especially of potential dissidents – based on a “doctrine of perpetual allegiance” and the claim that emigration barriers protected “the greater social good” and moulded the national character.13 As the East–West divide intensified, Soviet states became notorious for their policies of preventing the departure of citizens. The US and other western countries capitalized on this containment policy. They rallied around the idea of freedom of exit (enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights14), framing the desire of Soviet citizens to depart and their inability to do so as a violation of basic human rights and further proof of the inferiority of the Soviet model. When the Soviet Union continued to bar the exit of dissidents, US Congress passed the Jackson-Vanik amendment in 1974, which blocked nonmarket economies with barriers to emigration from receiving certain trade benefits from the US,15 demonstrating the depth of the schism on this issue. The Cold War also made the issue of refugee protection more salient in Western human rights discourse. Grounded in the 1951 Refugee Convention and 1967 Protocol, refugee protection emerged initially as a relatively limited set of laws and institutions to manage the post-wwii refugee crisis in Europe but evolved over time into a robust (if imperfect) legal regime centred on the principles of “nondiscrimination, non-penalization, and non-refoulement.”16 The principle of nonrefoulement – the responsibility not to return anyone to a country where their “life or freedom would be threatened” – has become so widely recognized that many have argued that it constitutes a nonderogable element of international law.17 Freedom of exit and refugee protection provided convenient languages of condemnation for Western states during the Cold War – allowing them to hail the few people who managed to flee Communist regimes as refugees fleeing state persecution. And because exit

44

Outsourcing Control

controls prevented most people from leaving, Western states could claim the human rights moral high ground without actually having to accept large numbers of unwanted migrants into their countries.18 But it also left liberal democratic Western states vulnerable. When mass departures did occur from Communist states, they had to choose between sticking to their rhetorical commitments and accepting huge numbers of newcomers or renouncing those ideals and closing their borders. It was in this context that the first extraterritorial interdiction agreements emerged in all three regions considered in this study. COLD WAR POLICY INNOVATION IN THE US

The US was the first country to adopt a bilateral extraterritorial interdiction template in 1981 when it negotiated an agreement with Haiti’s Jean-Claude Duvalier to contain irregular maritime migration from the small neighbouring island in 1981.19 The next chapter will discuss the politics of the negotiations surrounding this agreement with greater emphasis on the Haitian perspective. I focus here on the background to the agreement from the US’s perspective. Archival documents from the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and contemporaneous legal opinions show that this first agreement with Haiti was directly inspired by an informal Cold War arrangement between the US and Communist Cuba to end the Mariel boatlift. The Cuban template was adapted to fit the context of Haiti – a Cold War ally that did not have the same preexisting exit controls in place. With the end of the Cold War, the US began expanding this model to other partners, and this trend accelerated after the US began rhetorically linking irregular migration with terrorism in the wake of 9/11.20 It perhaps makes sense that the US has taken the lead on these types of initiatives. It has historically had higher volumes of immigration than any of the other countries considered in this study. Moreover, even undocumented migration – which only really emerged as a political concern in other areas in the 1980s and especially 1990s – has more of a historical legacy in the USA. US Customs and Border Protection data presented in figure 2.221 show that the numbers of alien apprehensions began to rise for the first time already in the late 1970s, peaking at about 1.7 million in 1986 before declining again. They began rising above 1 million again in 1990 however, and again peaked just under 1.7 million in

A Historical Comparative Perspective

45

Figure 2.2 US Customs and Border Protection apprehensions data. Black: total; gray: southwest border

2000 before declining thereafter. The vast majority of these apprehensions take place along the southwest border – above 95 per cent in most years. Of course, part of this may be the result of the “streetlight effect” – we find more migrants to interdict when we send people out looking for them. And there has been a clear expansion of cbp personnel since the 1990s, from 4,028 in 1993 to 9,212 in 2000, peaking at 21,444 at 2011.22 But while the initial period of this expansion was associated with an increase in apprehensions, the numbers of apprehended migrants have since fallen dramatically, suggesting that these numbers are not only due to more agents finding more people. But while terrestrial routes are clearly the most prevalent way for people to enter US illegally, maritime routes should not be neglected. Maritime migration attracts a disproportionate amount of media attention and political backlash relative to its actual size. And the US has had its fair share of maritime arrivals as well. Figure 2.3 shows a clear spike in coast guard interdictions at sea in the early 1990s.23 While a small number of these people were Mexican nationals, most were Haitian, Dominican, Cuban, or Ecuadorian. The US government has recently stopped publishing these data, which is why it is not possible to include numbers after 2015. The following section discusses

46

Outsourcing Control

Figure 2.3 US Coast Guard interdictions

how the US responded to this maritime migration by developing extraterritorial solutions. The Cuban Precedent When Castro came to power through the 1959 revolution, most of the people who fled his rule went to Florida.24 Eisenhower welcomed these early arrivals: they were highly skilled and assimilated easily with the existing Cuban population in Florida.25 Moreover, Castro had overthrown a regime friendly to the US and was adopting an increasingly Soviet orientation. This meant that new arrivals from Cuba were subject to the same open-door policy the US extended to people fleeing other Communist countries. As Eisenhower proclaimed in 1961, “Our people opened their homes and hearts to the Hungarian refugees four years ago. I am sure we will do no less for the distressed Cubans.”26 Moreover, it was easy for the US to sustain this policy, since Castro quickly began limiting permission for exit, and so very few people actually made it to the US. Frustrated by the US’s rhetoric, in 1965, Castro tried to call his neighbour’s bluff on its open-arms policy

A Historical Comparative Perspective

47

towards Cubans. Castro announced that he would allow Cubans to leave the island if they had relatives abroad who were willing to receive them, and that anyone who was not willing to “struggle for the people” should go.27 The US initially continued to welcome these people, but the Johnson administration soon began to face pressure to stop the boats. On 6 November 1965 the US and Cuba signed a memorandum of understanding facilitating orderly migration between the countries. The mou did not explicitly mention reinstating Castro’s containment policies, but this was an informal part of the arrangement.28 A similar standoff occurred in 1980 after an economic crisis in Cuba prompted people to again take to the sea. In the spirit of Cold War refugee policy, the US extended a warm welcome to anyone who managed the journey and granted them residency under the 1966 Cuban Adjustment Act. This tactic was designed to delegitimize Castro, and Castro responded with a threat: keep welcoming Cuban exiles as heroes and you’ll get more Cubans than you can handle. In April of 1980 he opened the Mariel harbour, allowing Americans to come and pick up relatives in the country. The US’s response was initially warm: on 5 May 1980, President Carter declared that “We’ll continue to provide an open heart and open arms to refugees seeking freedom from Communist domination.”29 But by midmonth, recognizing the scale of the crisis, he called for an interruption of the boatlift in the form of a naval blockade. fema took over the response to the refugee operation and began detaining the migrants in military bases where riots and unrest soon broke out. Ironically, the president had just signed the Refugee Act into law on 17 March 1980. The act created a clear definition of a refugee regardless of national origin and set out processing requirements.30 The Cuban exodus combined with a growing number of Haitian arrivals forced Carter to create a blanket category for both groups, labelling them “Cuban and Haitian entrants” who would require processing rather than automatically being granted status. But as the numbers of arrivals continued to grow and the US was unable to halt the flow, Carter turned to Cuba to try to negotiate an end to the flotilla. The negotiations were initially unsuccessful – the Cuban government wanted to use the incident to bring a broad range of foreign policy issues under negotiation while the US refused to negotiate anything beyond the immediate migration issue. But in July the arrival of the Blue Fire freighter in Mariel harbour almost led

48

Outsourcing Control

to open hostilities between the countries, and the Cubans began to reconsider. First of all, the flotilla was having social consequences at home, with tensions between those who wanted to leave and those who supported the regime and saw departure as treasonous. Second, the Cuban regime began to recognize that not enabling a conclusion to the crisis was severely damaging Carter’s chances of reelection. And while they did not appreciate the way he was handling this particular crisis, they recognized that he was their best chance at a normalized relationship with the US – certainly a far safer bet than the hawkish Reagan. So Castro agreed to reinstate his Soviet-style exit controls to save the US president from having to live up to his commitment to protecting Cuban asylum seekers once they arrived. Nevertheless, by the time it was all over, 125,000 Cubans had entered the US. And the return to Cuban exit controls was not enough to save Carter’s presidency, and he lost the election anyway. Applying the Cuban Model to Haiti As this was going on, the US was also seeing a spike in the number of unauthorized maritime Haitian arrivals. Whereas the Mariel boatlift was an acute exodus, the numbers of Haitian arrivals had been growing slowly since the 1970s as gross mismanagement and abuse by the Duvalier regime drove more and more people off the island. When Reagan took power, there were 35,000 Haitians in the country illegally, with forecasts that 1,500 more would continue to arrive each month if nothing were done.31 But what could Reagan do? Unlike Cuba’s Castro, Haiti’s Duvalier had never relied on exit controls to keep his population contained. And Reagan could never ask a Cold War ally to impose policies associated with the dreaded Soviets. Nevertheless, Reagan’s Task Force on Immigration and Refugee Policy wrote to the Office of Legal Counsel (olc) to see if there would be a way to keep boats from Haiti contained offshore. The olc’s response, dated 11 August 1981, on the “Proposed Interdiction of Haitian Flag Vessels”32 is noteworthy for two main reasons. First, the olc’s opinion on Haitian interdictions is directly copied from an earlier memo pertaining to interdicting Cuban vessels – but omits all counterarguments against the authority to interdict. The earlier memo had been written just a month prior but was never publicly published.33 The Haiti memo copied the entire section on the legality of offshore interdictions and returns from this memo,

A Historical Comparative Perspective

49

despite the very different context of Haiti not having exit control policies in place and being a Cold War ally. Perhaps even more worryingly, the only part of this section that was omitted was the “Arguments against the power to interdict.”34 This led some of Reagan’s advisors to worry that the legal backing for this operation would not be strong enough, and that the memo was more politically motivated than legal in nature.35 The second noteworthy point about the olc’s Haiti memos is that it explains why Reagan eventually found it necessary to conduct the operations with Haitian cooperation rather than unilaterally. It turns out that this had little to do with respect for international sovereignty or jurisdictional concerns and everything to do with US domestic politics. The olc memo highlights that the president might have ordered these operations based on three possible sources of power: (1) statutory authority (based on the president’s powers under existing law, including the president’s power to suspend the entry of aliens and the authority to enforce laws saying people cannot enter the country illegally), (2) implied authority (which gives the president power to act in domains where Congress is silent), and (3) foreign policy powers (granting the president authority to conclude an agreement with Haiti to “detain Haitians who are emigrating in violation of Haitian law in order to return them to Haiti”).36 Given that Congress was actively engaged in responding to the migration events, the olc clearly ruled out that source of authority in the Cuba memo (though again it bears repeating that this argument against the power to interdict was omitted from the later Haiti memo). And statutory power would also be insufficient given the political climate and the widespread advocacy on behalf of new arrivals: indeed, the inability to enforce domestic laws about illegal entry was exactly the reason why Reagan needed a new solution in the first place. He was left by process of elimination with only the foreign policy option. Thus, when he launched the Haitian interdiction program in September of 1981 he grounded it in two documents: (1) a formal exchange of notes with the Duvalier government37 and (2) an executive order.38 Because the solution had to be grounded in foreign policy powers, it was limited to foreign-flagged vessels and had to be premised on the permission of the flag state. These idiosyncrasies and other characteristics of this initial agreement continue to have legacies in modern migration control agree-

50

Outsourcing Control

ments.39 For more than a decade, the US–Haiti agreement remained a unique arrangement, grounded in the exceptional context of Cold War alliances and exit politics. But the US expanded this preliminary template for extraterritorial interdiction cooperation once the Cold War ended. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the first country to which it was expanded was the country from which the template was drawn: Cuba. Following another wave of mass departures in 1994, the two countries agreed to a program of interdictions and returns, with Castro actively working to “prevent unsafe departures using mainly persuasive methods.”40 But the real rollout of these policies occurred in the context of post9/11 heightened security concerns. First, the US signed “Smart Border” agreements with both Mexico (discussed in chapter 4)41 and Canada.42 Soon thereafter, the US signed maritime interdiction and return agreements with the Dominican Republic43 and the Bahamas.44 While the US has agreements with most countries in the region relating to suppression of “illicit maritime traffic,” the rest of these agreements either specify that they only apply to counternarcotics or leave the target of their operations ambiguous. Nevertheless, as will be shown in chapter 3, even agreements that are explicitly targeted against counternarcotics have been used to control migration. EXTRATERRITORIAL INTERDICTION COOPERATION IN THE MEDITERRANEAN AND BEYOND

Just as the Haiti–US arrangement in the Americas was initially seen as being of dubious legal grounding and was inspired by the US’s agreement with Communist Cuba, so too was the first extraterritorial interdiction agreement in the Mediterranean inspired by a legally exceptional arrangement with formerly-Communist Albania. Albania was the exception to the otherwise unrealized fears of a mass outmigration after the fall of communism. Albanians were given the right to travel abroad in 1990, and in 1991 many Albanians seized the opportunity to try to leave – first by storming European embassies, and then, a few months later, by commandeering boats towards Italy.45 Italy was caught between pressures to allow potential refugees to land and disembark and pressures to control its borders and prevent entry. Italy chose to allow the boats to dock, but most people were eventually repatriated. Given the political conflicts generated by the mass

A Historical Comparative Perspective

51

arrivals and the costs for Italy of returning these people, Italy had to go one step further, eventually cutting a deal with Albanian President Ramiz Alia that Italy would provide aid in exchange for greater border protection from the Albanian side to prevent the departures in the first place.46 This diplomatic arrangement was combined with “Operation Pellicano” – a combined aid and border control operation.47 This arrangement held for a while. But in 1996, Albania faced a crisis. Elections that were largely perceived as fraudulent brought the Berisha government to power, a regime that quickly clamped down on a variety of civil and political liberties. In early 1997, a financial pyramid scheme collapsed, triggering massive uprisings; amidst widespread political protests, rebels looted armouries and seized control of parts of the south of the country. As pressure to leave the country escalated, these seized southern territories quickly emerged as a new launch point for boats of irregular migrants hoping to reach Italy.48 President Berisha requested European intervention to restore order in the country.49 But Russia and other allies insisted that any intervention required UN Security Council approval.50 So Italy went out and obtained it: on 29 March 1997, the security council passed (Italian-drafted51) Resolution 110. It argued that “the present situation of crisis in Albania constitutes a threat to peace and security in the region,” and welcomed “the offer made by certain Member States to establish a temporary and limited multinational protection force.”52 Operation Alba was the first UN operation to be led by a country other than the US, and in addition to its humanitarian function, it committed a coalition of forces to patrol both international and Albanian waters and to push back any boats bound for Italy. Over time, this escalated into almost a compete blockade, and – despite the protests of unhcr – Italy allowed no one to enter Italy after the first week, and even those who managed to reach the country and demonstrated credible fear of persecution were only granted two months of temporary stay.53 Italy also continued to negotiate directly with the Albanian regime to sustain extraterritorial migration control cooperation. Even before the UN operation, Italy had paid the Albanian government $9 million to attempt to block the outflow.54 On 2 April 1997, the two governments agreed to a protocol on enforcement measures that Italy would be allowed to take in order to contain maritime migration.55 In November of the same year, the still-shaky Albanian regime

52

Outsourcing Control

signed an extraterritorial interdiction agreement with Italy, which helped to sustain the operations in the long term after Italy’s unsc mandate expired.56 This agreement is important for a couple of reasons. First, while Albania was no longer under Communist leadership at the time the agreement was signed, both the 1991 and 1997 agreements were designed to perpetuate the Cold War status quo of limited mobility – much as in the Cuban case. Second, the Albanian government actively contributed to both operations and continued to use language reminiscent of Soviet exit-control justifications. In the words of the leader of the Albanian coalition government: Italy should patrol the entire Adriatic to stop this exodus because Albania’s problems have to be resolved by the Albanians themselves in Albania … [The mission is] the only way to give Albanians faith in this government’s ability to govern.57 Finally, this operation was triggered by an exceptional and unique crisis in Albania. Operation Alba was UN-sanctioned. It was treated as an emergency situation requiring an immediate response in the form of a military intervention that relied on UN chapter 7 use of force. And yet this model was later used as an inspiration for migration control agreements with countries that were not facing similar circumstances. As late as 2011, Franco Frattini (then the Italian minister of foreign affairs) was still citing Albania as an example of successful coordination: “[Albania] accepted our help. When traffickers saw military ships 2 km off the coasts, they didn’t leave.”58 Over the following years, Italy would use the “Albanian precedent” without either of the conditions that justified that first mission: unsc approval and country of origin requests for assistance. Expanding the Albanian Model Soon after proving the success of the extraterritorial model in the Albanian case, Italy faced pressures to control migration from other countries. In March of 1998, Italy acceded to Schengen. But the country was still struggling to prove its capacity to effectively guard its expansive Mediterranean coastline to the rest of the Schengen countries. Italy’s early measures to control immigration had been purely domestically oriented. A 1986 law protected domestic workers from

A Historical Comparative Perspective

53

foreign competition, and in 1990 this was extended into the first comprehensive immigration and asylum law. The 1995 Dini Decree was the first domestic law that directly addressed irregular migration by sanctioning smuggling and allowing for expulsion.59 But as it worked to join Schengen in 1998, the country passed its most comprehensive immigration law to date: the Turco-Napolitano Act. This law was based on four pillars: (1) preventing illegal entry, (2) regulating labour migration, (3) ensuring integration of migrants, (4) guaranteeing migrant rights.60 But even with the new domestic control measures in place, Italy was hesitant to take on sole responsibility for all the people arriving on its coasts. So as the eu called on Italy to strengthen its borders, Italy turned outwards towards non-eu countries. They started with readmission agreements but soon sought out even more ambitious agreements – turning to major regional source countries of migrants and asking them to conclude extraterritorial interdiction agreements. On 6 August 1998, the Tunisian and Italian foreign ministers signed a bilateral agreement to control irregular migration jointly (discussed in greater detail in chapter 5). Perhaps most notoriously, successive Italian governments also concluded these types of arrangements with Libya’s Gaddafi.61 In 2000, Italy signed a police cooperation agreement with Egypt, which, in combination with agreements from 2002, eventually allowed for joint patrols. Algeria and Italy initiated migration patrolling cooperation in 2009.62 While the operations in Albania were a distinctive chapter in the history of Italian maritime migration cooperation, they played a role in influencing the development of future initiatives undertaken by the country. The broad measures for extraterritorial interdiction cooperation rolled out in the Albanian case have been described as providing “an exemplary case of cooperation with a country of origin for the purpose of reducing illegal migration by sea” for Italy,63 and they informed the development of the Italian Single Law on migration, passed in 1998, which, combined with amendments in 2002, provided the domestic ground work for cooperation with countries of origin and transit in containing migration flows abroad.64 The Albanian precedent was explicitly cited as late as 2011, when, following the massive political upheavals in Tunisia and Libya, Italy directly referenced the “Albanian model” as a precedent for proposing a full blockade of Tunisian ports by Frontex and forcing migrants to return.65

54

Outsourcing Control

Figure 2.4 Net migration into Italy and Spain

But Italy is certainly not the only country to have relied on this model of border control cooperation. Spain established its first extraterritorial interdiction agreement with Morocco on 4 December 2003,66 which enabled joint maritime patrols in the Canary Islands and the Straits of Gibraltar and eventually grew into the atlantis patrols.67 The agreement reduced the number of people leaving Morocco, but smugglers eventually adjusted their routes and started departing from further south. Spain was thus forced to approach countries sequentially along the West African coastline – opening negotiations with first Mauritania and then Senegal in 2006. In the following years Spain would also sign agreements with Cape Verde, Gambia, Guinea, and Guinea-Bissau. These Spanish agreements have also provided the basis for European Frontex operations,68 as will be discussed in chapter 6 in the context of Spanish-Senegalese migration control cooperation. Other European states have signed readmission and control agreements with other countries of origin, usually targeting those that are the most significant sources of irregular migrants for them domestically.69 The reason why these states have been at the forefront of these efforts to externalize the borders relates primarily to their geography. Italy and Spain had both historically been net emigration countries,

A Historical Comparative Perspective

55

Figure 2.5 Frontex data on illegal border crossing into Europe

only truly making the switch to being destination states in the 1990s, as shown in figure 2.4.70 As they worked to integrate their borders with the eu and the Schengen area, they faced expanded pressures to control entry and prevent undocumented arrivals. And yet their geographic position made them prime targets for people trying to reach an ever-more protected “fortress Europe.” As it has become harder to obtain visas to enter eu countries legally, more people have tried to enter via irregular routes. The importance of maritime routes into Europe is clearly illustrated by Frontex data on irregular entries, as shown in figure 2.5.71 While Frontex data unfortunately only dates back to 2009, the ratio of maritime to land arrivals illustrates the important role that these coastal states play in receiving and processing these arrivals. Expanding Cooperation at the EU Level Given the permeability of Schengen’s internal borders, individual member states’ extraterritorial interdiction agreements have important implications for the eu community as well. Thus, the eu has also gotten involved in bringing third countries into migration control agreements – despite their more stringent human rights standards

56

Outsourcing Control

and objections to push-back operations. Italy, alongside Spain and Greece, has been one of the primary countries advocating for this extraterritorial approach. Europe has steadily moved towards policies that offshore the work of migration control to countries of origin and transit, linking broader foreign policy goals to migration control cooperation – a process that Zaiotti describes as the “Schengenization of foreign policy.”72 This has happened in successive waves. The Tampere Program (1999) developed the notion of a Common European Asylum System but also addressed the need to establish common rules relating to other types of migrants.73 It formally invited the eu to conclude readmission agreements with third countries on behalf of its member states and suggested that readmission agreements should be concluded with all countries or that readmission clauses be included in the text of all other agreements.74 In 2002, Spain (concerned about Morocco’s reticence to assist with containing migration) took the lead in promoting externalization beyond just readmission agreements.75 Spain used its presidency of the council to advocate sanctioning third countries that didn’t participate in stopping migration flows and advocated greater cooperation with third countries in order to better control migration. The 2002 presidency conclusions made the entire foreign policy of the region contingent on migration control cooperation: The European Council urges that any future cooperation, association or equivalent agreement which the European Union or the European Community concludes with any country should include a clause on joint management of migration flows and on compulsory readmission in the event of illegal immigration … Inadequate cooperation by a country could hamper the establishment of closer relations between that country and the Union.76 The trend was accelerated at the 2003 Thessaloniki European Council, thanks largely to Greek advocacy efforts.77 And in 2006, the eu developed a “Global Approach to Migration and Mobility,” which advocates eu-level “Mobility Partnerships” that create a quid pro quo between countries on issues including “development aid, temporaryentry visa facilitation, temporary migration schemes, and the fight against illegal migration.”78 At the time of writing, the European Commission had concluded nine Mobility Partnerships with Cape

A Historical Comparative Perspective

57

Verde, the Republic of Moldova, Georgia, Armenia, Morocco, Azerbaijan, Tunisia, Jordan, and Belarus. It also has “Common Agendas on Migration and Mobility” with Ethiopia and Nigeria.79 Technically, these agreements are based on a “multipillar” approach: promoting legal migration, linking migration with development goals, providing refugee protection, and combatting irregular migration. But the member states that have pushed for these eu-level innovations have all been the states most heavily impacted by irregular entry, suggesting that the primary motivation has been the pressure to contain irregular flows. The multipillar arrangement not only helps to legitimize the agreements at home but also speaks to the challenge of ensuring partner state involvement. Over time, as countries of origin and transit have become ever-more essential partners in efforts to contain irregular migration flows, they have come to recognize their integral role and become more assertive in their demands for concessions. These states have gained power in their relations with the eu by helping with expulsion, redocumentation, police cooperation, and Frontex cooperation. The resulting interdependence developed in law enforcement agencies and other migration control bodies allowed these parties to demand more in exchange for their cooperation in migration management efforts.80 CLOSING MARITIME ROUTES TO AUSTRALIA

Australia has seen a few distinct phases of irregular maritime entries, as shown in data published by the Parliament of Australia on the total number of people who arrived by boat by year, dating back to 1976 (shown in figure 2.6).81 Like the US and Italy, Australia’s first experience of cooperative extraterritorial border control was in the Cold War context of an acute and exceptional exodus from a Communist state. But unlike the cases discussed above, this cooperative agreement was initially multilateral in nature. In the decades following the 1975 Communist victories in Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos, more than three million people fled Southeast Asia, many by boat and many requiring protection abroad.82 Australia’s participation in the multilateral response to this crisis set a precedent for the more robust unilateral and bilateral measures that it would develop starting in the 2000s. This refugee crisis was a defining event for Australia, as it was the first time that it became a country of first asylum for significant num-

58

Outsourcing Control

Figure 2.6 Total Australian maritime arrivals by calendar year

bers of maritime migrants. Australia played a dual role in this crisis. On one hand, the country was a country of first asylum for a number of maritime migrants: the first boat of refugees arrived in 1976 and by August of 1981 more than 2,000 people had arrived by boat. But Australia also resettled thousands of refugees who had arrived and been processed elsewhere in the region: nearly 70,000 Indo-Chinese refugees were resettled between 1976 and 1982. This resettlement program was driven by both altruistic and selfserving goals on the part of Australia. On one hand, there was widespread concern globally about the fate of those who were being forced out of the region, and many in the international community assumed that people fleeing the conflict were refugees.83 But Australia had an additional incentive: refugees generally did not attempt to reach Australia unless they were turned away by nearer-by states like Malaysia or Singapore. Yet as nearby countries became overwhelmed by the number of arrivals, these countries of first asylum threatened to stop accepting arrivals unless the international community stepped in to assist them. So the Australian government adopted a policy of “forward selection,” resettling refugees from other countries of first asylum that were closer to Vietnam in an attempt to prevent them pushing boats back out to sea that would eventually try

A Historical Comparative Perspective

59

to make their way to Australia directly.84 Australia passed domestic legislation making it easier to file offshore applications but simultaneously worked to deter people from trying to arrive independently and claim asylum on Australian shores.85 Australia also sought international support. At an international conference in Geneva in December 1978, they tried to convince other countries to also offer resettlement, hoping that this would further deter countries of first asylum from pushing back boats.86 In 1979, the unhcr brokered a broader resolution: a number of countries internationally agreed to accept thousands of resettled Vietnamese, and in exchange neighbouring countries promised to continue providing temporary protection. Much as in later bilateral extraterritorial control agreements, under this multilateral arrangement Vietnam also agreed to do more to prevent people from leaving: in an mou signed with unhcr in 1979 they committed to an “Orderly Departures Program” (odp) which brought the number of illegal departures down from almost 57,000 in June of 1979 to about 2,500 per month by the end of the year.87 This multilateral arrangement held for a few years. But in 1987, Vietnam suspended the Orderly Departures Program, even as deteriorating economic conditions pushed many more people to attempt to leave.88 This situation required more formal cooperation, and the unhcr set up the International Conference on Indo-Chinese Refugees in June of 1989, bringing together countries of origin, first asylum, and resettlement. They eventually formalized the Comprehensive Plan of Action in which resettlement was again promised in exchange for continued temporary protection.89 Vietnam played an even greater role this time around, reinstating and expanding the odp, which meant further cracking down on irregular departures while also promising not to prosecute or punish people who were returned to the country.90 Vietnamese cooperation did not come cheap: they made their participation in the program conditional on reintegration into the global political and economic system. The US gave them diplomatic recognition and dropped sanctions; they gained access to lending from the imf, wb, and Asian Development Bank; asean allowed them to join.91 This is ironic given that the government of Vietnam was at least partially involved in triggering the exodus in the first place. Human rights conditions may have improved somewhat between the 1979 arrangement and the 1989 cpa, and it is possible that more people were flee-

60

Outsourcing Control

ing economic rather than political challenges. But there was still evidence that the government of Vietnam was actively persecuting dissenters, including “intellectuals, clergy, journalists, and some foreigners” who could be arrested, detained, and sent to “reeducation camps.”92 And while Vietnam was beginning to allow some limited travel abroad,93 opportunities for exit were still decidedly restricted – especially for those targeted by the regime. As argued by Hathaway, “while the particular objects and forms of disenfranchisement had changed [since 1979], conditions in post-1988 Vietnam remained conducive to generating legitimate refugee claims.”94 While the solution to the Vietnamese crisis was multilateral in nature and a response to a very discrete set of events, it sowed “the seeds of the contemporary Australian model of asylum.”95 It was during this period that Australia began informal cooperation with Indonesia and other countries of first asylum and first attempted to deter independent arrivals by punishing them with detention or access to only limited protections. This was also when rhetoric about “queue-jumping” started – implying that true refugees were those who waited patiently for resettlement, whereas those who arrived by boat were less deserving.96 When irregular maritime migration resumed again in the late 1990s, the Howard administration would draw on the lessons from the Indo-Chinese refugee crisis, even as it innovated new extraterritorial approaches to border control. The “Pacific Solution” and Beyond In the late 1990s, undocumented maritime immigration into Australia resumed – now primarily of people from the Middle East and Sri Lanka. Though numbers of arrivals remained relatively small throughout the 1990s, the political situation came to a head with the “Tampa Incident.” On 26 August 2001, a few hundred (mainly Afghani) undocumented migrants were picked up by a Norwegian ship, the mv Tampa, between Indonesia and Australia. The captain brought them to Australia. But Australia did not allow them to dock, instead demanding that the boat be returned to Indonesia. The situation was only resolved with assistance from Nauru and New Zealand who agreed to allow the refugees to land and processed their asylum claims.97 In response, the Howard government implemented a number of changes that came to be known as the “Pacific Solution,” which some authors report was directly inspired by the US’s strategies in the

A Historical Comparative Perspective

61

Caribbean.98 On 28 August 2001, his government launched “Operation Relex” – an Australian Defense Force containment operation to detect and “intercept” irregular arrivals. The mandate of this operation was expanded on 26 September 2001 when the government overhauled the Australian Migration Act so that defence forces could interdict these arrivals and tow them away – usually to the boundaries of Indonesian waters.99 These measures were coupled with cooperation agreements with nearby countries. Indonesia has been one of the most important, but also challenging, partners for Australia in its efforts to secure regional migration control cooperation. The countries had agreed to a “Regional Cooperation Model” even prior to the Tampa incident, but this only covered Indonesian domestic interdiction and processing.100 Over the subsequent years, the countries signed numerous agreements, including a 2010 “Implementation framework for cooperation to combat people smuggling and trafficking in persons.”101 But while Australia and Indonesia have signed a number of migration-related agreements over the years, Indonesia has never condoned direct returns into their territory. However, since 2002, they have cohosted the “Bali Process on People Smuggling, Trafficking in Persons and Related Transnational Crime” – a forum designed to raise awareness and promote cooperation to address crime associated with various forms of irregular movement. Australia also signed an agreement with Thailand in 2001 to “fight people smuggling and combat illegal immigration.”102 It expanded cooperation with East Timor in 2002 through two mous: (1) A “Memorandum of Understanding on the Exchange of Information and Mutual Cooperation in Combating Illegal Immigration and People Smuggling,” and (2) A “Memorandum of Understanding on Regional Cooperation Arrangements for Combating Illegal Immigration and People Smuggling.”103 And around this time it also signed an mou with Cambodia “concerning mutual cooperation in combating Irregular migration, people smuggling and Trafficking.”104 On 10 September 2001, Australia signed a new type of agreement with Nauru and Papua New Guinea allowing for “offshore processing.” People interdicted at sea were taken to these countries where they were processed by unhcr, even as they remained outside the legal administration of Australia or the hosting countries.105 Cooperation with Papua New Guinea was expanded in 2003 to include a full mou on Migration, Refugees, Irregular Migration and People Smuggling.106

62

Outsourcing Control

In addition to these extraterritorial arrangements, in September 2001 changes to the Migration Act also allowed Australia to “excise” national territory from the Australian migration zone. Anyone who arrived at excised islands would not be considered to have reached Australian territory for migration purposes. They could thus be pushed back towards their point of departure.107 Between 2005 and 2007, Australia also secured cooperation from the Philippines through an mou on “border and migration management cooperation”;108 Malaysia through a Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters agreement, that covered terrorism, drug trafficking, fraud, money laundering and people trafficking;109 and Fiji.110 Despite its effectiveness, the broad set of domestic policies known as the “Pacific Solution” faced fierce domestic criticism and was dismantled by the Labor government in 2008. But boats full of undocumented migrants started arriving almost as soon as it ended. So from 2011 to 2013, successive governments slowly reinstituted these policies – and expanded them. In the September 2013 elections, Tony Abbott’s Coalition government made “stop the boats” a central campaign slogan. And upon election, his government quickly went to work restoring the policies of the prior Pacific Solution. Australia again began providing only temporary protection for refugees and expanded cooperation with third countries – especially Indonesia,111 Sri Lanka, and Malaysia.112 They also implemented “Operation Sovereign Borders” – a massive and highly militarized interdiction program introduced just days after the Coalition government came to power.113 In addition to interdictions, this operation also conducts offshore “deterrence” operations in partner states and is responsible for facilitating offshore detention and returns.114 The Abbott government also signed agreements with Papua New Guinea (August 2013), Nauru (August 2013), and Cambodia (September 2014) for resettling (not just processing) asylum seekers. This was a dramatic change, as the idea was to completely dissuade migrants from attempting the journey by removing any promise of resettlement in Australia even if they were granted asylum. This initiative was accompanied by international messaging campaigns to make sure people considering the journey knew the risks. The stated goal has been to “break the business model” of the people smugglers by removing the product that they sell – a life and future in Australia.115

A Historical Comparative Perspective

63

I N T E R N AT I O N A L L AW A N D L E G A L D E B AT E S

The legality and normative acceptability of these extraterritorial approaches to irregular migration control is heavily contested. Human rights activists and migrant rights groups balk at the idea of cooperating with governments that are complicit in human rights violations. But there are also the very real considerations surrounding the risks of human smuggling, trafficking, and deaths at sea. Advocates of these arrangements argue that these dangers cannot be effectively combatted without the partnership of countries of origin and transit. In this section, I consider three major high court decisions that have impacted the way that extraterritorial interdiction agreements can be carried out in different regions. I then look at the Palermo Protocols – an important legal innovation at the global level that has shaped the way that countries approach the challenges of human smuggling and trafficking. Domestic and Regional Legal Challenges The main domestic legal obstacles for destination states to concluding these types of agreements has been the issue of refugee protection and whether outsourcing containment practices to countries that do not have the same standards of human rights protections violates the principle of nonrefoulement. Most of the populations that are interdicted are “mixed migration” flows – comprised of both economic migrants and asylum seekers. States have the right to defend their borders and to determine who may immigrate into their territories. But they are responsible for not returning anyone to a country where their “life or freedom would be threatened” – an obligation known as “nonrefoulement.”116 But determination of when and where this obligation comes into force is subject to different interpretations.117 Courts have traditionally been more liberal on issues of immigration and refugee protection than the population at large (or most policymakers), having internalized legal commitments to family reunification, workers’ rights, and nonrefoulement.118 It is perhaps unsurprising then that in two of the three major challenges to these extraterritorial migration control arrangements, liberal destination states’ courts have argued that the arrangements provide insufficient protection of refugee rights.

64

Outsourcing Control

The major exception was the first of these cases: the US Supreme Court case of Sale v. Haitian Centers Council in 1993. In 1992, in the context of renewed Cuban and Haitian migration pressures, President Bush replaced Reagan’s 1981 Executive Order 12324 with Executive Order 12807. The order was mostly a direct copy of its predecessor but makes a significant change in the area of refugee protection: Reagan’s eo had promised fair enforcement of our laws relating to immigration … and the strict observance of our international obligations concerning those who genuinely flee persecution in their homeland.119 In other words, nonrefoulement would be respected under Reagan’s plan. Bush cut this section and replaced it with the following section, effectively excusing the US from its legal obligations not to return people to places where they would face persecution – as long as operations took place extraterritorially: The international legal obligations of the United States … to apply Article 33 of the United Nations Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees [regarding nonrefoulement] do not extend to persons located outside the territory of the United States … [Nothing in this order is] construed to require any procedures to determine whether a person is a refugee.120 To the surprise of many observers, the Supreme Court upheld Bush’s executive order. In Sale v. Haitian Centers Council (1993). The Supreme Court argued that “neither § 243(h) [of the US ina, which prevents people from being deported to countries where they would face persecution] nor Article 33 of the United Nations Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees [which protects refugees from refoulement] applies to [forced repatriation] action taken by the Coast Guard on the high seas.”121 The other two high court cases, in Australia and the eu, were not as supportive of these policies. In 2011 Australia’s High Court heard a similar case after Prime Minister Gillard attempted to establish a refugee processing centre in Malaysia. On 31 August 2011, the court determined that Malaysia could not be used as an asylum processing location as the country had not signed the unhcr convention and did not have a regime in place for refugee protection.122 (Undeterred,

A Historical Comparative Perspective

65

Gillard simply moved to set up similar accords with neighbouring countries who had signed the necessary conventions: Nauru and Papua New Guinea.123) Finally, in 2012, Italy’s push-back operations towards Libya were found to be in breach of the European Convention of Human Rights in the European Court of Human Rights (ecthr) case of Hirsi Jamaa and Others v. Italy.124 These operations had been drastically expanded following the 2008 agreement with Libya, and the ecthr decision was the most damning decision regarding push-back operations to date. Unlike the US Supreme Court in the 1993 Sale case, the ecthr found that all of the events fell within Italy’s jurisdiction and thus were required to be compatible with both Italian and eu legal commitments. Given the known abuses of the Gaddafi regime, the court argued that the burden of proof fell on Italy to show that refoulement was not a challenge. This verdict thus brought the legality of the entire project of extraterritorial migration governance into question.125 International Normative Change: Palermo Protocols But even states that hold that nonrefoulement applies in extraterritorial operations have tried to shift responsibility onto other countries by arguing that operations happen “cooperatively”126 – making the partnerships with countries of embarkation ever more important. Academics and activists have objected to framing extraterritorial interdiction agreements as mutually beneficial “cooperation” or “migration management” policies, arguing that this language is used to depoliticize and legitimize control-oriented practices.127 Nevertheless, this trend has become widespread and has accelerated since the Palermo “Protocol Against the Smuggling of Migrants” advocated for a cooperative approach to migration management. Central to the justification of a cooperative approach is the idea that irregular movements are primarily a problem of human smuggling and trafficking and thus should be treated as issues of transnational crime. Movements to prevent human trafficking have received substantial support from activists and human rights advocates and are relatively easy to frame as issues of transnational crime. By contrast, efforts to create a legal regime to control human smuggling have been championed primarily by major destination states, and the link to transnational crime has always felt more tenuous as the “victims”

66

Outsourcing Control

of this crime generally are also the purchasers of the good and have voluntarily contracted to be smuggled. The US was one of the first countries to begin advocating for an international legal response to human smuggling. Even as it was expanding its domestic and bilateral countersmuggling efforts in the 1990s, the US also approached the International Maritime Organization and the UN Commission on Crime Prevention and Criminal Justice with draft resolutions on preventing human smuggling. Other major destination states – especially Austria and Italy – were similarly becoming concerned about irregular arrivals and welcomed the idea of tackling human smuggling through cooperative frameworks.128 In 1993, both the UN General Assembly and the International Maritime Organization responded with resolutions commending international cooperation to combat international smuggling. Both resolutions were grounded in human rights language, highlighting concerns about safety of life at sea and “the grave danger to life arising from unsafe practices associated with alien smuggling.”129 The resolutions also introduced the new legitimizing language of preventing transnational crime. The unga resolution opened by declaring concern “that the activities of criminal organizations that profit illicitly by smuggling human beings and preying on the dignity and lives of migrants contribute to the complexity of the phenomenon of increasing international migration.”130 The instrument that has become the bedrock of international law relating to smuggling and trafficking is the UN Organized Crime Convention (which was adopted in 2000 and came into force in 2003).131 Though the convention itself addressed organized crime broadly, its three associated protocols relate to human smuggling, human trafficking, and firearms respectively. There is debate about the degree to which the smuggling and trafficking protocols were influenced by major destination states’ restrictive immigration control interests as compared to human rights concerns.132 The trafficking protocol seems to have been developed with strong support and input from ngos and human rights advocates. But the smuggling protocol is different. There was much less input from human rights activists. And even where these groups were engaged, they found that they had less leverage over the negotiations because destination states had clearer goals of migration control and greater technical competence when it came to human smuggling as compared to human trafficking prevention.133 As argued by Gallagher:

A Historical Comparative Perspective

67

Although human rights concerns may have provided some impetus (or cover) for collective action, it was clearly the sovereignty/security issues surrounding migrant smuggling and trafficking, as well as the perceived link with organized criminal groups operating across national borders, that proved to be the true driving force behind such efforts.134 But despite the greater degree of international consensus on the need to prevent trafficking as compared to smuggling, the smuggling agenda contains far more binding language than the trafficking protocol. Both protocols explicitly call for a cooperative approach to managing smuggling and trafficking problems and treat them as problems of transnational crime. But the smuggling protocol also specifies numerous cooperative commitments that signatory states agree to undertake, including information sharing, border security measures, document security and control, and trainings.135 The smuggling protocol even explicitly encourages states to consider concluding bilateral and regional agreements to more effectively achieve the goals of the protocol. This provides further support for the idea that the language of cooperation in these protocols serves at least in part to justify further extraterritorialization of destination states’ migration control policies.137 It is of course true that between the mid-1990s and the early 2000s, irregular journeys became more dangerous and a more diverse group of voices began calling for protective measures to ensure their safety. But the increased danger associated with irregular voyages is also not exogenous to new border security efforts – including extraterritorial interdiction agreements. As borders become harder for people without visas to cross independently, would-be migrants are more likely to enlist the services of professional smugglers. And where an illicit market exists for smuggling, traffickers will soon follow. CONCLUSION

This chapter has explored the emergence of extraterritorial interdiction agreements from the perspective of destination states, looking at why these states initially developed this model, how it has spread over time, and their efforts to ground these measures in international law. In all three major migration systems explored in this study, extraterritorial interdiction agreements have emerged

68

Outsourcing Control

following similar trajectories. Early agreements were solutions of last resort to acute migration crises. They were first inspired by agreements designed to convince Cold War Communist states to return to their former exit-controlling policies. And they were often bolstered by exceptional legal measures. But over time, irregular migration became more widespread, complex, and globalized. Inspired by the efficiency of early cooperative border control tactics, destination states began working to expand the model to nonCommunist states that did not have the same exit-control policies in place. Early on, this often meant partnering with major regional source countries of migrants. But as the extraterritorial model was normalized through state practice and legal precedent, and as migrants found new routes to evade the control agreements that had already been put in place, destination states began promoting these arrangements as a general model of partnership and good governance and asking all of their neighbours to help them contain irregular migration flows. This expansion of the model was coupled with a change in rhetoric. Cooperative extraterritorial interdiction and return arrangements are now justified on humanitarian grounds, as a way to prevent people from attempting dangerous journeys, dying in deserts or at sea, or being exploited by human traffickers. Irregular migration has also increasingly been linked to security and counterterrorism cooperation, especially since 9/11 and the advent of the “war on terror.” As such, cooperation on migration management has become more normalized – framed by destination states an expectation rather than an exception. Nevertheless, these complex histories and layered motives mean that migration control cooperation can be framed in very different ways, and partner states negotiate these agreements in the context of conflicting narratives about what they mean. On one hand, destination states frame them in the normalizing language of good governance, prevention of transnational crime, and security cooperation. But activists, state leaders, and their domestic political opponents also have access to a very different narrative: one in which partner state leaders who sign these types of agreements are giving up domestic sovereignty and are selling out their citizens to appease powerful neighbours’ xenophobic migration control goals. Which of these narratives wins out depends to a large extent on the degree to which part-

A Historical Comparative Perspective

69

ner state governments can control domestic narratives and the ways in which they are vulnerable to – and can benefit politically from – more radical narratives about sovereignty and freedom of movement. The following chapters shift the focus to partner states, exploring this tension and highlighting how different leaders have mobilized different narratives at different times.

70

Outsourcing Control

3

Tumultuous Relations in the Caribbean: Haiti and the US When citizens of Haiti take to the seas to flee … repression they are met by a floating Berlin Wall that forces their return to the very captors they have fled. Jean-Bertrand Aristide, denouncing the US interdiction policy while in exile in 19941

Haitians object to their country’s name carrying the suffix of “poorest country in the Western hemisphere.” They would rather their country’s name conjure up associations with its revolutionary past: Haiti was the second American colony to achieve independence after the US and remains the only country to have been led to independence by former slaves. In the years following independence, Haiti became a magnet for immigration from around the region. Former and escaped slaves fled to the country, wanting to be a part of the first freed slave state. And the 1806 Haitian Constitution promised freedom to any person of African or Indian descent who moved to the island, with full rights of citizenship after one year.2 So despite domestic instability, the country was historically a destination for migrants – not a source. This began to change in the twentieth century. The first wave of departures occurred between the two World Wars. Fearing the possibility that Germans might gain access to Haiti and thereby the Panama Canal during wwi, the US occupied Haiti from 1915 to 1945. The US-backed regime signed contracts with Cuba and the Dominican Republic that encouraged the first wave of labour emigration off of the island. A second wave of emigration began when François Duvalier (“Papa Doc”) came to power in 1957. The elites and intellectuals

Haiti and the US

71

Figure 3.1 Haitian regime characteristics over time

targeted by the new Duvalier government were the first to leave – many went to France or francophone Canada and Africa. However, by the 1970s, as the Duvaliers continued their oppression and corrupt economic management, poor people began leaving the country too. Unable to get visas or afford airfare to French speaking countries, many of them began leaving by boat for the US. These were not the elite Haitians that the US and others had previously welcomed. They were poorer working class people who arrived in much larger numbers and were widely perceived as economic migrants rather than refugees. These people got a cooler reception, and soon the US began negotiating with Haiti to find a way to make the boats stop. In this chapter, I will discuss three periods of migration control negotiations between the US and Haiti. These negotiations have taken place under very different domestic political conditions within Haiti.3 To aid in comparison between these cases, and between the Haitian regimes and their counterparts considered in other chapters, figure 3.1 provides quantitative estimates of regime strength and regime type, as described in chapter 1.4 The first episode of negotiations that I consider is the 1981 negotiations between autocratic Jean-Claude Duvalier and US President

72

Outsourcing Control

Reagan. This followed the first major wave of maritime emigration from Haiti to the US, which peaked in 1980. Duvalier was a typical autocratic leader, maintaining power by combining mass oppression with the cooptation of loyal elites. And he recognized an opportunity when he saw one. On 23 September 1981, the Haitian minister of foreign affairs and the US secretary of state for foreign affairs in Portau-Prince formalized the first extraterritorial interdiction agreement. Duvalier extracted substantial US support through this manoeuvre and ensured that the US could no longer turn against his government as it now depended on him to keep the migrants at bay. This agreement remained in effect until 1994. Trouble started when a new democratically elected President Aristide was overthrown in a coup in September 1991, marking the start of the second major episode of maritime departures and migration control negotiations. Aristide fled to the US. While the US supported the democratically elected Aristide, they were less enthusiastic about the “boat people” who followed him. So Clinton and Aristide struck a deal: Aristide would stop the exodus of Haitians fleeing into the US by telling his followers to stay home. In exchange, Clinton promised to help him regain power in Haiti. But soon the exiled leader began to fear that Clinton would not hold up his end of the deal, so he reneged on his commitment as well. Not only did Aristide begin encouraging Haitians to leave but he took the unprecedented step of revoking the 1981 extraterritorial interdiction agreement. This was a surprisingly bold move for a leader who was so weak he was in exile. Finally, I consider the negotiations that began after Aristide’s term ended. To normalize the situation created by Aristide’s revoking the 1981 agreement, the US and Haiti eventually signed an “Agreement Concerning Cooperation to Suppress Illicit Maritime Drug Trafficking” in 1997 that entered into force in 2002.5 Though technically a counternarcotics agreement, this agreement is the only legal foundation for US interdiction of Haitian ships. And thus the countries remain in a state of functional cooperation despite legal ambiguity. DUVALIER ’ S OPPORTUNISTIC COOPERATION

The agreement signed between the US and Haiti in 1981 was the first modern extraterritorial interdiction agreement and set the template for many of the agreements that followed. It is important for this

Haiti and the US

73

Figure 3.2 US Coast Guard interdiction and apprehension rates of Haitian migrants, by year

study not only in this historical context, however, but also as an extreme case of negotiating with an opportunistic autocratic leader. Irregular departures from Haiti began slowly in the 1970s. But by 1980, they had reached the crisis levels that triggered the first round of negotiations between the US and Haiti (see figure 3.26). The origins of this emigration lay in the brutal oppression and vicious mismanagement of the country by first François (“Papa Doc”) Duvalier starting in 1957 and then Jean-Claude (“Baby Doc”) Duvalier after he took over from his father in 1971. François Duvalier was elected by popular vote in 1957 and was supported by the poor black majority of the country. But after a coup attempt in 1958, he switched to more controlling tactics – limiting opposition, disbanding the army, and replacing it with a loyal paramilitary force: the dreaded Tontons Macoutes. Despite populist policies and appeals to Haitian nationalism, over time his regime devolved into a reign of terror.7 In 1971, Papa Doc appointed his son to take the helm. The international community was initially optimistic about Jean-Claude, hoping that he might show greater respect for human rights and be more tolerant of dissent. But he soon returned to his father’s tactics: heavy-handed oppression at home,

74

Outsourcing Control

combined with anticommunist propaganda to secure support from the US abroad.8 Emigration began under the first Duvalier, as the intellectuals and elites targeted by the regime sought asylum abroad. Their education meant they spoke French, so these people generally preferred to flee to France, Canada, and francophone Africa, with only a small number choosing the US as a destination. But by the late 1970s, domestic dissent was on the rise even as international support waned. Most urgently, the country was mired in economic crisis. For years, huge sums of aid money had been siphoned off by corrupt officials. Rural areas had been left to stagnate. Most of the educated elite and middle class had fled the country. And unmanageable numbers of people were flocking into Port-au-Prince in search of low-paid work in foreign factories.9 In a 1979 public speech, Baby Doc acknowledged that “My government’s most difficult preoccupations are three, the energy crisis, the food crisis, and water crisis.”10 In short: the country was broke and starving. It was only in this period that the poor began leaving in large numbers – often by boat and often for the US. These people were not elite asylum-seekers but poorer, working class people who had been pushed out of the country primarily by poverty and desperation rather than direct persecution.11 Thus, the US argued that they were economic migrants, not refugees, and that repatriation of Haitians was acceptable because they faced no punishment upon their return.12 The Haitian government concurred, not wanting to admit persecution of its own population, and while it technically required exit authorization, it claimed that it rarely persecuted such offenses and immediately released returnees unless they were identified as smugglers.13 Thus, most Haitians who reached the US in this period were not granted asylum, though many applied. Many have argued that the low rates of US acceptance of claims were driven by Cold War politics and that the US hesitated to accept Haitian asylum claims because of the US’s alliance with the anticommunist Duvalier.14 While many of these migrants may have left for economic reasons, persecution in the country was real and became much more acute following Reagan’s election in the US. US president Carter had had the audacity to demand that Jean-Claude demonstrate basic human rights protections and accountability in exchange for US aid. Grudgingly, Baby Doc had released some prisoners, organized sham elections for legislature, and made statements about press freedoms.15

Haiti and the US

75

These changes were largely cosmetic. Watchdog groups claimed that few of the released prisoners were actually political prisoners, and a “foreign observer in Port-au-Prince” complained that “anyone in Haiti who takes the Government’s assurances on press freedom at face value is playing Russian Roulette.”16 But things became decidedly worse after Reagan’s election. What little indulgence the Baby Doc had accorded his opponents in deference to Carter was now exhausted. A brutal attack on a public opposition gathering came to be known as “Black Friday,” and this was followed by a generalized crackdown on dissent: the regime arrested opponents and journalists, raided opposition radio stations,17 and passed harsh new laws to limit opposition mobilization.18 Indeed, Jean-Claude was so happy about the end of Carter’s presidency that he is reported to have thrown a “madcap champagne party” when it became clear that Reagan would win the US elections.19 Haitians also saw new opportunities to gain status. From the US’s perspective, the increased number of Haitian arrivals was compounded by the parallel Mariel boatlift out of Cuba. In response to the two sets of arrivals, Carter gave both groups temporary protection as “Cuban and Haitian entrants.” This was more protection than the Haitians had been receiving (though less than the Cubans had become used to) and thus may have incentivized even further departures. Carter was able to stop the arrival of Cubans by convincing Castro to reseal the port of Mariel and to return to the Soviet-style exit controls that the US supposedly fiercely opposed.20 But while this bizarre normative jiu-jitsu worked effectively to prevent Cuban arrivals, Duvalier was supposedly a US ally. In the context of the Cold War politicization of exit controls and given the fact that Duvalier had not pursued such a policy independently, the US could not call on Duvalier to reseal his borders in the same way that it had called on Castro. The impasse was eventually resolved under the Reagan administration. Relying on the legal precedent of Cuban cooperation, the president’s foreign policy powers, and extremely limited interpretations of the US’s nonrefoulement obligations (discussed in chapter 2), Reagan’s legal team determined that it would be permissible to interdict and return Haitians as long as they had the cooperation of the Haitian regime. On 23 September 1981, the US got its agreement when the Haitian minister of foreign affairs and the US secretary of state for foreign affairs in Port-au-Prince formalized an agreement through an ex-

76

Outsourcing Control

change of letters, agreeing to “a cooperative program of interdiction and selective return to Haiti of certain Haitian migrants and vessels involved in illegal transport of persons coming from Haiti.”21 Haiti gave permission for the US to board Haitian vessels if there was reason to suspect they were carrying passengers headed to the US illegally and allowed them to return vessels to Haiti. The US accepted a representative of the Haitian navy as a liaison aboard any US vessel engaged in interdiction or return. The Haitian government promised not to prosecute any returned Haitians (unless they were traffickers) and accepted that the US would not return anyone who qualified for refugee status in the US.22 To bolster the legitimacy of this arrangement, Reagan issued a presidential proclamation just days later that declared that unauthorized entry by sea was prohibited and that “international cooperation to intercept vessels trafficking in illegal migrants is a necessary and proper means of insuring the effective enforcement of our laws.”23 In conjunction with the presidential proclamation, the agreement with the Government of Haiti enabled the two states to put an end to the Haitian migration crisis: the US now had the authority that it required to interdict and return maritime migrants before they reached US shores.24 Negotiating the Agreement Negotiations to conclude this agreement began in the spring of 1981. An internal memo from one of the US president’s advisors shows that the administration had already talked to Duvalier as early as March of 1981 and that “The Government of Haiti has indicated its present willingness to receive its nationals, as required by international law.” 25 And the US’s new ambassador to Haiti that spring was given clear orders to try to stop the emigration.26 Duvalier clearly received the message that halting the exodus was of grave importance to the US. On 1 July 1981, he gave an interview indicating that he was already taking measures to prevent emigration and made it very clear that the issue was not the substance of the agreement or any moral objections to interdictions and returns but rather the degree of US support and concessions: Guilty people have been punished. Officials have been fired. Soldiers steeped in the traffic are under investigation. We’ve also passed

Haiti and the US

77

a law against the organizers of the boat trips … [But] I don’t think the Haitian Government can find a solution to the problem without a huge helping hand from the United States … There have been promises made, but nothing has been done so far.27 By the end of July, the US attorney general gave a press conference in which he promised that interdictions would begin in the near future and made it clear that the US had met with the Government of Haiti.28 But the negotiations dragged on for three more months, as delegates from both governments went back and forth about the exact terms.29 The exact terms that the US offered Haiti in exchange for its cooperation were never formalized as part of the agreement, which does not mention any quid pro quo for the agreement, beyond achieving the “mutual desire of our two countries to cooperate to stop such illegal migration.”30 But there are strong indications that Duvalier came out of the negotiations stronger for having agreed to cooperate. Heinl et al. write that Haiti was promised increased financial aid as soon as it made “categorical assurances” that none of the returned people would be punished.31 And according to Stepick: Some officials admit, off the record, that the Haitian government was threatened with a withdrawal of US support, including drastic reductions in aid. Other officials further assert that there was an understanding that the United States would deemphasize human rights and would look the other way on graft and corruption. Allegedly the Haitian navy received free fuel from US Coast Guard boats, which it then sold on the open market.32 Indeed, US aid to Haiti increased by 17 per cent in the 1981 fiscal year and continued to rise in subsequent years.33 And in 1982, the US’s “Mica Amendment” officially made US aid to the country contingent on Haiti “continuing to cooperate with the United States in halting illegal emigration to the United States from Haiti” among other things.34 Moreover, while the agreement brought substantial economic and foreign policy gains for the Haitian regime, it carried only minor costs for them. The agreement required little active participation by Haitian forces beyond accepting returns and prosecuting “illegal traffickers.”35 Indeed, Haiti only really “cooperated” with the operations to the extent that they gave the US the legal green light to operate in

78

Outsourcing Control

their waters and return vessels. Stepick claims that only one smuggler was arrested by the Haitians, and that for the rest they ignored US pressures to expand internal policing.36 Abbott similarly argues that given the sorry state of the Haitian navy, it is unlikely that they could have been much real help in US patrolling or interdiction efforts, and that their “sole function was to assume custody of seized vessels once the Americans had captured them.”37 Making Sense of Duvalier’s Negotiating Strategies The fact that a partner state stalled negotiations and refused to sign an agreement for half a year might normally suggest that they objected to the contents of the arrangement or worried about domestic backlash. But this is highly unlikely in Duvalier’s case. Jean-Claude Duvalier did not indulge domestic dissent. He came to power as the appointed successor to his father, and he held on to that power through oppression, corruption, and conniving. Of Gerschewski’s three “pillars” of autocratic stability,38 Jean-Claude Duvalier relied most heavily on repression. Opponents that he could not repress he co-opted; anyone who held a position of power in the country derived that power directly from the regime. Domestic legitimacy was at best an afterthought, and his focus was more on international legitimacy in order to secure foreign aid and support – and to prevent international condemnation. International aid was a key source of revenue, and remittances made up a third of the foreign currency entering the country by the early 1980s.39 As a result, the Haitian regime had to be sensitive to shifts in foreign public opinion.40 And by this point, the rumours circulating abroad had become nasty: Baby Doc was alleged to be selling his citizens as labourers to the Dominican Republic, selling human organs abroad, and selling children into the sex trade for tourists.41 Good relations with the US were especially vital. Jean-Claude knew that the US was not above intervening to replace leaders that it disliked. So he cultivated US support by ensuring that US leaders believed that unseating him would lead to domestic anarchy or – even worse – provide an opening for the Cold War bogymen: the communists. This was a tactic perfected by his father, who had gone as far as to pass domestic laws making communist activities punishable by death.42 Jean-Claude Duvalier continued this strategy to great success.

Haiti and the US

79

His very first speech after assuming office promised that “The United States will always find Haiti on its side against Communism.”43 But by the time of the 1981 negotiations, cracks were beginning to show in Duvalier’s artifice of power as the result of economic crisis and domestic dissent. He relied on the illusion of domestic strength to reassure the US that he could hold back the forces of communism and instability. But US was aware that the regime was faltering and worried that an interdiction agreement might cause further instability. Duvalier’s only saving grace was that twenty-two years of oppressive rule had effectively eliminated any alternative contenders for power. In a memo circulated to Reagan’s task force the associate deputy attorney general described the situation this way, A policy of strict enforcement of the immigration laws, including expulsion of visaless Haitians, could adversely affect the precarious political situation in Haiti. Haiti is ruled by a dictator, President “Baby Doc” Duvalier, and a combination of overlapping national and local elites. There are signs of increasing political dissension; the country appears to be in the midst of a severe financial crisis; the present government demonstrates little capability to govern; and there appears no alternative to the present regime. The return of large numbers of migrants might require significant U.S. Government assistance to ease the burden of reintegration into Haiti. Also, if political unrest were to develop, it would be difficult to sustain a program of repatriation in view of treaty obligations towards refugees.44 It is therefore perhaps unsurprising that when an opportunity arose for Jean-Claude to make himself useful to the US in a new issue area, namely migration, he jumped at it. It was an especially agreeable arrangement for him because the US was simply asking him to do what he had always done best – namely police his own population. Moreover, the US promised to provide resources and support for the security sector to achieve these goals – resources that could easily be converted to other ends. Of course, many autocratic leaders have used mass emigration as a convenient “safety valve” enabling dissidents to leave rather than protest or make claims against their governments.45 But in Duvalier’s case this benefit was directly offset by the fact that expatriates were

80

Outsourcing Control

working to undermine his regime from abroad – often by capitalizing on the plight of the Haitian refugees. Expatriate groups encouraged Haitians to flee the country and, once they reached the US, to claim asylum in order to highlight the human rights abuses at home.46 Many of these groups were actively seeking to unseat Duvalier and hoped to secure US support for a take-over. In White House records of correspondences relating to Haiti from Reagan’s time in office, there are numerous letters from Haitian expatriates requesting Reagan’s direct support in overthrowing Jean-Claude Duvalier, and there is an even larger volume of correspondence calling on the US government to at least sanction the regime for its human rights abuses.47 Challenges to Duvalier’s sovereignty from abroad were quite real, and ensuring that Reagan continued to ignore these letters was vital to Duvalier’s political survival. Duvalier thus had independent reasons for trying to draw attention away from the exodus. While he could silence dissent at home through repression and cooptation, some of his harshest and most dangerous critics were abroad and were exploiting the emigration to try to undermine him. Finally, it is hard to imagine that Duvalier had any moral objection to the arrangement based on migrants’ rights. Just a year earlier he had refused to help a group of Haitian migrants when they were found stranded on a deserted island of the Bahamas. It was left to the Bahamian government to rescue them and return them to Haiti – a “rescue” operation that turned into a forced and brutal extraction as the migrants refused to board the boat back to Haiti.48 But even then, Duvalier only started to care when local journalists critiqued the regime for its failure to protect these people. And his response was to deport the main journalist in question and then to stage a media charade in which he hired actors to play the part of the supposed migrants, returning from the Bahamas and signing his praises as they walked down the gangplank.49 ARISTIDE ’ S REJECTION OF COOPERATION

The 1981 agreement signed by Reagan and Jean-Claude Duvalier reduced irregular emigration from the island and allowed the US to interdict and return Haitians who attempted the journey. The agreement remained operational when Duvalier was overthrown in 1986, survived a series of short-lived military-dominated regimes, and remained in place when Jean-Bertrand Aristide was democratically

Haiti and the US

81

elected in December 1990. Trouble started when Aristide was overthrown in a coup in September 1991, triggering a mass exodus of his supporters. From the beginning, Jean-Bertrand Aristide faced a nearly impossible political balancing act. His support came from the Haitian poor. It was at best loosely organized and based on a cult of personality that he built up through years of preaching against existing power structures. Aristide rose to power out of relative anonymity; a priest from a humble background, he had an affinity with the Haitian poor and was heavily influenced by liberation theology. Indeed, the church had been one of the few sources of meaningful opposition during the Duvalier era.50 Aristide had preached in the slums of Port-au-Prince where, even during Duvalier’s rule, he managed to preach against the corrupt regime. He was a firebrand, consolidating his power among the Haitian poor with sermons that delivered populist promises and denounced the country’s elites and American influence in the country alike.51 These messages resonated, and the Haitian poor were willing to protest in the streets on his behalf – even violently. In 1990 they helped him win the country’s first free and fair elections since 1957 with 67.5 per cent of the vote. But while Aristide had solid support among the poor, his standing with elites was less secure. Not only was he racially part of the black majority and thus distinct from the lighter-skinned elite that had commanded power historically. But his radical sermons, promotion of liberation theology, and socialist ideals worried both Haitian and American business interests in the country – the day he was elected, Aristide reportedly “complimented” a wealthy Haitian’s home by saying that it “could be home to a dozen families.”52 The US wanted to support a democratically elected leader but had no love for his liberation theology or socialist-inspired and pro-poor rhetoric. But he soon added more enemies: first by critiquing Dominican treatment of Haitian migrant workers and prompting the expulsion of these workers back into Haiti, and then by refusing to support the coalition of parties that had originally backed his candidacy. He went on to fire senior leaders in the army and to replace them with (what he thought were) his own men and to target other potential political rivals.53 As a result, his Lavalas party was weak. It did not have consolidated platforms, the buy-in of major powerful interests, or institutional legitimacy. It was essentially a cult of personality – a cult that had to be constantly maintained through continued radical rhetoric to bol-

82

Outsourcing Control

ster legitimacy among his supporters. But he tempered his radicalism once in office, recognizing that he needed outside support and that given the recent fall of the Communist bloc, his most likely sources of aid would be the US and others in the West. Thus, despite his radical campaign rhetoric, he embarked on only modest national reforms during his initial months in office and generally allowed the continuation of an open market economy. But this proved insufficient to quell the concerns of his powerful critics. And Aristide’s supporters – though passionate in their support – were no match for the organized interests that he was systematically alienating. Opposition to the new president took violent forms from the outset. A former Duvalierist official attempted a coup before Aristide was even inaugurated. The coup failed but led to violence and threw the country into disorder. A second coup followed on 27 September 1991, led by Raoul Cédras – one of Aristide’s newly appointed army commanders. Aristide was forced into exile just eight months after his election. This coup set the stage for the next major chapter in US-Haitian migration relations. The Coup Triggers an Exodus Once in power, the new Haitian government (nominally headed by Joseph Nérette but functionally a military government under Raoul Cédras) began a brutal “reign of terror” against former Aristide supporters – a campaign that is estimated to have claimed the lives of up to 3,000 people in just three years.54 The economic conditions also worsened as the international community imposed sanctions on the country. The sanctions did little to dissuade the regime from its human rights abuses, but they caused stark deprivations among the population at large. These worsening security and economic conditions, combined with the Cédras administration’s decision to stop patrolling the borders to prevent irregular exit,55 triggered a massive exodus of Haitian Aristide supporters towards the US. The coast guard interdicted 37,618 people in 1992 compared with just 871 in 1990, as illustrated in figure 3.2. Recognizing the abysmal conditions in Haiti, President Bush suspended the interdictions program for the first weeks following the coup. But given the high number of Haitian irregular arrivals, domestic pressure mounted to stop the boats and Bush was forced to resume the program. Since 1981, the US had conducted onboard screenings

Haiti and the US

83

of interdicted migrants to ascertain whether they could substantiate a “well-founded fear of persecution.” If so, they were taken to the US. Otherwise they were returned to Haiti.56 But with numbers so large, the coast guard cutters were soon too overloaded to continue onboard screenings. The US began processing the interdicted Haitians’ claims at Guantanamo. But soon these facilities were also saturated. The accommodations at Guantanamo could only provide temporary facilities for 12,500 people and the coast guard intercepted 10,497 in the first three weeks of May 1992 alone.57 Moreover, many of the Haitians who were screened could not be returned. In fact, conditions in Haiti were so terrible that officials in the state department described even the conditions at Guantanamo holding facilities as a “magnet” for migrants.58 Imagine how terrible the situation at home must be before detention at Guantanamo acts as a pull factor rather than a deterrent. Given the overcrowding on coast guard vessels and at Guantanamo, the US faced a choice: It could continue providing screening procedures for Haitians who were intercepted by bringing them to the US (thereby encouraging even more people to attempt the journey), or it could begin cursory forced returns without screening. Despite continued repression and deprivation in Haiti, the US chose the latter option. In May of 1992, President Bush issued an executive order calling on the coast guard to increase interdictions outside of US territorial waters of (1) US vessels, (2) vessels without nationality, or (3) “vessels of foreign nations with whom we have arrangements authorizing the United States to stop and board such vessels.”59 His order specified that nonrefoulement commitments did not apply outside of US territorial waters and that nothing in the order should “be construed to require any procedures to determine whether a person is a refugee.”60 Human rights and Haitian advocacy groups in the US were furious about Bush’s order. American civil rights groups, influential members of the Haitian diaspora, and African American leaders in the US argued against Bush’s interpretation of nonrefoulement and argued that the policy was driven by racism. The Haitian Centers Council, Inc., an advocacy group representing Haitian aliens in the US and Haitians detained at Guantanamo, brought a case before the Supreme Court arguing that the policy violated the US’s nonrefoulement obligations. But in 1993 the US Supreme Court upheld Bush’s policy, arguing that these obligations did not apply to “action taken by the

84

Outsourcing Control

Coast Guard on the high seas” (the implications of this decision are discussed further in chapter 2). 61 Then-presidential candidate Bill Clinton also vocally protested Bush’s policy, promising that “If I were President, I would – in the absence of clear and compelling evidence that they weren’t political refugees – give [Haitians] temporary asylum until we restored the elected Government of Haiti.”62 His promise resonated with American voters during the election period – especially African American voters, 90 per cent of whom voted for him.63 Unfortunately for Clinton, it also resonated in Haiti, where Clinton’s promise “prompted Haitians to build nearly 1,000 boats that could accommodate as many as 150,000 people, many of whom are poised to set sail in stormy seas in the hopes of arriving on American shores at the moment of Mr Clinton’s inauguration.”64 Fearing an unmanageable influx, Clinton backtracked – broadcasting a message directly on Haitian radio in an effort to dissuade potential migrants: For Haitians who do seek to leave Haiti, boat departure is a terrible and dangerous choice … For this reason, the practice of returning those who fled Haiti by boat will continue, for the time being, after I become president. Those who do leave Haiti … by boat will be stopped and directly returned by the United States Coast Guard.65 The fallout from this backtrack would force Clinton into a close and contentious bargain with the exiled Aristide. Bargaining and Backtracking Aristide had survived the 1991 coup by escaping to the US. But even in exile, he continued his schizophrenic approach towards American operations in Haiti. On one hand, he blamed the US for backing the coup plotters and tried to argue that the US had a duty to reinstate him because it was their fault that he had been deposed.66 On the other hand, he recognized that his support rested on a consensus that he represented Haiti’s best chance for a democratic future. He used his allies in the diaspora in the US to build a network of American support. The Haitian expatriate community in the US were a powerful constituency that continued to support the deposed President Aristide, even in exile. It was the expatriate com-

Haiti and the US

85

munity that pushed the Congressional Black Caucus to support him, and the Congressional Black Caucus in turn pushed Clinton to rally to his cause.67 Clinton relied heavily on the Black Caucus and the black vote, and this demographic was particularly important given his slim electoral margin.68 The US had condemned Cédras’s coup and nominally supported Aristide. But as the “boat people” crisis continued, Clinton came to recognize that he may have greater need for the exiled leader. In an effort to minimize the political fallout from backtracking on his campaign promise, Clinton promised that he would work to restore democracy and human rights in Haiti so that people wouldn’t be forced to leave.69 His plan was vague, but it appears that Aristide was involved from the beginning. Clinton spoke with Aristide before announcing the continuation of Bush’s interdiction policies. And Secretary of State Warren Christopher made clear in his confirmation hearing that Aristide would be part of Clinton’s plan for the restoration of legitimate government in Haiti.70 Essentially, Clinton and Aristide brokered a deal by which Clinton would use US and UN influence to restore Aristide to power, and Aristide would use his political capital with the Haitian poor to convince Haitians to stay home. Aristide went on radio broadcasts to the island and told his political network to encourage Haitians to stay put, promising that he would soon be reinstated.71 Aristide’s interventions were effective. Many of Haiti’s poor remained loyal to him and followed his advice not to leave. As a result, US interdiction rates fell again in 1993 as shown in figure 3.2. Clinton continued to put pressure on the government in Haiti using sanctions and diplomatic interventions. A peaceful settlement seemed imminent when the US brokered the “Governors Island Accord” between Aristide and Cédras – an agreement that promised to return Aristide to power and to grant the junta amnesty.72 But the boat sent to return Aristide was met by a violent mob when it reached Haiti and was forced to return to the US. After this failure, Aristide began losing patience. Feeling that Clinton had let down his end of the bargain, Aristide stopped playing his role in their tacit agreement as well and began denouncing the returns policy. In February of 1994, he played “the one remaining card he had”73 and threatened to revoke the 1981 immigration accord, publicly decrying it as “a floating Berlin Wall.”74 Aristide announced this threat in the context of a broader campaign supported by his advisors as well as the Congressional Black

86

Outsourcing Control

Caucus.75 Aristide continued the offensive over the next months, condemning the returns policy as “racist” and a “cynical joke.”76 Though summary returns were a function of Bush’s 1992 executive order, the 1981 agreement was still the legal basis for all interdictions. Without this agreement, the US lacked the legal authority to even interdict Haitian vessels outside of US waters. In April, Aristide carried out his threat and used his leverage as the US-recognized legitimate authority of the country to formally notify the Clinton administration that he was revoking the 1981 accord, effective six months later on 4 October 1994.77 A number of actors within the US political system supported Aristide’s position. Sympathetic members of congress, journalists, members of the Trans-Africa Lobby, and the Congressional Black Caucus went on the offensive and eventually forced Clinton to replace his envoy to Haiti, provide refugee screening procedures for interdicted Haitians, and put greater pressure on the Cédras regime.78 The reintroduction of screening procedures for migrants translated almost immediately into new waves of irregular departures. And this time Aristide was in no mood to help Clinton quell the exodus – instead he went on record encouraging people to leave, arguing that “it would be immoral to ask people whose very lives are at risk to stay in Haiti.”79 The result was a second major spike in arrivals in 1994 (see figure 3.2). Aristide’s risky maneuver paid off. Panicked, the Clinton administration worked through the UN Security Council, and by the end of July 1994 secured the first UN Security Council resolution authorizing the use of force to restore democracy in a member state.80 On 19 September 1994, just over two weeks before the 1981 interdiction agreement was set to expire, the US made plans to lead a multinational force to invade the small island nation to restore Aristide to power. The Cédras regime agreed to a negotiated settlement at the last possible moment, making a diplomatic and peaceful transition possible.81 Aristide was restored to power, and the period of harsh embargoes and massive departures drew to a close. But the saga was not yet over. Clinton held up his end of the bargain – gaining UN Security Council support and returning Aristide to power backed by threat of US military force. But Aristide still made good on his threat and revoked the 1981 agreement in October of 1994 and never reinstated it.82 But while he did not cooperate with US interdictions and returns on paper, in practice Aristide was accom-

Haiti and the US

87

modating. He not only stopped encouraging exit but also worked with the Clinton administration to effectively normalize migration. He accepted repatriations, and in 1995 created the National Office of Migration (onm in French) to deal with returnees. Making Sense of Aristide’s Maneuver Threatening to revoke the 1981 agreement was a surprising maneuver for a leader whose power was so tenuous. Completely dependent on Clinton and US backing, the move only seems to make sense as a risky gambit to force Clinton’s hand. But if that were the case, why follow through on the threat once Clinton complied by revoking the agreement? Though less dependent on the US than he had been when in exile, Aristide’s hold on power remained tenuous, elite opposition remained ever present, and he needed all the support he could get – especially from the tiny island’s most powerful neighbour. The answer lies in the fragile constellation of groups that supported Aristide’s rule within Haiti and in the US diaspora. His need for popular legitimacy at home trumped his need for external support – even with the most asymmetrically powerful partner country in the hemisphere. Indeed, Aristide’s willingness to cooperate with the US in practice but not on paper was typical of his interactions with the US. Aristide rose to power as the head of the Lavalas party, referring to a tidal wave or massive flood that would rise up to wipe Haiti clean.83 In his rhetoric, he denounced the Duvalier regime, the elites, moneyed interests, and the Americans as the sources of Haiti’s problems. But in practice, he did little to truly change the status quo of business interests or economic inequality in the country. Similarly, he denounced the US interdictions policy as racist, even after having supported it in practice by discouraging his followers from leaving. But the issues of emigration, interdiction, and returnees were especially politically loaded by the time he was returned to power. Aristide’s main supporters had been the poor, and the poor were disproportionately targeted in the terror that followed the coup.84 They thus made up a significant portion of the “boat people” who left during his exile. In addition to those who were forced out by persecution, others had left the country when Aristide encouraged them to do so in 1994. These people recognized that their willingness to undertake perilous journeys had been instrumental to Aristide’s return. As described by

88

Outsourcing Control

a Haitian Aristide supporter interviewed by Paul Farmer after the 1994 intervention, The Americans would have been happy to have the coup succeed, we know that. The Bush Administration was probably involved in (the coup). But they didn’t understand Titid’s (Aristide’s) power … He said to resist and we did. The military killed a lot of people, and a lot of people took to the sea. Americans didn’t like that, so they saw it would be good for them to give Titid back to us. They made him sign a bunch of bad papers, but the point is, he’s back and the guys who were killing us are gone.85 In Haiti, this period is still referred to as the period of the embargo and of “boat people.” The fact that the Creole term for this period is borrowed from the English illustrates that even in Haiti the exodus was viewed through the lens of US rhetoric about the arrivals. Aristide’s supporters were already upset by the concessions that Aristide had made to the US to be returned to power. But they would have been particularly upset if Aristide had formally signed an accord that directly affected the migrants who had supported his cause. When Aristide was reinstated, the US returned most of the Haitian migrants who had fled during his exodus. Many were penniless, having sold their possessions to attempt the trip. And many had suffered abuses in US detention. Yet Aristide did little to support them upon their return. Many felt betrayed by the regime: We’re on the street, with our arms open, and we are demanding that the rulers of the country help us because we are suffering and because we struggled for the return of President Aristide.86 Given the symbolic importance of the boat people for the returned administration, and his already strained relationship with the poor on the issue of migration, Aristide was in no position to draw further attention to the situation by publicly signing an agreement. Nevertheless, he recognized that his ability to stop the “boat people” from leaving had been a significant reason for the US’s intervention. He had to stop the exodus. And he had to take in returnees. But preferably while attracting as little domestic attention as possible.

Haiti and the US

89

1997–2002: INFORMAL COOPERATION

While Aristide’s ad hoc cooperation with the returns program sufficed for a time, it was in the US’s interest to restore an extraterritorial interdiction agreement with Haiti: the country’s chronic instability created a persistent latent threat of another mass exodus. But the Haitian government – while making tentative steps towards true democratization – remained extremely fragile throughout this period. Out of exile, Aristide had substantially more power and capacity. But his regime and that of his successor René Préval remained squarely in the realm of a weak democracy, highly prone to nationalism: state capacity was still extremely limited, and true democracy remained elusive. In 1997, the more pragmatic Préval signed a drug interdiction agreement with the US that left the possibility open for boarding ships for other purposes that are “in accordance with international law.”87 But the agreement only entered into force in 2002, after Aristide had won a second term, by which point his presidency was quickly slipping away from even democratic aspirations. Though ostensibly a drug trafficking agreement, the 1997 agreement is the only current legal foundation for US interdiction of Haitian ships. Many of the measures adopted to prevent “illicit traffic” described in the agreement might feasibly apply to human smuggling. But the agreement explicitly states that “‘illicit traffic’ has the same meaning as that term is defined in the 1988 [United Nations] Convention [Against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances],”88 which leaves no doubt that drugs are the only illicit traffic to which it applies.89 Nevertheless, the 1997 agreement does leave the door open to boarding ships for other purposes that are “in accordance with international law”90 and it provides for regular consultations about the agreement that might result in “enhancing its effectiveness.”91 It is thus an exceptionally weak agreement from a migration perspective, which is surprising given the high degree of aid dependence and asymmetry between the US and Haiti. It is even more striking given the fact that the US signed “maritime (migration) law enforcement” agreements with both the Dominican Republic and the Bahamas in the post9/11 period,92 which do explicitly address migration, despite the substantially lower migration pressures from these countries.

90

Outsourcing Control

In this section I explore the political context in Haiti in 1997 when the drug interdiction agreement was signed and then in 2002 when it went into force. I highlight the extreme political fragility and heavy reliance on nationalist rhetoric that characterized first the Préval and then the Aristide regimes in these two respective periods and suggest that this may explain why cooperation remained so limited, despite severe asymmetry between the countries. I close by discussing the post-2002 context and why Haiti has continued to avoid formalizing its cooperation with the US on this issue. I argue that continued political fragility in the country combined with the high salience of migration issues and widespread anti-US sentiment has made it difficult for the country to sign such an agreement. Préval and the Costs of Pragmatism After finishing out the remainder of his term, Aristide briefly threatened to run again, which would have violated the constitutional limit of two nonconsecutive terms. But he eventually backed down and endorsed his political ally René Préval who won the elections. This election marked the country’s first peaceful transfer of power between two democratically elected presidents. But the optimism was short lived. Aristide and Préval had a falling out over how to tackle the issue of privatization. As president, Aristide had promised Clinton that he would undertake government reforms but didn’t follow through. When Republicans in the US made aid contingent upon Haitian government reforms,93 Préval tried to meet their demands. Aristide publicly opposed Préval’s concessions, turning to “nationalist posturing”94 and “firebrand”95 rhetoric against privatization. This created a deep schism in the Lavalas party and eventually led to a collapse of the government. The sitting prime minister resigned, and in October 1997 the government collapsed when no suitable replacement could be found – illustrating the profound weakness of fundamental democratic institutions in the country. A Haitian professor at the time described the Lavalas party as “a loose amalgam of factions united around Mr Aristide but unable to mature into a viable political party.”96 Even though Aristide and Préval had originally been part of the same party, when the two men were at odds, the party split around them. It also illustrates the importance of populist rhetoric for leaders in these types of states, and helps explain why it is often the weakest

Haiti and the US

91

leaders who are most willing to defy great powers’ demands: Aristide was willing to sacrifice enormous aid gains for the country in exchange for short-term domestic popularity, and he continued to flamboyantly defy the US as a bid for popular support. Préval, on the other hand, tried to be more pragmatic. But with an unconsolidated political system that had not yet institutionalized pragmatic voices to help him shore up support, he was quickly outflanked by Aristide’s rhetoric and he lost support. This was the fragile political context in which the drug interdiction agreement was initially signed. Secretary of State Albright visited the country on 17 October 1997 to discuss the ongoing political crisis and the impending end of the UN mission to the country.97 She met with President Préval and his opponents to try to broach a compromise that would enable them to find a new prime minister.98 On this trip, they also signed the “Agreement Concerning Cooperation to Suppress Illicit Maritime Drug Trafficking.”99 With everything else going on in the country at the time, it is perhaps unsurprising that most reports describing Albright’s visit make no mention of the agreement.100 But the signatories also made no effort to publicize the agreement. The reference (tias) number is absent in the treaties in force reports. And though it is technically unclassified, I was only able to find a copy of the text of the agreement through a foia request. Neither the US nor Haiti had an interest in publicizing the agreement. From the US side, Clinton had invested enormous political capital to get Aristide reinstated. But Aristide made it hard for Clinton to claim the intervention as a success: by 1997, Haiti had a nonfunctioning government, Aristide was publicly deriding the US’s pressures for privatization, and the country faced a domestic security crisis. Republicans did everything they could to criticize Aristide and Clinton’s Haiti policies.101 As long as Haiti continued to provide functional migration control support, Clinton may have preferred not to repoliticize the subject. From the Haitian side, Préval’s acceptance of the US’s privatization demands had already opened him up to criticisms that had derailed the entire government; he had little to gain from publicizing further cooperation with his powerful neighbour to the north. As noted above, the agreement makes no explicit mention of migration, though it is written in such a way as to allow application to migration situations and continues to be the only legal basis for US–Haitian cooperation on this issue. Yet the omission of migrant

92

Outsourcing Control

interdiction from the agreement was neither accidental nor a reflection of changed US priorities. It is true that drug trafficking was on the rise on the island. After Aristide disbanded the military in 1995, the Haitian coast guard never had the necessary resources to actually guard the country’s coasts,102 necessitating continued US assistance, including for counternarcotics operations.103 By contrast, migrant interdictions fell after Aristide was reinstated and have never again reached the same high levels as during the “embargo” period (figure 3.2). However, the US remained preoccupied by the threat of a resurgence of arrivals – a threat that was only heightened when the Haitian government collapsed. A former Department of Defense staffer who worked on this issue in 1996 argued that migration remained the most salient concern for US politicians in this period and that concerns about drug trafficking were secondary. The staffer described being repeatedly asked to search for evidence linking drug smuggling to migration from Haiti because if the migrants were bringing in drugs it would be much easier to justify interdicting them, even though there was no evidence that the illicit movements were linked.104 The US’s unsuccessful efforts to build this argument suggests that when the 1997 agreement was signed, migrant interdiction was at the front of policymakers’ minds, even though it was not included in the text of the accord. While Préval’s reticence to cooperate with the US makes sense when considered through the lens of Haitian domestic politics, it is much harder to explain through the lens of the structural international relations between the countries. Throughout this time, Haiti continued to rely on US and international support to meet both basic security and economic needs. US and UN forces provided basic security after Aristide disbanded the army. As these forces began preparing to leave, one journalist described the country as “bracing for a rash of crime as thugs test the abilities of the newly minted national police force.”105 The US also provided Haiti with essential aid and trade deals. And the international donor community – already frustrated with the lack of progress in the country since Aristide had returned – was using the government collapse as an excuse to back out of financial commitments to the country. Huge amounts of aid were cancelled because there was no real government to send it to.106 Préval had every reason to try to appease the US – his most important international partner. But domestic politics made this impossible.

Haiti and the US

93

The 1997 drug interdiction agreement went into force on 5 September 2002.107 On the same day, the Organization of American States Permanent Council agreed to release hundreds of millions of dollars in aid to Haiti that had been blocked – ostensibly because of continued political violence in the country and pending a resolution to the contested 2000 elections. 108 The oas resolution stated that the funds were released in order to relieve the continued suffering of Haitian citizens and some claimed that “the Bush administration was eager to deflect mounting criticism from Congressional Democrats over maintaining a Haiti policy that was only hurting the citizens of the hemisphere’s poorest nation.”109 But while humanitarian concerns may have been part of the reason for the release of funds, Aristide also made commitments to confidence-building measures prior to the release of funds, including the implementation of a comprehensive disarmament program and the “restoration of a climate of security.”110 The exact overlap in the timing of the two events, the Bush administration’s focus on promoting security reform in the country, and Aristide’s commitments to “security,” suggest the release of funds was probably also contingent on the entry into force of the agreement. Post-2002: Continued Impasse By 2004, Aristide was forced into exile in South Africa and an interim government finished out his presidential term until 2006, backed by a UN peacekeeping force.111 Préval was reelected in 2006, and for a while it looked like the country’s fortunes had improved. But the 2010 earthquake set progress in the country back by years and successive governments have struggled with stalled elections, crises, and persistent corruption. Given its continued heavy reliance on the US for both aid and security cooperation, why has the country still not signed an agreement on par with those signed by the Dominican Republic and the Bahamas in the post-9/11 period?112 One interview respondent argued that discussing migration in Haiti is contentious domestically, not because of concern for the rights of those who leave but because it brings up the reasons they leave – the dysfunctional economy, the lack of jobs, and other governmental and social failures. Indeed, in Haiti the “safety of life at sea” narrative (which has been a powerful force in Senegal – discussed in chapter 6) is notably missing from elite discourse on the subject of

94

Outsourcing Control

irregular migration – despite well funded US and iom campaigns to highlight the dangers of the voyage. Irregular maritime migration also brings up deep class divisions in Haiti. Many elite Haitians left the country under the Duvalier regimes. But those who left by boat starting in the 1980s were usually poor people with few alternatives. While many foreign-educated Haitians in the capital see emigration as a great source of opportunity, the type of emigration that they have in mind is very different from the type that the coast guard encounters in the Mona Passage. For the country’s elites, leaving the country by boat is seen as an international embarrassment. The former coordinator of Haiti’s National Office of Migration described people planning voyages, leaving the country, and even getting interdicted and returned all without telling anyone because irregular voyages are so stigmatized.113 One Haitian even expressed suspicion that the US only allows Haitian rafts to reach US shores when they want to put pressure on the Haitian government because it makes the Haitian government and the diaspora look so terrible. That such a conspiracy theory exists speaks to the degree to which Haitian “boat people” are viewed as an image problem domestically. And thus, while the Haitian government may be willing to allow the US to control the problem, it is not an issue that they want to draw attention to either. Finally, there is the simple fact that in an overstretched state that is facing so many acute migration crises elsewhere (most significantly with the human rights abuses, returns, and statelessness of Haitian migrants to the Dominican Republic and the recurring diplomatic standoffs surrounding irregular migration between Haiti and the Bahamas), US interdictions and returns are simply not a priority. The country struggles to mobilize sufficient resources to manage its vast land, sea, and air borders and thus benefits from US assistance in these areas. Haiti is trying to bring its borders up to code to allow international trade and to be able to collect basic customs duties. In 2007, minustah (the UN Stabilization Mission in Haiti) took over a number of the country’s border control functions,114 and President Michel Martelly’s government signed an agreement with an Israeli security company, hsli, to privately manage the country’s borders.115 Thus, US cooperation on border control issues may in many ways seen by the security-weak and cash-strapped government as another source of US aid.

Haiti and the US

95

HAITI : REVIEWING THE EVIDENCE

The dramatic political shifts that have characterized Haitian politics over the past four decades have wrought havoc on the country, triggered numerous waves of emigration, and yet have done little to improve the livelihoods of the population. As a result, migration remains a potential concern and each new leader faces the challenges of negotiating migration control arrangements with the United States. But the impact of their very different leadership styles has led to different outcomes. On two polar ends of this spectrum are Jean-Claude Duvalier and Jean-Bertrand Aristide. Duvalier’s regime derived its power from keeping the masses down, the elites satisfied, and the US firmly on his side. By contrast, Aristide preached liberation for the masses, the end of elite rule of the country, and a firm position against American interference in the country. In practice both leaders relied on many of the same tactics, including repression and violence against domestic political opponents and de facto reliance on overseas aid and security support. But their different underlying governance strategies made them very different negotiating partners for the US. Duvalier’s limited concern for human rights or domestic popularity made him much more willing to accommodate US demands for cooperation – his main concern was that the price was right. By contrast, Aristide’s firebrand rhetoric and anti-American populism made cooperation with the US much more politically dangerous. He relied heavily on the ability to mobilize the poor to his cause, and that meant ensuring that someone else was consistently scapegoated for the country’s woes. In practice, he cooperated closely with the US on a number of issues, but he could benefit from turning rhetoric against the US in a way that Duvalier couldn’t. The importance of nationalist and anti-American populism for this weak leader is seen most clearly by comparison with the leader who failed to master it: Préval’s attempts at pragmatism showed that in a country with a weak political system, few avenues for organized political participation aside from protest, and limited channels for organized interests to influence the government in a structured way pragmatism can too easily be trumped by nationalism and populism. As a result, cooperation with the US has remained cautious and informal, nested under an agreement that doesn’t even mention migration.

96

Outsourcing Control

4

Expanding Cooperation with a Democratizing Regime: Mexico and the US The border wall is “an issue that goes beyond the economic situation because this is an issue related to the dignity of Mexico and goes to the national pride of my country … Let us leave this topic … let us move forward on other issues that I think are positive for both of our countries.” Mexican president Enrique Peña Nieto talking to US president Trump1

By a wide margin, Mexico is the primary country of origin for migrants into the US.2 Most cross the border legally, and Mexican American citizens make up a substantial portion of the US population. But many people who cross the Mexico–US border do so illegally – without documentation. The economic differences and power asymmetry between the US and Mexico have historically meant that migration has been primarily (though not exclusively) unidirectional: from Mexico towards the US. The Mexican government’s policies towards its emigrants have varied dramatically over time. In the early twentieth century, Mexico’s main concern was that the county had too few people. To solve this problem, they created policies to prevent people from leaving and tried to attract European immigration. The country also worked to encourage Mexicans who had ended up on the north side of the border after the Mexican–American war to move south. After the Mexican Revolution, the government continued to officially condemn emigration, viewing expatriates as “traitors to the nationalist cause and opportunists who left the nation when they were most needed.”3 But despite the official policies of the central government and the

Mexico and the US

97

support of labour unions for curtailing exit,4 local governments within Mexico tacitly enabled exit as it was recognized as a safety valve for surplus labour.5 Fears of mass repatriations also influenced these policy measures, whether because of the “humiliation”6 that mass repatriations caused (even worse than losing citizens to the US was having the US reject them) or because it was difficult to accommodate the returnees economically and politically.7 In 1942, US wartime labour demands pushed the country to formalize its labour arrangements with Mexico through the “Braceros” program, which institutionalized cooperation on labour migration. Mexico recognized that it benefited from sending workers abroad but also realized that it could only command power in the negotiations with the US if it was able to effectively control the number of Mexican workers who were able to travel north. Thus, in this period, it was Mexican border guards who tried to control undocumented movement and US guards who preferred to look the other way.8 In 1964, the US refused to renegotiate the Braceros agreements after they expired; Mexico had proven unable to prevent exit, and the structural inequalities between the countries ensured US employers nearly limitless cheap and unprotected labour even without an agreement. Facing a growing population at home and fewer legal avenues for migration to the US after the passage of the US’s Hart-Cellar Act made circular migration more difficult, Mexico quietly began to shift its policies towards tacit acceptance of irregular exit – though the country systematically avoided broaching the issue directly in its relations with the US. In 1974, Mexico removed domestic penalties for leaving without a contract. And when the economy collapsed in the early 1980s, emigration to the US became an increasingly important escape valve for those facing unemployment – even after the US’s 1986 Immigration Reform and Control Act (irca) made it harder to emigrate north. In this chapter, I explore two periods of US–Mexican border security negotiations. The first covers the last decade of pri rule in the 1990s and the second considers the Fox Presidency between 2000 and 2006. A summary of regime characteristics in both time periods is presented in figure 4.1, which shows that full democratization was not achieved until Fox was elected in 2000.9 The first period spans the last decade of one-party rule under the pri (Institutional Revolutionary Party) in the 1990s. In response to domestic and international pressures, the party began tentative

98

Outsourcing Control

Figure 4.1 Mexican regime characteristics

democratization efforts, moving it into the category of fragile democratic nationalism. But the party was coming out of a decidedly undemocratic past: prior to reforms in 1988, the country had ranked at -3 on the Polity scale since 1977. The US began putting more pressure on Mexico to control undocumented exit during this period. But successive pri leaders vehemently rejected any formal cooperation with the US on migration control or containment, despite this issue being linked to economic bailouts in the 1980s and to the negotiation of the North American Free Trade Agreement (nafta) in the early 1990s. The reluctance to cooperate on migration control stands in contrast to cooperation in other issue areas – especially counternarcotics. The US and Mexico developed deeper migration control cooperation starting in 2000. This was due in part to the US’s increased emphasis on border security following 9/11. But the trend towards cooperation started earlier, when the country’s first non-pri leader in generations came to power: Vicente Fox. As the head of a strong democratic regime, Fox was pragmatic and initially promoted a nafta-plus vision of US–Mexican economic integration that would also open up space for greater free movement of people. After 9/11, it became clear that this would no longer work with the US’s policy priorities. So Fox adopted an even more pragmatic approach to the issue of migration

Mexico and the US

99

that prioritized broader bilateral economic and foreign policy relations. How was he able to do this? A “democratic bonus” gave him the legitimacy to pursue more contentious policies than his predecessors had been able to. And his close ties with the business community and commitment to pursuing economic growth pushed him to prioritize good relations with the US over the anti-American rhetoric that had frequently characterized pri leaders’ public discourse.10 MEXICO UNDER THE PRI

The pri controlled Mexican politics from 1929 until 2000.11 Though they maintained the window dressing of democratic institutions including elections and a legislature, they systematically restricted opposition. The party limited freedom of the press through cooptation, payoffs, and repression and prevented opposition movements from organizing. The pri also gained credibility by setting itself up rhetorically as a revolutionary bastion against US imperialism – even though on big foreign policy issues, the two countries tended to be aligned. The US and Mexico were allied in wwii and stood on the same side of the international divide during the Cold War. The party’s incredible tenure was not due to repression and radical rhetoric alone though. The pri maintained popular support from the 1940s through the 70s by redistributing economic gains from the country’s oil wealth and by achieving unprecedented rates of economic growth. Though support for the regime had been waning since the late 1960s, this template for controlling politics fell apart completely when the 1982 economic crisis hit. Facing economic collapse, Mexico was forced to work directly with the US to negotiate a bailout. And President de la Madrid embraced a dramatic departure from the country’s protectionist history by embracing neoliberal economic reforms and working to end corruption in an effort to encourage more foreign investment. The government was also forced to liberalize politically; citizens were less willing to accept the party’s corruption and repression without the economic perks of oil wealth redistribution. Despite these reforms, Mexican–US relations remained tense throughout most of the 1980s. But in 1988, the election of new presidents in both countries opened an opportunity for cooperation. Both President Bush in the US and President Salinas in Mexico pushed for improved relations between the countries. And in May of 1990, Salinas stunned observers (who had grown accustomed to Mex-

100

Outsourcing Control

ican anti-Americanism) by announcing his support for an economic agreement, enabling the talks that would eventually produce nafta. Salinas and his successor Zedillo began to reform the political sector as well, gradually expanding the legislature to allow for more dissenting voices, decentralizing various government functions, and setting up an election observation body. While many of these reforms were intended as token concessions in order to bolster the pri’s support, in practice they opened space for opposition groups to form and contest the pri’s hold on power. They also enabled the formation of more autonomous political organizations. Grassroots movements proliferated, mobilizing around issues from basic services provision to government accountability. And the state lost control over the church and business interests. Due to the centralization of power in the executive, civil society had a weaker influence on policy outcomes than its size would suggest. But its emergence put pressure on government to democratize further. But this was also a period of great instability in Mexican politics. While the reforms were welcomed within Mexican society, the changes were also destabilizing. Political reforms opened up schisms within the pri party between the old revolutionary leaders and new US-educated technocrats, weakening the ruling party both from within and from without. Moreover, many who had depended on the pri’s historically protectionist and redistributive polices struggled to find a footing in the new economic landscape. Poor people lost traditional sources of patronage and support and found themselves increasingly disenfranchised from a more elitedriven political system. Organized labour and those who had benefited from stable unionized jobs were also sidelined by the country’s liberalization. The Zapatistas uprisings further destabilized the country. This movement was timed to begin the same day nafta was implemented. With historically Marxist roots, the indigenous movement’s platform was proindigenous, anti-pri, anti-inequality, and anti-nafta. The country was thrown into chaos when the 1994 pri presidential candidate was assassinated just months before the presidential election. President Salinas scrambled to find a secondary appointment for the post, eventually appointing Zedillo who was elected in 1994. But his election was the last in the pri’s unbroken control of the government. He passed more reforms that allowed other parties to meaningfully contest elections – even making the radical decision to not

Mexico and the US

101

select his political successor. These reforms enabled Vicente Fox, the pan candidate, to win in 2000. Mexico’s Hands-Off Approach – Everything but Exit Mexico under the pri maintained a distance from the issue of emigration from the time the Braceros agreements ended in the 1960s through the 1990s. During this period, Mexico adopted an approach to emigration that has been described variously as a “policy of no policy,”12 “delinked,”13 and “laissez-faire.”14 In addition to skirting requests to cooperatively control emigration, Mexico also tried to avoid bringing the issue up in negotiations with the US. The pri justified its unwillingness to engage with issues of emigration on the grounds that the country’s first revolutionary constitution of 1917 included the right to emigrate.15 But FitzGerald argues that the constitutional claims of free exit have “always been subject to situational interpretations and tempered by qualifications.”16 Indeed, for decades following wwii the country had tried to prevent emigration and exit. And according to the 1974 General Law of the Population, anyone leaving the country was first supposed to report to Mexican authorities to show a work contract authorized by the US consulate and papers for legally entering the US.17 Délano provides a more convincing explanation for Mexico’s policy of delinking emigration from its relations with the US, arguing that it was a strategic political decision. The pri believed that introducing migration into negotiations would hinder their ability to gain concessions in other issue areas and feared that the US would see Mexican engagement with its diaspora as interference in US domestic politics.18 This “policy of no policy” was also motivated by the fact that the country benefitted from irregular migration: 98 per cent of Mexican emigrants go to the US, and 60 per cent of the Mexican population has a relative living in the US. And remittances have been the largest source of foreign currency for the country after oil.19 While the government would have preferred opportunities for legal migration, even illegal migration provided a vital safety valve for domestic unemployment and brought in lucrative remittances. The pri began engaging more actively with emigration and the diaspora starting in the 1990s for two reasons. The first was the US’s expanded policing measures.20 The US’s 1986 Immigration Reform

102

Outsourcing Control

and Control Act had increased border security provisions even as it granted amnesty to nearly 2.7 million undocumented migrants already in the US.21 At the state level, in 1994, California’s nativist constituents passed Proposition 187, also known as sos (Save our State), which tried to limit welfare provisions to the children of illegal migrants for education and other services.22 The US Immigration and Naturalization Service also developed expanded policing initiatives at the border such as “Operation Hold the Line” to deter migration from Mexico during this period. Whether all of these increased border security efforts achieved their goals of deterring migration is hard to determine. But what is clear is that increased border security made crossing the border much more dangerous and led to more people dying in their attempts to reach the US. Mexicans perceived US abuse of Mexican migrants and Mexican deaths along the borders as proof of American “anti-Mexican sentiment” and as a failure by the US to protect Mexican citizens from smugglers and other dangers.23 The second reason for increased engagement was domestic. As Mexican politics democratized, opposition parties recognized a potential opportunity in the diaspora. The leftist prd party opened dialogues with the Mexican diaspora in the late 1980s.24 The pri was forced to either follow their lead or lose this potential base of support. Political engagement with the diaspora was made even more imperative as the number of Mexicans living in the US increased. Another unintended consequence of the US’s border control efforts had been to increase the total number Mexicans in the US: those regularized by the 1986 irca amnesty stayed and sponsored family members to follow them; those whose status was not regularized stopped engaging in circular migration due to the increased danger associated with recrossing the border. These people instead opted to stay in the US for longer periods of time.25 Thus, the pri was forced to build bridges to these communities and to funnel the diaspora’s concerns (and remittances) back to Mexico.26 And in 1993 they created the inm (National Institute of Migration) to work with migrants into, through, and out of Mexico.27 These were huge departures for a party that had once derided emigrants to the US “as traitors to the nationalist cause and opportunists who had left the nation when they were most needed.”28 But there was still a big step between diaspora engagement and engaging with the US directly on border control cooperation. Indeed, this was one issue area where the pri consistently refused to cooper-

Mexico and the US

103

ate – even as the bilateral relationship improved and the two countries began cooperating on numerous other cross-border security issues. Indeed, through the 1990s, the government framed any effort to police exit as a breach of rights. Even in response to the news of the deaths of ten Mexican migrants in the California desert in 1998, Mr Fernando Solis Camara, head of the Mexican inm, argued: At no time will we take any action that could discourage Mexicans from emigrating to the United States … That is because these are people who leave their families and their homes with the legitimate goal of bettering their lives.29 Compared to their efforts on countering narcotics trafficking or immigration into and through the country, Mexican efforts under the pri to control exit were notably limited. Presidents Clinton and Zedillo signed joint declarations on migration in which they committed “‘to strengthen bilateral cooperation in order to deal with the migration phenomenon’ while emphasizing that each nation has ‘the sovereign right … to implement its migration laws however it deems most appropriate for its national interests.’”30 Mexico also developed the Grupo Beta border control forces in 1989. But while they were deployed on the northern border, their goal was to reduce criminality and corruption, not to prevent exit. In 1996, Mexico passed a General Law of Population that banned international human smuggling,31 which temporarily gave the Grupo Beta agents the authority to arrest smugglers.32 Indeed, writing in 2000, in one of the most comprehensive analyses of US–Mexico border security cooperation to that date, Peter Andreas concluded that while the US and Mexico cooperated extensively on narcotics (and that Mexico leveraged this issue strategically in bilateral relations), Mexico was still hesitant to cooperate on migration management.33 This limited engagement is surprising given that the US had pushed for border control cooperation since the early 1980s. Reagan’s Task Force on Immigration and Refugee Policy contemplated opening discussions about bilateral migration control cooperation,34 but internal documents consistently highlighted concerns that the issue might be too sensitive for Mexico to agree to.35 In a 1981 meeting, Lopez Portillo and Reagan discussed a number of issues including the prospect of expanded border controls,36 but the 1982 Mexican economic crisis reoriented the policy priorities between the countries

104

Outsourcing Control

and soured the bilateral relationship, ending any possible discussions on this topic.37 The topic of border security reemerged in the context of nafta negotiations. nafta committed the country to liberalization and integration with the US in a way that eroded the old nationalist arguments against closer engagement with the country’s powerful neighbour.38 Yet both sides decided to omit the broad issue of migration from the negotiations. From the Mexican perspective, President Salinas decided to continue “delinking” the issue in order to prevent the US from blocking them on other negotiation issues.39 And the US hoped the agreement would reduce migration pressures in the long term as increased investment, wages, and employment opportunities within Mexico reduced the push factors leading people to exit.40 (Retrospectively, many argue that nafta has had the opposite effect, leading to increased undocumented migration rates in the years that followed due to the fact that the draw of US employment opportunities had a stronger impact on Mexican migration rates than did Mexican macroeconomic conditions.41) But while migration was not on the table in nafta negotiations, Mexico did experience pressure to improve its image by cooperating on border security more broadly. In 1992, the New York Times reported that As the two Governments have pursued a North American Free Trade Agreement with Canada, Mexican officials have begun trying to change the way Americans see their country. And no longer, they say, can they afford the images of lawlessness fed by the border situation, nor the stigma attached to millions of Mexican workers who enter the United States illegally. “When North Americans look toward Mexico,” a Mexican diplomat said, “that is what they see first.”42 The main area of transnational crime-control cooperation to emerge in this period was against drug trafficking.43 Mexico allowed the US to operate on Mexican territory to counter narcotics smuggling and participated in joint operations. President Salinas even went so far as to launch a campaign directly in the US media, including full page media advertisements promising that “Mexico was saying ‘No!’ to drugs.”44

Mexico and the US

105

Moreover, while Mexico avoided policing its own citizens’ movement, it did work to police transit migration through the country.45 Mexico had begun trying to limit immigration with the 1974 General Law of Population. But in the 1980s, the country faced unprecedented refugee flows as increasing numbers of Central Americans fled domestic conflicts – often transiting Mexico towards the US. Mexico initially tolerated their presence, though it did not give them status and occasionally deported large numbers of refugees.46 Notably, however, Mexico initially tried not to focus on securing the southern border but instead developed an intricate series of internal checkpoints along major highways. Kimball argues that this decision was at least partly inspired by the desire to avoid being perceived as mimicking US border security policies.47 In addition to the growing economic and political importance of emigration and the diaspora, part of the explanation for the pri’s refusal to cooperate on this issue can be traced back to its internal divisions. The old guard of políticos had historically controlled the party and grounded its legitimacy in nationalism and anti-American revolutionary rhetoric. On the other side were the new guard of technocratic técnicos who had led the party since in the 1980s. Largely US-educated, these leaders were the architects of the rapprochement with the US and the increased liberalization and democratization of the government.48 Yet neither of these two groups could justify migrant containment. The old revolutionary rhetoric required adhering to the constitutional “freedom of exit” commitments and standing up to the US when it violated Mexican citizens’ rights. The new emerging narrative was of liberalization and legitimacy based on democratic openness and economic growth. But this liberal narrative had long been defined in opposition to a communist “other” that, among other things, was infamous for preventing its citizens from leaving. Thus migration containment was hardly appealing to the new guard either. FitzGerald describes this predicament: It may still be internationally legitimate to put up walls to keep foreigners out, but it is certainly not legitimate to put up walls to keep citizens in. In that sense, liberalism constrains the options of source countries even more than destination countries.49 The pri was stuck. Neither subgroup could justify policing exit. And yet continuing along the path of economic integration and lib-

106

Outsourcing Control

eralization with the US meant that they had to make at least symbolic gestures of border security cooperation. The pri’s compromise was to cooperate on everything but exit. VICENTE FOX AND THE SMART BORDERS AGREEMENT

The successive reforms implemented by the pri party in the 1990s opened up the political system in real ways. Though initially pursued to expand their own credibility, these reforms eventually created the conditions that enabled the first real transfer of power to someone outside of the pri establishment in 2000. Vicente Fox’s election represented a significant change in the Mexican political climate and a distinct shift towards greater democratic accountability. It also signalled a shift in the country’s foreign relations. Fox’s democratic election has been described as giving him a “democratic bonus” of extra credibility in his relations with the US, and he pursued a more assertive approach in the bilateral relationship and beyond.50 Whereas the pri had long maintained a policy of nonintervention abroad and had “delinked” the issue of migration from broader foreign policy goals in order to avoid alienating the US, Fox intended to promote Mexican interests vis-à-vis the US directly.51 Among other goals, Fox prioritized protecting the interests of Mexicans in the US and expanding the government’s relationship with the diaspora. He made a number of important steps in this direction, including expanding the consular network and providing Mexicans with government-issued matrícula consular id cards that helped them obtain services and protections even if they were abroad illegally. He also initiated programs that made it easier for migrants to remit money back home. Moreover, he not only continued to allow dual citizenship, but encouraged it – proclaiming the country’s emigrants in the US were not traitors (as they had been derided in the early pri days) but rather “our beloved migrants, our heroic migrants.”52 He promised that Mexican consulates would become “the best allies of [immigrants’] rights.”53 And to institutionalize the relationship, in December 2000 he created the Presidential Office for Mexicans Abroad (opme).54 Achieving many of these goals – especially those related to diaspora engagement – required direct bilateral engagement with the US. Fox was initially successful in this domain: Fox and the newly elected US president Bush were friends and had worked together previously,

Mexico and the US

107

and both welcomed the idea of a migration accord. Fox’s ideal vision for bilateral migration reform was revealed on an August 2000 visit to Washington as president-elect. On this trip he proposed “nafta-plus”: a new vision for North America based on the eu model that would allow free movement of people accompanied by financial development measures to ensure economic convergence between the two economies.55 This vision was too radical for the US. But it didn’t end the dialogue. In February 2001, just after Bush was elected, the two leaders issued a joint statement calling for, “an orderly framework for migration that ensures humane treatment [and] legal security, and dignifies labour conditions,” in the context of expanded North American cooperation.56 They also set up a joint High-Level Migration Working Group that released a document in April 2001 calling for a “framework for orderly, legal, safe and humane migration” in addition to enhanced border security measures.57 And possibly as a bargaining chip or gesture of good faith to the US, Mexico also developed Plan Sur in June of 2011 to control immigration and transit along its southern border – which was jointly funded by the US and Mexico.58 In early September 2001, just days before the 9/11 attacks, President Fox travelled to Washington to meet with Bush and continued discussing a migration agreement. In a press release from that meeting, border security had become a central theme, but this was linked to other issues. Respecting the “human dignity of all migrants, regardless of their status,” matching workers with jobs, and addressing the root causes of migration were all equally salient.59 Early optimism gives way to post-9/11 pragmatism There is evidence that the negotiations were floundering even prior to 9/11 and that Fox may have been pushing for too much too fast.60 But 9/11 dealt a deathblow to Fox’s broader migration cooperation agenda. By all accounts, Bush had entered the White House with a limited foreign policy agenda but a keen interest in improving relations with Mexico. Prior to 9/11, he seemed truly committed to enabling greater openness and even more migration from Mexico.61 But 9/11 not only shifted his efforts from continental concerns towards the Middle East, it also refocused the US almost exclusively on border control at the expense of freer movement. The impact of the attacks on US border control policies can scarcely be overstated. As described by Alden, “On September 10, 2001, the

108

Outsourcing Control

United States was the most open, and some might have said most naïve, country in the world.”62 Immediately following the attacks, the US switched to “level one threat status” for all ports of entry.63 This slowed traffic on the borders with Canada and Mexican to a crawl, devastating businesses that relied on cross-border trade. By some accounts the lines at the Ambassador Bridge from Canada were backed up ten to twenty miles. Fox described the effects of these closures on the Mexican economy as “cataclysmic” – devastating businesses and leading to mass layoffs.64 Both of the US’s North American neighbours recognized that in order to keep the borders open to trade and to save their economies, they would need to cooperate with the US on achieving its new border security goals. Ignoring Mexican overtures for a trilateral agreement through nafta, Canada decided to approach the US unilaterally about this issue.65 From the Mexican perspective this “severely undermined the North American agenda.”66 Nevertheless, within three months of the attacks, Canada and the US negotiated and signed the “Smart Borders Declaration,” a thirty-point action plan aimed at creating a “secure and smart border” for the “secure flow” of both goods and people.67 Given the Canadian precedent, Mexico was left with little choice but to follow suit. On 21 March 2002, Bush and Fox met in Mexico, where they announced a “US Mexico Border Partnership Action Plan” that directly paralleled the agreement negotiated between the US and Canada.68 The agreement was exclusively focused on border security cooperation at the expense of the broader migration proposals that had been on the table in earlier meetings. It dealt with the secure flow of people and goods as well as with border security infrastructure. The contents of the Canadian and Mexican agreements differ in their treatment of the movement of people: Both agreements contain sections on preclearance programs and passenger information sharing, but the Mexican agreement also promises “enhanced cooperative efforts” to detect, screen, and “deal with” third country nationals and a “mutual commitment” to deterrence of alien smuggling.69 It thus contains even stronger commitments to migration control cooperation than the Canadian accord. Mexico’s acceptance of the Smart Borders agreement was based on pragmatism about the impact of the US’s new priorities on Mexican interests, both on the part of policymakers and civil society. The most important consideration for Fox’s administration was the economy.

Mexico and the US

109

In 2000, international trade accounted for more than 53 per cent of Mexico’s gdp,70 of which 88 per cent was with the US.71 (For comparison, Mexico’s next largest partner was Canada who accounted for just 2 per cent.72) When the US closed its borders, the Mexican economy ground to a halt. Vicente Fox highlights the threat this posed to the country in his own account of the country’s policies during this period. Security mattered, but trade was paramount: It’s impossible to overstate how deeply and inextricably entwined our economies are. The saying here is that when the United States catches cold, Mexico gets pneumonia. Now the United States had pneumonia; 9/11 could easily have killed Mexico altogether.73 Fox had been elected based on economically conservative promises to secure domestic economic growth and stability – largely by improving economic relations with the US. In the post-9/11 context Fox recognized that to keep the borders open to trade, he would have to reprioritize towards border security. Moreover, even before the 9/11 attacks, Fox realized that his “nafta-plus” aspirations were probably too lofty and that border security would be a necessary concession for a migration deal. Border control cooperation was clearly on the table even before 9/11. And Fox claims he was open to such cooperation from the beginning: according to his own account of his first meeting with Bush after their respective elections he had reassured the US president that, “We can help you secure the border ... But the only way to slow down the flow of immigrants is to raise the standard of living in Mexico.”74 But part of the explanation for his ability to sign this accord also relates to the distinct maturation of democracy in Mexico – especially through increased dialogue between government and civil society. Since coming to office, Fox had tried to expand the ability of activists to mobilize and to influence Mexican policy. He advocated for a Law of Transparency (passed in 2002) and established a Federal Institute on Access to Information (ifai). A 2003 Law of Enhancement formalized mechanisms for civil society to engage directly with government policymaking.75 In the area of migration specifically, Fox’s government conducted consultations with groups in both Mexico and California in 2001. The government eventually collected “six volumes with 275 proposals” from different actors on issues “from human rights issues and pro-

110

Outsourcing Control

grams for social development and education to questions pertaining to protecting migrant women and children, remittances, employing foreigners, tourism, and more.”76 This active engagement with civil society continued even after the Smart Borders agreement. In 2005 the government also drafted a statement on “Mexico and the Migration Phenomenon” with input from legislators, members of the federal government, academics, foreign policy experts, and representatives from three civil society organizations, including two from the National Commission of Human Rights (cndh) and one activist from the ngo Sin Fronteras (Without Borders).77 Key themes from this document were publicized in major US newspapers under the heading “A Message from Mexico about Migration,” as an effort to improve public opinion towards the country and its migrants in the US.78 The document clearly articulates a commitment to “shared responsibility” between the US and Mexico to manage the migration phenomenon. It frames the “increased linkage between migration, borders and security on the international level” as “a reality present in the relationship with our neighbouring countries” (in other words: border security is an important US priority). But it goes on to state that “Mexico is committed to fighting all forms of human smuggling and related criminal activities” and that “Mexico does not promote undocumented migration and is eager to participate in finding solutions that will help us face the migration phenomenon.”79 This expanded engagement allowed Vicente Fox to sidestep the temptations of nationalism and anti-Americanism. While some old guard politicians continued to try to rally votes and support with these more populist tactics, many had come to recognize that much of the Mexican population viewed the US as a crucial ally and that politicians could gain more support by promoting improved relations with the US.80 With civil society on board with the process and with enormous economic gains riding on the outcome of the agreement, Fox was able to work with US border security goals in ways that his predecessors could not. But there was also an element of optimism in Fox’s approach to border security. Fox and his government continued to hold out hope that concessions on border security would eventually lead to an agreement for freer movement. Some Mexican politicians continued to entertain hopes that Fox’s ambitious “nafta-plus” idea would be revived.81 And even the more pragmatic voices in his government continued to promote migration cooperation proposals.82 Fox wasn’t deluded in his

Mexico and the US

111

belief that he had US support: the US president seemed to continue to support a migration deal in principle. Bush and Fox launched a Partnership for Prosperity program in 2002 – a public–private partnership to address “root causes of migration” that had been initiated the previous September.83 They also agreed to future talks on achieving “safe, legal, and orderly migration flows” as well as on financing border infrastructure.84 The binational commission continued to meet and to try to work out strategies for immigration reform.85 And between 2004 and 2007, Bush repeatedly pushed for immigration reform, but his efforts were repeatedly derailed. These developments are particularly noteworthy given that the broader foreign policy relationship between the countries soured following the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Fox and his foreign minister were accused of not being quick enough to call the US to offer condolences.86 And a schism opened when Mexico opposed the US’s intervention in Iraq in the UN Security Council.87 In summary, the immediate trigger for the Smart Borders agreement was the 9/11 attacks in the US. It is undeniable that US pressures for a border control agreement spiked after this event. But this is not the only reason why Bush and Fox concluded a formal extraterritorial migration control agreement where their predecessors had never been able to do so. All of the pri presidents recognized the economic and political imperatives of greater integration and cooperation with the US. But they continued to delink the issue of migration from other bilateral issues, fearing that the issue would be too controversial. Instead, they clung to the revolutionary commitment to “freedom of exit.” By contrast, Fox initiated discussions on migration even prior to his inauguration and recognized almost immediately that border control cooperation would have to be a part of any bilateral agreement with the US. He was able to do this because of the boost of legitimacy that he received as the country’s first democratically elected president, and he used this legitimacy to generate public buy-in through engagement with Mexican civil society. And he was pragmatic in his response to economic interests, recognizing that keeping the US–Mexican border open to trade had to be the country’s primary priority in the wake of the 9/11 attacks. This combination of domestic civil society engagement, foreign policy activism, and economic pragmatism was enabled by Fox’s strong democratic mandate and willingness to leverage some of his social capital to achieve an agreement with the US.

112

Outsourcing Control

CODA

In the years that followed, Mexico and the US have continued to consolidate their cooperation on border control. In June 2003 they announced a joint border control effort: Operation Desert Safeguard. Ostensibly designed to save lives in a dangerous crossing area, the effort substantially expanded border security operations and established information and deterrence campaigns in both Mexico and the US.88 And in 2009, the countries signed a comprehensive repatriation agreement. Where earlier repatriation agreements had been almost exclusively local, focusing on cooperation between certain regions along the US–Mexican border, this agreement built on thirty of these local agreements to create a comprehensive repatriation infrastructure.89 For a time, migration was overshadowed by the escalation of a veritable drug war in Mexico that broke out soon after Fox’s predecessor Calderón was elected in 2006. US–Mexican security cooperation was redirected towards combatting the cartels’ influence – preventing drug trafficking and cross-border transnational crime. The US and Mexico jointly launched the Mérida Initiative in December 2008 to tackle drug trafficking and organized crime in the region. Between 2008 and 2019, US Congress appropriated almost $2.9 billion for the initiative.90 While not intended to combat irregular migration, this program has been used to fund security and migrant containment operations in the Southern border regions of Mexico – another priority issue for the US.91 Indeed, as the number of undocumented migrants, and especially unaccompanied minors, increased dramatically in the early 2010s, the Obama administration pressured Mexico to take a greater role in preventing transit. After consultations between the US, Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador, Mexican president Peña Nieto launched the Southern Border Program in July 2014, promising to take “greater global responsibility” for migration.92 More recently, Trump’s election in the US brought the issue of undocumented migration back to the forefront of the countries’ bilateral relations. Though now it is American populism and rhetorical nationalism that has complicated the ability of the countries to cooperate quietly on issues surrounding migration. Whereas migration control cooperation between the countries was quietly expanded under the Bush and Obama presidencies, Trump’s calls for Mexico to “pay for the wall” and explicit derision of Mexican migrants as “bad

Mexico and the US

113

hombres” bringing drugs and crime across the border have made it politically challenging for President Peña Nieto not to push back against cooperation. Nevertheless, Peña Nieto pursued a stoically pragmatic approach to US–Mexican relations, trying to shift the focus away from Trump’s wall and towards areas of mutual interest.93 He invited the US president to Mexico in 2016 – a move that cost him substantial domestic support. And in October 2018, the US, Mexico, and Canada agreed to a nafta replacement accord: the US–Mexico– Canada Agreement (or usmca). But this pragmatism was costly for Peña Nieto’s popularity and was heavily critiqued by opposition candidates in the 2018 Mexican general elections – probably even contributing the election of the leftist López Obrador. While domestic issues were paramount in the election, all candidates recognized the political need to critique Peña Nieto’s approach towards the Trump administration and advocate for a more assertive stance towards the US.94 López Obrador rallied support with his critiques of Peña Nieto’s passivity vis-à-vis the US president and built a following among the diaspora prior to the election by travelling to the US and advocating for migrants and even publishing a book, Oye, Trump,95 on this subject. Nevertheless, since coming to office, López Obrador has persisted with this pragmatism – an often contradictory stance that has nevertheless been rewarded with widespread support. In his presidential campaign, he promised not to do the US’s “dirty work” of immigration enforcement. And yet in June 2019, he and Trump agreed to an extremely comprehensive joint border control operation, which he hailed as a great success, proclaiming that “I’m not raising a clenched fist, but an open and frank hand [to the US president]. We reiterate our disposition for friendship, dialogue and cooperation.”96 Announcing the agreement to a rally of supporters in Tijuana, he stood “flanked by ministers; state governors; legislators; mayors; union members; and indigenous, business and religious leaders.”97 Many citizens were concerned about the job losses that would have ensued had he tried to pursue a nationalist and antagonistic policy vis-à-vis Trump, especially after Trump threatened to escalate tariffs on Mexican goods if they did not help contain migration. And indeed, Obrador’s support stems from his broader economic policies. Austerity has been central to his whole campaign and presidency – as has his promise to end corruption. He has made many typically expensive leftist commitments to fund pensions, jobs, etc., but

114

Outsourcing Control

he promises to fund these programs out of cutting government corruption rather than out of taxes.98 And yet his austerity poses challenges to the logistical side of helping Trump secure the border. Obrador had only just formed the controversial National Guard force in order to address domestic violence and homicides. Recommitting these forces to curtailing migration within the country and along the southern border moves resources away from these domestic security objectives.99 And many wonder how the already-overburdened National Institute of Migration or Commission for the Aid of Refugees (comar) will cope with expanded needs when López Obrador refuses to increase their funding.100 Of course, there are also numerous critics of his policies domestically. Human rights activists and migrant allies are very concerned about the implications of using armed forces to control migration and of the inability of the country to cope with the huge numbers of people who are now forced to wait for their US asylum claims to be processed in Mexico under the (confusingly titled) “Migrant Protection Protocols.” For example, Alejandro Madrazo, a professor at cide, a Mexico City university argued that “We are making Mexican territory a buffer zone for the US border and placing Mexican bodies as a barrier for the US and its immigration policy.”101 But observers also note that migrants have become “political orphans” in a country that has ceased to support the caravans and identify with these people.102 Federico Estévez, political science professor at the Autonomous Technological Institute of Mexico, argues that López Obrador “doesn’t pay a political price for repressing migrants. And he may gain something of a bonus here and there … They fundamentally do not enjoy support in Mexico.”103 Thus, the trend set by Vicente Fox has continued to the present: while activists and nationalists may object to Mexico’s migrant interdiction activities, pragmatism has prevailed. Each new Mexican president has prioritized maintaining good relations with the US, recognizing that the broad economic benefits of strong relations outweigh the material and political costs of migration control cooperation – especially in the context of increased Central American migration through the country.

Life without Earlids

5

North African Strongmen and Their Successors: Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

Turning to the Mediterranean region, this chapter explores the negotiations between Tunisia and Italy for migration control cooperation – both before and after the Arab Spring. The first two negotiation episodes in 1998 and 2003 occurred under President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali’s administration. Ben Ali had come to power in 1957 as just the second president of independent Tunisia. He maintained power domestically by repressing dissent while simultaneously securing popular support through policies promising security and economic stability. This required good relations with European allies. He had long encouraged European partners to ignore his nondemocratic practices by allying himself in operations against Islamism, and he extended this strategy to alliances in migration control cooperation. But like other autocratic leaders considered in this book, he did not provide these concessions for free, using the agreements opportunistically to extract resources, concessions, and political support. Everything changed in 2011. Protests that would eventually become the Arab Spring erupted in December 2010, forcing Ben Ali into exile. Thousands of emigrants also tried to reach Europe in the wake of the protests, and Italy was suddenly left to manage these migratory pressures on its own. Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi quickly opened negotiations with the Tunisian interim regime, which was still extremely fragile. It was beholden to a highly mobilized population that had just endured great risk and sacrifice to bring down Ben Ali. While the interim leaders had not been elected to the leadership roles they took on after Ben Ali was forced out, all had been elected to office prior to his departure. And they were

115

116

Outsourcing Control

Figure 5.1 Tunisian regime characteristics

making plans for democratic elections that were believable and realistic. They were in close conversation with protesters who had already proven that they would be quick to remobilize if any of the interim leaders overstretched their authority. As such, the interim government was functionally accountable to their population, but they were also extremely weak as a regime. As a result, they had little independent power and did not have the legitimacy to agree to Berlusconi’s unpopular requests. They couldn’t turn Italy away point blank and were willing to accept help in securing the country’s borders. But the regime turned down Italy’s two central demands for repatriation and joint patrols, highlighting the need to protect the country’s sovereignty and leaning into more nationalistic rhetoric to sustain popular support. We thus see a stark transition of the Tunisian regime from a strong autocratic system under Ben Ali to a fledgling weak democracy under the post-Arab Spring interim regime, as shown in figure 5.1. Tunisia’s Arab Spring transformation to a fragile but democratically aspiring regime stands in stark contrast to the outcome of the Arab Spring for neighbouring Libya, where escalating violence has brought the country to the brink of state failure. But in 2011–12, a nebulous group of leaders calling themselves the “National Transitional Coun-

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

117

Figure 5.2 Libyan regime characteristics

cil” (ntc) claimed authority over the country. The ntc claimed to have democratic aspirations but in practice represented a number of armed rebel groups. Some members had held positions in Gaddafi’s administration. Others were intellectuals, lawyers, and community leaders. They had not been elected into any position prior to asserting their leadership in the midst of a civil war. And they were beholden to armed rebel groups – not to protesters. Though they told foreign media and international partners that they intended to see the country through a democratic transition, they cannot be considered democratic. And they negotiated accordingly. They were opportunistic in seeking international allies, recognizing that they would need foreign support to win the ongoing conflict.1 They pursued international support with single-minded determination, promising foreign powers whatever they could offer – from shares in the country’s future oil contracts to migration control cooperation. They quickly met Italy’s demands for cooperation on migration control, possibly even staging the detention of migrant vessels in order to prove their ability to be good allies in controlling Libya’s maritime borders. The comparison of the Tunisian and Libyan post-Arab Spring administrations brings to light some of the salient differences between weak democracies and autocracies in negotiating tactics.

118

Outsourcing Control

FORGING NEW COOPERATIVE PATHS IN TUNISIA

In the 1990s, the Mediterranean was only beginning to emerge as an irregular migration route into Europe. However, migration across the Mediterranean was not new. Historically, Tunisia had long been a destination for European migrants: Italians arrived in the early nineteenth century, followed by the French when they colonized the country. However, after Tunisia achieved its independence in 1956, the predominant direction of migration reversed. Many Tunisians left for Europe as President Habib Bourghiba’s government signed guest worker agreements with France, Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands between 1963 and 1971.2 When Western Europe stopped its labour recruitment programs in the mid-1970s, some of this labour migration shifted to other destinations. Italy was still relatively open to immigrants, and the country became the new destination for migrants who might have previously gone to France. But in addition to these contracted migration flows, the 1990s also saw increased volumes of irregular migration into Europe. There are a few reasons for this. First, Europe’s new Schengen border system made it difficult to reach any of the countries in the region legally. Second, while some migration pressure had historically been absorbed by the Gulf and other oil-producing countries, these countries’ immigration needs began declining around this time, encouraging would-be migrants to seek out new destinations. Finally, conflicts and humanitarian crises in sub-Saharan Africa created new migratory pressures, many of which translated into transit flows into and through North Africa. Austerity programs in poor, indebted sub-Saharan African countries compounded these pressures.3 Tunisia’s geographic location made it a logical point of departure for people trying to reach Europe, including both transit migrants and Tunisian nationals. The Italian government first approached Tunisia about a migration agreement in July of 1998. While migratory pressures had been building steadily over the previous years, it was not an acute crisis of arrivals that triggered this dialogue but instead Italy’s efforts to secure its “external borders” in order to join the Schengen area (see discussion in chapter 2). By the time it opened talks with Tunisia, Italy had already signed a readmission agreement with Morocco.4 But most of the boats that were reaching Italian shores were leaving from Tunisia, making an interdiction agreement with this country

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

119

the more urgent imperative.5 Italy proposed to provide Tunisia with assistance, funding, and resources for intercepting vessels and smuggling operations. In return, Tunisia would have to accept the return not only of their own nationals but also of anyone who had transited the country.6 About a week later, the Italian government tried to sweeten the deal by adding quotas for Tunisian nationals in a threeyear migration plan.7 Though the negotiation period was relatively brief, Ben Ali’s government raised the issue of migration rights and the human rights of migrants on a few occasions. The Tunisian regime accused Italy of gross human rights violations, highlighting the fallout from their northern neighbour’s expanded domestic immigration control measures and especially highly publicized clashes between irregular migrants and police officers in detention centres.8 Tunisia’s foreign minister accused the Italian media of stirring up controversy and creating a “climate of incomprehension and some tension.”9 On the day that the original agreement was reportedly set to be signed, the Tunisian coast guard also impounded an Italian shipping boat, accusing them of fishing in Tunisian waters. The sailors denied these accusations, and the Italian media claimed that it was merely a “show of strength” to complicate the process.10 Despite these tensions, on 6 August 1998 Tunisia’s foreign minister (Said Ben Mustapha) and Italy’s foreign minister (Lamberto Dini) signed the countries’ first extraterritorial interdiction agreement.11 The agreement left Italy wanting for little. It included provisions for readmission, as well as for extraterritorial containment and policing measures. It specified that Tunisia would allow the return of not only its own citizens but also third country nationals who had transited the country on the way to Europe (with the exception of other members of the Arab Maghreb Union).12 It included a strong police cooperation component that allowed the commencement of joint border control operations by July 2000, to be led by an Italian liaison in Tunisia,13 and included provisions and funding for detention centres in Tunisia.14 It also sought to tackle irregular migration through both “root cause” development and employment measures.15 But Tunisia did not provide this assistance for free. Visa quotas are argued to have been the most important concession for Ben Ali,16 and Tunisia became the first country to be granted a preferential quota of 1,500 annual visas.17 In addition to the quota allotment, promises of aid were also instrumental. Tunisia had not received substantial over-

120

Outsourcing Control

seas development assistance from Italy for five years prior to the agreement. But in August of 1998 – at the same time as the agreement was being negotiated – a joint commission met and promised Tunisia €80 million for the 1999–2001 period.18 Understanding Ben Ali’s Strategy The negotiations between the two countries were short, lasing only about a month, and Ben Ali’s administration proved willing to cooperate as long as they received sufficient concessions in return. In this way, they resemble other autocratic administrations. But the Tunisian regime was not as accommodating as some other authoritarian regimes, especially in their complaints about Italy’s treatment of migrants. It is always difficult to separate rhetoric used to strengthen a country’s negotiating position from rhetoric reflecting a negotiator’s “true” position on an issue. But this negotiation strategy may reflect Ben Ali’s atypical power strategies that mixed political authoritarianism with economic and social liberalism. Given the political authoritarian tendencies of the regime, it seems unlikely that he feared domestic disapproval for signing a migration control agreement with Italy.19 While Ben Ali’s regime was outward looking and tried to maintain the trappings of a democratic government, it also effectively found ways to silence dissent and ensure domestic compliance with state policies and goals. In practice, the country’s elections were hardly free or fair, and his rcd party (Rassemblement constitutionnel démocratique) won four sets of elections between 1989 and 2009. The administration held tight control over the press. In 1998 the Committee for the Protection of Journalists listed Ben Ali as one of the ten worst “enemies of the press,” and the World Association of Newspapers expelled the major Tunisian newspaper association for its lack of openness.20 This meant that he only needed to make public those elements of the agreement that he expected to be domestically acceptable. Indeed, the detention centres that were established by the agreement were only discovered and made public after Ben Ali was removed from power in 2011,21 demonstrating that Ben Ali was able to avoid domestic backlash to what might have otherwise been unpopular measures. In addition, while civil society existed under Ben Ali’s rule, it was largely limited to unions and professional organizations. Unions

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

121

included the Bar Association (of lawyers), the National Syndicate of Tunisian Journalists, a teacher’s union, and a workers’ union (the Union Générale Tunisienne du Travail, or ugtt). Tunisia also had a Human Rights League and a Tunisian Association of Democratic Women among others. But these and fringe political parties were only allowed to operate if they did not become powerful enough to pose any real challenge to the state.22 When it came to migration politics, unions represented the interests of people working in the formal sector who stood to benefit from the Italian visas (either directly by receiving the visas or indirectly by decreased job competition from people who received them). And existing human rights organizations were relatively weak and had more pressing issues to contend with domestically than the rights of people who left. There were thus few groups that would have had both the interest and the capacity to mount objections to an agreement. But the president recognized that his repressive tactics were only tolerated domestically as long as he continued to provide economic growth and security. For this, he needed good relations with Europe. Ben Ali found common ground with Europe in his quest to keep Islamist groups contained domestically. And from an economic perspective, his administration was decidedly liberal. His economic growth strategy was based on a rigorous adoption of neoliberal reforms and the imf hailed him has their “‘best student … in the region.’”23 In 1995, Ben Ali became the first Mediterranean leader to sign an Association Agreement with the eu promising expansive trade liberalization,24 and this agreement had only just come into force on 1 March 1998 – just prior to these migration control negotiations.25 This emphasis on external ties and good relations with Europe was reinforced by the growing power of the commercial elite in the country, who had gained power as the economy opened.26 This externally oriented liberalization also insulated President Ben Ali: many European leaders were willing to turn a blind eye to domestic human rights abuses because of his security and economic engagement.27 But European activists had been increasing their pressure on the regime in the period leading up to this negotiation. In the fall of 1996, French human rights groups pressured the French government to postpone visits from President Ben Ali two times. And in May of 1997, the European Parliament passed a resolution expressing concern about human rights in Tunisia.28 Thus, when Italy approached the country for an extraterritorial interdiction agreement, Ben Ali’s exter-

122

Outsourcing Control

nally oriented economic and foreign policy programs were proving insufficient to protect him from European critique of his domestic policies. He needed a new ally and a new source of interdependence with the regional block. Given his human rights record up to this point, it seems far more likely that he was trying to strong-arm Europeans who were notoriously sensitive to human rights objections than that his heart suddenly softened over treatment of a few citizens who had been caught up in Italy’s patrol efforts while trying to leave his country. And the language of “human rights” that President Ben Ali’s regime used to oppose Italy’s treatment of migrants sounds strikingly similar to the language that the European activists were trying to leverage against him at the time and may have been a way for him to try to silence these critiques. Finally, Ben Ali had independent reasons to want to bolster border security control. While he kept the rest of his armed services relatively weak to avoid any military opposition, he invested heavily in the national guard, including a strong coast guard and coastal patrol capacity. His border security goals were primarily guided by a desire to keep extremist and Islamist forces out of the country.29 While he may not have had much independent interest in using these forces to contain migrants, he would have welcomed Italian investments in this sector. Thus, the framing of Ben Ali’s “human rights” objections and their timing set in the context of broader Tunisian foreign policy priorities suggests that they were more strategic than substantive and that Tunisia using these objections to seek a “special aid package.”30 This political theatre was successful. Whether or not Italian negotiators bought his objections to an agreement on human rights grounds, they ended up rewarding his stalling mechanisms by providing substantial concessions to the country in exchange for Tunisia’s cooperation in containing migrants. RENEWED COOPERATION TO ENSURE CONTINUED EUROPEAN SUPPORT

The next major extraterritorial interdiction agreement between Tunisia and Italy was signed on 13 December 2003.31 Whereas the 1998 agreement was probably triggered by Italian efforts to join Schengen, the 2003 agreement was triggered by an increase in irregular Mediterranean migration and a series of tragic shipwrecks32 – one

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

123

of the worst of which saw an overloaded boat sink off the Tunisian coast killing an estimated 200 of the 250 passengers onboard.33 These irregular journeys were also becoming more professionalized and unscrupulous smugglers were frequently blamed for the higher number of lives lost at sea.34 And the demographic profile of the migrants was also shifting – no longer just poor working-age men, migrants now included the university-educated and women, as well as many more transit migrants.35 In Europe, both Italy and Greece had been working to achieve greater European solidarity around containing irregular migration. The June shipwrecks coincided with a major eu summit in Thessaloniki. Greece (which held the presidency of the council in Thessaloniki) and Italy (the upcoming president of the council for the second half of the year) used the occasion to lobby for more common standards and solidarity in dealing with the arrivals.36 As discussed in chapter 2, 2003 Thessaloniki council built on efforts to develop a common asylum and migration policy that had been underway in the eu for years. But whereas the earlier 1999 Tampere council simply expressed a desire to cooperate with third countries and to address “political, human rights and development issues in countries and regions of origin and transit,”37 in Thessaloniki the council emphasized more punitive measures, stressing “the importance of developing an evaluation mechanism to monitor relations with third countries which do not cooperate with the eu in combatting illegal immigration.”38 In other words, the weight of the entire eu was now behind Italy, and the eu framed partner state cooperation on migration issues as not just welcome but expected. Thus, Tunisia faced heightened pressure from the eu to become a more active participant in migration management in the region. But Tunisia had foreign policy concerns of its own. The eu was preparing for its largest expansion to date and planned to incorporate ten new Eastern European members in early 2004. Ben Ali worried that as the eu turned its gaze eastward it would be less interested in relations with its Mediterranean partners.39 He recognized that contributing to migration containment operations was a way to bargain for greater concessions from European partners and that cooperation painted him as a credible player in the region.40 Driven largely by these concerns about the eu’s eastward expansion, Ben Ali initiated and hosted the first summit of the heads of state and government of the western Mediterranean basin, bringing

124

Outsourcing Control

together the leaders of the five northern and five southern west Mediterranean states.41 He hoped to use the summit to revive the Barcelona Process – an initiative that had been designed in 1995 to promote greater Euro–Mediterranean partnership but had recently stalled. In addition to economic and security issues, migration occupied a central role on the agenda of the summit. While all participants supported the need to control transit migration, the North African countries that were also source states (especially Tunisia, Algeria, and Morocco) also expressed a concern about Europe’s “securitized” approach to migration and advocated for more generous avenues for legal migration.42 This reflected a broader schism between countries on the north and on the south of the Mediterranean about where to place blame for the migration flows. Italy blamed the migration flows on North African states. But Ben Ali claimed that the migration flows into Europe were “the direct consequence of the economic changes with which Southern countries are being faced in their development process and in the context of their [economic] openness to the North”43 – a somewhat ironic position for a leader who had been instrumental in opening the Tunisian economy towards Europe. Expanded Cooperation Despite Ben Ali’s critical rhetoric, he signed a robust extraterritorial interdiction agreement with Italy just seven days after the summit that substantially expanded the scope of their cooperation. In the agreement, the two countries agreed to cooperate on “the control of vessels suspected of transporting illegal migrants.”44 The agreement enabled Italy to train Tunisian police forces to control the maritime border, using technical assistance and cooperation.45 They set up liaison offices in each other’s countries and set the groundwork for numerous migrant push-back (interdiction and return) operations in the years to come.46 Tunisia received important concessions in exchange for this wideranging cooperation. Six days after signing the agreement, Italy approved “flows decrees” (visa allocations) for 2004 that raised the Tunisian reserved share to 3,000 people.47 Italy also expanded its economic aid to the country. And although it was not a direct quid pro quo for migration cooperation, the western Mediterranean basin summit’s conclusions highlighted the need for the eu to

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

125

maintain strong Mediterranean relations, even in the process of its eastern enlargement. The most pressing concern for Ben Ali was sustaining a strong relationship with his European neighbours and being seen as a good regional partner in order to sustain the economic growth and tourism flows that kept his population placated despite his less-thanaccountable governing style. Tourism had declined since 9/11 and especially since the 2002 bombing of a synagogue in Djerba, Tunisia. And the Tunisian population was becoming increasingly weary of his heavy-handed repression. One French journalist wrote that by 2000 the country had developed “a silent, and perhaps sullen, majority [of persons hostile to Ben Ali], largely persuaded of democratic ideals and political pluralism, but thwarted in their application.”48 Unemployment remained high, and unemployment of those with a tertiary education was steadily rising. Ben Ali benefited from the West’s “War on Terror” as his repression of Islamists at home put him in the good graces of European countries that had become even more invested in counterterrorism. But he was aware that the country’s image was also being tarnished by the growing number of shipwrecks and by the European perception of a loss of control over migration in the region. So he took a number of steps to expand the country’s ability to control migration. Following two major shipwrecks off its coast on 15 and 21 June, Tunisia hurried to ratify the UN’s “Convention against Transnational Crime” and the associated Palermo protocols on smuggling and trafficking in June and July of 2003.49 And the Tunisian government worked to draw attention to its successes in migration containment. In early July, the ministry of the interior reported that 20,000 Tunisians had been apprehended trying to leave the country over the previous five years, alongside 12,000 foreigners who had used the country as a point of transit.50 In addition, on 3 February 2004, Tunisia passed a series of domestic laws to control migration, which imposed steep fines and prison sentences for both illegal entry and exit. Whereas previously the penalty for crossing a border without valid documents was capped at six months and the penalty for assisting with illegal exit or entry warranted three and five years respectively,51 the new law amended this to three to twenty years in prison and combined that with a substantial fine – and penalties were even greater if the crime was committed by an organized criminal network or included children. Failed smug-

126

Outsourcing Control

gling efforts and failure to report a smuggling effort also carried sanctions under the new law.52 The law has been described as a direct extension of the country’s partnership with Italy on migration efforts,53 and its implementation “has been assisted by the provision of surveillance equipment and training by the Italian authorities and joint patrols in Tunisian waters.”54 Even in Tunisia’s environment of limited civil society organization, these laws faced some criticism domestically from ngos and human rights activists.55 But Ben Ali went ahead with the reforms anyway. Civil society support mattered much less for him than the strength of the alliance and benefits from Europe. What little damage the human rights groups could do given constraints on the press and the lack of free speech would be vastly outweighed by the benefits he could exploit from the new Italian visas and aid money, not to mention the continued market access in Europe. MIGRATION CONTROL COOPERATION AFTER THE ARAB SPRING

President Ben Ali’s policies benefitted some but left many disadvantaged. The benefits of economic liberalization were extremely uneven. Unemployment was high, even among the country’s growing university-educated population. And the population was fed up with Ben Ali’s political repression, corruption, and nepotism.56 The 2008 global economic crisis was particularly destabilizing and led to major protests in the Gafsa basin region.57 These protests were eventually quelled. But the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi in December 2010 led to protests that the regime could no longer contain. On 14 January 2011, protestors forced President Ben Ali into exile and ushered in a new era of change in the country. The long-time leader who had maintained heavy-handed control for twenty-three years was overthrown in less than a month. This “Jasmine Revolution” opened the door to dramatic changes in party politics and civil society movements in Tunisia almost immediately. Prior to the revolution, Ben Ali’s rcd party had been synonymous with the state, and the president had severely curtailed the ability of other parties or civil society groups to operate. But once they had deposed Ben Ali, protestors rejected anyone who had been associated with him or with the rcd. Diverse new groups and coalitions emerged: members of the previously banned Islamist party, Ennahda,

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

127

began returning home from exile,58 cyber activists formed their own networks and coalitions,59 and by June of 2011, Tunisia had ninetyfour political parties.60 Civil society also began organizing almost immediately. Groups that had existed under Ben Ali, like the Tunisian General Labor Union, mobilized in opposition to the regime.61 And domestic civil society was quickly joined by diasporic groups. Many of these groups had strong ties to European activist networks and were steeped in the European discourses opposing border externalization. The Tunisian Social and Economic Rights Forum (Forum Tunisien pour les droits économiques et sociaux, or ftdes) emerged immediately after the political opening in 2011 and began tackling issues including gender equality, labour rights, environmental protections, and migrant rights in partnership with German, Italian, and French organizations.62 The Euro–Mediterranean Human Rights Committee (Le Réseau Euro–Méditerranéen des droits de l’homme, or remdh) encompassed a number of ngos in North Africa and in Europe. It was formed in 1997 after the Barcelona declaration and had headquarters in Copenhagen, Brussels, and Paris. After the revolution it opened an office in Tunis.63 The Federation of Tunisians for Citizenship on both Shores (La Fédération des Tunisiens pour une citoyenneté de deux rives, ftcr) worked with the Tunisian diaspora in France but began mobilizing in Tunisia as well after the revolution.64 But postrevolutionary Tunisia was extremely unstable. The architecture of the state had long been built up around the person of Ben Ali, and there were few people in positions of political leadership who were untainted by association with the former president. The Italian–Tunisian negotiations on migration control cooperation spanned February through April of 2011. In this short time, they bridged two phases of the transitional administration: first led by Prime Minister Ghannouchi and then by the former president of the Chamber of Deputies, Beji Caid Essebsi. Prime Minister Ghannouchi was left de facto in charge after President Ben Ali was forced out. Ghannouchi promised free elections within six months and appointed an interim government. Seen as being too generous to former rcd party members, Ghannouchi was finally forced out after his government brutally repressed a demonstration in late February. The acting president, Fouad Mebazaa (formerly president of the Chamber of Deputies), replaced Ghannouchi with Beji Caid Essebsi. Both Mezbaa and Essebsi were older politi-

128

Outsourcing Control

cians who were widely perceived as being free of political aspirations and thus safe temporary guardians of the state.65 Essebsi quickly made gestures of reconciliation to the major opposition group to the interim regime – the National Council for the Protection of the Revolution (cnpr). He disbanded Ben Ali’s police and security forces and instituted a rule stating that nobody from the former rcd party would be able to run for elections for ten years.66 These gestures temporarily appeased the protestors, many of whom tentatively returned home even though economic and political issues were still not resolved. Yet the protestors remained profoundly concerned that the rcd veterans would try to maintain their hold on power. To ease their fears, on 1 March, President Mezbaa pushed forward the proposed election timeline to 24 July.67 Migration control negotiations with Italy thus occurred prior to any truly free and fair elections. But all of the leaders who headed the interim regime that negotiated with Italy had been elected to office prior to the revolution. Ghannouchi had been prime minister; Mezbaa had been speaker of the lower house of parliament; Essebsi had been speaker of the lower house of parliament in the 1990s. They were actively working towards new elections when the negotiations with Italy took place. Moreover, negotiations took place while the Tunisian interim regime was walking on eggshells to avoid upsetting the still-mobilized and heavily invested protestors. Leaders in the interim regime were thus extremely sensitive to public opinion and considered themselves democratically accountable. As such, the regime can be classified as predominantly democratic – albeit extremely weak and fragile. Migration Control Cooperation in the New Tunisia An unanticipated externality of the revolution was a massive wave of irregular maritime emigration from Tunisia to Europe – especially towards Italy. The police and security forces had been closely affiliated with the Ben Ali regime, and when protestors successfully toppled the president, many guards fled their posts, fearing retribution from angry protestors.68 This left the country’s coasts unguarded for the first time since Italy and Tunisia signed their 1998 agreement. In addition, while the regime was deposed quickly, most people recognized that it would take a long time to solve the country’s underlying economic and political challenges. Unemployment and underdevel-

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

129

opment remained serious problems – especially in the internal regions that had historically been marginalized in Ben Ali’s development initiatives.69 Many young people who had been considering a maritime journey to Europe saw an opportunity to try their luck and headed towards the northern coasts. Some of the migrants were “former servants of the ousted regime of Tunisia’s former president”70 and may have had reason to seek refuge abroad. But many others were perceived (both domestically and in Europe) as economic migrants taking advantage of the gaps in border control. Coastal cities were so inundated with migrants that fishermen were reportedly sleeping in their boats for fear they would be stolen by wouldbe migrants before morning.71 Italy and the eu had long held reservations about Ben Ali’s nondemocratic leadership despite their close ties with his regime. They thus hoped that the revolution would lead to a robust democratic transition. The day after Ben Ali was forced out of the country, heads of state in the US and the UK, and the eu’s foreign policy chief Catherine Ashton all separately expressed support for the movement, calling for dialogue and condemning the regime’s violence against civilians.72 But the Europeans were in an awkward position. They had long relied on Ben Ali (and other North African strongmen) to help them contain threats ranging from Islamism to migration. But Europe also prided itself on promoting democracy and human rights internationally. Accepting that Ben Ali had been deposed, European leaders backed the democratic movement. eu foreign policy chief Catherine Ashton visited Tunisia in February and declared Europe’s support for the revolutionary movement, promising that “The European Union is committed to supporting Tunisia economically and to supporting civil society in order to have free elections.”73 Nevertheless, with Ben Ali gone, Italy had to manage renewed migration on its own. Berlusconi thus quickly opened negotiations with the Tunisian interim regime, long before it was fully consolidated. Italy found itself in the unenviable position of nominally supporting the transition to democracy while demanding a return to the migration policies of the ancien régime – making demands on the interim regime that the still-mobilized protestors were loath to accept. Every step of the negotiations was thus riddled by tension, misunderstandings, and conflicting interpretations. On 14 February 2011, Italian Foreign Minister Franco Frattini met with Tunisian Interim Prime Minister Ghannouchi. Divisions em-

130

Outsourcing Control

erged before the dialogue had even commenced. The day before the meeting, Italy’s interior minister Roberto Maroni (a member of Italy’s notoriously xenophobic Northern League party) stated in an Italian television interview that he would “ask Tunisia’s foreign minister for authorization for our forces to intervene in Tunisia to block the influx.”74 The Tunisian foreign ministry responded with an explicit rejection of the proposal: Tunisia is as strongly committed to preserving the excellent friendly relations of cooperation with Italy and further promoting them [but is] surprised at this stance and affirms that it categorically rejects any interference in its internal affairs or offence against its sovereignty.75 However, the Tunisian ministry also tempered this rebuff by affirming the country’s broad commitment to principles of migration management and even hinted that an agreement might be possible if it were sufficiently linked with development incentives.76 Nevertheless, the meeting itself was productive. Italy’s Frattini announced that he had proposed “operational co-operation in compliance with the sovereignty of the Tunisian state”77 that would include providing advanced technology and a radar network that the Tunisian press explicitly specified would be “operated by the Tunisians.”78 He also put a number of possible incentives on the table, including the possibility of Italian quota revisions, the provision of credit lines worth €100 million, and business opportunities.79 Unfortunately for Italy, the agreement was not finalized before Ghannouchi was replaced by Caid Essebsi. Thus, in late March, Frattini travelled to Tunisia again to meet the new interim government and negotiate a new accord.80 This time, he reportedly promised that Italy would provide €80 million for border control tasks and €150 million for economic recovery, and the parties announced that they were discussing a “voluntary return” program for Tunisians that had already reached Italy.81 But a week after the discussions, it became apparent that the two sides had perceived the outcome of the conversations very differently: the Tunisians claimed that they had simply agreed to negotiate, while the Italians insisted that they had agreed to concrete measures.82 Tunisia may have stepped back from commitments that it initially made for fear of backlash. But it is at least equally likely that Italian

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

131

Prime Minister Berlusconi’s administration exaggerated the success of the negotiations to gain credibility at home and scapegoat blame for the continuing irregular immigration onto Tunisia. Berlusconi had made migration containment a priority for his administration. But this was proving impossible when one after another of the North African regimes he depended on for migration control collapsed.83 On 12 February, Italy had had to declare a state of humanitarian emergency in response to the unprecedented arrivals and reach out to the eu for assistance in managing the crisis.84 To make matters worse, Berlusconi was in the midst of what might politely be described as a “delicate” situation domestically: he was simultaneously facing charges of paying a minor for sex and being accused of fraud and embezzlement.85 So Berlusconi tried to turn the media’s attention towards the migration crisis in a series of actions that were widely perceived as diversionary tactics.86 Travelling to Lampedusa, he promised to ship out all of the migrants stationed there within a matter of days.87 To add even more theatrics to the gesture, he purchased a 2 million Euro holiday home on the island (apparently a gesture of solidarity). He claimed that many migrants were escaped Tunisian convicts and declared that the residents of Lampedusa deserved a Nobel peace prize for their patience with the arrivals.88 But even as he drew press coverage towards Lampedusa, back in Rome his party was trying to change the legal code to extricate him from the latest legal scandal.89 Berlusconi also turned his venom on Tunisia directly, accusing the government of doing nothing to stop citizens from leaving90 and blaming the “human tsunami” on the Tunisian coast guard’s laxity and corruption91 – an assessment seconded by Italian Interior Minister Maroni who used this claim to try to justify repatriations.92 When Tunisia continued to insist that the country had not agreed to accept repatriations, Berlusconi’s only way to make good on his promise to ship out the migrants from Lampedusa was to start moving them from the island to the mainland – even as more migrants started arriving from Libya.93 While this dramatic rhetoric may have temporarily bolstered Berlusconi’s flagging reputation in Italy, it alienated his Tunisian partners. Even moderate Tunisian observers who saw European ties as crucial to a successful economic recovery and highlighted the importance of an alliance with Italy cringed at his insults and accusations of laxity, arguing that Italy was asking for more than Tunisia could offer

132

Outsourcing Control

in its fragile postrevolutionary condition.94 Tunisians decried the lack of European solidarity, objecting that migration was a “problem, not a scourge” (as Europe had taken to calling it),95 and they joined European observers in dismissing the rhetoric as nothing more than a diversionary tactic.96 Eventually Berlusconi was forced to go to Tunisia himself to try to conclude an agreement. Before leaving, he publicly committed to concluding a repatriation agreement with Tunisia, declaring that “repatriation is the key solution for all of us.”97 Interior Minister Roberto Maroni reiterated this, stating that Rome was expecting two things from Tunisia: “repatriation and blocking of departure” and asserted that “We will go to Tunis to convince, if necessary force, Tunisia to meet its commitments.”98 In Tunisia, Berlusconi met with both the interim president and the prime minister,99 appealing to them regarding the challenges of migrant reception at Lampedusa and the pressures Italy was facing from other European countries. He offered aid to ensure “effective control” on land and sea that would allow the Tunisian government to “strengthen control” of its coasts.100 Tunisian Prime Minister Essebsi reported from the meeting that the two countries both wanted to improve privileged relations, that they had had a “big discussion,” and that he was “confident in the future of their bilateral relations.”101 But they were unable to reach an agreement before Berlusconi had to return to Italy the following day to appear in court. But once again, interpretation of the dialogue differed between the two coasts. The Tunisian press announced that no agreement had been reached,102 whereas Berlusconi presented the negotiations as a success, treating Tunisians patrols as a done deal and the issue of repatriations as simply a matter of logistics.103 Italian Interior Minister Maroni stayed on in Tunisia and managed to reach an agreement with the Tunisian regime. But this deal gave the Italian government neither of the two major goals that it had publicly committed to prior to Berlusconi’s departure. Perhaps the biggest sticking point was repatriations. Tunisia held strong on this issue despite its political and economic vulnerabilities and the expansive concessions on offer from Italy, including aid, visas, and business opportunities. Italy was only given permission to repatriate anyone who arrived after the date of the agreement as well as the roughly 800 migrants who were still stranded on Lampedusa.104 Those who had arrived before this deadline or had already been sent

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

133

to the Italian mainland would not be allowed to be repatriated. The Tunisian parties insisted that this was the most they could offer given the fragile economic situation in the country and the work they were already doing sheltering refugees from Libya.105 But the amount of direct economic incentives and offsetting mechanisms that Italy was willing to offer suggest that the Tunisian interim regime was more concerned about political backlash than cost. Moreover, Tunisia placed extreme limitations on even these limited repatriations that suggest they had serious concerns about domestic backlash: they accepted the repatriation of only fifty to one hundred people per week106 and insisted that the returns should be conducted “away from any media coverage.”107 Berlusconi also did not get the joint patrols that he and Maroni had publicly committed to, as the Tunisian regime argued this would violate their state’s sovereignty. Tunisian ministers involved in the negotiations insisted time and again that they had affirmed their “commitment to the principle of preserving national sovereignty,”108 and the central Tunisian news agency presented their main coverage of the agreement under the title “Tunisia Insists on Need to Respect National Sovereignty.”109 Practically, this meant that Tunisia accepted substantial financial and technical contributions to its border patrol forces – Italy promised some €350 million in aid and in technical equipment,110 including ten patrol frigates and more than one hundred jeeps for coastal patrols.111 But patrols in Tunisian waters would be carried out by Tunisian forces exclusively. The government accepted no joint patrols in its territorial waters that would be carried out by foreigners.112 Understanding Tunisian Reticence to Cooperate Given the Tunisian interim regime’s fragile international position and the country’s continued dependence on European markets and economic integration, their rejection of Italy’s core demands requires explanation. Tunisia was in a particularly weakened position, and Italy was promising huge aid packages and security sector support that would have been invaluable to a transitional regime that had just lost much of its security sector. The Tunisian position is even more surprising given the degree of pressure that Berlusconi’s government was placing on them and Italy’s public commitments to the Italian public to conclude an accord.

134

Outsourcing Control

But domestic legitimacy was the regime’s most pressing concern: the interim regime was under intense scrutiny by the still-mobilized protestors. Every false move brought protestors back into the streets and forced a reshuffling of leadership. They simply didn’t have the domestic mandate to make major concessions to Italy – especially any concessions that could be interpreted as a return to the status quo ante of Ben Ali. Tunisian protestors were most concerned with seeing the rcp removed from all positions of power and with expanding economic opportunities. But migration issues also mattered. With the barriers to civil society mobilization lifted, more radical groups took the opportunity to make their voices heard. When the nascent human rights organizations in the country and their international partners caught wind of the first round of negotiations with Italy, they made their objections known. The Euro-Mediterranean Network of Human Rights (emhrn) objected to both the discussion of forced returns and to Italian requests for Tunisian assistance in preventing departures. They blamed the political upheavals on European policy that “prefers dictators to migrants” and insisted that asking Tunisian forces to police migration was asking them to renew authoritarian practices.113 An editorial in La Presse (a major French-language Tunisian newspaper) explicitly criticized the “securitized” European approach to migration management: The securitized solution to the migration question has failed, and … in their current situation, neither Tunisia, Libya, or even less Egypt, which are coping with difficult times, can act as gendarmes for a fearful Europe that is not willing to look for radical solutions to the [migration] problem.114 The Tunisian Social and Economic Rights Forum (ftdes) and the Federation of Tunisians for Citizenship on both Shores (ftcr) organized protests outside of the Italian embassy when Berlusconi visited Tunisia. They denounced his rhetoric about repatriations as “racist” and labelled conditions of migrants in the centres on Lampedusa as “lamentable.”115 One participant went so far as to argue that the repatriation threats harkened back to the days of Nazis loading Jews in trains. Protesters called for the development of a fair and positive migration policy between the countries, an end to the threat of repatriations, and the development of better migration administration in Tunisia.116

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

135

The emergence of these more radical voices is particularly noteworthy given that broader public opinion in the country about the emigrants was mixed. The revolutionaries obviously had little solidarity with anyone who had been affiliated with the Ben Ali regime and had fled fearing retribution. But they were also ambivalent towards the economic emigrants. While they recognized why people were leaving, there was also a sense of betrayal: one editorial lambasted the emigrants, asserting that, Exploiting the blood of martyrs and the sacrifices of an entire people in order to gain pity for those in our position, and thus to benefit from international war refugee status, speaks to a sick opportunism … [Images of Tunisians lining up in Italian reception centres are] offensive and dishonor the youth of Tunisia, the undisputed architects of that memorable event.117 But even given Tunisian domestic objections, it might have been possible for Italy to quietly work out an arrangement to continue the Ben Ali-era border control cooperation away from the public eye. But this option was sacrificed to Berlusconi’s penchant for theatrics. As Italy aimed increasingly xenophobic rhetoric at the emigrants, the tone in Tunisia began to shift. When the Italian Prime Minister and the xenophobic Northern League publicly denounced Tunisian immigrants and accused the new Tunisian regime of complicity with the departures, they substantially reduced their own negotiating space. The mobilized Tunisian public caught wind of the Italian insults and began paying closer attention to the dialogue. A Tunisian press report carried an article in late March complaining that the cry of “Dégage, dégage!” (roughly translating to “Get out, get out!”) that had been used by Tunisian revolutionaries against the Ben Ali regime, was now being chanted by residents of Lampedusa trying to prevent Tunisian boats from reaching land.118 It is also noteworthy that it was not the prospect of migration containment or border control cooperation itself that triggered domestic objections – instead it was the prospect of Italian involvement in these processes. The interim regime invested substantial resources in reestablishing its unilateral coastal patrols – a particularly noteworthy decision given the lack of basic internal policing and security in the country and the numerous other pressing priorities faced by the fragile government. And the regime did not try to hide these mea-

136

Outsourcing Control

sures. To the contrary: these patrols were widely publicized and cast in a positive light in the domestic press. Tunisian news agencies reported that the Tunisian army had sealed off the port in Zarzis.119 (The foreign press described the military presence there only as “a small group of soldiers,” though it did allow that these soldiers claimed they were being, “being very, very strict” in their efforts to halt the outflow.120) The day before a visit by the Italian secretary of state for foreign affairs, the Tunisian Interior Ministry announced that the national guard had managed to thwart two attempted departures towards Italy.121 And as negotiations continued in late March, the Tunisian press reported that Tunisian forces had prevented thirtynine departure attempts that included 1,667 individuals.122 The press justified the need for the unilateral controls in the eventual agreement with Italy on the grounds that they would “spare the lives of Tunisian youths.”123 The Tunisian interim regime refused to meet Italy’s core demands because they lacked the domestic mandate to negotiate controversial accords. And Italian rhetoric combined with the opening of the press and civic space made migration negotiations truly controversial in Tunisia for the first time. Moreover, while Italy may have wanted to sanction the Tunisian interim regime for its lack of cooperation, the rest of Europe had given the revolutionaries their blessing and had promised to support the fragile transition to democracy. Given the power imbalance, the interim regime recognized that they couldn’t turn Italy away point blank and were willing to accept help in securing the country’s borders. But they turned down Italy’s two central demands: (1) the repatriation of the Tunisians who had made it to Lampedusa in the first months after the revolution, and (2) jointly operated Mediterranean patrols. FRAGI LE REGIMES COMPARED : THE CASE OF ITALIAN – LIBYAN NEGOTIATIONS IN 2011–12

Negotiations between Italy and the post-Arab Spring National Transitional Council, ntc, in Libya provide a telling counterpoint to Italian negotiations with the post-Arab Spring interim regime in Tunisia, discussed above. Both postrevolutionary North African regimes were extremely fragile. But whereas Tunisia’s leaders were largely subservient to a heavily mobilized population calling for wide-ranging democratic reforms, the Libyan ntc relied on military muscle to stay

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

137

in power. Its negotiation strategies were thus very different, as were the outcomes of its dialogues with Italy. Unlike the transitional administration in Tunisia, the ntc quickly met Italy’s demands for cooperation on migration control, promising to uphold the commitments that Italy had negotiated with Gaddafi in 2008. The ntc claimed to have democratic aspirations, but at the time of the negotiations they were little more than the self-appointed representatives of a conglomerate of armed rebel groups. They were as unlikely to succeed in their campaign against the heavily armed Gaddafi as they were to be able to rebuild a unified state in the wake of such a victory. The ntc recognized that their only hope of success was international support. And they pursued that support with single-minded determination, promising foreign powers whatever they could offer – including continued cooperation in containing irregular migration. These negotiations followed in the wake of years of Italian cooperation with Muammar al-Gaddafi – the long-time leader of Libya who had held power in the country since a bloodless military coup in 1970. In the late 1990s, at the same time Italy opened negotiations with Ben Ali in Tunisia, it had also approached the Gaddafi regime in Libya. Gaddafi was a more difficult negotiating partner than Ben Ali and other autocrats for a number of reasons. First was his vitriolic anti-Western Arab nationalism and intense sovereignty concerns. But Gaddafi was also different because he had access to oil (and thus military) resources and therefore did not need to cater to European demands to the same extent as Ben Ali did in Tunisia. He also clearly recognized the power that migration held in European politics and was not afraid to use the migrants transiting his country as pawns in his bids for European concessions. Gaddafi vocally objected to acting as the “coastguard of Europe” and argued that migration control cooperation would antagonize his African allies.124 But despite this grandstanding, he eventually took an opportunistic approach to negotiations with Italy, recognizing that he could extract enormous concessions in exchange for cooperating in policing the onward movement of (mostly sub-Saharan African) migrants transiting through his country towards Europe. Italy and Libya began discussing migration control cooperation in 1998, concluding a “memorandum of intent” to negotiate a variety of issues including illegal migration in 2000 and an informal agreement on this subject in 2003.125 Though informal cooperation started during this period, cooperation was formalized in the 2008 “Treaty of Friendship, Part-

138

Outsourcing Control

nership and Cooperation” which enabled some of the most robust extraterritorial migration control cooperation in the region, including joint patrols between the Italy and Libya and allowing for Italian push-backs of migrant ships to Libya.126 Gaddafi’s bold combination of nationalist populism and autocratic oppression kept him in power for forty-two years. But in 2011 the Arab Spring protests that had deposed Ben Ali in Tunisia and then Mubarak in Egypt spread to Libya. Protests broke out in Benghazi in February of 2011 and quickly escalated into a rebellion as disaffected groups across the country banded together to overthrow Gaddafi. By March, the UN Security Council had authorized a no-fly zone over the country and a coalition of nato allies took control of an operation to enforce the resolution. When the uprisings started, both Libyan nationals and foreign guest workers fled the fighting. Some went to Tunisia and other neighbouring countries, but tens of thousands of people also headed towards Europe. Many foreigners were targeted by the rebels because Gaddafi, doubtful of the Libyan police force’s willingness to fire on their own conationals, had begun relying ever more heavily on subSaharan African mercenary forces. In Gaddafi’s most famous televised statement against the rebels, he promised that he and “millions from the Sahara … will cleanse Libya inch by inch, house by house, home by home, alleyway by alleyway, person by person, until the country is cleansed of dirt and scum.”127 Much of the exodus was thus self-directed. But some of the migration was probably also orchestrated by Gaddafi to put pressure on Europe. As the UN and nato had been considering intervention, Gaddafi threatened to “‘unleash an unprecedented wave of illegal immigration’ into Europe” in retaliation,128 warning that “millions of blacks” would flood Europe if he were overthrown.129 Once nato attacks began, reports surfaced that “armed Qaddafi loyalists [were] forcing migrants onto the high seas to protest the nato airstrikes.”130 Based on interviews with passengers a few months later, the bbc suspected that migrants had been encouraged to attempt the trip to Europe: “[One] man hinted that he had been put aboard by the Libyan government. It was also strange that everyone we spoke to denied they had paid any money for the crossing.”131 Italy (which had been more sceptical about the nato intervention in the first place) thus found itself in the unenviable position of participating in overthrowing Gaddafi at the same time that it needed

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

139

his heavy-handed approach to migration containment more than ever. The situation for Italy was further complicated by Italian prime minister Berlusconi’s domestic scandals. As discussed above, facing charges of paying a minor for sex at the same time as being accused of fraud and embezzlement, Berlusconi was trying to redirect domestic media attention towards the migration crisis. But as one after another of the North African regimes collapsed, his country’s extraterritorial migration accords were collapsing with them, making it impossible for him to uphold his promises to curtail immigration. Gambling on a Tenuous Ally The conflict was far from over when Italy began negotiating migration control arrangements with the nebulous group of national leaders calling themselves the National Transitional Council. On 27 February 2011, the ntc had come forward describing themselves as the “political face for the revolution.”132 The leaders included defectors from the Gaddafi administration as well as intellectuals, lawyers, and community leaders. Though drawn from different parts of the country, they disproportionately represented Eastern Libya and were led by Mustafa Abdel Jalil – a former justice minister who had defected from the regime when Gaddafi had asked him to suppress uprisings.133 But while they tried to sell a unified image abroad, the ntc was worried about its ability to control the militias at home. The rebellion consisted of a diverse array of armed groups, bound together by little more than their mutual goal of overthrowing Gaddafi. To the extent that the militias supported the ntc, it was largely based on their success in courting external support for the revolution. Securing international recognition and resources was thus first on the ntc’s agenda. Some of the group’s leaders had international profiles – either because of their previous work with the Gaddafi regime or because they had spent time in the diaspora. But many were unknown to the international community. The actual rebels were an even greater mystery and, given the historical Islamist opposition to the Gaddafi regime, were widely assumed to include jihadists and other Islamist factions. But the ntc recognized that the rebellion could not succeed without Western and Gulf support. So they immediately set out on an international tour to try to dispel fears, assure potential allies that they had peaceful intentions, and gain international backing as the legitimate representation of the rebellion.134

140

Outsourcing Control

The council used the country’s vast oil wealth and promises of military victory to try to convince foreign countries to support them. They promised lucrative contracts to countries that agreed to support them, with the best contracts reserved for the first allies to commit.135 Backing the ntc was risky: if the rebels lost, Gaddafi would punish any country that had supported them. And the ntc faced a daunting task in trying to rebuild a state virtually from scratch. For years, Gaddafi had run the Libyan state based on family and tribal affiliations and his own charisma. By the time of the revolution, Gaddafi embodied the Libyan state – such as it was. As described by Hilsum: Libya had no institutions of state. It had no unified army … The ministries were parallel and at times overlapping centres of power. Multiple intelligence services reported directly to Gaddafi and operated independently from the police. Gaddafi had destroyed the private sector … Libya did not even have a president with defined power – Gaddafi denied that he held any official position at all.136 The international community was divided on the ntc: Russia backed Gaddafi, while the European powers leaned towards the rebels.137 France was the first to recognize the ntc on 10 March.138 They were followed by the Qataris and then the British. These allies publicly congratulated the group on their democratic aspirations, even as they worked privately to scoop up oil and reconstruction contracts.139 Italy was hesitant about recognizing the new regime. Italian companies had long held a privileged relationship in Gaddafi’s Libya, enjoying lucrative contracts that surpassed those of their rivals in France or Britain. In the early days of the Arab Spring rebellion, Berlusconi had been hesitant to give up on Gaddafi, praising him and asserting that the rebellion could not succeed because “Libyans love their leader.”140 But as the conflict progressed and international opinion shifted against Gaddafi, Italy decided to follow suit, formally recognizing the ntc on 4 April 2011.141 But while they were late to recognize the body, their recognition was more comprehensive. Whereas other countries had only acknowledged the ntc as the representative of “the Libyan people,” Italy gave it the broader legal recognition of being the representative of “Libya” and as “the country’s only legitimate interlocutor on bilateral relations.”142 This gave the ntc authority to negotiate more immediate issues – like immigration and border control.

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

141

The ntc’s bids for international support were successful. Their new US and European allies were instrumental in promoting a UN Security Council resolution supporting the rebels and the nato airstrikes. The Americans proved valuable allies as well and successfully lobbied to get a resolution passed at the UN Security Council authorizing a no-fly zone above Libya and allowing “all necessary means” to protect the country.143 Negotiating with a Quasi State Migration negotiations between Italy and the ntc began soon after Italy recognized the group. On 17 June 2011, Italian Foreign Minister Franco Frattini met with ntc leadership, and the parties agreed to “collaboration in the fight against terrorism, organised crime, drug trafficking and illegal migration,” in addition to cooperation on repatriations and information exchange.144 The arrangement promised that the ntc would honour the 2008 “Treaty of Friendship, Partnership, and Cooperation” that Gaddafi and Berlusconi had signed. Frattini proclaimed that the ntc “represents Libya and the future of the country” and promised that Italy would supply everything that the new regime needed to patrol the Libyan coastline.145 At the meeting, “Frattini … [said] he appreciated the ‘seriousness’ which the council had taken on the issue and noted there was now ‘more transparent and coherent co-operation’ between the two countries than in the past.”146 This agreement was supplemented by the “Tripoli Declaration” in April of 2012, after Gaddafi had been killed and the nato intervention had ended (in October 2011) but before Libya had held any national elections or the conflict had truly been resolved. On 3 April 2012, the new Italian interior minister travelled to Tripoli to meet with her Libyan counterpart, Fouzi Abdul Aal. The two signed a Memorandum of Understanding for Security Cooperation in which Italy promised to provide the transitional government with all necessary equipment to control their borders and stop irregular migrants from leaving, as well as to train and rehabilitate members of the Libyan security forces.147 The agreement restored the entire package of migration concessions that Gaddafi had taken ten years to conclude. And the new regime also eventually cooperated directly with Europe, signing a €10 million program to establish a “rights-based migration management and asylum system in Libya” funded by the

142

Outsourcing Control

European Neighborhood and Partnership Instrument.148 The agreement also included provisions for cooperation with the International Organization for Migration to encourage migrants to return to their countries of origin.149 The ntc took its role in migration control seriously. Some reports suggest that the new government planned the detention of vessels of illegal migrants ahead of time to ensure that they could take credit for preventing their departure.150 But whether or not they were orchestrating the returns, they certainly recognized the importance of border control cooperation to their image abroad in Europe. In response to the announcement that a vessel had been apprehended, the interior minister of the interim Libyan government pronounced that “this sends a strong message to the whole world that the new Libya is completely different” and is unlike the Gaddafi regime, which used migration to “‘blackmail’ Western governments.”151 The ntc was a disparate group of elites who had never been elected to any office and claimed authority only when armed insurrection (supported by nato) had forced Gaddafi and his allies out. Their power relied on domestic military success, which in turn required outside intervention and recognition. Cooperation with Italy solidified their role abroad as the representatives of the Libyan state – making them the direct successor to Gaddafi and the international relationships that he had established. And this recognition mattered tremendously for the ntc. The conflict was still far from resolved even by the time Italy and the ntc reached their preliminary agreement in June 2011. The nato intervention was still ongoing, it would still be months before Gaddafi would be apprehended, only a precious few international actors had recognized the National Transitional Council, and Russia was still advocating for Gaddafi to remain in power.152 Just the day before the preliminary negotiations, Gaddafi’s son, Saif alIslam, made a final bid for credibility by announcing that the regime was prepared to hold open democratic elections within three months (the bid was roundly rejected by the international community as too little too late).153 The ntc was thus thoroughly dependent on international support and was more than willing to discuss controlling movement if it meant further international commitment to their cause.

Tunisia and Libya Negotiate with Italy

143

LESSONS FROM NORTH AFRICAN COOPERATION BEFORE AND AFTER THE ARAB SPRING

North Africa has become a part of an important migration route, with both North African and sub-Saharan African migrants frequently using the Mediterranean as a route into Europe. Because of its geography, Italy has become a major entry point into the entire Schengen area – a role that it has often been left to manage under great pressure from (but without the full support of) the rest of Europe. In order to manage the huge volume of arrivals, Italy has adopted a largely preventive approach: relying on agreements with North African states to contain migration flows before they ever start. But different North African leaders have responded to Italian requests for cooperation differently. This chapter has focused on Tunisia before and after the Arab Spring, with an additional comparison with post-Arab Spring Libya. These different regimes illustrate important elements of the typological model presented in chapter 1. Prior to the Arab Spring, both Tunisia and Libya were headed by decidedly undemocratic leaders. Ben Ali in Tunisia and Gaddafi in Libya both kept themselves in power through a combination of elite cooptation and repression of dissent. However, Ben Ali maintained the external façade of liberal political accountability and pursued true economic liberalism, as he was more dependent on Europe and other Western allies for trade and economic development. In contrast, Gaddafi cared little for this external legitimacy, relying instead on the country’s vast oil wealth to enable him to chart a uniquely antagonistic and nationalistic policy vis-à-vis the West. These differences shaped the development of their migration cooperation with Italy. Both leaders took an opportunistic approach to Italy’s vulnerability to immigration and wide-ranging steps to contain flows on the southern shores of the Mediterranean. Neither one worried much about domestic mobilization or opposition to such arrangements. But whereas Ben Ali traded this cooperation for greater economic integration and framed repeated negotiations as part and parcel of good relations with Europe, Gaddafi took a more radical approach. Unconcerned with appearing to be a responsible liberal leader by European standards, he actively manipulated migration flows, calling Europe’s bluffs on its liberal ideals and politicizing the issue of migration to force Italy to provide the concessions that he wanted. Despite these differences of style, the eventual substance of

144

Outsourcing Control

both leaders’ cooperation was similar: by the time the Arab Spring erupted, both leaders were providing effective border control cooperation that kept immigration flows into Europe almost completely contained extraterritorially. But the Arab Spring set the two countries onto very different political trajectories. In both countries, the former authoritarian strongmen were toppled, leaving behind huge power vacuums as the entire infrastructure of the states that they had built up around themselves disappeared with them. But whereas Tunisia’s Ben Ali was replaced peacefully by a democratically aspiring and extremely politically accountable transitional administration, Libya’s Gaddafi was overthrown violently, and the only viable contenders for leadership were the representatives of armed political factions. The weak but democratically aspiring Tunisian transitional administration thus found it much harder to conclude a migration control agreement with Italy than did the even weaker but less accountable ntc in Libya. In Tunisia, the transitional administration faced a heavily mobilized domestic population. Freedom of the press meant increased accountability and oversight of the administration’s actions and expanded civil society meant new levels mobilization – especially as groups steeped in Europe’s radical antiborder discourses opened up shop in the country. These new forces kept a watchful eye on the interim Tunisian administration and made it impossible for the country’s leaders to accept Italy’s central migration control demands, despite Tunisia’s considerable vulnerability. By contrast, the ntc in Libya was unburdened by push-back from any proimmigrant voices or free-movement ideals. Their concern was coming out on top at the end of the civil war, and to do this they needed both diplomatic and military support from abroad. They happily renewed the Gaddafi era migration control policies in order to secure European alliances.

Life without Earlids

6

Democratic Pragmatism in West Africa: Senegal and Spain Barça ou Barzakh! [Barcelona or Death!] Common refrain among Senegalese youth trying to reach Spain1

Historically, Senegal was a destination state for many West African migrants, whereas Spain was a country of origin, with Spanish migrants leaving to work in the rest of Europe or the US. This began to change in the 1970s and 1980s. Spain’s economy grew, its government democratized, and it became more closely integrated with the rest of Western Europe. By contrast, Senegal suffered droughts, economic recessions, and exploitative governments that made it a much less attractive migration destination. Though migration began to expand in the 1990s, irregular migration from Senegal towards Spain peaked in 2006 in the context of unprecedented migration pressures from across sub-Saharan African towards the Spanish Canary Islands. Facing a daunting influx of migrants, Spain approached Senegal and a number of other West African countries for help containing the irregular migration flows. Senegalese president Abdoulaye Wade was far from a perfect democratic leader. Like Vicente Fox in Mexico, his election in 2000 marked the first time that power was transferred to an opposition party. But unlike Fox, Wade was criticized for continuing some of the undemocratic practices of the prior ruling party including corruption and clientelism. Nevertheless, his regime maintained formal democratic institutions, and Wade cared about consolidating domestic support especially in the context of the upcoming 2007 elections. Senegal is unique among the countries considered in this study for the degree to which there was domestic opposition to irregular mar-

145

146

Outsourcing Control

Figure 6.1 Senegalese regime characteristics

itime emigration due to high fatality rates of boat journeys to the Canary Islands. While there was domestic push-back against signing a repatriation agreement, many supported preventing undocumented departures. This domestic support meant that the agreement with Spain imposed fewer costs on the Wade government than it did on regimes in other countries. And Wade was willing to accept the public opposition towards repatriation cooperation specifically in exchange for Spanish concessions of visas, aid money, and technical assistance. These concessions benefitted the country as whole but also provided Wade with new sources of power through patronage resources. The degree to which Wade had consolidated his regime and his domestic support combined with the domestic pressures to “do something” about the deaths at sea enabled him to commit to robust joint border control cooperation with Spain, first informally and then formally.2 ORIGINS OF THE 2006 PIROGUE CRISIS

Spain is a relatively new destination for Senegalese migrants. Historically, France was the preferred destination for migrants to Europe given the legacy of French education and colonial ties. But Senegalese

Senegal and Spain

147

emigration pressures increased in the 1970s and 1980s due to droughts, structural adjustment policies, and economic recession.3 Only when France began restricting migration in 1974, did Senegalese migrants begin seeking out new destinations, including Italy, the US, and Spain.4 Through the 1990s, Senegal’s gdp per capita shrank and opportunities for employment in both the public and private sectors dwindled with the collapse of fisheries and the textile industries.5 As a result, more and more Senegalese began seeking work abroad and there was a boom in labour migration. As these migratory journeys began to bear fruit financially in the 2000s, these seasoned migrants began sending money home, which changed the economic and social structure domestically.6 Most migrants were supported by families and by religious groups for whom remittances were a vital source of income.7 Income per capita in the country was extremely low,8 while unemployment was high – especially for young people.9 In contrast, migrants visited home showing off fancy cars, buying nice houses for their families, and sending back remittances that could improve the quality of life of their families. Young men were especially likely to emigrate, even by undocumented pathways. Expatriates with income abroad were often able to woo young Senegalese women, and women were encouraged by their families to leave local boyfriends if they received a marriage proposal from an émigré. In a patriarchal and polygamous culture, young men are under enormous pressure to find stable work before they are able to marry. In their own words, the rallying cry of Senegalese maritime migrants became the choice between “Barça ou Barzakh”: reaching Barcelona (“Barça”) or dying trying (reaching “Barzakh” – the Islamic purgatory or region between life and death).10 Thus by the 2000s, there was a strong “culture of migration” in the country.11 Even in 2013, long after the 2006 exodus, a survey of young adults conducted across four regions in Senegal showed that between 64 and 82 per cent of respondents would prefer to emigrate, with most listing a destination in Europe as their preferred choice. This number increased further when asked if they would leave if they had the necessary paperwork.12 On the other side, Spain was only just getting used to its role as a destination state in the 1990s. Like Italy, the country had historically been a source rather than a destination for migrants into Europe. But through the 1990s, as migration pressures grew from numerous coun-

148

Outsourcing Control

tries and regions, Spain joined the rest of Europe in trying to limit immigration with more restrictive visa and immigration policies. As in most destination states in the world, irregular migrants usually entered legally and then overstayed their visas. But as visas became more difficult to obtain, more people began finding their way into the country illegally – including by boat. To counter these efforts, Spain passed new immigration control laws and also set up the Sistema Integrado de Vigilancia Exterior (sive) monitoring system – an array of high-tech monitoring systems along the coast designed to “close off” maritime routes.13 These tactics worked for a while, but migration pressures into Spain began rising again in the fall of 2005, peaking in 2006. There are a couple of reasons for this spike in irregular arrivals. First, in May of 2005 Spain passed an amnesty law that regularized the status of hundreds of thousands of undocumented migrants in the country – including an estimated 30,000 Senegalese.14 The regularization of these workers is believed to have encouraged even more people to try to reach Spain, as the prospect of regularization enticed new migrants.15 In addition, would-be migrants kept tabs on political developments in Europe and by 2005 had caught wind of proposals to strengthen European external border controls through a new European border control agency – Frontex. Many aspiring migrants believed that their window for departure was closing and that it was now or never. With migration pressures on the rise and legal avenues for entry into Europe becoming scarcer, in September and October of 2005 hundreds of sub-Saharan African migrants stormed the fences separating Morocco from the Spanish enclave of Ceuta. While many people managed to cross, an estimated fifteen died. Some were shot by border guards; others died falling from the fences. The event triggered a dramatic international reaction, calling down criticism of Spain’s border control regime and encouraging Morocco and Spain to revamp their efforts to contain these migration flows out of sight of the media. But as Spain and Morocco expanded their deterrence and containment initiatives, smugglers simply began rerouting migrants along new pathways. When the weather cleared in the spring of 2006, migrants began trying to reach the Spanish Canary Islands – a Spanish territory off the coast of West Africa that is much closer to Morocco than to the Spanish mainland. In March, the first boats began arriving from Mau-

Senegal and Spain

149

ritania. But when Spain and Mauritania began working to contain departures, the smugglers shifted their operations further south again – this time to Senegal.16 By the end of March there were reports that more of the vessels that were arriving were the large and brightly decorated Senegalese pirogues (fishing boats) rather than the smaller and undecorated Mauritanian boats.17 By May, Senegal had become a primary point of departure both for Senegalese nationals and for transit migrants.18 Willems estimates that of the 33,000 people who tried to reach the Canary Islands in 2006, about half were Senegalese.19 Senegal is much further from the Canary Islands than Morocco or Mauritania. But there were plenty of people in Senegal willing to facilitate the journeys. Coastal fishing communities were struggling. Fish stocks had been steadily eroded after President Senghor in 198020 and then President Wade in 200221 signed fishing agreements with Europe. Though theoretically designed to complement the work of local fisheries rather than to compete with them, many argue that these agreements put artisanal fisheries in competition with large high-tech foreign fleets that were able to take in much larger hauls.22 As fishing became more difficult, artisanal fishermen starting building ever-larger pirogues in order to go further out to sea. Eventually they realized that they could reach the Canary Islands just as easily and started bringing unemployed local youths with them.23 They came to recognize that this was a lucrative market.24 Passengers paid between $700 and $1,000 – roughly the equivalent of a year’s wages for many people.25 But the voyage was dangerous: it took about six days in uncovered and overcrowded canoe-like fishing boats, and many people died attempting the journey. Nevertheless, many felt the risk was worthwhile. Because the Canary Islands are Spanish territory they fall under Spanish law, and those who arrive there are processed as though they had reached the Spanish mainland – providing an opportunity for entering Europe. According to Spanish law, Spain was only permitted to detain undocumented arrivals for forty days. If, after this time, they could not be repatriated they were supposed to be allowed to leave and be transported to the Spanish mainland.26 By April, the first of the arrivals in Canary Islands who either refused to report their nationality or claimed to be from a country that had not signed a repatriation agreement with Spain had to be released, and Spain began flying them to the mainland.27 From there, the number of new arrivals only continued growing. After a “record-breaking” weekend in mid-May

150

Outsourcing Control

in which 974 people reached the Canary Islands, the Spanish government panicked. SPAIN ’ S

“ DIPLOMATIC

OFFENSIVE ”

On 21 May 2006, Spain announced that it would launch a “diplomatic offensive” in West Africa.28 Recognizing that they needed commitment from all of the countries in the region, they proposed a coordinated solution across West Africa led by Ambassador Miguel Angel Fernandez-Mazarambroz, who stated that African countries needed to “share responsibility” for illegal migration with Europe.29 The Senegalese government immediately offered informal support. President Wade made a statement encouraging greater international involvement and presence in the country, which Spanish diplomats quickly embraced as aligning with their goals of migration control cooperation in the region.30 And the day after Fernandez-Mazarambroz arrived in Senegal, Senegalese authorities presented an independent plan for conducting coastal patrols and claimed that in the first three days of the operations they had intercepted 1,500 migrants, nineteen boats, and sixty smugglers.31 These numbers seem suspiciously high but show that the Senegalese government was signalling a commitment to migration control coordination very early on – even when cooperation remained unilateral and informal. Spain also turned to the rest of Europe for support. Frontex (the European border and coast guard agency) promised in late May to support Spanish efforts to control migration, launching the hera operations. The second of these operations involved patrolling in Senegalese and Mauritanian territorial waters.32 This far-reaching cooperation was allowed only because Spain and Senegal concluded an extraterritorial interdiction agreement enabling joint patrols on 22 August, which went into effect 24 August. In this agreement, Spain and Senegal agreed to jointly patrol the Senegalese coast, and Spain promised to send Senegal patrol boats and a helicopter.33 Senegal agreed to joint operations on their territory and in their territorial waters, under joint European and Senegalese command, using European ships and planes. Similar to American “ship-rider” programs, the Senegalese retained the sole power to make arrests, but European forces were involved in patrolling and interrogations.34 Under the agreement, Senegalese border control agents worked to gather intelligence about boat-building projects and rumours of attempted depar-

Senegal and Spain

151

tures. They would then relay that information to a central Fontex hub in the country who would alert forces to make arrests – either by the joint Frontex forces or the Spanish Guardia Civil if the boat was expected to be closer to the Canary Islands.35 In December, Spain and Senegal signed a more comprehensive immigration arrangement. The countries agreed to continue their joint border control cooperation, to extend the Frontex cooperation for another six months, and to cooperate on repatriations. In exchange for Senegal’s support on these issues, Spain promised Senegal €20 million in investment in programs that were designed to promote development and thereby theoretically dissuade people from leaving illegally. They also promised to provide visas to Senegalese migrants in order to enable legal channels for migration, and to help set up centres to facilitate the recruitment of migrants.36 Spain’s cooperative arrangements with Senegal and neighbouring countries were successful in ending the migration wave. The total number of arrivals in the Canary Islands fell dramatically after the agreements were signed. Frontex detected 32,000 arrivals in the Canary Islands in 2006. This number fell to 12,500 in 2007 and continued falling in the following years. By 2010, only 200 people arrived in the Canary Islands.37 Indeed, even authors who had initially asserted that the initiatives would be useless in the face of extreme pressures for exit were forced to concede their effectiveness.38 M A K I N G S E N S E O F S E N E G A L’ S COOPERATION

On the surface, the Wade administration was extremely forthcoming in their cooperation: joint patrols with European security forces constitute an extremely visible international presence. Moreover, the government publicly praised the cooperation to the press. Early on, President Wade called for more international involvement on migration matters in the country.39 And Senegalese interior minister Ousmane Ngom publicly praised the cooperation agreement, saying that “with the means offered by Spain, the security forces are going to have a force of sufficient, dissuasive strength to put an end to this scourge.”40 He went on to promise that Senegal would arrest human traffickers and derided the traffickers as “sellers of illusions.”41 One reason for this support was that patrolling the coasts to prevent exit was simply not as contentious in Senegal as elsewhere. The voyage from Senegal to the Canary Islands is long and dangerous, and

152

Outsourcing Control

domestic civil society had mobilized to try to prevent young people from leaving on these dangerous journeys. While some more radical European-based ngos in the country often rally against Frontex actions and migration control measures, many domestic mobilization efforts have a very different focus: as more young people began leaving the country by boat and as fatality rates began to rise, civil society began trying to deter young people from trying to leave. These movements were expanded during the 2006 exodus, and the mothers of many kids who died on the journey became mobilized. It was not that these mothers disapproved of their sons emigrating – in fact in many cases they were the ones who had encouraged their sons to leave and even found the money to pay the smugglers42 – but as more people died on the voyages, they began to recognize that it was not a safe way to leave. Irregular departures came to be seen as a social ailment that put the country’s youth at risk.43 The most well-known women’s collective to fight against undocumented migration was organized by a woman in Thiaroye-Sur-Mer, just outside of Dakar, whose only son died on a boat that was lost at sea.44 This group and other local movements in opposition to departure are aimed at raising public awareness and investment in local development to discourage departure. A primary goal is finding jobs and livelihoods for youths considering a journey. Artistic and popular responses to undocumented migration through film,45 theatre,46 and music,47 similarly tend to be sympathetic to the reasons why people want to emigrate, while simultaneously discouraging people from risking their lives on dangerous maritime voyages. The widespread sentiment that “something must be done” to stop the departures made it relatively easy for the Wade government to justify its participation in joint patrols. Locals would have preferred that young people be persuaded to stay through jobs and development projects. But the controls at least prevented departures and deaths. As a Senegalese security agent who worked with the Frontex operation put it to me, the government had a responsibility to protect its population from these threats. To oppose the work of the joint-control operations would mean endorsing dangerous voyages by sea.48 A study of women’s movements to counter irregular migration in Senegal explains it this way: “The struggle here is not targeting international emigration as much as a mode of migration that has failed.”49 But this is not the end of the story. While Senegal was quick to agree to joint patrols and even began border control efforts unilaterally, they

Senegal and Spain

153

were much more sensitive to the issue of repatriations. On 31 May, Spain had repatriated one hundred Senegalese based on an informal arrangement between the countries. But no sooner had the returnees arrived than allegations of abuse surfaced: the migrants claimed that they had been deceived and that Spanish officials had told that they were boarding a plane to Madrid and that once on board they had been handcuffed – the Spanish police later confirmed these allegations.50 In response, Senegal temporarily suspended repatriations. Indeed, there was far more public opposition to repatriations than to joint patrols – especially among young people. In informal conversations, most Senegalese people who I spoke to recalled the incident of Spain lying to and handcuffing Senegalese repatriates, though they had little recollection of a public debate around joint patrols. Young people accused the government of selling them out for the Spanish aid and development package.51 The Wade regime was clearly sensitive to these complaints. It first suspended the repatriations and then when it allowed them again, it insisted that they be carried out quietly and at a remote airport where they would be less noticed and harder to protest.52 But even facing public outcry, the government tried to suspend repatriations without undermining good relations with Spain. The Senegalese chief of staff at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs reassured the Spanish that there was simply a “misunderstanding on the manner in which our compatriots were repatriated.”53 The Senegalese interior minister even asserted that Senegal would be willing to conduct repatriations itself if necessary: We are for the repatriation of our compatriots wherever it is they may be when they are found to be there irregularly. But this must be done with due respect, with due dignity and with proper respect for human rights – that is to say, in excellent conditions. There are two possibilities: either the country concerned does it in these conditions; or we, the Senegalese, are ready to do it ourselves. It is gratifying to see that where Spain is concerned, this spirit has been adhered to up to this point. It is in cooperation, dialogue, that we have been able to organize these returns in very good conditions. We are going to continue to do it.54 In mid-September Senegal began allowing repatriations again,55 after which time more than 4,600 migrants were repatriated to the

154

Outsourcing Control

country – and the December 2006 agreement formalized repatriation cooperation.56 Even beyond the issue of repatriations, however, there is evidence that Senegal’s cooperative rhetoric may have been masking tougher negotiating strategies behind the scenes. First, there is a substantial gap between the start of Spain’s “diplomatic offensive” in May and the first formal agreement on 22 August during which time cooperation was strictly informal and at the discretion of the Senegalese government. This gap is especially surprising given that the second hera operation started eleven days before the agreement.57 At the time it began, Spain only had an agreement with Mauritania and had no legal grounding for operating in Senegalese territorial waters.58 There is also evidence that Senegal stalled signing the second December agreement, probably in an effort to gain more Spanish concessions. In October, Senegalese officials delayed, saying only that they would sign “as soon as possible” and that there was no need to rush as the countries already had more robust cooperation than what the agreement would have committed them to.59 There are also reports of Senegal complicating repatriation efforts prior to the 5 December agreement.60 One author claims that the Senegalese government held up the negotiations demanding more aid and technology.61 Indeed, diplomats and observers have noted that the Senegalese government has become aware of – and empowered by – their newfound leverage over Spain and Europe due to European reliance on migration control cooperation.62 Given their reputation as a responsible democratic partner in the West African region, they couldn’t completely refuse Spanish demands. As one observer put it: It’s a political game. The government can’t say “No, I’m not going to do anything about it, and I have no control over my population, and I’m not going to act at all.” That’s not a responsible discourse.63 But the administration could make sure that the agreements they signed worked in their favour. And this was not out of character for the regime. While Wade’s election in 2000 was hailed as a transition to true democracy in the country,64 many argue that the transition to democracy remains incomplete65 and that Wade was “a better democrat while in the opposition than while in power.”66 Once in power, he followed many of the same undemocratic practices as his predecessors. Wade has been criticized for silencing sources of un-

Senegal and Spain

155

favourable media coverage as well as of arresting his political opponents.67 He adopted a highly personalist style of government and allowed only limited checks on presidential powers.68 He even flaunted his own constitutional amendment in 2012 when he ran for a third term (though he did not win the election). Corruption was also an accepted fact of the Wade regime. Even the government’s anticorruption commission has been described as a “gimmicky body” that was primarily used to threaten opponents with public audits if they didn’t fall in line.69 Indeed, within the country, President Wade’s tenure is widely seen as having been extremely corrupt and inept. His critics asserted that “Wade does not govern; he reigns.”70 Or, as one civil society activist put it, Wade was Wade … With Wade there was no dialogue with civil society organizations. Wade did whatever he wanted, the way he wanted, without taking into account the ideas and opinions of civil society.71 This limited engagement with domestic opposition suggests that any stalling was designed primarily to extract greater concessions from the Spanish. And in this, President Wade was quite successful. Most Spanish concessions were framed as development measures that would offset migration pressures from the country. Spain provided huge influxes of foreign aid in a number of sectors, particularly aimed at reducing youth unemployment. Much of the government’s domestic support depended on its ability to improve economic conditions and reduce unemployment, so these were certainly valuable benefits on their own terms. But the impact of these concessions on migration outcomes is questionable. Willems points out that one of the biggest projects was investments in agriculture (the reva program – Retour vers l’agriculture) even though most of the people leaving the country by boat were from coastal areas where reva would have little impact. Nevertheless, Wade promoted the deal in the run-up to the 2007 elections as the solution to the country’s agricultural problems.72 Willems also reports allegations that the visas that Spain granted to the country were sold off or dispensed strategically by the Wade administration to maintain public support rather than to reduce migration pressures.73 Wade may have also been using the negotiations with Spain to improve his bargaining position vis-à-vis France. France and Senegal

156

Outsourcing Control

were negotiating a migration accord simultaneously, and Wade went so far as to publicly suggest that France should model their agreement on the one with Spain.74 Despite having no impact on border controls, the agreement with France was far more widely publicized and contentious in the country at the time. On the day that the Frontex operations with Spain started, Le Soleil newspaper carried a front page article on the ongoing negotiations with France75 but completely failed to mention the start of the coastal operations. This was in part due to the content of the agreement: France wanted a readmission agreement and was proposing to offset this with an arrangement for migration choisi (selective migration) – a policy proposal that was rarely referred to with less than spitting scorn by people who I spoke to in Senegal and which Wade himself decried as “unacceptable” as it would “deprive African countries of their educated youth.”76 But the relative salience of the agreement with France compared to the agreement with Spain was certainly also due to the fact that France was the former colonial power and more of the country’s elites emigrated to France as compared to Spain. Given the rampant corruption of the Wade administration and the regime’s reliance on patronage networks for support, it is likely that Spanish concessions were used to shore up domestic support rather than to improve economic conditions for people who would have otherwise been tempted to leave by sea. Nevertheless, Wade kept the public face of the negotiations consistently conciliatory, and his decision not to politicize the negotiations or scapegoat the country’s problems as Spanish abuse is particularly remarkable given that he was coming up on an election in early 2007. Senegal agreed to migration containment operations on their territory and in their territorial waters, under joint European and Senegalese command, using European ships and planes – an extremely visible international presence. In exchange, Spain provided concessions that were designed to provide alternatives to irregular migration, including huge influxes of foreign aid in a number of sectors, particularly aimed at reducing youth unemployment. While these programs were probably not as effective as many had hoped, and there is evidence of some corruption in their administration, they were framed as linked concessions to prevent the root causes of irregular migration. In many ways, negotiations between Spain and President Wade in Senegal resemble negotiations between the US and President Fox in

Senegal and Spain

157

Mexico. Both leaders had a relatively high degree of democratic credibility and had consolidated party systems and complex bases of support. Their negotiation tactics differed from the nationalist populism of weak democratic leaders in so far as their policy records were judged based on their broad social and economic outcomes, and there was less temptation to resort to populist scapegoating for shortterm boosts in popularity. They differed from the opportunism of autocratic leaders primarily in negotiation style: leaders of consolidated democracies pushed for concessions in linked issue areas and in areas that benefitted the population at large – differing from the autocratic states who pushed for symbolic concessions or perks that would primarily benefit the elite.

158

Outsourcing Control

7

Conclusion

Why do some materially weak states cooperate on transnational security initiatives while others raise objections? This book has explored powerful states’ attempts to gain partners in their efforts to contain irregular migration and to prevent irregular migrants from reaching their borders. Just as in other international security initiatives, cooperation is never guaranteed. In some cases, destination states have had a relatively easy time securing partner state cooperation. In other cases, despite destination states’ best negotiating efforts and stark power advantages, partner states refused to cooperate. What explains this variation in the willingness of partner states to sign extraterritorial interdiction agreements? Why did some partner states sign these agreements while others did not? Why did different partner states allow for different degrees of cooperation? And why were the agreements so much more contentious in some partner states than in others? I have argued that while destination states’ interests and incentives are important, partner states’ domestic institutions also play a powerful role in shaping cooperation outcomes. Negotiations were usually triggered by destination states’ interests in containing an irregular migration influx. And thus international factors and power dynamics were important determinants of when negotiations would begin and the degree of pressure that destination states placed on partner states to conclude these types of agreements. But once negotiations began, partner states’ institutions translated international pressures and domestic preferences into different outcomes. Painting ideal type distinctions based on regime type and strength, I have shown that autocratic regimes usually signed these agreements, though stronger autocracies often demanded larger concessions. Fragile democracies were the most likely to publicize and push back against demands for cooperation and were the least likely to cooperate formally – though

Conclusion

159

Table 7.1 Typological classification of negotiation episodes Regime type Regime strength

Autocratic

Weak

Mixed regimes

Democratic

FRAGILE DEMOCRATIC NATIONALISM

(Haiti 2) 1991–4: Aristide (Haiti 3) 1997–2002: Préval/Aristide AUTOCRATIC OPPORTUNISM

(Haiti 1) 1981: Duvalier (Tunisia 1 & 2) 1998 & 2003: Ben Ali (Libya) 2011–12: ntc

(Mexico 1) 1980s–90s: Madrid/Salinas/Zedillo (pri) (Tunisia 3) 2011: Interim regime DEMOCRATIC PRAGMATISM

(Mexico 2) 2000–01: Fox (pan) Strong

(Senegal) 2006: Wade

they often provided de facto cooperation in practice. Consolidated democracies cooperated where the demand was strong. They prioritized good relations with the destination state and usually demanded concessions in nominally linked issue areas. Table 7.1 shows how each of the national negotiation episodes considered in this book maps onto these institutional dimensions. The following sections look at the international and domestic pressures that are brought to bear on partner state governments before turning to a discussion of how state institutions mediated these pressures, leading to different outcomes. THE INFLUENCE OF INTERNATIONAL DYNAMICS AND DOMESTIC - LEVEL PRESSURES

To reiterate, it is not my contention that partner state institutions are the only things that matter or that they perfectly predict and determine outcomes. My argument is instead that these institutions mediate the way that partner states respond to pressures brought to bear on them by (a) international relations with the destination state seeking agreements and (b) the concerns of their domestic populations. Table 7.2 summarizes the most salient elements of these dimensions from each negotiation episode, alongside a summary of domes-

Italy’s Schengen negotiations

Mediterranean shipwrecks

Arab Spring and subsequent migration crisis

Tunisia 1 (Ben Ali) 1998

Tunisia 2 (Ben Ali) 2003

Libya (ntc) 2011–12

Haiti 2 (Aristide) 1994

1991–4 Haitian migration crisis

Open economy but closed politics. Strong regime

Autocratic. Facing (and repressing) domestic unrest

State institutions

Pro-European economic orientation. Faces human rights critiques from abroad

Highly dependent on US. Uses anticommunism to ensure continued US support

International political factors

Highly mobilized and armed population (civil war)

Domestic poor and the diaspora mobilized in support of Aristide. Much elite opposition

Seeking international support for rebels

ntc is very pro-Western.

Democratically elected; Aristide is in exile and comexceptionally weak leader pletely dependent on US in exile support; seeks support of US advocacy groups in addition to the executive

ntc aspired to democracy but still had no accountability. Extremely weak

Little independent Open economy but Pro-Western economic and civil society, except closed politics. Facing foreign policy. Participant in as mobilized through some domestic opposition War on Terror. Concerned the state about losing European support due to EU expansion

Little independent spciety, except as mobilized through the state

No real civil society space

Domestic considerations

FRAGILE DEMOCRATIC NATIONALISM

1980–81 Caribbean maritime migration crisis

Haiti 1 (Duvalier) 1981

AUTOCRATIC OPPORTUNISM

Negotiation trigger

Table 7.2 Summary of negotiation episodes

Limited resistance. Some evidence of haggling but agreement is robust and sustained once signed

Willingness to cooperate

None. 1981 agreement revoked. Cooperation in practice but this is never formalized

Robust.

High resistance. Demonized the cooperation proposal as “racist” and a “floating Berlin wall”

No resistance as they needed Italian support

Robust. Continues prior No resistance. Agreement cooperation and adds signed following summit unilateral initiatives hosted by Ben Ali

Robust. Joint border Limited resistance. Ben control and repatriations Ali critiques Italy but (also of third-country signs relatively quickly nationals)

Robust. Allows for US interdiction operations and repatriations

Degree of Cooperation

160 Outsourcing Control

No single trigger. Long-term high levels of irregular migration Post-Jasmine Revolution migration crisis

Mexico 1 (pri) 1980s to 1990s

Tunisia 3 (Interim Regime) 2011

Heavily reliant on the US economically and politically but US is widely criticized domestically

Earlier talks have Strong engagement, no single trigger; pragmatism but eventually 9/11 triggers a shift in negotiations 2005–6 migration Strong civil society crisis though not always influential in policymaking; domestic advocacy against irregular exit exists

Senegal (Wade) 2006

Technically democratic though critiqued for nondemocratic tendencies including corruption; relatively strong

Democratic; strong

Civic space suddenly Sudden shift to a demoopened. Very mobil- cratic trajectory; very ized population weak regime including many ex-patriates and Europeanbased ngos

Robust. Border control cooperation agreement

Limited. Unilateral border controls and limited repatriations. Italy’s main demands are not met

None. Provide some practical support but stop short of preventing exit

No formal cooperation. In practice, cooperation is provided through a drug interdiction agreement

Strong relationship with France Robust. Border control but Spain (destination state cooperation agreement partner) is a less prioritized relationship

Trying to be more proactive in foreign policy with the US, especially in economic realms but also including on migration issues

Courting European support; Europe is supportive of democratic transition but wants stability

Weak but growing Regime is transitioning Increasing integration with civil society. Key mi- from single party to demo- the US and more liberal and gration concerns are cratic rule; weak regime outward-looking economy human rights related

Civil society growing Mostly democratic but and cares about very weak regime migration but US interdiction is less salient

Mexico 2 (Fox) 2000–01

DEMOCRATIC PRAGMATISM

No single trigger. Continued threat of potential migration

Haiti 3 (Préval/ Aristide) 1997–2002

Low resistance. Some domestic push-back against repatriations, but support for border control cooperation is high

Low resistance. Pragmatic approach to partnership in border security for economic reasons

High resistance. Objections to Italian intervention and to any policies from the Ben Ali era

High resistance. Try to avoid being seen as cooperating on preventing exit

Low overt resistance. But no agreement was ever signed

Conclusion 161

162

Outsourcing Control

tic institutions. It also describes the factors that triggered the negotiations and the outcomes of the negotiations, operationalized in terms of (a) the degree of formal cooperation and (b) the willingness of the partner state to sign such an agreement. International Dynamics Destination states usually initiated negotiations, and destination state interest in preventing immigration was always a driving force for concluding these negotiations. So it is unsurprising that international pressure played a strong role in determining which countries were targeted for agreements and the timing of negotiations. Indeed, the second column of table 7.2 shows that nearly all negotiation episodes were triggered by destination state concerns. Often these negotiationtriggering events were completely beyond the influence of partner states: 9/11 pushed the US to sign border control agreements with a number of its neighbours; Italy’s attempts to join Schengen encouraged the country to externalize migration control functions onto third countries. But structural power dynamics do not tell the whole story: materially powerful destination states generally set the agenda of the negotiations, but they did not always get what they wanted. And in cases where mass migration episodes triggered negotiations, the question of partner state agency is particularly complicated. Greenhill has shown that materially weaker countries of origin and transit can exacerbate or even generate migration flows in order to pressure stronger states to do their bidding.1 This type of strong-arming did happen, but it was not always present, and it usually only began during the course of negotiations. In some cases, these migration crises emerged totally independent of partner state policies. For example, in the case of Senegal in 2006, Senegalese and other regional migrants took to the seas largely of their own accord and in response to anticipated changes in European policies in 2005–06. But in other cases, migration flows were at least encouraged if not facilitated by partner states to put pressure on destination states. Haitians fled the country in 1991 first because of the military regime’s oppression and the devastating effects of economic sanctions. But once Aristide recognized the power that these arrivals had on US policymakers, he used his influence with the Haitian poor to instigate flows of migrants into the US in order to put pressure on Clinton to do his bidding. Similarly, the

Conclusion

163

refugee exodus following the Arab Spring occurred mainly because of civil conflict and lapses in border security as the affected countries’ security sectors collapsed. But Gaddafi also leveraged his ability to control this exodus, threatening to unleash a wave of migration onto Europe if he were removed from power. In these cases, partner states used migration to enhance their negotiating power. But negotiations still relied on destination states’ demands to make the migration flows stop – regardless of whether they were independently initiated or exacerbated by partner state leaders. Beyond the question of timing of negotiation episodes, international power dynamics also played a powerful role in shaping the framing of the agreements. As shown in chapter 2, powerful destination states like the US, Europe, and Australia have all promoted these types of agreements in their respective regions and have invested substantial resources in securing partner state cooperation. Over time these destination states have worked to normalize the agreements in practice and in international law. Growing migration pressures coupled with reduced avenues for legal migration (in part due to the proliferation of these and other related agreements) has led to a vast expansion of irregular migration – often via increasingly dangerous channels as migrants seek to skirt ever-more-robust controls. And this has led to the ironic outcome that extraterritorial migration control cooperation can now be framed as serving the humanitarian goal of protecting safety of life at sea. Moreover, as migration and terrorism have become more closely linked in popular rhetoric, the agreements are also often framed as serving the paired goals of both border security and counterterrorism. Given the substantial emphasis placed on these types of agreements by powerful destination states, eventually most of the geostrategically important countries of origin and transit have ended up signing on to at least a minimal degree of migration control cooperation. But while extreme power asymmetries between the countries meant that powerful destination states were eventually able to convince most partners to cooperate on at least minimal migration and border control initiatives, the types of concessions that partner states looked for differed dramatically. All partner states found ways to benefit from signing extraterritorial interdiction agreements, but they did so in very different ways. As predicted by theories of “complex interdependence”2 and the linked idea of “migration interdependence,”3 the broader context of vulnerability and sensitivity to changes

164

Outsourcing Control

in the economic and security relations between destination and partner states shaped the degree to which partner states lobbied for new concessions versus just a continuation of status quo relations. Those partner states that were heavily dependent on destination states used the agreements to ensure that the benefits they received from the relationship would continue. For Mexico’s Vicente Fox, the driving motivation for agreeing to border control cooperation with the US was to ensure that the US border remained opened to trade. Tunisia’s Ben Ali signed the 2003 agreement with Italy as part of broader efforts to maintain trade ties to Europe despite the eu’s eastward expansion. By contrast, partner states that were less dependent on destination states lobbied for concessions. In more liberal states, these concessions were framed as complementary measures to address migration issues more holistically, whereas in less liberal partner states they were treated as payoffs. For example, Senegal’s Abdoulaye Wade linked border control cooperation with investments in tackling the “root causes” of migration; Muammar Gaddafi lobbied explicitly for Italian investment in infrastructure. But despite these different framings, both leaders ended up with vast sums of money in exchange for their cooperation in securing the border. Domestic Politics Common explanations for the differences in partner state behaviours often turn on domestic conditions in these states. Are states very poor? If so, they may be particularly worried about keeping exit options open. Are emigrants being exploited by smugglers and traffickers? If so, the country may want to crack down on these criminal enterprises. Is the partner state primarily a country of origin or a transit state? We would expect transit states to share concerns about irregular entry and thus be more amenable to cooperation than countries that are primarily countries of origin. These explanations are not wrong, but they are incomplete. Most of these domestic conditions adhere to some degree in all of the country-cases explored in this book. But institutional characteristics mediated the degree to which these types of domestic preferences could even be expressed. Nondemocratic states simply faced much less civil society critique around these issues because they did not allow for freedom of association, free press, or free speech. In some nondemocratic cases, like Haiti under Duvalier, the regime was completely per-

Conclusion

165

sonalist without even the façade of parties or public participation in politics. But in others, like Mexico under the pri, governing regimes were party-based systems where there was a certain degree of mobilization through official state party channels. Tunisia’s Ben Ali and Libya’s Gaddafi likewise coopted and channelled public participation through formal state parties or institutions. But even where a nondemocratic state encouraged popular participation through tightly regulated government channels, citizens knew better than to protest a repressive state’s policies directly. And if citizens decided to risk oppression by speaking up, they had more pressing concerns like basic human rights, civil liberties, or economic opportunities. More symbolic issues like foreign intervention or mobility rights were often less of a priority. But what is more surprising is that even among the more democratic states, it is hard to discern any consistent patterns of mobilization. While emigration was a salient issue in all of the case study countries examined, public preferences on irregular migration were complex and often even conflicted. Of course, emigration represents a welcome option for those who cannot find work domestically and for families that benefit from the remittances that emigrants send home. But support for departures is tempered by the fact that irregular migration is dangerous. People often die trying to reach their destinations, and would-be migrants often get duped by unscrupulous smugglers or even human traffickers. In Senegal, civil society was mobilized explicitly to discourage young people from leaving illegally. But even where this type of mobilization was absent, irregular emigration often triggered resentment against governments for the fact that the lack of domestic opportunities forced citizens to leave illegally. If people organized opposition, they mobilized to hold their governments accountable for jobs – not for exit opportunities. Priorities also differed between different social classes in countries of origin. While emigration may appeal across the socioeconomic spectrum, irregular journeys are dangerous and usually an option of last resort. The people who undertake these journeys tend to be poorer and to have less power to influence government policy. Elites with more capacity for mobilization had different priorities from the poor. They cared more about visa allotments, trade opportunities with destination states, or improving the public image of their country abroad. But there were some systematic patterns in partner states’ domestic preferences and public mobilization patterns. First, countries that

166

Outsourcing Control

faced large volumes of transit migrants, like Mexico and Libya, found it easier to enact policies limiting the mobility of foreign nationals transiting their state than to enact policies limiting the mobility of their citizens, even if their citizens were also emigrating in significant numbers. Hence Mexico’s willingness to patrol its southern border even when it rejected US proposals to patrol the northern border. But even these initiatives faced conflicting domestic opinions: on one extreme, human rights groups in transit states often advocated on behalf of immigrants into their countries, while on the other end of the spectrum, if cooperation on exit was not matched by sufficient initiatives to prevent entry, many countries became “receiving countries by default” as migrants got trapped within their borders.4 Just as in destination states, this has led to anti-immigrant sentiment in many transit states. Libya, for example, saw deadly riots against immigrants in 2000. Colonial histories with destination states similarly generated some more predictable patterns of opposition. Sovereignty concerns and anti-imperial rhetoric were a recurring theme in partner states’ public objections to extraterritorial interdiction agreements, and these were more salient in countries where the destination state had previously colonized or occupied the partner state. Italian colonial history was a central theme in Gaddafi’s public rhetoric about cooperation with extraterritorial interdiction, whereas this language was absent in Tunisia’s negotiations with Italy. In Senegal, negotiations with Spain were relatively cordial and did not grab headlines. But migration dialogues with France were much more contentious and politicized. In Mexico, successive pri presidents demonized the US and held up freedom of exit as a revolutionary constitutional commitment – even though the party had barred exit in the past when it suited their own interests. But once again, these objections were conditioned by state institutions and regime considerations. Partner state administrations raised such critiques when it was politically expedient. In Mexico, when the pri needed public support, they turned up the anti-American rhetoric. When Fox’s administration was more secure, he found he could build bridges to the US and highlight economic ties with the country. In Haiti, Aristide demonized the US when it suited him politically but buddied up with the Americans when he needed aid or political support … or a military intervention to put him back in power. Thus, while anticolonial and anti-imperial sentiment have real

Conclusion

167

political resonance in many partner states, their salience often rises and falls in conjunction with politicians’ needs. Ironically, some of the most powerful civil society mobilization against extraterritorial interdiction agreements occurs in destination states. European, American, and Australian activists object to their governments’ treatment of irregular migrants and often extend this opposition to their countries extraterritorial border control policies. For partner states, it has become difficult to publicly acknowledge a preference for exit opportunities beyond the limits set by destination states’ entry preferences – even in cases where politicians might prefer to keep irregular migration open as a political or economic “safety valve.” But the same is not true in destination sates where more radical activists often lobby for the interests of undocumented migrants and champion mobility rights, making it more challenging – though clearly not impossible – for their governments to promote these types of policies abroad. These activists sometimes set up offices in partner states or built relationships with local activists. This was most notable in the case of Tunisia following the revolution, where returned expatriates and foreign activists were some of the most vocally opposed to partnerships that would limit opportunities for exit. STATE INSTITUTIONS

Destination states’ preferences mattered and where they were willing to invest sufficient resources in convincing partner states to sign extraterritorial interdiction agreements, they were often successful. Without this demand for reduced irregular arrivals, there would have been no agreements. But the response that destination states got to their overtures for cooperation differed. And they differed in systematic ways. Domestic institutions conditioned the ways that partner states responded to international overtures for cooperation, as well as the degree to which they engaged with domestic concerns and opposition to such agreements. Categorizing partner state regimes by their regime type and regime strength, I have argued that we can expect three different types of responses from partner states in these asymmetric negotiating contexts: “autocratic opportunism,” “fragile democratic nationalism,” and “democratic pragmatism.” I discuss how each of these three types of regimes differs in the sections that follow and summarize salient characteristics of each in table 7.3.

168

Outsourcing Control

Autocratic Opportunism Haiti under Duvalier in 1981, Tunisia under Ben Ali in 1998 and 2003, and Libya under the National Transitional Council (ntc) all eventually signed agreements to cooperate on migration control with the major partner state in their region. The reason for these autocratic states’ willingness to cooperate with extraterritorial interdiction initiatives related to the way that these regimes sustained their power domestically. The primary threats to autocratic leaders are coups or civil conflicts that unseat the head of state. In order to counter these potential threats, autocratic regimes rely heavily on a mixture of oppression, cooptation, and legitimacy,5 but oppression is a much more salient focus in autocratic as compared to democratic states. And oppression requires an expansive architecture of physical control. Autocratic leaders often invest heavily in securing and surveying their territory and potential opponents. Extraterritorial interdiction agreements do not threaten this capacity and may even bolster it if inkind concessions such as boats, trucks, and surveillance equipment can be repurposed for domestic goals. Opposition to the regime is also more likely to be organized from outside of the state – either by expatriates or by foreign powers that lobby for improved human rights or civil liberties. Extraterritorial interdiction agreements help autocratic states counter the impact of both of these types of threats. While exit may provide a political “safety valve” and get dissidents out of the regime’s way, political opponents can sometimes be more dangerous abroad than at home. In 1981, the Haitian diaspora included plenty of people eager to overthrow Duvalier. They had asked for US help in overthrowing the regime and were encouraging new arrivals to file asylum claims in order to the highlight human rights abuses in Haiti. Similarly, most people who opposed the Tunisia’s Ben Ali or Libya’s Gaddafi also made their way abroad, where they worked to mobilize in exile and often sought the support of foreign powers to overthrow their home states’ administrations. Many of the leaders of the Libyan ntc had been activists in exile and only returned when Gaddafi was overthrown. And many of the human rights groups that poured into Tunisia after the revolution had been active for years in Europe. None of these actors would have been able to organize under the repressive administrations of their home states. Thus, autocratic leaders often find that it is in their interest to improve their oversight of exit in order to keep potential opponents contained.

Conclusion

169

Moreover, because refugee protection is defined in terms of political persecution rather than economic hardship, people fleeing oppressive regimes have a much better chance of gaining refugee status once abroad than people fleeing democratic regimes. Having citizens accepted abroad as refugees does little to help a country’s international image. And it gives the states accepting the refugees extra reason to oppose the country of origin’s domestic human rights abuses. Clinton may have opposed the Haitian junta that ousted Aristide on ideological grounds. But he was pushed to intervene not just because Cédras was cruel but because his oppression was pushing people onto boats headed for the US, and the US could not return them without violating refugee protection commitments. Another major threat to autocratic leaders’ continued rule is proselytizing democracies that advocate democratization abroad – a description that fits all of the destination states considered in this book to varying degrees. Duvalier, Ben Ali, and the Libyan ntc all worked hard to try to court their powerful democratic neighbours and to find ways to ingratiate themselves with these states that might otherwise oppose their rule. Duvalier did this through anticommunism, Ben Ali through trade and economic liberalization, and the ntc through promises of a democratic future. Migration control cooperation agreements were just the most recent addition to the repertoire of ways that these leaders made themselves indispensable to powerful neighbours who might otherwise have contemplated supporting their opponents. Indeed, extraterritorial interdiction agreements offered autocratic leaders the opportunity to negotiate with destination states in an issue area where their lack of respect for human rights and willingness to rely on heavy-handed enforcement tactics worked to their advantage. By agreeing to do liberal democratic states’ dirty work in containing irregular migrant populations, they forced liberal democracies to stay silent about the other ways that they used their control capabilities. But the fact that autocratic states were often willing to cooperate does not mean that these states were pleasant negotiating partners or ideal allies in the long term. Lacking a foundation of good relations with destination states that would lead them to value maintaining an amicable bilateral climate, they were more likely to threaten to revisit their commitments to migration control if they felt that their demands for concessions were not adequately met. When this happened, their willingness to deviate from international norms again played to their advantage, as they were willing to back out of agree-

170

Outsourcing Control

ments, reject appeals for expanded cooperation, and even threaten generating migration flows to coerce destination states to do their bidding. Indeed, in her study of the coercive use of migration flows in international politics, Greenhill found that only ten out of sixtyfour cases of “coercively engineered migration” were initiated by full democracies.6 In sum, autocratic regimes tended to use migration control agreements opportunistically. They often signed and acted as enthusiastic participants. But their cooperation was driven by a recognition that this issue helped them gain the support of powerful destination states who might otherwise have opposed them or pressured them to democratize and do more to respect human rights. Fragile Democratic Nationalism The most unpredictable partner states were those ruled by very weak or fledgling democratic administrations. In this study, that includes Haiti under Aristide and then Préval, Tunisia following the Jasmine Revolution, and Mexico under the pri. Like the more consolidated democracies considered below, leaders of these states relied on popular support and reelection to stay in power. But their long-term accountability to the wellbeing of the country as a whole was often less important than their ability to keep the population mobilized in their favour in the short-term. Competitive parties with clear and contending policy platforms that could be used to counterbalance one another were still a distant ambition. And there were few formal or established channels for influencing the political process aside from protest. Politicians who survived in these environments recognized the importance of playing to the crowd. Their rhetoric was often loaded with nationalism, postcolonial animosity and underdog pride. They rallied domestic supporters by portraying themselves as David to powerful destination states’ Goliath. Even if there were no organized civil society groups who would have opposed extraterritorial interdiction agreements as such, leaders could tap into existing narratives that demonized destination states in order to bolster their own credibility as champions of the nation in the face of an oppressor intent on infringing on their sovereignty and violating the rights of their citizens. Aristide’s ability to split the Haitian government when Préval promoted a more pragmatic approach to relations with the US illus-

Conclusion

171

trates just how risky pragmatic policymaking was in these very weak administrations. In some cases, partner state objections were primarily political theatre, designed to frame the agreements in such a way as to rally support regardless of preexisting opinions on migration control cooperation. In these cases, leaders’ reticence to sign these agreements had less to do with the fear of domestic push-back through “audience costs”7 or “legitimacy costs.”8 Civil society in these states tended to be fragmented, weak, and inexperienced at effecting policy change. Instead, leaders stood to gain a “legitimacy boon” from opposing agreements – even if there was no symmetrical legitimacy cost for signing. By politicizing their resistance to the more powerful destination state’s demands they could gain credibility and support from an otherwise hard-to-capture domestic electorate. In Mexico, for example, rhetoric about “freedom of exit” fit neatly with the pri’s traditional revolutionary stances and anti-Americanism, even though civil society in the country was more focused on promoting migrant rights and consular protection for emigrants than they were on “freedom of exit” per se. And Aristide’s about-face while in exile from encouraging migrants to stay home and supporting interdictions to encouraging exit and revoking the agreement was little if not theatrical. Calling US interdictions “a floating Berlin Wall”9 put the US government on the defensive and appealed to supporters both in the US and back home. But in other cases, there was a real threat of popular backlash. As the vanguard of a very new democratization movement, Tunisia’s transitional administration recognized that migration control cooperation was associated with Ben Ali’s rule. While many of the stillmobilized protestors were at best ambivalent about the emigration flows, they wanted a clean break with the past, and that meant a clean break with Ben Ali’s policies. Some protestors made this link explicitly, blaming Europe for supporting Ben Ali and preferring “dictators to migrants.” They framed migration control cooperation as a renewal of authoritarian practices.10 Berlusconi’s xenophobic and antimigrant rhetoric sealed the deal and left the Tunisian transitional administration incapable of defending cooperation to the fiercely nationalist Tunisian protestors. But it should be noted that partner states’ domestic institutions impacted their international relationships. Democratic destination states were much more indulgent with even fragile democratic leaders than they were with autocratic leaders. Even nominally democra-

172

Outsourcing Control

tic partner state leaders often represented the best hope for democratization in destination states’ nearest neighbours. Destination states who promoted democracy internationally were therefore more likely to try to accommodate these leaders, recognizing that pushing them to adopt oppressive policies wouldn’t look good – and also that if they pushed too hard and undermined these fledgling regimes, there was a good chance that they wouldn’t like what emerged to replace them. Europe threw its weight behind the Tunisian transitional administration. And even Italy, which had benefitted from close relationships with Ben Ali, saw the writing on the wall and realized that supporting this regime was the best chance they had at a stable and accommodating neighbour. In the US-Haiti case, Clinton went so far as to organize a UN Security Council-sanctioned military intervention to ensure that Aristide would be returned to power in Haiti. Similarly, the US could hardly come after Mexican pri presidents for promoting “freedom of exit” when the party was just starting to promote other freedoms at home. But this does not mean that these partner states could get away with allowing irregular migration to continue unchecked. They recognized that in practice, they would need to do something to make the emigration stop, even if they couldn’t admit this publicly. Aristide allowed interdictions and returns in practice but not on paper. Tunisia began unilateral border controls with Italian support and allowed limited returns. Mexico embarked on a myriad of programs internally and in the border region that did virtually everything except interdict people for leaving illegally. Democratic Pragmatism Mexico under Vicente Fox and Senegal under Abdoulaye Wade represent the most consolidated democracies in this book. These democracies signed extraterritorial interdiction agreements with little public objection, though their concerns and negotiation patterns differed dramatically from those of autocracies. Domestically, leaders of these states maintained power (for themselves or their parties) through popular support and securing reelection. This meant that they needed the support of the public at large as well as of core interest groups. This gave them an incentive to focus on crosscutting issues – especially economics. Economic growth, decreased unemployment, and high rates of development were the issues prioritized by the electorate.

Conclusion

173

Thus, if extraterritorial interdiction agreements promised aggregate benefits in terms of trade, aid, or security relationships, consolidated democracies were often willing to sacrifice some autonomy or sovereignty in exchange for these benefits. This decision was aided by the fact that they tended to have more amicable relationships with the destination states in question. And while they may have been tough negotiating partners in private, they generally chose to forgo the “legitimacy boon” of publicizing the agreement in favour of promoting long-term stable relationships with the destination state. Mexico’s Vicente Fox, representing the most consolidated of the two democratic regimes, didn’t even publicly highlight any concessions from the agreement, instead focusing on the more diffuse benefits of friendly relations, especially for economic and trade relations. This does not mean that migration control was uncontentious. These stronger democracies had more vibrant civil society groups and stronger media accountability. But these groups had established independent agendas and were thus often less reactionary than those in newly democratizing states. Groups that focused on migration issues had complex platforms related to promoting the rights of emigrants who were already abroad, promoting the rights of immigrants, and promoting safer migratory journeys. Civil society also included numerous interest groups and actors who stood to benefit from improved relations with destination states – especially those representing business interests. Vicente Fox in Mexico was especially adept at engaging civil society in dialogue around migration, building consensus and buy-in from groups that might otherwise object to an agreement focused on border control. Wade in Senegal was critiqued for insufficient civil society engagement. But unlike the less consolidated democracies, he had ensured the support of key groups that helped him stay in power and was able to weather criticism when people protested – for example after Spanish repatriations. Consolidated democracies also had more ability to control the narrative of negotiations, both domestically and in the bilateral relationship. Domestically, they highlighted economic benefits of the agreements: continued trade opportunities in Mexico and investments in key economic sectors in Senegal. And internationally, these leaders worked to reshape the narrative around migration control by casting partner state interests in more liberal and internationally palatable terms. Where autocratic countries simply wanted concessions in the form of cash or security guarantees, these liberal democratic states

174

Outsourcing Control

used strategic issue linkages to encourage repackaging these agreements as reciprocal accords that promoted “orderly migration,” “migration and development,” or “comprehensive” solutions to migration questions. Senegal, for example, benefitted from Spanish investments in the agricultural sector – which were framed not as economic aid but as tools to address the “root causes” of irregular migration. And Vicente Fox in Mexico continued to hold out hope that increased border control cooperation would eventually lead to a more comprehensive migration agreement with the US. Moreover, migrants’ safety was a salient concern in both Mexico and Senegal, which made signing these types of agreements more palatable. The fact that consolidated democracies tended to have more cordial relationships with destination states than did autocratic states also impacted the tenor of the negotiations and made these states more likely to be dependable allies in the long term. These leaders refrained from publicly critiquing the negotiations and praised the cooperation and good relations between the states. They both even used the language of “shared responsibility” for border control cooperation, casting cooperation on these issues as common practice and a reasonable expectation between allied states. Moreover, once agreements were signed, these states did not renege on their commitments or try trigger renewed migration flows in order to gain concessions. Many would argue that in consolidated democracies, a leader’s legitimacy is heavily dependent upon their ability to foster development and economic opportunities for citizens. As the 1992 Clinton campaign concisely summarized, “It’s the economy, stupid.” Both Mexico’s Vicente Fox and Senegal’s Abdoulaye Wade could weather limited outbursts of dissent to extraterritorial interdiction agreements as long as they achieved economic gains and improved relations with key trading partners in the long-term. OUTSTANDING QUESTIONS

These ideal types help shed light on expected behaviours from different types of partner state regimes when confronted with a request for cooperation with a liberal–democratic destination state’s extraterritorial interdiction efforts. But there are limitations to what this study can tell us. First, this study focuses only on extraterritorial interdiction agreements and thus ignores other types of migration cooperation. Other

PRAGMATISM

DEMOCRATIC

NATIONALISM

DEMOCRATIC

FRAGILE

OPPORTUNISM

AUTOCRATIC

Regime maintains power by not being violently overthrown. They achieve this through repression, cooptation, and legitimacy. Little independent civil society; those who mobilize either do so with the blessing of the state or face serious risk of regime retaliation. Regime can lose power either by being overthrown or voted out. With little ability to repress dissent, short-term legitimacy is imperative. Civil society is emerging but tends to be reactive and disorganized.

Autocratic leaders. Rely on the support of small groups of elite supporters and repression of opponents and dissent.

Weak democracies and democratizing regimes. Rely on majority public support but are very vulnerable to mass mobilizations and public backlash. Party systems are often not consolidated. Strong and consolidat- Regime maintains power through ed democracies. Rely reelection, which depends on ecoon popular support nomic growth, state security, and channelled through achieving party goals. Civil society party systems and is robust and has experience complex interest influencing policy. It includes groups. Can sustain multiple perspectives, including some dissent. voices favouring economic opportunities.

Domestic politics

State institutions

Table 7.3 Summary of partner state behaviour

Promote good relationships with destination states grounded in shared interests and values.

Regime often receives strong international support as democratic destination states advocate for further democratization.

Regime’s relationships with democratic destination states is often strained. They seek means of ensuring international state support.

International dynamics

Strategies: Amicable public portrayal of cooperation, though privately may push for better terms. Outcomes: Cooperation linked to broader economic and political initiatives. Rhetorically associate border control and “root causes” of migration in order to frame concessions as being related to shared migration goals rather than as pay offs.

Strategies: Often antagonistic in negotiations, using nationalist, postcolonial, or anti-imperial rhetoric to rally support at home. Outcomes: Prefer secretive and informal cooperation – often under the cover of anticooperative rhetoric.

Strategies: Strong autocracies often try to bully destination states for greater concessions. May renege on commitments or publicize negotiations to pressure destination states. Weak autocracies are more accommodating Outcomes: Opportunistic cooperation in exchange for material concessions or as a way to ensure international support.

Negotiation strategies and outcomes

Conclusion 175

176

Outsourcing Control

scholars have focused on comparing the dynamics of different types of migration regimes11 and further research is needed to ascertain whether regime characteristics also matter in other types of migration negotiations like labour migration (which often also includes a secondary control component), repatriation agreements, or agreements concerning engagement with diaspora populations. Similarly, exploring how these regime dynamics play out in asymmetric negotiations in nonmigration related issue areas would be an important follow-up to this study. This study is also limited to south–north migration systems and thus can say little about cooperation in south–south migration or migration into states that are not liberal democracies. While the scale and dynamics of these movements depend a great deal on what one classifies as the “Global South,”12 there are many other important migration systems other than the ones ending in oecd states that are highlighted in this book. Labour-recruiting states (and companies) in the Gulf, for example, have been active in negotiating agreements to recruit labour abroad,13 and there is a growing literature about the domestic politics of migration recruitment and control in these predominantly autocratic states.14 It is possible that cooperation dynamics would differ in this context, especially to the extent that autocratic regimes are more inclined to cooperate with one another.15 It is also possible that there is more breadth of interests among autocratic leaders than is represented by the cases selected here. Weyland draws a distinction between ideologically-oriented and interestoriented authoritarian regimes, noting that while most post-Cold War authoritarian regimes seek simply to stay in power and continue to reap the benefits of power, there have also been a number of autocratic regimes historically that claimed moral superiority and tried to export their models by building followers and normative appeal.16 The autocracies in this book have been predominantly interestoriented, and this may explain their more strategic and opportunistic approach to cooperation. It is possible that the more ideologically minded autocracies would behave differently. For example, as described by Paoletti,17 Libya’s Gaddafi prior to the revolution only partially fits this book’s typology. He did use emigration opportunistically as a way of gaining concessions in other issue areas from Italy and the eu, but he took hardline negotiation tactics to such an extreme that he actually eschewed formal cooperation for many years and often blatantly rejected Italian calls for cooperation, postponing a formal migration agreement for many years.

Conclusion

177

The consolidated democratic cases in this study also generated hypotheses about domestic divisions between elites and the population at large that should be investigated further. In Senegal, elites with more power to mobilize and lobby were much more focused on migration opportunities to France than to Spain. They kept tabs on negotiations with France in a way that they did not with Spain. In Mexico, elites saw economic opportunities for trade with the US as being more valuable than having relatively less-guarded undocumented exit opportunities. And in Haiti, the country’s elites saw irregular maritime migration towards the US as a national humiliation, not as a necessary – if dangerous – route out of dire poverty. In-depth research of these domestic schisms in preferences between elites and the poorer populations who are more likely to try to leave via undocumented channels might yield important insights about the preferences and political choices of those who were less able to make their voices heard. A final consideration is the rise of populist nationalism in destination states in recent years. Trump’s election and anti-immigrant rhetoric in the US, Brexit, and the rise of numerous populist and nationalist parties across Europe has significantly changed the landscape of migration cooperation negotiations. In chapter 5, I showed how Italy’s Berlusconi limited his own negotiating space by using populist anti-immigrant messaging that the nascent Tunisian regime simply could not tolerate politically. While Mexico has thus far managed to stay the course of pragmatism even in the face of Trump’s storm of racist and antimigrant rhetoric, it is very likely that less consolidated regimes that are less dependent on destination states economically would struggle to weather these types of assaults domestically. CLOSING CONSIDERATIONS AND BROADER POLICY IMPLICATIONS

Powerful destination states have promoted extraterritorial interdiction agreements internationally, throwing their weight behind efforts to convince partner states to sign on. The net trend has been towards cooperation. But not all partner states have been equally willing to sign – despite the fact that these states are, almost without exception, materially much weaker than the destination states they are negotiating with. This book has shown that the differences in partner states’ responses are heavily conditioned by their domestic institutions, espe-

178

Outsourcing Control

cially regime type and regime strength. Autocracies generally cooperated, though strong autocracies were tougher negotiating partners than weak autocracies. Strong democracies tended to be cooperative partners when destination state demand was high enough. Weak democracies were unpredictable and unreliable partners, often using populist language to publicize and reject destination states’ demands, even if they cooperated informally. Given the degree to which extraterritorial interdiction agreements have proliferated internationally, some may object that these marginal differences are uninteresting or unimportant as compared to destination state preferences. Thucydides famously asserted that “the strong do what they will and the weak do what they must.” But the cost for powerful states of “doing what they will” differs dramatically. Partner states are sovereign and make their own choices about whether or not to cooperate. Destination states usually cannot justify (nor do they generally want to finance) retaliating militarily against a state that refuses to cooperate in an issue area like migration. And at a certain point, even the economic costs of concessions may become too large to bear – especially given the degree of domestic opposition to these types of agreements by activists and human rights advocates within destination states. When ostensibly “weak” states demand and receive concessions that hurt the interests of powerful states, agreement outcomes no longer follow the predictions of realist power politics – even if partner states eventually do agree to cooperate in exchange for astronomical concessions. Thus, this book complicates the idea that these agreements are simply a function of destination state preferences and shows how even weak partner states’ domestic interests matter. Moreover, the trends in weak regimes’ negotiating patterns identified in this book are likely to be similar in issue areas beyond migration management. Powerful states have long tried to secure the support of weaker states in achieving their foreign policy goals. During the Cold War, powerful states were primarily concerned with East–West ideological divides and tried to gain allies in their efforts to prevent the spread of communism or capitalism. As the Cold War waned, new priorities emerged. With Reagan’s “war on drugs,” counternarcotics cooperation agreements became a new priority in US foreign policy. Following 9/11, the US, Europe, and other powerful states have sought the cooperation of international partners to support counterterrorism operations.

Conclusion

179

Indeed, globalization and increased international connectivity mean that many salient international threats now stem from nonstate actors with transnational reach. Drug smugglers, terrorists, criminals, and pirates often set up their bases in materially weak states that have less capacity or will to oppose them, but they can target their activities at even the most powerful states. Whenever powerful states try to combat these types of threats at their source abroad, they must rely on the cooperation or at least permission of the weak states where these threatening actors operate. Antipiracy initiatives, efforts to tackle transnational crime, and extradition arrangements all arise from similar concerns: sovereignty is nationally bounded, but threats cross borders. Of course, despite the numerous structural similarities, irregular migration is also very different from these other types of transnational concerns. While smugglers and traffickers engage in transnational crime and may be justifiably categorized as international threats, it is deeply problematic to view migrants through this lens. Most people who cross international borders without necessary documentation are just individuals trying to better their lives, whether they are fleeing violence and oppression or fleeing grinding poverty. While it may be argued that extraterritorial interdiction agreements have become necessary given the degree of criminality and violence that has become associated with irregular voyages, these agreements are also partially responsible for the professionalization of human smuggling in the first place as it has become ever-more difficult for people to cross borders independently. Moreover, many of the migration flows in question are driven by the same deep structural inequalities between destination and partner states that influence the power dynamics of negotiations to end them. Extraterritorial interdiction agreements have become ubiquitous and thus warrant close consideration. While the content of these agreements has sometimes expanded to link to other mobility and security related goals, the primary motivation for their adoption has been destination states’ interests in containing migrants before they reach their borders. Sceptics claim that these agreements are a cynical attempt to skirt refugee protection obligations and limit immigration at any cost. Advocates see them as an effort to protect would-be migrants from unscrupulous smugglers and traffickers and to make international migration more orderly and safe. Both are true. To the extent that containment efforts are effective enough to completely

180

Outsourcing Control

remove the prospect of reaching destination states, they do prevent people from risking their lives on dangerous journeys. But containing migrants abroad has also pushed desperate people to attempt evermore perilous journeys and has removed opportunities for seeking asylum or finding a way out of dire poverty for many people. From a human rights and refugee protection standpoint, this is a very high price to pay.

Life without Earlids

APPENDIX

Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements between Major Destination States and Nearby Potential Partner States

The table below lists the date of the first extraterritorial interdiction agreement between major destination states and nearby potential partner states. It also includes a discussion of related agreements or agreements that only partially meet the criteria where applicable. Criteria for including dyads of states in the table are outlined in chapter 1. The analysis begins in 1990, and the table was last updated in January 2020. The search for these agreements drew on a variety of historical sources to establish whether or not a given dyad of states ever signed an extraterritorial interdiction agreement and, if so, in what year the first agreement was signed. In dyads where the US was the destination state, the State Department’s index of “US Treaties in Force” from 1990 onwards served as the primary source for agreements. I also foiaed copies of all repatriation-related agreements from Immigration and Customs Enforcement to ensure that there were no missed agreements. I excluded agreements pertaining only to extradition or air transport agreements (which pertain primarily to hijacking), as these types of agreements do not involve preventive measures to contain migration. Where the target of the interdiction operations was left ambiguous, I only counted the agreement if there was a specific mention of undocumented migration, human smuggling, or human trafficking. I ensured the accuracy of my coding by consulting secondary sources, including a State Department “List of maritime counter narcotics law enforcement agreements signed by the United States as of August 2005,” which includes many agreements that address both narcotics and migrant interdictions. Two legal texts relat-

181

182

Appendix

ing to migrant interdiction practices in the US also discuss these types of agreements, though their list of agreements is not as complete or up to date.1 I relied on a more diverse array of sources to identify agreements where Spain or Italy were the destination states. The primary source of information was the European University Institute’s “Inventory of the Agreements to Readmission.”2 Despite the reference only to “readmission” in its title, this database catalogues a large number of other migration-related agreements, including agreements relating to interdiction. I also used the country “migration profiles” compiled by the same organization.3 I searched newspaper archives in Lexis Nexis (now NexisUni) to confirm conclusions, obtain more information about the content of agreements, and find more information about countries that were missing from the sources above. I triangulated my findings with secondary sources and through interviews.4 I excluded agreements that pertained only to readmission, as these are post hoc measures for correcting an irregular migration situation after it has happened rather than an effort to prevent or deter migration before it happens. I also excluded agreements that only included police cooperation or technical cooperation and trainings if they did not specify tangible control measures. I included agreements for which the text was not publicly available only if there was sufficient evidence to ensure that an agreement had been signed, when it was signed, and that it included an interdiction component. In the Southeast Asian region, the Australian Legal Information Institute’s database of the Australian Treaty Series was the main source for all formalized treaty agreements. The Australian Year Book of International Law compiles an annual review of “Australian Practice in International Law” which referenced a number of less formal agreements and memoranda of understanding that were not in the Treaty Series. I also searched the online archives of the Department of Home Affairs’ “Annual Reports” (for years prior to 2017, this was the Australian Department of Immigration and Border Protection’s annual “Report of Performance”).5 I triangulated these sources with an extensive search of government websites, including the archives of the Department of Immigration and Citizenship and the Department of Immigration and Border Protection, now both nested under the Department of Home Affairs. I also relied on secondary sources to gain more information on the agreements I found.6 And

Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements

183

this was further supplemented through interviews, secondary sources, and newspaper archives. I did not include agreements that were limited to offshore processing or refugee resettlement, even though these agreements have often received the highest level of publicity and political push-back, as these are post hoc processing agreements rather than preventive migration control agreements. I also excluded counterterrorism agreements where I couldn’t find evidence of a specific focus on countertrafficking or countersmuggling cooperation, as well as agreements that were limited to information sharing or dialogue. Table A.1 follows.

Brunei Cambodia

East Timor

Australia Australia

Australia

2002

2002

Date of first agreement

East Timor signed two mous with the Australian Department of Immigration and Citizenship in 2002: (1) A “Memorandum of Understanding on the Exchange of Information and Mutual Cooperation in Combating Illegal Immigration and People Smuggling,” and (2) A “Memorandum of Understanding on Regional Cooperation Arrangements for Combating Illegal Immigration and People Smuggling.”5 These were signed around the same time as the “Timor Sea Treaty” which is designed to regulate petroleum exploration of the “Joint Petroleum Development Area.” It is a secondary issue, but the treaty also does include discussion of applying migration law to the region and consulting about people entering the region.6 There is also an antiterrorism agreement signed in 2003, but it is not clear how targeted this is towards migration issues (it does call for increased cooperation among law enforcement officials including immigration officials).7 The Australian Year Books of International Law list actual cooperation activities with East Timor starting in 2007.8 Also a member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

Cambodia and Australia have an mou “concerning mutual cooperation in combating Irregular migration, people smuggling and Trafficking.”1 The exact date for this specific mou is not listed, but there is a 2002 announcement of a bilateral agreement by the Australian Minister for Immigration and Multicultural and Indigenous Affairs in the Annual Review of International Law.2 I found one instance of cooperation prior to this date,3 but the annual reports from Department of Immigration and Border Protection cite instances of cooperation starting in 2002,4 so this is my best guess for the date of the agreement. Also a member of the Bali process and the Australia–Asia Program to Combat Trafficking in Persons, but these are multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

A member of the Bali process, but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

Agreement info and notes

Notes 1 Australian Government, “Report of the Expert Panel on Asylum Seekers,” August 2012, http://artsonline.monash.edu.au/thebordercrossingobservatory/files/2015/03 /expert_panel_on_asylum_seekers_full_report.pdf, 115. 2 Justine Garratt and Jonathan Chew, eds., “Australian Practice in International Law 2002,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2002, 392–3. 3 Mark Baker, “New People-Smuggling Pipeline Shut Down,” Sydney Morning Herald, 10 July 2001. 4 Reports are available at https://www.border.gov.au/about/reports-publications/reports/annual. 5 Australian Department of Immigration and Citizenship, “Inquiry into Australia’s Relationship with Timor Leste,” 2013. 6 Timor Sea Treaty between the Government of East Timor and the Government of Australia (signed Dili, 20 May 2002) [2003] Australian Treaty Series 13, accessed 26 January 2020, http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/dfat/treaties/ATS/2003/13.html. (Art 15) 7 French and Chew, “Australian Practice in International Law 2003,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2003, 435. 8 Year Books are available at https://aybil.law.anu.edu.au/.

Partner State

Destination State

Table A.1 Extraterritorial interdiction agreements between major destination states and nearby potential partner states

184 Appendix

Indonesia

Australia

2000

2007

The countries have a treaty dating back to 1999 relating to general crime cooperation, including for “procuring, or trafficking in, women or young persons for immoral purposes; living on the earnings of prostitution; any other offence against the law relating to prostitution.” This could theoretically include “location and identification of persons” and “execution of request for search and seizure,” but this is a secondary issue.11The first real extraterritorial cooperation agreement between Australian and Indonesia was the 2000 “Regional Cooperation Model” under which Indonesia agreed to assist with interdiction while allowing the iom and unhcr to do much of the actual management of those who were caught in the country.12 There are references in Immigration and Border Protection’s annual reports to migration management initiatives with the country going back to 1998, but these seem to have been ad hoc and not formally institutionalized.13 In 2005, Australia also agreed to increase border and immigration cooperation, and in 2006 they signed a major “Lombok Treaty” agreement which makes provisions for “Cooperation between relevant institutions and agencies, including prosecuting authorities, in preventing and combating transnational crimes, in particular crimes related to: a. People smuggling and trafficking in persons” with an explicit emphasis on maritime security cooperation.14 In 2010 they signed an “Implementation framework for cooperation to combat people smuggling and trafficking in persons.”15 Indonesia is also the cochair (with Australia) of the Bali process, and a member of the Australia–Asia Program to Combat Trafficking in Persons, though neither constitutes a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

The Department of Immigration and Border Protection annual reports list an mou being signed between Australia and Fiji in 2007.9 There might have also been an earlier agreement, as the countries apparently had at least an antiterrorism mou by 2005,10 but there are also no instances of cooperation cited in the annual reports prior to 2007. Also a member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

9 Reports are available at https://www.border.gov.au/about/reports-publications/reports/annual. 10 “Australia, Brunei Sign Counter-Terrorism Memorandum,” bbc Monitoring Asia Pacific – Political, 15 February 2005. 11 Treaty between Australia and the Republic of Indonesia on Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters (signed Jakarta, 27 October 1995) [1999] Australian Treaty Series 10, accessed 26 January 2020, http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/dfat/treaties/ATS/1999/10.html. 12 Kneebone, “Controlling Migration by Sea: The Australian Case”; French and Chew, “Australian Practice in International Law 2003,” 438; Australian Government, “Report of the Expert Panel on Asylum Seekers.” 13 Reports are available at https://www.border.gov.au/about/reports-publications/reports/annual. 14 Agreement between Australia and the Republic of Indonesia on the Framework for Security Cooperation (signed Mataram, Lombok: 13 November 2006) [2008] Australian Treaty Series 3, accessed 26 January 2020, http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/dfat/treaties/ATS/2008/3.html, (Art 3(7)). See also Natalie Mendelsohn, Diyana Mansour, and Bridget Collier, eds., “Australian Practice in International Law 2008,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2008, 330–1. 15 Australian Government, “Report of the Expert Panel on Asylum Seekers.”

Fiji

Australia

Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements 185

Malaysia

Micronesia Palau Papua New Guinea

Australia

Australia Australia Australia

2003

2006

Date of first agreement

Papua New Guinea and Australia signed an mou in 2003 relating to migration, refugees, irregular migration, and people smuggling.19 This was in addition to a more formal treaty, the “joint agreement on enhanced cooperation between Australia and Papua New Guinea” sets up the ground work for png’s cooperation with Australian police but only in the areas of “governance, law and order and justice, financial management, economic and social progress as well as capacity in public administration.”20 png also signed offshore processing and resettlement agreements that are not coded here as they are not preemptive in nature (see discussion in chapter 2). Also a member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

A member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

A 2006 treaty on “Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters” could apply to migration matters, though this is not specified in the text.16 Nevertheless, the 2006 Australian Practice in International Law report highlights that this enables cooperation in counter terrorism, drug trafficking, fraud, money laundering, and people trafficking.17 In 2009, the countries also set up a working group on people smuggling and trafficking in persons. This is not an agreement per se but it seems to have led to robust cooperation and “focuses on border management, legal cooperation, maritime surveillance and interdiction, law enforcement, and intelligence sharing.”18 Also a member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

Agreement info and notes

16 Treaty between the Government of Australia and the Government of Malaysia on Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters (signed Putrajaya, 15 November 2005) and an Exchange of Notes between the Government and the Government of Malaysia on the Treaty on Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters (signed Kuala Lumpur, 7 December 2005) [2006] Australian Treaty Series 21, accessed 26 January 26, 2020, http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/dfat/treaties/ATS/2006/21.html, (Art 1(5)) 17 Patrick Dennien et al., eds, “Australian Practice in International Law 2006,” 462. See also “Chapter 3 Treaty between Australia and Malaysia on Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters and an Exchange of Notes between Malaysia and Australia on the Treaty on Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters,” Parliament of Australia, 2006, https://www.aph.gov.au/Parliamentary_Business/Committees/Joint/Completed_Inquiries/jsct/5_6_september2006/report/chapter3. 18 Australian Government, “Report of the Expert Panel on Asylum Seekers,” 114. 19 Savitri Taylor, “The Impact of Australia–png Border Management Cooperation on Refugee Protection,” Local-Global: Identity, Security, Community (Special Issue: Beyond Border Control) 8 (2010): 76–99; Also referenced in the Department of Immigration and Border Protection annual report from 2004. 20 Joint Agreement on Enhanced Cooperation between Australia and Papua New Guinea (signed Port Moresby, 30 June 2004) [2004] Australian Treaty Series 24, accessed 26 January 2020, http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/dfat/treaties/ATS/2004/24.html.

Partner State

Destination State

Table A.1 (continued ) 186 Appendix

Singapore Solomon Islands

Thailand

Vanuatu

Australia Australia

Australia

Australia

2001

2005

A member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

On 6 July 2001, Thailand and Australia agreed to a nontreaty arrangement to “fight people smuggling and combat illegal immigration.”24 In 2009, the treaty on “Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters” came into force (signed in 2006). The Australian Practice in International Law report from 2006 notes that this will “enable Australia and Thailand to assist each other in the investigation and prosecution of serious crimes including terrorism, drug trafficking, fraud, money laundering and people trafficking,”25 but people trafficking is not mentioned explicitly in the text – only that they will assist each other in addressing “criminal matters”26 Also a member of the Bali process and the Australia–Asia Program to Combat Trafficking in Persons but these are multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

Australia had a security presence in the Solomon Islands as part of the ramsi operations from 2003–17. This was part of a joint force with fifteen contributing countries to help restore security after ethnic tensions led to violence in 1998.23 It is conceivable that they also had some secondary role in migration policing, but this was certainly not the core of their mandate. Also a member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

A member of the Bali process but this is multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

In 2005, the Philippines and Australia signed an mou on “border and migration management cooperation.”21 They had signed an agreement in 2003 about counterterrorism that referenced some issues related to migration management but that did not address smuggling or trafficking directly.22 Also a member of the Bali process and the Australia–Asia Program to Combat Trafficking in Persons but these are multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

21 Australian Government: Department of Immigration and Multicultural Affairs, “Report on Performance 2005–2006: Output 1.2 – Refugee and Humanitarian Entry and Stay,” 2006, http://www.immi.gov.au/about/reports/annual/2005-06/DIMA_AR/performance/Outcome_1_2.html. 22 French and Chew, “Australian Practice in International Law 2003,” 436; Jennifer Cavenagh and Justine Braithwaite, eds., “Australian Practice in International Law 2004,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2004, 689. 23 Australian Government Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, “Solomon Islands Country Brief,” accessed 26 January 2020, https://dfat.gov.au/geo/solomon-islands/ Pages/solomon-islands-country-brief.aspx. 24 Christine Ratnasingham, Angela Macdonald, and Peter Scott, eds., “Australian Practice in International Law 2001,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2001, 371–2. 25 Dennien et al., “Australian Practice in International Law 2006,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2006, 462–3. 26 Treaty between Australia and the Kingdom of Thailand on Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters (signed Kuala Lumpur, 27 July 2006) [2009] Australian Treaty Series 15, accessed 26 January 2020, http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/dfat/treaties/ATS/2009/15.html (Art 1).

Philippines

Australia

Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements 187

Vietnam

Antigua and Barbuda Bahamas Belize Canada Colombia Costa Rica Cuba

Australia

USA USA USA USA USA USA USA

1994

2001

2004

Date of first agreement

“Joint communique concerning normalizing migration procedures. Signed at New York September 9, 1994. Entered into force September 9, 1994.” In this agreement, Cuba agrees to help dissuade migration using “mainly persuasive” methods, and both governments will work to prevent smuggling through “forcible diversions of aircraft and vessels.”34

Signed an “Agreement concerning cooperation to suppress illicit traffic” in 1998 but this does not explicitly mention migration.33

Signed an “Agreement to suppress illicit traffic by sea” in 1997 but this does not explicitly mention migration.32

US and Canada Smart Border Declaration (2001)31

Signed an “Agreement concerning maritime counter-drug operations” in 1992 but this does not explicitly mention migration.30

“Agreement concerning cooperation in maritime law enforcement. Signed at Nassau June 29, 2004. Entered into force June 29, 2004. tias 04-629.”29

Signed an “Agreement concerning maritime counter-drug operations” in 1995 but this does not explicitly mention migration.28

In 2017, a 2014 treaty came into force regarding “Mutual Legal Assistance in Criminal Matters.” Like the agreements in Thailand and Malaysia it does not explicitly address issues of human smuggling or trafficking, but it may leave the door open to this type of cooperation.27 Also a member of the Bali process and the Australia–Asia Program to Combat Trafficking in Persons but these are multilateral in nature and not a commitment to extraterritorial cooperation per se.

Agreement info and notes

27 Treaty on Mutual Legal Assistance in Criminal Matters between Australia and the Socialist Republic of Viet Nam (signed Sydney, 2 July 2014) [2017] Australian Treaty Series 2, accessed 26 January 2020, http://www.austlii.edu.au/au/other/dfat/treaties/ATS/2017/2.html. 28 “Treaties in Force: A List of Treaties and Other International Agreements of the United States in Force on January 1, 2019,” accessed 23 January 2020, https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/2019-TIF-Bilaterals-web-version.pdf. 29 “Agreement between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Commonwealth of The Bahamas Concerning Cooperation in Maritime Law Enforcement,” signed 29 June 2004, US Department of State. 30 “Treaties in Force, 2019.” 31 “US and Canada Smart Border Declaration,” signed 12 December 2001, LegislationOnLine, http://www.legislationline.org/documents/id/7543. 32 “Treaties in Force, 2019.” 33 Ibid. 34 “Cuba: Immigration. Joint Communique Signed at New York December 14, 1984 (tias 11057),” signed 14 December 1984, US Treaties and Other International Agreements.

Partner State

Destination State

Table A.1 (continued ) 188 Appendix

Dominican Republic El Salvador Grenada Guatemala

Haiti

Honduras

USA

USA USA USA

USA

USA

1981–94

2003

Signed an “Agreement concerning cooperation for the suppression of illicit maritime traffic in narcotic drugs and psychotropic substances, with implementing agreement” in 2000 but this does not explicitly mention migration.41 Also signed an “Asylum Cooperative Agreement” with the US in 2019 but this pertains to return of asylum seekers, not pre-emptive interdiction.42

Haiti signed the first extraterritorial interdiction agreement in the region in 1981, but in 1994 it revoked the agreement. There has been a partial agreement in place since 1997 but it does not explicitly mention migration (see chapter 3).

Signed an “Agreement concerning cooperation to suppress illicit traffic in narcotic drugs and psychotropic substances by sea and air” in 2003 but this does not explicitly mention migration.39 Also signed an “Asylum Cooperative Agreement” with the US in 2019 but this pertains to return of asylum seekers, not preemptive interdiction.40

Signed an “Agreement concerning maritime counter-drug operations” in 1995 but this does not explicitly mention migration.38

Signed an “Asylum Cooperative Agreement” with the US in 2019 but this pertains to return of asylum seekers, not preemptive interdiction.37

“Agreement concerning cooperation in maritime migration law enforcement. Signed at Washington May 20, 2003. Entered into force May 20, 2003. tias 03-520.” Despite being classified under “narcotics,” the agreement also explicitly specifies migration as a target.36

Signed an “Agreement concerning maritime counter-drug operations” in 1995 but this does not explicitly mention migration.35

35 “Treaties in Force, 2019.” 36 “Agreement Between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Dominican Republic Concerning Cooperation in Maritime Migration Law Enforcement,” signed 20 May 2003, US Department of State. 37 “Implementing Bilateral and Multilateral Asylum Cooperative Agreements Under the Immigration and Nationality Act” (National Archives: Federal Register, November 19, 2019), accessed 26 January 2019, https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2019/11/19/2019-25137/implementing-bilateral-and-multilateral-asylum-cooperativeagreements-under-the-immigration-and. 38 “Treaties in Force, 2019.” 39 Ibid. 40 “Implementing Bilateral and Multilateral Asylum Cooperative Agreements.” 41 “Treaties in Force, 2019.” 42 “Implementing Bilateral and Multilateral Asylum Cooperative Agreements.”

Dominica

USA

Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements 189

Mexico Nicaragua Panama

St Kitts and Nevis St Lucia St Vincent and the Grenadines Venezuela Albania

USA USA USA

USA USA USA USA Italy

1997

2002

Date of first agreement

In 1997, Italy and Albania signed a bilateral agreement leading to joint operations starting in 1998.50

Signed an “Agreement to suppress illicit traffic in narcotic drugs and psychotropic substances by sea” in 1991 with a protocol in 1997 but neither explicitly mentions migration.49

Signed an “Agreement concerning maritime counter-drug operations” in 1995 but this does not explicitly mention migration.48

Signed an “Agreement concerning maritime counter-drug operations” in 1996 but this does not explicitly mention migration.47

Signed an “Agreement concerning maritime counter-drug operations” in 1995 but this does not explicitly mention migration.46

Signed an “Arrangement for support and assistance from the United States Coast Guard for the National Maritime Service of the Ministry of Government and Justice” in 1991 with a protocol in 2002 but neither explicitly mentions migration.45

Signed an “Agreement concerning cooperation to suppress illicit traffic by sea and air” in 2001 but this does not explicitly mention migration.44

US–Mexico Border Partnership Action Plan (2002) (see chapter 4)

Signed an “Agreement concerning cooperation in suppressing illicit maritime drug trafficking” in 1997 but this does not explicitly mention migration.43

Agreement info and notes

“Treaties in Force, 2019.” Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Alessia di Pascale, “Migration Control at Sea: The Italian Case,” in Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges, ed. Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas (Leiden: brill, 2010), 294–5.

Jamaica

USA

43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Partner State

Destination State

Table A.1 (continued )

190 Appendix

Bosnia and Herzegovina

Cape Verde Croatia Egypt Gambia Guinea Guinea-Bissau Libya Mauritania

Italy

Spain Italy Italy Spain Spain Spain Italy Spain

2006

2003

2008

2008

2008

2000

2007

2009

Signed a 2006 joint patrols agreement with Spain, which enabled joint border control operations – even with Frontex (see chapter 7).59

Libya signed a number of agreements with Italy relating to migration but the July 2003 agreement is the first one enabling operational cooperation to prevent migration (see chapter 5).

Signed a 2008 agreement with Spain on joint patrols.58

Signed a 2008 agreement with Spain on joint patrols.57

Signed a 2008 agreement with Spain on joint patrols.56

Egypt signed a police cooperation agreement with Italy in 2000, which, in combination with agreements from 2002, allows for joint patrols.55

Croatia became an EU member state in 2013, though it is still not part of Schengen.

In 2007, Cape Verde signed an agreement with Spain on joint patrols. It has been involved with many missions since then and signed a Frontex agreement in 201154

Italy has a readmission agreement with the country as of 2004 and an implementing protocol to the EU’s 2007 readmission agreement as of 2017 but these only pertain to readmission.52 Regarding border control, the EU’s Frontex has initialized a status agreement with the country but as of January 2020 it has still not been signed.53 (Because it was not a bilateral agreement with Italy or Spain, it is not counted in this study despite being a very comparable arrangement.)

In June 2009, Algeria and Italy initiated joint patrols. Cooperation was strengthened through an agreement in July 2009.51

51 Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Unbalanced Reciprocities: Cooperation on Readmission in the Euro-Mediterranean Area” (Middle East Institute: Special Edition Viewpoints, 30 August 2010), 38–9, http://www.mei.edu/sites/default/files/publications/ReadmissionWeb.pdf. 52 Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Inventory of the Agreements Linked to Readmission,” Accessed 21 January 2020, https://ec.europa.eu/knowledge4policy/online-resource/ inventory-bilateral-agreements-linked-readmission_en. 53 “Border management: EU signs agreement with Montenegro on European Border and Coast Guard cooperation,” accessed 23 January 2020. http://www.consilium .europa.eu/fr/press/press-releases/2019/10/07/border-management-eu-signs-agreement-with-montenegro-on-european-border-and-coast-guard-cooperation/. 54 Paula Garcia Andrade, “Extraterritorial Strategies to Tackle Irregular Immigration by Sea: A Spanish Perspective,” in Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges, eds. Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas (Leiden: brill, 2010). 55 Cassarino, “Unbalanced Reciprocities: Cooperation on Readmission in the Euro-Mediterranean Area,” 37–8. 56 Andrade, “Extraterritorial Strategies.” 57 Ibid. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid.

Algeria

Italy

Extraterritorial Interdiction Agreements 191

Montenegro

Morocco Senegal Tunisia Turkey

Italy

Spain Spain Italy Italy

1998

2006

2003

Date of first agreement

Signed an agreement with the EU in 2016. 63 (Because it was not a bilateral agreement with Italy or Spain, it is not counted in this study despite being a very comparable arrangement.)

The 1998 agreement between Italy and Tunisia opened the door to joint patrol operations, though these did not effectively begin until two years later (see chapter 5).

Signed a 2006 joint patrols agreement with Spain that enabled joint border control operations – even with Frontex (see chapter 7).

Signed a 2003 joint patrols agreement with Spain62

The EU’s Frontex signed a status agreement with Montenegro on 7 October 2019 that “allows Frontex to assist Montenegro in border management … subject to Montenegro’s agreement.”60 (Because it was not a bilateral agreement with Italy or Spain, it is not counted in this study despite being a very comparable arrangement.) Italy has a mou, but it only relates to readmission with the country.61

Agreement info and notes

60 “Border management: EU signs agreement with Montenegro on European Border and Coast Guard cooperation.” Accessed 23 January 2020. http://www.consilium .europa.eu/fr/press/press-releases/2019/10/07/border-management-eu-signs-agreement-with-montenegro-on-european-border-and-coast-guard-cooperation/. 61 Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Inventory of the Agreements Linked to Readmission,” Accessed 21 January 2020, https://ec.europa.eu/knowledge4policy/online-resource/ inventory-bilateral-agreements-linked-readmission_en. 62 Andrade, “Extraterritorial Strategies.” 63 “Press release 144/16: EU-Turkey Statement,” European Council, published 18 March 2016, http://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/press/press-releases/2016/03/18/eu-turkeystatement/.

Partner State

Destination State

Table A.1 (continued )

192 Appendix

Life without Earlids

Notes

PREFACE

1 As quoted in Raphael Minder and Jim Yardley, “Risking Death to Reach Europe,” The Sydney Morning Herald, 5 October 2013, http://www.smh .com.au/world/risking-death-to-reach-europe-20131005-2v0dt.html. 2 This language has been adopted by ngos, activists, and the media. See, for example, the discussion of Morocco’s concerns in Lucile Barros et al., “L’immigration irrégulière subsaharienne à travers et ver le Maroc” (International Labour Organization, August 2002), 130–1, http://www .oit.org/wcmsp5/groups/public/—-ed_protect/—-protrav/—-migrant /documents/publication/wcms_201832.pdf. 3 Wendy Vogt, “Dirty Work, Dangerous Others: The Politics of Outsourced Immigration Enforcement in Mexico,” Migration and Society 1, no. aop (1 January 2020): 1–14, https://doi.org/10.3167/arms.2020 .111404. 4 “U.S.–Mexico Joint Declaration,” US Department of State, published 7 June 2019, https://www.state.gov/u-s-mexico-joint-declaration/. 5 As quoted in Alejandro Lazo and José de Córdoba, “Crowds Turn Out to Cheer Mexico’s President – And the Deal He Struck with Trump,” The Wall Street Journal, 8 June 2019, https://www.wsj.com/articles/crowdsturn-out-to-cheer-mexicos-presidentand-the-deal-he-struck-with-trump11560052214. 6 “Press release 144/16: eu–Turkey Statement,” European Council, published 18 March 2016, http://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/press/pressreleases/2016/03/18/eu-turkey-statement/. 7 Eszter Zalan, “Germany, Turkey Want nato Help to Police Coast,” eu Observer, 8 February 2016, https://euobserver.com/migration/132177.

193

194

Notes to pages 3–5

CHAPTER ONE

1 Or, in the language of the US Supreme Court, “That the government of the United States, through the action of the legislative department, can exclude aliens from its territory is a proposition which we do not think open to controversy. Jurisdiction over its own territory to that extent is an incident of every independent nation. It is a part of its independence. If it could not exclude aliens it would be to that extent subject to the control of another power.” United States Supreme Court, Chae Chan Ping v US, 130 US 581 (1889), 13 May 1889. 2 See, for example, the discussion of Egyptian agreements under Sadat in Gerasimos Tsourapas, The Politics of Migration in Modern Egypt: Strategies for Regime Survival in Autocracies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 146. 3 For more discussion law and origins of readmission agreements, see Nils Coleman, European Readmission Policy: Third Country Interests and Refugee Rights (Leiden: brill, 2009). 4 James F. Hollifield, Immigrants, Markets, and States: The Political Economy of Postwar Europe (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992). 5 As will be discussed in chapter 2, different countries’ courts have ruled differently on the issue of nonrefoulement obligations in extraterritorial arrangements. The US Supreme Court decided that refugee protection commitments did not apply on the high seas. United States Supreme Court, Sale v. Haitian Centers Council (No. 92-344), 21 June 1993. In contrast, the European Court of Human Rights decided that such commitments applied even if an eu member state was an engaged in push-back operations beyond its territorial limits. European Court of Human Rights, Case of Hirsi Jamaa and Others v. Italy (Application No. 27765/09): Judgement, 23 February 2012. 6 Robert D. Putnam, “Diplomacy and Domestic Politics: The Logic of Two-Level Games,” International Organization 42, no. 03 (1988): 427–60, https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020818300027697. 7 Putnam’s model has previously been applied to the question of migration policy development in migrant destination states by Marc Rosenblum, The Transnational Politics of U.S. Immigration Policy (San Diego: Center for Comparative Immigration Studies, University of California, 2004). 8 Putnam, “Diplomacy and Domestic Politics,” 441–52. Putnam’s labels for these categories are (1) “Level II preferences and coalitions,” (2) “Level II institutions,” and (3) “Level I negotiators’ strategies.”

Notes to pages 6–8

195

9 Early works to recognize this linkage include Christopher Rudolph, “Security and the Political Economy of International Migration,” American Political Science Review 97, no. 04 (2003): 603–20, https://doi.org /10.1017/S000305540300090X; Fiona B. Adamson, “Crossing Borders: International Migration and National Security,” International Security 31, no. 1 (2006): 165–99, https://doi.org/10.1162/isec.2006.31.1.165. 10 Kenneth Neal Waltz, Theory of International Politics (Long Grove: Waveland Press, 1979). 11 Ibid. 12 John J. Mearsheimer, The Tragedy of Great Power Politics (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2001). 13 Annette Baker Fox, The Power of Small States: Diplomacy in World War II (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959). 14 Immanuel Maurice Wallerstein, World-Systems Analysis: An Introduction (Durham: Duke University Press, 2004). 15 Bruce E. Moon, “The Foreign Policy of the Dependent State,” International Studies Quarterly 27, no. 3 (1 September 1983): 317, https://doi.org /10.2307/2600686. 16 For example, much of Guiraudon’s excellent work on destination states’ attempts to shift control “out” beyond their borders brackets the motivations of partners. Virginie Guiraudon, “De-Nationalizing Control: Analyzing State Responses to Constraints on Migration Control,” in Controlling a New Migration World, ed. Christian Joppke and Virginie Guiraudon (Abingon: Routledge, 2001), 31–64. Zolberg’s path-breaking work on “remote control” measures similarly focuses on destination state activities. Aristide R. Zolberg, “The Archaeology of ‘Remote Control,’” in Migration Control in the North Atlantic World: The Evolution of State Practices in Europe and the United States from the French Revolution to the Inter-War Period, ed. Andreas Fahrmeir, Olivier Faron, and Patrick Weil (New York: Berghahn Books, 2005). 17 See, for example, Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas, Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges (Leiden: brill, 2010); Maarten den Heijer, Europe and Extraterritorial Asylum (Oxford and Portland: Hart Publishing, 2012); Eleanor Taylor Nicholson, “Cutting Off the Flow: Extraterritorial Controls to Prevent Migration” (Berkeley: University of California, Berkeley Law School, July 2011), https://childhub.org /en/child-protection-online-library/nicholson-eleanor-taylor-2011cutting-flow-extraterritorial-controls. 18 Coleman highlights the top-down way in which the ec countries selected a “hit list” of countries with which they wanted to form community

196

19

20

21 22 23

24 25

26

Notes to pages 8–10

readmission agreements. But in detailed descriptions of the actual negotiations he also notes that many partner states were recalcitrant in negotiations and that they pushed back and even refused many European demands. Coleman, European Readmission Policy. Money and Lockhart also see readmission agreements as being driven by top-down European priorities. Though they argue that cooperation to prevent “criminality” in migration and broader migration control (which overlaps more closely with the agreements covered in this book) follow a different logic. Jeanette Money and Sarah P. Lockhart, The Architecture of International Cooperation on Migration (forthcoming), chap. 4; Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Informalising Readmission Agreements in the eu Neighbourhood,” The International Spectator 42, no. 2 (2007): 179–96, https://doi.org/10.1080/03932720701406365. Rahel Kunz, “Depoliticization through Partnership in the Field of Migration: The Mexico–US Case,” in Multilayered Migration Governance: The Promise of Partnership, ed. Rahel Kunz, Sandra Lavenex, and Marion Panizzon (London and New York: Routledge, 2011). Stefanie Kron, “Regional Responses to Transnational Migration in North and Central America,” (paper prepared for the “Annual Globalisation and Latin American Development (glad) Lecture,” 25 January 2011, Institute for the Study of the Americas (isa), School of Advanced Studies (sas), University of London, 2011), http://sas-space.sas.ac.uk /3098/1/Kron_Migration_2010.pdf. M. Geiger and A. Pécoud, The Politics of International Migration Management (London: Springer, 2010); Kunz, “Depoliticization.” These trends will be discussed in greater detail in chapter 2. Sara Everinghm, “East Timor Slams Door on Refugee Centre,” abc News, 7 April 2011, http://www.abc.net.au/news/2011-04-06/east-timorslams-door-on-refugee-centre/2625700; “Timor-Leste and the ‘Processing Center’: All Process, No Solution,” The Economist, 30 March 2011, http://www.economist.com/blogs/banyan/2011/03/timor-leste_and _processing_centre. Robert Owen Keohane and Joseph S. Nye, Power and Interdependence (London: Longman, 1977). Ibid. See also Helen Milner, “The Assumption of Anarchy in International Relations Theory: A Critique,” Review of International Studies 17, no. 1 (1 January 1991): 82. Emanuela Paoletti, “Migration and Foreign Policy: The Case of Libya,” The Journal of North African Studies 16, no. 2 (2011): 13, https://doi.org /10.1080/13629387.2011.532588.

Notes to pages 10–12

197

27 Gerasimos Tsourapas, “Labor Migrants as Political Leverage: Migration Interdependence and Coercion in the Mediterranean,” International Studies Quarterly 62, no. 2 (1 June 2018): 383–95, https://doi.org /10.1093/isq/sqx088. 28 Kelly M. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration: Forced Displacement, Coercion, and Foreign Policy (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010). 29 Joseph M. Colomer, “Exit, Voice, and Hostility in Cuba,” International Migration Review 34, no. 2 (1 July 2000): 423–42, https://doi.org /10.2307/2675908. 30 Marc R. Rosenblum, “Moving Beyond the Policy of No Policy: Emigration from Mexico and Central America,” Latin American Politics and Society 46, no. 4 (2004): 91–125, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1548-2456.2004 .tb00294.x. 31 Gregory White, Climate Change and Migration: Security and Borders in a Warming World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). 32 Schelling introduced game theoretic principals to international conflict situations, highlighting the complex ways in which states leverage both military and nonmilitary assets in pursuit of their international objectives. Thomas C. Schelling, The Strategy of Conflict (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, 1960). Neoliberal institutionalist scholars have explored how dilemmas of common interests (modelled, for example, by prisoners’ dilemmas, collective action failures, or free-riding problems) or dilemmas of common aversion might create conditions that are amenable to international cooperation. See discussion in Arthur A. Stein, “Coordination and Collaboration: Regimes in an Anarchic World,” International Organization 36, no. 02 (1982): 299–324, https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020818300018968. 33 Randall Hansen, Jobst Koehler, and Jeanette Money, “Introduction: Incentivizing Cooperation,” in Migration, Nation States, and International Cooperation, ed. Randall Hansen, Jobst Koehler, and Jeanette Money (New York: Routledge, 2011). 34 Money and Lockhart, The Architecture of International Cooperation. 35 Paulette Lloyd and Beth A. Simmons, “Framing for a New Transnational Legal Order: The Case of Human Trafficking,” in Transnational Legal Orders, ed. Terence Halliday and Gregory Shaffer (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 12. 36 Rey Koslowski, Global Mobility Regimes (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), chaps. 1 and 3. 37 Kron, “Regional Responses,” 16. 38 Alexandra Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States: Policies of

198

39

40

41

42

43

44 45

Notes to page 13

Emigration Since 1848 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Natasha Nefertiti Iskander, Creative State: Forty Years of Migration and Development Policy in Morocco and Mexico (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010); Laurie Brand, Citizens Abroad Emigration and the State in the Middle East and North Africa (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006); David FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants: How Mexico Manages Its Migration (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009); E. Østergaard-Nielsen, International Migration and Sending Countries: Perceptions, Policies and Transnational Relations (London: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 2003). This model is based on Hirschman’s theory of “exit, voice, or loyalty” in firms. Albert O. Hirschman, Exit, Voice and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms, Organizations, and States (Cambridge, ma: Harvard University Press, 1977). It was later applied more explicitly to emigration and states. Albert O. Hirschman, “Exit, Voice, and the State,” World Politics 31, no. 1 (1 October 1978): 90–107, https://doi.org/10.2307/2009968. It has also been applied to case studies of Soviet regimes. Colomer, “Exit, Voice, and Hostility in Cuba.” Douglas S. Massey et al., Worlds in Motion: Understanding International Migration at the End of the Millenium (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999), chap. 2. These state-level economic incentives feature centrally in most accounts of sending state behaviour, including Østergaard-Nielsen, International Migration; Nancy L. Green and François Weil, Citizenship and Those Who Leave: The Politics of Emigration and Expatriation (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2007); Rosenblum, The Transnational Politics of U.S. Immigration Policy. Sassen looks further at the gendered impacts of these processes. Saskia Sassen, “Global Migrations and Economic Need,” in Citizenship, Migration, and Human Needs, ed. Rogers Smith (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011). The World Bank, Global Economic Prospects 2006: Economic Implications of Remittances and Migration (Washington, dc: World Bank Publications, 2006). Emmanuelle Bouilly, “Senegalese Mothers ‘Fight Clandestine Migration’: An Intersectional Perspective on Activism and Apathy among Parents and Spouses Left Behind,” Review of African Political Economy 43, no. 149 (2 July 2016): 416–35, https://doi.org/10.1080/03056244.2016.1217839. Østergaard-Nielsen, International Migration, 10–11. Franck Düvell, “Irregular Migration,” in Global Migration Governance, ed. Alexander Betts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 81.

Notes to pages 13–16

199

46 Kamal Sadiq, “A Global Documentary Regime? Building State Capacity in the Developing World,” in Global Mobility Regimes, ed. Rey Koslowski (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). 47 Ibid. 48 Vidyamali Samarasinghe, “Confronting Globalization in Anti-Trafficking Strategies in Asia,” Brown Journal of World Affairs 10 (Summer/Fall 2003): 100. 49 Kron, “Regional Responses,” 16. 50 See especially the case study discussions in Brand, Citizens Abroad. 51 Østergaard-Nielsen, International Migration, 11. 52 Kelsey P. Norman, “Co-Ethnicity, Security and Host Government Engagement: Egypt as a Non-Traditional Receiver of Migrants and Refugees,” Refugee Review: Re-Conceptualizing Refugees and Forced Migration in the 21st Century 2, no. 1 (June 2015): 78. 53 Ann Kimball, “The Transit State: A Comparative Analysis of Mexican and Moroccan Immigration Policies” (San Diego: The Center for Comparative Immigration Studies, University of California, June 2007), http://ccis.ucsd.edu/wp-content/uploads/WP_150.pdf. See also the discussion of Moroccan migration politics in White, Climate Change and Migration. 54 Putnam, “Diplomacy and Domestic Politics,” 449. 55 Michael Coppedge et al., “Conceptualizing and Measuring Democracy: A New Approach,” Perspectives on Politics 9, no. 2 (June 2011): 248, https://doi.org/10.1017/S1537592711000880. 56 Alan Siaroff, “Regime (Comparative Politics),” in International Encyclopedia of Political Science (Thousand Oaks, ca: sage Publications, 2011). 57 Robert A. Dahl, Democracy and Its Critics (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989). 58 Steven Levitsky and Lucan A. Way, Competitive Authoritarianism: Hybrid Regimes after the Cold War (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 6–7. 59 Johannes Gerschewski, “The Three Pillars of Stability: Legitimation, Repression, and Co-Optation in Autocratic Regimes,” Democratization 20, no. 1 (1 January 2013): 13–38, https://doi.org/10.1080/13510347 .2013.738860. 60 Marlies Glasius, “Extraterritorial Authoritarian Practices: A Framework,” Globalizations 15, no. 2 (23 February 2018): 179–97, https://doi.org/10 .1080/14747731.2017.1403781. 61 Monty G. Marshall, Ted Robert Gurr, and Keith Jaggers, “Polity iv Project” (Vienna: Center for Systemic Peace and Societal-Systems

200

62

63

64 65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

Notes to pages 16–18

Research Inc, 2011), http://www.systemicpeace.org/inscr /p4manualv2010.pdf. “Freedom in the World,” Freedom House, accessed 21 April 2014, http://www.freedomhouse.org/report-types/freedom-world# .U1VWr1cvmHM. Bruce Bueno de Mesquita and Alastair Smith, “Foreign Aid and Policy Concessions,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 51, no. 2 (1 April 2007): 251–84, https://doi.org/10.1177/0022002706297696. Ibid. Brian Lai and Daniel S. Morey, “Impact of Regime Type on the Influence of U.S. Foreign Aid,” Foreign Policy Analysis 2, no. 4 (1 October 2006): 385–404, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1743-8594.2006.00037.x. Ana Carolina Garriga, “Regime Type and Bilateral Treaty Formalization Do Too Many Cooks Spoil the Soup?,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 53, no. 5 (1 October 2009): 698–726, https://doi.org/10.1177 /0022002709341403. Michael K. Miller and Margaret E. Peters, “Restraining the Huddled Masses: Migration Policy and Autocratic Survival,” British Journal of Political Science (March 2018): 1–31, https://doi.org/10.1017/S0007123417000680. Maria Koinova, “Diasporas and Democratization in the Post-Communist World,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies 42, no. 1 (1 March 2009): 41–64, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.postcomstud.2009.02.001. Nikola Mirilovic, “Regime Type and Diaspora Politics: A Dyadic Approach,” Foreign Policy Analysis 14, no. 3 (1 July 2018): 346–66, https://doi.org/10.1093/fpa/orw038. See Tsourapas’s discussion of how Sadat in Egypt used emigration policy not just for development or political goals but also to export revolutionary values and deliver aid. Gerasimos Tsourapas, “Authoritarian Emigration States: Soft Power and Cross-Border Mobility in the Middle East,” International Political Science Review 39, no. 3 (1 June 2018): 400–16, https://doi.org/10.1177/0192512118759902. Kurt Weyland, “Autocratic Diffusion and Cooperation: The Impact of Interests vs. Ideology,” Democratization 24, no. 7 (10 November 2017): 1235–52, https://doi.org/10.1080/13510347.2017.1307823. G. John Ikenberry, “Conclusion: An Institutional Approach to American Foreign Economic Policy,” International Organization 42, no. 1 (1988): 219–43; Thomas Risse-Kappen, “Public Opinion, Domestic Structure, and Foreign Policy in Liberal Democracies,” World Politics 43, no. 04 (July 1991): 479–512, https://doi.org/10.2307/2010534.

Notes to pages 18–20

201

73 Peter J. Katzenstein, “International Relations and Domestic Structures: Foreign Economic Policies of Advanced Industrial States,” International Organization 30, no. 1 (1976): 1–45. 74 Ikenberry, “Conclusion,” 227. 75 See, for example, the operationalization of national material capabilities by cow, as described in J. David Singer, “Reconstructing the Correlates of War Dataset on Material Capabilities of States, 1816–1985,” International Interactions 14, no. 2 (1 May 1988): 115–32, https://doi.org/10.1080 /03050628808434695. 76 The closest income differential is between Italy and Libya. But even here we see that, in terms of gni per capita, Italy controlled three to four times the wealth of its counterpart prior to the 2011 turmoil (with the gap widening since then) – and this does not even consider the added weight of the eu standing behind Italy (based on data from the World Bank Databank). 77 Risse-Kappen, “Public Opinion,” 484–5. 78 Jordon Hanson and Rachel Sigman, “Leviathan’s Latent Dimensions: Measuring State Capacity for Comparative Political Research,” August 2011 (last revised August 2015), https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers .cfm?abstract_id=1899933. 79 Charles Tilly, Coercion, Capital and European States: ad 990–1992 (Hoboken: Wiley, 1993). 80 Douglass Cecil North, Structure and Change in Economic History (New York: Norton, 1981). 81 Max Weber, The Vocation Lectures, ed. David S. Owen and Tracy B. Strong (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 2004). 82 Mohammed Ayoob, The Third World Security Predicament: State Making, Regional Conflict, and the International System (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1995); Steven R. David, “Explaining Third World Alignment,” World Politics 43, no. 2 (1 January 1991): 233–56, https://doi.org /10.2307/2010472. 83 Mohammed Ayoob, “Review: The Security Problematic of the Third World,” World Politics 43, no. 2 (1 January 1991): 257–83, https://doi.org /10.2307/2010473. 84 Azar and Moon describe these capacities as the “software” of the state, in contrast to state “hardware” of the state’s physical capacities. Edward E. Azar and Chung-in Moon, “Legitimacy, Integration, and Policy Capacity: The ‘Software’ Side of Third World National Security,” in National Security in the Third World: The Management of Internal and External Threats, ed. Edward E. Azar and Chung-in Moon (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar, 1988), 77–101.

202

Notes to pages 20–8

85 David, “Explaining Third World Alignment.” 86 Monty G. Marshall and Benjamin R. Cole, “Global Report 2014: Conflict, Governance, and State Fragility” (Center for Systemic Peace, 2014), 21, http://www.systemicpeace.org/vlibrary/GlobalReport2014.pdf. 87 Gerschewski, “The Three Pillars of Stability.” 88 Michael Mastanduno, David A. Lake, and G. John Ikenberry, “Toward a Realist Theory of State Action,” International Studies Quarterly 33, no. 4 (1989): 457–74, https://doi.org/10.2307/2600522. 89 Weyland, “Autocratic Diffusion and Cooperation.” 90 Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration. 91 Hirschman, “Exit, Voice, and the State”; Colomer, “Exit, Voice, and Hostility in Cuba.” 92 Nikola Mirilovic, “Regime Type, International Migration, and the Politics of Dual Citizenship Toleration,” International Political Science Review 36, no. 5 (1 November 2015): 510–25, https://doi.org/10.1177/0192512 114535451; Miller and Peters, “Restraining the Huddled Masses”; Koinova, “Diasporas and Democratization.” 93 Edward D. Mansfield and Jack Snyder, Electing to Fight: Why Emerging Democracies Go to War (Cambridge: mit Press, 2007). 94 Jack L. Snyder, From Voting to Violence: Democratization and Nationalist Conflict (New York City: Norton, 2000). 95 Mirilovic, “Regime Type and Diaspora Politics.” 96 Since the early 1980s, Japanese net migration rates have been very low and often even negative, peaking at about 350,000 in 2012. “Net migration – Japan,” World Bank, https://data.worldbank.org/indicator /SM.POP.NETM?locations=JP. 97 Data in the figure are drawn from the World Bank Databank and show net migration rates. 98 See, for example, Ryan and Mitsilegas, Extraterritorial Immigration Control; Maarten den Heijer, “Europe and Extraterritorial Asylum” (Doctoral Thesis, Leiden University, 7 April 2011), 224–5, https://openaccess .leidenuniv.nl/handle/1887/16699; Thomas Gammeltoft-Hansen and James C. Hathaway, “Non-Refoulement in a World of Cooperative Deterrence,” Columbia Journal of Transnational Law 53 (2014): 235. 99 Minimum distance data were drawn from Nils B. Weidmann, Doreen Kuse, and Kristian Skrede Gleditsch, “The Geography of the International System: The CShapes Dataset,” International Interactions 36, no. 1 (26 February 2010): 86–106, https://doi.org/10.1080/030506209 03554614.

Notes to pages 31–40

203

100 “Personal Remittances, Received (% of gdp),” World Bank Databank, accessed 18 April 2013, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator /NY.gdp.PCAP.KD. 101 Marshall, Gurr, and Jaggers, “Polity iv Project.” 102 Monty G. Marshall and Benjamin R. Cole, “State Fragility Index and Matrix 2012” (inscr Data Page, 2012), http://www.systemicpeace.org /inscr/SFImatrix2012c.pdf. 103 Monty G. Marshall and Keith Jaggers, “Polity iv Project: Political Regime Characteristics and Transitions, 1800-2006 (Dataset Users’ Manual)” (Vienna: Center for Systemic Peace, 2007), 16, http://home.bi .no/a0110709/PolityIV_manual.pdf. 104 ((original score)/(maximum score))*100 105 Robert Owen Keohane, After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discord in the World Political Economy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), 52–4. 106 Putnam, “Diplomacy and Domestic Politics.” CHAPTER T WO

1 Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism (Orlando: Harvest Books, 1976), 278. 2 “Treaties in Force: A List of Treaties and Other International Agreements of the United States in Force on January 1, 2019,” Accessed 23 January 2020, https://www.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/2019TIF-Bilaterals-web-version.pdf. 3 “Panama (02-205.1) – Supplementary arrangement to the arrangement of March 18, 1991 for support and assistance from the United States Coast Guard for the National Maritime Service of the Ministry of Government and Justice.” Signed at Panama 5 February 2002. tias 02205.1, accessed 23 January 2020, https://www.state.gov/02-205-1, (Art 2(b)). 4 Turkey promised to expand its capacity for surveillance and interception of irregular migrants, and the parties agreed to a “one in, one out” returns scheme: the eu would return anyone who arrived illegally in Greece in exchange for legally resettling someone else. “Press Release 144/16 of the Council of the eu: eu–Turkey Statement” (European Council/Council of the European Union, 18 March 2016), 16, http://www.consilium.europa.eu/en/press/press-releases/2016/03/18-euturkey-statement/.

204

Notes to pages 41–3

5 Susan Kneebone, “Controlling Migration by Sea: The Australian Case,” in Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges, ed. Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas (Leiden: brill, 2010); Daniel Ghezelbash, Refuge Lost: Asylum Law in an Interdependent World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), chaps. 4 and 5. 6 Virginie Guiraudon, “The 2015 Refugee Crisis Was Not a Turning Point: Explaining Policy Inertia in eu Border Control,” European Political Science 17, no. 1 (March 2018): 151–60, https://doi.org/10.1057/s41304-017-0123-x. 7 Ghezelbash, Refuge Lost, chapter 7. 8 Aristide R. Zolberg, “The Exit Revolution,” in Citizenship and Those Who Leave, ed. Nancy L. Green and Francois Weil (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2007). 9 Torpey traces them back to the French postrevolutionary period, when the population of France was fearful of foreigners and foreign invasion but found it challenging to keep out unwanted populations: “One way to get around the problem of foreign undesirables entering the country with documents issued by foreign rather than French authorities in the traveller’s country of origin would [be to] issue passports to those wishing to come to France.” John C. Torpey, The Invention of the Passport: Surveillance, Citizenship, and the State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 53. 10 “Visa Files, July 1, 1924 – March 31, 1944” (US Department of Homeland Security, 27 September 2013), http://www.uscis.gov/history-andgenealogy/genealogy/visa-files-july-1-1924-march-31-1944. 11 Franck Düvell, “Irregular Migration,” in Global Migration Governance, ed. Alexander Betts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). 12 The US imposed carrier sanctions in 1902, and the Chicago Convention on International Civil Aviation in 1944 made them part of international law. Tilman Rodenhäuser, “Another Brick in the Wall: Carrier Sanctions and the Privatization of Immigration Control,” International Journal of Refugee Law 26, no. 2 (2014): 226. 13 Alan Dowty, Closed Borders: The Contemporary Assault on Freedom of Movement (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989). 14 Article 13(2) of the declaration states that “Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.” United Nations, “The Universal Declaration of Human Rights,” 1948, http://www.un.org/en/universal-declaration-human-rights/. 15 Vladimir N. Pregelj, “The Jackson-Vanik Amendment: A Survey” (Congressional Research Service, 1 August 2005), http://www.fas.org/sgp/crs /row/98-545.pdf.

Notes to pages 43–5

205

16 unhcr, “Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees,” 1951 and 1967, sec. Introductory Note, http://www.unhcr.org/3b66 c2aa10.html. 17 Rene Bruin and Kees Wouters, “Terrorism and the Non-Derogability of Non-Refoulement,” International Journal of Refugee Law 15, no. 1 (1 January 2003): 5–29, https://doi.org/10.1093/ijrl/15.1.5; Jean Allain, “The Jus Cogens Nature of Non-Refoulement,” International Journal of Refugee Law 13, no. 4 (1 October 2001): 533–58, https://doi.org/10.1093/ijrl /13.4.533. 18 Joseph M. Colomer, “Exit, Voice, and Hostility in Cuba,” International Migration Review 34, no. 2 (1 July 2000): 423–42, https://doi.org/10.2307/2675908. See also the discussion of the US’s “open arms” acceptance of Cubans fleeing Castro’s Cuba, and Hungarians fleeing a failed 1957 uprising. Felix Roberto Masud-Piloto, From Welcomed Exiles to Illegal Immigrants: Cuban Migration to the U.S., 1959–1995 (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1996). 19 Others have similarly identified this as a moment of policy innovation. Stephen H. Legomsky, “The USA and the Caribbean Interdiction Program,” International Journal of Refugee Law 18, no. 3–4 (2006): 677–95, https://doi.org/10.1093/ijrl/eel024; Douglas Guilfoyle, Shipping Interdiction and the Law of the Sea (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009); Niels Frenzen, “US Migrant Interdiction Practices,” in Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges, ed. Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas (Leiden: brill, 2010); Guy S. Goodwin-Gill, “The Right to Seek Asylum: Interception at Sea and the Principle of NonRefoulement Opinion,” International Journal of Refugee Law 23 (2011): 443–57; Thomas Gammeltoft-Hansen and James C. Hathaway, “NonRefoulement in a World of Cooperative Deterrence,” Columbia Journal of Transnational Law 53 (2014). 20 Katherine H. Tennis, “Offshoring the Border: The 1981 United States–Haiti Agreement and the Origins of Extraterritorial Maritime Interdiction,” Journal of Refugee Studies (2019), https://doi.org/10.1093/jrs /fez005. 21 US Border Patrol, “United States Border Patrol: Southwest Border Sectors,” 2018, https://www.cbp.gov/sites/default/files/assets/documents/2019-Mar/bpsouthwest-border-sector-apps-fy1960-fy2018.pdf; US Border Patrol, “United States Border Patrol: Nationwide Illegal Alien Apprehensions Fiscal Years 1925 – 2018,” 2018, https://www.cbp.gov/sites/default/files /assets/documents/2019-Mar/bp-total-apps-fy1925-fy2018.pdf. 22 US Border Patrol, “United States Border Patrol: Border Patrol Agent

206

23

24 25 26 27 28

29

30

31

32

33

Notes to pages 45–8

Nationwide Staffing by Fiscal Year,” 2018, https://www.cbp.gov/sites /default/files/assets/documents/2019-Mar/Staffing%20FY1992FY2018.pdf. These data were originally retrieved from United States Coast Guard, “Alien Migrant Interdiction: Total Interdictions Fiscal Year 1982 to Present,” 31 December 2014, http://www.uscg.mil/hq/cg5/cg531/amio /FlowStats/FY.asp. Masud-Piloto, From Welcomed Exiles to Illegal Immigrants, chap. 1. Castro claimed the country lost 50 per cent of its doctors and teachers to the US in the two years following the revolution. Ibid., 33–4. Dwight D. Eisenhower, 18 January 1961, as quoted in ibid., 32. Ibid., 57. The mou provided that (1) The Government of Cuba would permit departure to the US for Cubans who wanted to leave, (2) Cubans who were immediate relatives of American citizens would get first priority to depart, (3) The US would provide air transportation, (4) This air transportation would be sufficient to allow 3–4,000 people per month to leave. But Cuba still prevented exit for men of military age (fourteen to twenty-seven). Ibid., 61–2. Juan M. Clark, Jose I. Lasaga, and Rose S. Reque, “The 1980 Mariel Exodus: An Assessment and Prospect” (Washington, dc: Council for InterAmerican Security, 1981), 4, folder “Immigration and Refugees (general),” box #11, Hodsoll, Francis, Series 1: Subject File, Ronald Reagan Library. “Bill Summary and Status 96th Congress (1979–1980) S. 643, Refugee Act of 1979, All Information,” The Library of Congress: thomas, n.d., accessed 18 July 2014. David Hiller, “Memorandum to Members of the Task Force from David Hiller, Special Assistant to the Attorney General,” 24 March 1981, 8, folder “Immigration and Refugee (task force) 6,” box #12, Hodsoll, Francis Series 1: Subject File, Ronald Reagan Library. Office of Legal Counsel, “Proposed Interdiction of Haitian Flag Vessels,” in Opinions of the Office of Legal Counsel of the United States Department of Justice, Consisting of Selected Memorandum Opinions Advising the President of the United State, the Attorney General, and Other Executive Officers of the Federal Government in Relation to Their Official Duties (1981), ed. Margaret Colgate Love, vol. 5 (Washington, dc, 1983). Larry L. Simms, “Memorandum for the Associate Attorney General Regarding Powers Available in the Event of a Cuban Boatlift” (Office of Legal Counsel, 2 July 1981), Luttig, Michael Files, oa 10020 (Box 2), File

Notes to pages 49–51

34 35

36 37

38

39 40

41

42

43

44

45

46

207

“Interdiction of Haitian Vessels (1 of 4),” Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Simms, “Memorandum for the Associate Attorney General,” emphasis added. For example, Hauser, “Memorandum from Richard A. Hauser to Fred F. Fielding Regarding Interdiction of Haitian vessels”; Luttig, “Memorandum from J. Michael Luttig to Fred F. Fielding Regarding Interdiction of Haitian vessels.” Office of Legal Counsel, “Proposed Interdiction of Haitian Flag Vessels.” United States Department of State, “Haiti: Migrants – Interdiction. Agreements Effected by Exchange of Notes Signed at Port-Au-Prince September 23, 1981; Entered into Force September 23, 1981,” in United States Treaties and Other International Agreements, vol. 33, part 4, 1981. Ronald Reagan, “Executive Order 12324–Interdiction of Illegal Aliens” (National Archives, 29 September 1981), accessed 21 January 2020, https://www.archives.gov/federal-register/codification/executive-order /12324.html. Tennis, “Offshoring the Border.” “Cuba-United States: Joint Statement on Normalization of Migration, Building on the Agreement of September 9, 1994,” International Legal Materials 35, no. 2 (2 May 1995): 327–30. United States Department of State, “Smart Border: 22 Point Agreement: U.S. – Mexico Border Partnership Action Plan,” 21 March 2002, http://2001-2009.state.gov/p/wha/rls/fs/8909.htm. “US–Canada Smart Border/30 Point Action Plan Update,” US Department of State, 6 December 2002, http://20012009.state.gov/p/wha/rls/fs/18128.htm. “Agreement Between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Dominican Republic Concerning Cooperation in Maritime Migration Law Enforcement,” US Department of State, 20 May 2003. “Agreement between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Commonwealth of The Bahamas Concerning Cooperation in Maritime Law Enforcement,” US Department of State, 29 June 2004. Russell King and Julie Vullnetari, “Working Paper C5: Migration and Development in Albania” (Development Research Centre on Migration, Globalisation and Poverty, December 2003), http://www.migrationdrc .org/publications/working_papers/WP-C5.pdf. Kelly M. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration: Forced Displacement,

208

47

48

49 50

51 52 53 54 55

56

57 58

59 60 61 62

Notes to pages 51–3

Coercion, and Foreign Policy (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010), 314. “Albania – ‘Pellicano,’” Esercito, 2016, accessed 21 January 2019, http://www.esercito.difesa.it/en/Operations/international-operations/Pagine/Albania-Pellicano.aspx. King and Vullnetari, “Working Paper C5: Migration and Development in Albania”; Ted Perlmutter, “The Politics of Proximity: The Italian Response to the Albanian Crisis,” International Migration Review 32, no. 1 (1 April 1998): 203–22, https://doi.org/10.2307/2547566. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 322. Perlmutter, “The Politics of Proximity,” 207; Paul Lewis, “U.N. Backs Sending Troops To Restore Order in Albania,” The New York Times, 29 March 1997, http://www.nytimes.com/1997/03/29/world/un-backssending-troops-to-restore-order-in-albania.html. Lewis, “U.N. Backs Sending Troops To Restore Order in Albania.” United Nations Security Council, “Resolution 1101,” 1997. Perlmutter, “The Politics of Proximity,” 208–9. Fred Abrahams, Modern Albania: From Dictatorship to Democracy in Europe (New York: nyu Press, 2015), 86. Alessia di Pascale, “Migration Control at Sea: The Italian Case,” in Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges, ed. Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas (Leiden: brill, 2010), 292–6. Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Inventory of the Agreements Linked to Readmission,” Accessed 21 January 2020, https://ec.europa.eu/knowledge4policy /online-resource/inventory-bilateral-agreements-linked-readmission_en; di Pascale, “Migration Control at Sea,” 294–5. Bakhmin Fino, as quoted in Perlmutter, “The Politics of Proximity,” 208. Quoted in Philippe Ridet, “Des Milliers de Tunisiens Profitent de La Désorganisation Pour Émigrer Clandes-Tinement Vers l’Italie,” Le Monde, 15 February 2011. Emanuela Paoletti, The Migration of Power and North–South Inequalities: The Case of Italy and Libya (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 69. Ibid. For a good overview of these agreements, see ibid. Paolo Cuttitta, “Readmission in the Relations between Italy and North African Mediterranean Countries,” in Unbalanced Reciprocities: Cooperation on Readmission in the Euro-Mediterranean Area, ed. Jean-Pierre Cassarino (Washington, dc: Middle East Institute: Special Edition Viewpoints, 2010), http://www.mei.edu/sites/default/files/publications /ReadmissionWeb.pdf.

Notes to pages 53–6

209

63 di Pascale, “Migration Control at Sea,” 292. 64 Ibid, 284–5. 65 John Hooper, “Rome Seeks eu Help with Tunisian Influx,” The Guardian, 14 February 2011. 66 Paula Garcia Andrade, “Extraterritorial Strategies to Tackle Irregular Immigration by Sea: A Spanish Perspective,” in Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges, ed. Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas (Leiden: brill, 2010). 67 Cassarino, “Informalising Readmission Agreements in the eu Neighbourhood,” 190, n20. 68 Andrade, “Extraterritorial Strategies.” 69 For a full inventory of readmission agreements specifically, see Cassarino, “Inventory of the Agreements Linked to Readmission.” 70 “Net Migration. United Nations Population Division. World Population Prospects: 2017 Revision,” World Bank Data, accessed 31 August 2019, https://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SM.POP.NETM. 71 All data are drawn from Frontex Risk Analysis Network Quarterly Reports and were compiled by the author. These reports are available on the Frontex publications website: https://frontex.europa.eu /publications/. 72 Ruben Zaiotti, Cultures of Border Control: Schengen and the Evolution of European Frontiers (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 178. 73 Elizabeth Collett, “The European Union’s Stockholm Program: Less Ambition on Immigration and Asylum, But More Detailed Plans,” Migration Policy Institute, 12 January 2010, http://www.migration policy.org/article/european-unions-stockholm-program-less-ambitionimmigration-and-asylum-more-detailed-plans. 74 European Council, “Tampere European Council Presidency Conclusions,” 15 October 1999. 75 Gregory White, Climate Change and Migration: Security and Borders in a Warming World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).113. 76 “Presidency Conclusions Seville European Council 21 and 22 June 2002” (European Commission, 22 June 2002), Paragraph 33–5. 77 As will be discussed further in chapter 5, this council emphasized “the importance of developing an evaluation mechanism to monitor relations with third countries which do not cooperate with the eu in combatting illegal immigration.” Council of the European Union, “Thessaloniki European Council – 19 and 20 June 2003 – Presidency Conclusions,” 1 October 2003, 5. See also the discussion of the council in Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Migration and Border Management in the

210

78

79

80 81

82

83

84

85

86 87 88 89

90 91

Notes to pages 56–9

Euro-Mediterranean Area: Heading towards New Forms of Interconnectedness,” Mediterranean Yearbook, 2005, 1. Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “eu Mobility Partnerships: Expression of a New Compromise,” Migration Policy Institute, 15 September 2009, http://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/eu-mobility-partnershipsexpression-new-compromise. “Global Approach to Migration and Mobility,” European Commission: Migration and Home Affairs, accessed 24 July 2018, http://ec.europa.eu /dgs/home-affairs/what-we-do/policies/international-affairs/globalapproach-to-migration/index_en.htm. Cassarino, “eu Mobility Partnerships.” Philips, Janet. “Boat Arrivals and Boat ‘Turnbacks’ in Australia since 1976: A Quick Guide to the Statistics.” Parliament of Australia, 17 January 2017, https://www.aph.gov.au/About_Parliament/Parliamentary _Departments/Parliamentary_Library/pubs/rp/rp1617/Quick_Guides /BoatTurnbacks. United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, “Flight from Indochina,” in The State of the World’s Refugees 2000: Fifty Years of Humanitarian Action, 2000, 79, http://www.unhcr.org/3ebf9bad0.html. Though Hathaway argues that this was probably a bit too generous. James C. Hathaway, “Labelling the Boat People: The Failure of the Human Rights Mandate of the Comprehensive Plan of Action for Indochinese Refugees,” Human Rights Quarterly 15 (1993): 686–702. Katrina Stats, “Welcome to Australia? A Reappraisal of the Fraser Government’s Approach to Refugees, 1975–83,” Australian Journal of International Affairs 69, no. 1 (2 January 2015): 74–7, https://doi.org/10.1080 /10357718.2014.952707. Andreas Schloenhardt, “Australia and the Boat-People: 25 Years of Unauthorized Arrivals,” University of New South Wales Law Journal 23 (2000): 44. Stats, “Welcome to Australia?,” 79. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 301–2. Sten A. Bronée, “The History of the Comprehensive Plan of Action,” International Journal of Refugee Law 5 (1993): 536. Alexander Betts, “Comprehensive Plans of Action: Insights from cirefca and the Indochinese cpa” (unhcr: New Issues in Refugee Research, Working Paper No. 120, January 2006); Bronée, “The History of the Comprehensive Plan of Action.” Bronée, “The History of the Comprehensive Plan of Action,” 536, 540. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 312.

Notes to pages 60–2

211

92 “Country Reports on Human Rights Practices,” US State Department, 1991, 1033, https://archive.org/details/countryreportson1991unit. 93 “Country Reports on Human Rights Practices,” US State Department, 1989, 1016, https://archive.org/details/countryreportson1989unit. 94 Hathaway, “Labelling the Boat People,” 689. 95 Stats, “Welcome to Australia?,” 75. 96 Ibid., 79–80. 97 For a discussion of this incident, see Peter D. Fox, “International Asylum and Boat People: The Tampa Affair and Australia’s Pacific Solution,” Maryland Journal of International Law 25 (2010): 356. 98 Kneebone, “Controlling Migration by Sea”; Ghezelbash, Refuge Lost, chapters 4 and 5. 99 Savitri Taylor, “Australia’s Response to People-Smuggling,” Migration Action, December 2002. 100 Kneebone, “Controlling Migration by Sea”; Jennifer French and Jonathan Chew, eds., “Australian Practice in International Law 2003,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2003, 438; Australian Government, “Report of the Expert Panel on Asylum Seekers,” August 2012, http://artsonline.monash.edu.au/thebordercrossingobservatory/files/201 5/03/expert_panel_on_asylum_seekers_full_report.pdf. 101 Australian Government, “Report of the Expert Panel on Asylum Seekers.” 102 Christine Ratnasingham, Angela Macdonald, and Peter Scott, eds., “Australian Practice in International Law 2001,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2001, 371–2. 103 Australian Department of Immigration and Citizenship, “Inquiry into Australia’s Relationship with Timor Leste,” 2013. 104 Australian Government, “Report of the Expert Panel on Asylum Seekers,” 115. 105 Janet Philips, “The ‘Pacific Solution’ Revisited: A Statistical Guide to the Asylum Seeker Caseloads on Nauru and Manus Island” (Parliament of Australia, 4 September 2012). 106 Savitri Taylor, “The Impact of Australia–png Border Management Cooperation on Refugee Protection,” Local-Global: Identity, Security, Community (Special Issue: Beyond Border Control) 8 (2010): 76–99; also referenced in the Department of Immigration and Border Protection annual report from 2004. 107 Janet Philips, “A Comparison of Coalition and Labor Government Asylum Policies in Australia since 2001” (Parliament of Australia: Parliamentary Library Research Paper, 28 February 2014), 8; Taylor, “Australia’s Response to People-Smuggling.”

212

Notes to pages 62–4

108 “Report on Performance 2005–2006: Output 1.2 – Refugee and Humanitarian Entry and Stay,” Australian Government: Department of Immigration and Multicultural Affairs, 2006, http://www.immi.gov.au /about/reports/annual/2005-06/DIMA_AR/performance/Outcome_1 _2.html. 109 Patrick Dennien et al., eds., “Australian Practice in International Law 2006,” Australian Year Book of International Law, 2006, 462. 110 Reports are available at the Australian Government Department of Home Affairs website, https://www.border.gov.au/about/reportspublications/reports/annual. 111 Scott Morrison, minister for immigration and border protection, “Meeting Summary as Agreed between Australia and Indonesia” (Parliament of Australia, 1 November 2013), http://parlinfo.aph.gov.au /parlInfo/download/media/pressrel/2823997/upload_binary/2823997 .pdf;fileType=application%2Fpdf#search=%22media/pressrel /2823997%22. 112 Philips, “A Comparison,” 8. 113 Tim Leslie et al., “Operation Sovereign Borders: The First Six Months,” Australian Broadcasting Corporation, 26 March 2014, http://www.abc.net .au/news/interactives/operation-sovereign-borders-the-first-6-months/. 114 “Operation Sovereign Borders,” Australian Customs and Border Protection Service, accessed 22 February 2015, http://www.customs.gov.au /site/operation-sovereign-borders.asp. 115 Personal interview with immigration officials at the Australian embassy, Washington, dc, 24 February 2015. 116 unhcr, “Convention and Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees,” Article 33. 117 The following discussion draws from Gammeltoft-Hansen and Hathaway, “Non-Refoulement.” 118 James Frank Hollifield, Immigrants, Markets, and States: The Political Economy of Postwar Europe (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992); Rebecca Hamlin, “International Law and Administrative Insulation: A Comparison of Refugee Status Determination Regimes in the United States, Canada, and Australia,” Law & Social Inquiry 37, no. 4 (1 September 2012): 933–68, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1747-4469.2012 .01292.x. 119 Reagan, “Executive Order 12324-Interdiction of Illegal Aliens” Sec. 3. 120 George Bush, “Executive Order 12807: Interdiction of Illegal Aliens,” 24 May 1992 paragraph 2 and section 3. 121 United States Supreme Court, Sale v. Haitian Centers Council (No. 92-344).

Notes to pages 64–6

213

122 Plaintiff M70/2011 v Minister for Immigration and Citizenship; Plaintiff M106 of 2011 v Minister for Immigration and Citizenship [2011] HCA 32, High Court of Australia, 31 August 2011. 123 Philips, “A Comparison,” 5. 124 European Court of Human Rights, Case of Hirsi Jamaa and Others v. Italy (Application No. 27765/09): Judgement. 125 Violeta Moreno-Lax, “Hirsi Jamaa and Others v Italy or the Strasbourg Court versus Extraterritorial Migration Control?,” Human Rights Law Review 12, no. 3 (1 September 2012): 598, https://doi.org/10.1093/hrlr /ngs024. 126 Gammeltoft-Hansen and Hathaway, “Non-Refoulement.” 127 See, for example, M. Geiger and A. Pécoud, The Politics of International Migration Management (London: Springer, 2010); Rahel Kunz, “Depoliticization through Partnership in the Field of Migration: The Mexico–US Case,” in Multilayered Migration Governance: The Promise of Partnership, ed. Rahel Kunz, Sandra Lavenex, and Marion Panizzon (London and New York: Routledge, 2011); Stefanie Kron, “Regional Responses to Transnational Migration in North and Central America,” (paper prepared for the “Annual Globalisation and Latin American Development (glad) Lecture,” 25 January 2011, Institute for the Study of the Americas (isa), School of Advanced Studies (sas), University of London, 2011), http://sas-space.sas.ac.uk/3098/1/Kron_Migration _2010.pdf. 128 Anne T. Gallagher and Fiona David, The International Law of Migrant Smuggling (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014), chapter 1. 129 International Maritime Organization, “Enhancement of Safety of Life at Sea by the Prevention and Suppression of Unsafe Practices Associated with Alien Smuggling by Ships. Resolution A.773(18),” 4 November 1993. 130 UN General Assembly, “Prevention of the Smuggling of Aliens. A/RES /48/102,” 20 December 1993, (Preamble), http://www.un.org /documents/ga/res/48/a48r102.htm. 131 United Nations, “Convention on Transnational Organized Crime,” 2004. 132 See debate between Gallagher and Hathaway. James C. Hathaway, “The Human Rights Quagmire of ‘Human Trafficking,’” Virginia Journal of International Law 49, no. 1 (2008): 1–60; Anne T. Gallagher, “Human Rights and Human Trafficking: Quagmire or Firm Ground? A Response to James Hathaway,” Virginia Journal of International Law 49, no. 4 (2009), http://papers.ssrn.com.proxyau.wrlc.org/abstract=1409816.

214

Notes to pages 66–71

133 Gallagher and David, The International Law of Migrant Smuggling, 37. 134 Ibid., 36. 135 United Nations, “Protocol against the Smuggling of Migrants by Land, Sea and Air, Supplementing the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime,” 2000, Articles 10–14. 136 Ibid., Article 17. 137 These international legal developments are also discussed in Tennis, “Offshoring the Border.” CHAPTER THREE

1 “Aristide Blasts ‘Floating Berlin Wall,’” United Press International, 8 February 1994, http://www.upi.com/Archives/1994/02/08/Aristide-blastsfloating-Berlin-Wall/1223760683600/. 2 “Haïti: Constitution du 2 juin 1816.” (Digithèque mjp, 1816), http://mjp.univ-perp.fr/constit/ht1816.htm#Titre_III._Etat_politique _des_citoyens, Art. 44. 3 For those interested in more information on Haitian history and general migration politics, there are a number of interesting books from which to start. Information on the Duvalier regime can be found in Dubois (2012), Heinl et al. (2005), and Stepick (1992). For a discussion of Haitian migration negotiations extending into the Aristide era, see Greenhill (2010). General histories of the country written by Farmer (2006) and Girard (2010) provide useful (and politically divergent) perspectives. Laurent Dubois, Haiti: The Aftershocks of History (New York: Macmillan, 2012); Robert Debs Heinl, Nancy Gordon Heinl, and Michael Heinl, Written in Blood: The Story of the Haitian People, 1492–1995 (Lanham: University Press of America, 2005); Alex Stepick, “Unintended Consequences: Rejecting Haitian Boat People and Destabilizing Duvalier,” in Western Hemisphere Immigration and United States Foreign Policy, ed. Christopher Mitchell (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992), 126–55; Kelly M. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration: Forced Displacement, Coercion, and Foreign Policy (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010); Paul Farmer, The Uses of Haiti (Monroe: Common Courage Press, 2006); Philippe Girard, Haiti: The Tumultuous History – From Pearl of the Caribbean to Broken Nation (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010); Terry F. Buss, Haiti in the Balance: Why Foreign Aid Has Failed and What We Can Do about It (Washington, dc: Brookings Institution Press, 2009). 4 There were no data on either of the variables used to create the regime strength variables for Haiti dating back to 1981, so I impute the values

Notes to pages 72–4

5 6

7 8 9 10 11

12

13 14

15

215

using the country’s logged gdp per capita (from the World Bank) and social globalization scores (from the kof index) using a formula derived from historical cross-sectional data: Strength
Index=16.98125+ (7.271012*Loggdppc)+ (.3178145* SocialGlobalization). Together, these variables predict 71 per cent of the variation in the strength index in a dataset that includes all states internationally and covers the time period 1972–2014. “Agreement Concerning Cooperation to Suppress Illicit Maritime Drug Trafficking” (Treaties in Force as of 1 January 2012, 17 October 1997). The data in this figure are from the United States Coast Guard, “U.S. Coast Guard Maritime Interdictions,” 16 October 2012, accessed July 2014 (these data are no longer publicly available); Stepick, “Unintended Consequences.” Girard, Haiti, chapter 5. Ibid.; Elizabeth Abbott, Haiti: A Shattered Nation (New York and London: Overlook Duckworth, 2011). Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 636–7. Jean-Claude Duvalier, as quoted in Abbott, Haiti, 220. Sources for this historical overview include a personal interview with Mr Carol Joseph (former coordinator of onm and former national project manager at the iom) in Miami, fl, 13 December 2014; Girard, Haiti; “Haitian Immigration,” Schoenburg Center for Research in Black Culture, http://www.inmotionaame.org/print.cfm?migration =12&bhcp=1; Wooldy Edson Louidor, “Haiti-Migration: Zoom sur la récente vague migratoire haïtienne vers l’Amérique Latine,” AlterPress, 5 July 2012, http://www.alterpresse.org/spip.php?article13070# .VHigjMl5WRM. “Memorandum to Ms Derian and Mr Vaky. Subject: State Department Study Team on Haitian Returnees,” 19 June 1979, folder “Immigration (4),” box #1, Hodsoll, Francis, Series 1: Subject File, Ronald Reagan Library; Department of State: Office of the United States Coordinator for Refugee Affairs, “Country Reports on the World Refugee Situation,” August 1981, 102, folder “State Department, US: Country Reports on the World Refugee Situation,” box #16, Hodsoll, Francis, Series 1: Subject File, Ronald Reagan Library. “Memorandum to Ms Derian and Mr Vaky,” 12. See, for example, Gilburt Loescher and John Scanlan, “Human Rights, U.S. Foreign Policy, and Haitian Refugees,” Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs 26, no. 3 (1 August 1984): 313–56, https://doi.org/10.2307/165673. Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 634–5; Abbott, Haiti, 208–20.

216

16 17 18 19 20

21

22 23

24

25

26 27 28

29 30

31 32 33

Notes to pages 75–7

As qtd. in Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 630–1. Dubois, Haiti, 357. Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 635. Abbott, Haiti, 208. For a full discussion of the negotiations, see William M. LeoGrande and Peter Kornbluh, Back Channel to Cuba: The Hidden History of Negotiations Between Washington and Havana (Chapel Hill: unc Press Books, 2014), chapter 5. United States Department of State, “Haiti: Migrants – Interdiction. Agreements Effected by Exchange of Notes Signed at Port-Au-Prince September 23, 1981; Entered into Force September 23, 1981.” Ibid. Ronald Reagan, “Presidential Proclamation 4865: High Seas Interdiction of Illegal Aliens” (National Archives, 29 September 1981), http://www.archives.gov/federalregister/codification/proclamations/04865.html. See also Katherine H. Tennis, “Offshoring the Border: The 1981 United States–Haiti Agreement and the Origins of Extraterritorial Maritime Interdiction,” Journal of Refugee Studies (2019), https://doi.org/10.1093/jrs /fez005. David Hiller, “Issue Paper on Visaless Entrants, Appended to Memorandum to Members of the Task Force from David Hiller, Special Assistant to the Attorney General,” 24 March 1981, folder “Immigration and Refugee (task force) 6,” box #12, Hodsoll, Francis Series 1: Subject File, Ronald Reagan Library. Stepick, “Unintended Consequences,” 144. Jean-Claude Duvalier as quoted in Associated Press, “Baby Doc Pleads for Refugee Aid,” The Globe and Mail, 1 July 1981, Factiva. “Press Conference of the Honorable William French Smith, Attorney General of the United States with Members of the Press,” 30 July 1981, folder “Central America – Immigration,” Immigration (5), box #1, Hodsoll, Francis, Series 1: Subject File, Ronald Reagan Library. Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 647–8. United States Department of State, “Haiti: Migrants – Interdiction. Agreements Effected by Exchange of Notes Signed at Port-Au-Prince September 23, 1981; Entered into Force September 23, 1981.” Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 647–8. Stepick, “Unintended Consequences,” 147. usaid, “U.S. Overseas Loans and Grants: Obligations and Loan Authorizations,” 30 September 2014.

Notes to pages 77–84

34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56

57 58 59 60 61 62

217

Stepick, “Unintended Consequences,” 148. United States Department of State, “Haiti: Migrants – Interdiction.” Stepick, “Unintended Consequences,” 133, 145–7. Abbott, Haiti, 241. Gerschewski, “The Three Pillars of Stability.” Dubois, Haiti, 353. Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 638. Girard, Haiti, 107. Farmer, The Uses of Haiti, 94. Dubois, Haiti, 350. Hiller, “Issue Paper on Visaless Entrants,” 7. Albert O. Hirschman, “Exit, Voice, and the State,” World Politics 31, no. 1 (1 October 1978): 90–107, https://doi.org/10.2307/2009968. Michael S. Teitelbaum, “Immigration, Refugees, and Foreign Policy,” International Organization 38, no. 3 (1 July 1984): 440; Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 304. Numerous Documents in Ronald Reagan Presidential Library, 1980–88, folder “CO064 Haiti, 360000-399999, whorm Subject Files.” Abbott, Haiti, 236–7. Ibid. Charles Arthur and J. Michael Dash, eds., Libète: A Haiti Anthology (Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1999), 141. Girard, Haiti, 118. Girard, Haiti, 123; Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 696. For further discussion of Aristide’s rise to power, see Girard, Haiti, chapter 6. Further discussion of this period in Haitian history is provided in ibid., chapters 6–7. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 189. Christopher Mitchell, “U.S. Policy toward Haitian Boat People, 1972–93,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 534 (1 July 1994): 73. Sale v. Haitian Centers Council, Inc., 509 US 155 (Supreme Court 1993). Richard Boucher as quoted in Mitchell, “U.S. Policy toward Haitian Boat People, 1972–93,” 74. Bush, “Executive Order 12807: Interdiction of Illegal Aliens.” Ibid.,” sec. 3. Sale v. Haitian Centers Council, Inc., 509 US section Preamble. Elaine Sciolino, “Clinton Says US Will Continue Ban on Haitian Exodus,” The New York Times, 15 January 1993, sec. World,

218

63 64 65

66 67

68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76

77 78 79 80

Notes to pages 84–6

http://www.nytimes.com/1993/01/15/world/clinton-says-us-willcontinue-ban-on-haitian-exodus.html. Girard, Haiti, 143. Sciolino, “Clinton Says US Will Continue Ban on Haitian Exodus.” Bill Clinton, as quoted in Ruth Marcus, “Clinton Besieged about Policy Shifts,” The Washington Post, 15 January 1993, https://www.washington post.com/archive/politics/1993/01/15/clinton-besieged-about-policyshifts/f945acaf-4008-4831-a938-243e8b577cd8/?utm_term =.52cb6ff98ac0. Girard, Haiti, 132. Ibid., 143; Indeed, Aristide was so impressed with the diaspora’s political power that, upon his reinstatement as president, he created the Ministry of Haitians Living Abroad to continue to try to tap into their political and economic power. Personal interview with Alfred Pierre, coordinator of orrem and professor at Université de l’Etat d’Haïti (ueh), in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, 9 December 2014. Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 707–8. Sciolino, “Clinton Says US Will Continue Ban on Haitian Exodus.” Ibid. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 194–5; Sciolino, “Clinton Says US Will Continue Ban on Haitian Exodus.” “Accord de Governors Island” (United Nations Peacemaker, 3 July 1993), http://peacemaker.un.org/haiti-governors-island93. Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 712. Christopher Marquis, “Aristide Says He’ll End US Immigration Pact Move May Stop Automatic Repatriations,” Miami Herald, 6 April 1994. Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 712. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 201; Steven Greenhouse, “Aristide Condemns Clinton’s Haiti Policy as Racist,” The New York Times, 22 April 1994, sec. World, http://www.nytimes.com/1994/04/22/world /aristide-condemns-clinton-s-haiti-policy-as-racist.html. Christopher Marquis, “Aristide Move Undermines Legal Basis for Repatriation,” Miami Herald, 6 April 1994. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 201–5. Aristide, as quoted in Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 208. UN Security Council, “Resolution 940,” 31 July 1994. This provided “authorization to form a multinational force under unified command and control to restore the legitimately elected President and authorities of the Government of Haiti and extension of the mandate of the UN Mission in Haiti.”

Notes to pages 86–90

219

81 “Intervention in Haiti 1994–1995,” US Department of State, 31 October 2013, https://history.state.gov/milestones/1993-2000/haiti. 82 The agreement disappears from the records of the US Treaties in Force in 1994 and never reappears. United States Department of State, “Treaties in Force: A List of Treaties and Other International Agreements of the United States in Force on January 1, 2011,” 1 January 2011, http://www.state.gov/documents/organization/169274.pdf. 83 Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 699. 84 Girard, Haiti, 135. 85 A Haitian quoted in Paul Farmer, “The Significance of Haiti (1995),” in Libète: A Haiti Anthology, eds. Charles Arthur and J. Michael Dash (Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1999). 86 Paul Sidieu, a Haitian returnee, as quoted in Dan Coughlin, “Life Still Hard After Aristide’s Second Coming (1995),” in Arthur and Dash, Libète: A Haiti Anthology, 200. 87 “Agreement between the United States of America and the Republic of Haiti to Suppress Illicit Maritime Drug Traffic” (foia Request, 17 October 1997), Article 15. 88 Ibid., Article 1(a). 89 “United Nations Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances of 1988” (UN Office on Drugs and Crime, 1988), Article 3, Pars. 1 and 2, https://www.unodc.org/documents/commissions/CND/Int_Drug_Contr ol_Conventions/Ebook/The_International_Dr ug_Control_Conventions_E.pdf. 90 “Agreement between the United States of America and the Republic of Haiti to Suppress Illicit Maritime Drug Traffic,” Article 15. 91 Ibid., Article 24. 92 “Agreement Between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Dominican Republic Concerning Cooperation in Maritime Migration Law Enforcement,” US Department of State, 20 May 2003, http://www.state.gov/documents/organization /97040.pdf.; “Agreement between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Commonwealth of The Bahamas Concerning Cooperation in Maritime Law Enforcement,” US Department of State, 29 June 2004, http://www.state.gov/documents/organization/108940.pdf. 93 Buss, Haiti in the Balance, 75–77. 94 Girard, Haiti, 187. 95 Shelley Emling, “U.S. to Try Again to Jump Start Haiti Democracy; En

220

96 97

98

99 100 101 102 103

104 105 106 107 108

109 110 111

112

Notes to pages 90–3

Route to Caribbean Talks, Albright Hopes to Resolve a Political Stalemate That Has Allowed Corruption to Erode Gains,” The Atlanta Journal and Constitution, 3 April 1998. Michel Rolph Trouillot as quoted in Heinl, Heinl, and Heinl, Written in Blood, 723. “Madeleine Korbel Albright,” Office of the Historian, accessed 9 December 2016. https://history.state.gov/departmenthistory/travels /secretary/albright-madeleine-korbel. Associated Press, “Albright Tries to Mend Political Rift in Haiti,” Miami Herald, 18 October 1997, final edition; Associated Press, “Albright on Visit to Haiti,” The New York Times, 18 October 1997. “Albright in Haiti,” The Washington Post, 18 October 1997. See, for example, Associated Press, “Albright Tries to Mend Political Rift in Haiti”; Associated Press, “Albright on Visit to Haiti.” Buss, Haiti in the Balance. Girard, Haiti, 184. Bureau of International Narcotics and Law, “Drug Control Fact Sheet – Haiti,” US Department of State, 3 March 1998, http://www.state.gov /1997-2001-NOPDFS/global/narcotics_law/1997_narc_report/fs _haiti.html. Personal interview with former dod staffer, in Washington, dc, December 2015. Christopher Marquis, “Haiti Taxing the Patience of Its Friends,” The Miami Herald, 27 November 1997, final edition. Girard, Haiti, chapter 10. “Agreement Concerning Cooperation to Suppress Illicit Maritime Drug Trafficking.” David Gonzalez, “Western Hemisphere’s States Support Unblocking of Aid to Haiti,” The New York Times, 5 September 2002, sec. A, column 1, foreign desk; Nancy San Martin, “Millions in Aid Unlocked for Haiti,” Miami Herald, 5 September 2002, final edition. Gonzalez, “Western Hemisphere’s States Support Unblocking of Aid to Haiti.” San Martin, “Millions in Aid Unlocked for Haiti.” “minustah: United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti,” United Nations, accessed 8 January 2017, http://www.un.org/en/peacekeeping /missions/minustah/. “Agreement Between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Dominican Republic”; “Agreement

Notes to pages 94–7

221

between the Government of the United States of America and the Government of the Commonwealth of The Bahamas.” 113 Personal interview with Mr Carol Joseph (former coordinator of onm and former national project manager at the iom), in Miami, fl. 114 Personal interview with the chief of border management, minustah, in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. 115 “Une firme israélienne pour la gestion de nos frontières,” Le Nouvelliste, 29 October 2015. CHAPTER FOUR

1 Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto talking to US President Trump in a phone conversation that took place on 27 January 2017, as quoted in Greg Miller, Julie Vitkovskaya, and Reuben Fischer-Baum, “‘This Deal Will Make Me Look Terrible’: Full Transcripts of Trump’s Calls with Mexico and Australia,” Washington Post, accessed 14 July 2018, https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2017/politics/australia-mexico-transcripts/. 2 According to Migration Policy Institute: “Mexicans accounted for approximately 25 percent of immigrants in the United States, making them by far the largest foreign-born group. Indians and Chinese (including immigrants from Hong Kong but not Taiwan) were the next two largest groups, each comprising close to 6 percent” (Jie Zong, Jeanne Batalova, and Micayla Burrows, “Frequently Requested Statistics on Immigrants and Immigration in the United States,” migrationpolicy .org, 11 March 2019, https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/frequentlyrequested-statistics-immigrants-and-immigration-united-states). 3 Alexandra Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States: Policies of Emigration Since 1848 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 73. 4 Ibid. 5 David FitzGerald, “Inside the Sending State: The Politics of Mexican Emigration Control,” International Migration Review 40, no. 2 (2006): 259–93. 6 David FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants: How Mexico Manages Its Migration (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009), 42. 7 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, chapter 2. 8 See, for example, the discussion of 1954 border riots as described by, FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants, 1–2.

222

Notes to pages 97–101

9 Regime strength and democracy are measured as described in chapter 1. However, in the case of Mexico, the state fragility index is missing for 1990–94, so regime strength is estimated using only Polity’s durability score. The year 1994 is not shown, as this is the first year Polity’s democracy score jumps from 0 to 4 with the election of Zedillo, and so the durability score drops temporarily to zero without being balanced by the state fragility index, giving a false perception of a shock to regime strength when the primary shock was in fact to democracy. 10 For those looking for more background on Mexican–US migration politics, some particularly useful books from the Mexican perspective include Délano (2011), González-Murphy (2013), and Fitzgerald (2009). Rosenblum (2004) and Andreas (2000) have written very insightful accounts of the bilateral relationship. President Vicente Fox wrote his own biography (2007), providing a unique insight into his perspective on US–Mexican politics. Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States; Laura Valeria González-Murphy, Protecting Immigrant Rights in Mexico: Understanding the State–Civil Society Nexus (New York: Routledge, 2013); FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants; Marc Rosenblum, The Transnational Politics of U.S. Immigration Policy (San Diego: Center for Comparative Immigration Studies, University of California, 2004); Peter Andreas, Border Games: Policing the U.S.–Mexico Divide (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000); Vicente Fox, Revolution of Hope: The Life, Faith, and Dreams of a Mexican President (New York: Penguin, 2007). 11 The following discussion of Mexican politics under the pri and during the transitional period draws on a number of sources, including Emily Edmonds-Poli and David A. Shirk, Contemporary Mexican Politics (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2008); Claudio A. Holzner, Poverty of Democracy: The Institutional Roots of Political Participation in Mexico (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2010); Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States. 12 Marc R. Rosenblum, “Moving Beyond the Policy of No Policy: Emigration from Mexico and Central America,” Latin American Politics and Society 46, no. 4 (2004): 91–125, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1548-2456.2004 .tb00294.x. 13 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States. 14 FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants. 15 “Constitution of Mexico” (oas, 31 January 1917), Article 11, http://www.oas.org/juridico/mla/en/mex/en_mex-int-text-const.pdf. 16 FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants, 60–1. 17 Ibid.

Notes to pages 101–4

223

18 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, 31–2. 19 FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants, 6, 65. 20 Rosenblum, The Transnational Politics of U.S. Immigration Policy, 81–3; Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, 142–4. 21 Migration Policy Institute, “irca in Retrospect: Guidepost for Today’s Immigration Reform,” January 2014, http://www.migrationpolicy.org /sites/default/files/publications/Lessons-of-irca-FINALWEB.pdf. 22 Rosenblum, The Transnational Politics of U.S. Immigration Policy, 71. 23 Andrés Rozental, “Fox’s Foreign Policy Agenda: Global and Regional Priorities,” in Mexico Under Fox, ed. Luis Rubio and Susan Kaufman Purcell (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2004), 101. 24 Sandra Mantu and Elspeth Guild, Constructing and Imagining Labour Migration: Perspectives of Control from Five Continents (Abingdon: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd., 2013), 264. 25 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, chapter 4. More disaggregated data about the effects of irca on different types of communities in Mexico can be found in Elizabeth Fussell and Douglas S. Massey, “The Limits to Cumulative Causation: International Migration from Mexican Urban Areas,” Demography 41, no. 1 (1 February 2004): 151–71, https://doi.org/10.1353/dem.2004.0003. 26 FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants, 56–60. 27 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, 146. 28 Ibid., 73. 29 As quoted in Anthony DePalma, “Border Deaths Don’t Change Mexico’s View of Crossings,” The New York Times, 25 August 1998. 30 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, 159. 31 FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants, 60–3. 32 Ibid., 60. 33 Andreas, Border Games. 34 David Hiller, “Memorandum re Draft Option Papers, To Members of the Task Force on Immigration and Refugee Policy,” 1 April 1981, folder (4), box #10 “Immigration and Refugees,” Hodsoll, Francis Series 1: Subject File, Ronald Reagan Library. 35 Hiller, “Memorandum re Draft Option Papers.” 36 Ronald Reagan, “Remarks on the Departure of President Jose Lopez Portillo of Mexico,” The American Presidency Project, 9 June 1981, http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=43927. 37 After the 1981 meeting, none of the reports from the seven successive meetings between presidents so much as mentioned the issue of migration.

224

Notes to pages 104–7

38 FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants, 63. 39 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, chapter 4. 40 Gustavo A. Flores-Macías, “nafta’s Unfulfilled Immigration Expectations,” Peace Review 20, no. 4 (1 December 2008): 435–41, https://doi.org /10.1080/10402650802495023. 41 Fanny Lauby, “Broken Promises? nafta, Immigration, and ‘Shadow’ Regionalism,” IdeAs. Idées d’Amériques, no. 1 (1 September 2011), https://doi.org/10.4000/ideas.156; Flores-Macías, “nafta’s Unfulfilled Immigration Expectations.” 42 Tim Golden, “Mexico Is Now Acting to Protect Border Migrants from Robbery and Abuse,” The New York Times, 28 June 1992. 43 Edmonds-Poli and Shirk, Contemporary Mexican Politics, 303. 44 Bill Frelick. Running the Gauntlet: The Central American journey through Mexico (Washington, dc: US Committee for Refugees, 1991). As quoted in Ann Kimball, “The Transit State: A Comparative Analysis of Mexican and Moroccan Immigration Policies” (San Diego: The Center for Comparative Immigration Studies, University of California, June 2007), 105, http://ccis.ucsd.edu/wp-content/uploads/WP_150.pdf. 45 “Mexico Profile,” Global Detention Project, January 2013, http://www .globaldetentionproject.org/countries/americas/mexico/introduction .html. 46 Stephanie Leutert, “The Implementation and Legacy of Mexico’s Southern Border Program” (Policy Research Project on Mexico’s Migratory Policy, June 2019). 47 Tragically, the side effect of this process has been to push migrants towards increasingly dangerous routes – notably riding “the Beast” train line through the country. Kimball, “The Transit State: A Comparative Analysis of Mexican and Moroccan Immigration Policies.” 48 Edmonds-Poli and Shirk, Contemporary Mexican Politics, 89. 49 FitzGerald, A Nation of Emigrants, 69. 50 Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, 170. 51 Ibid., chapter 4. See also the discussion of Fox’s broader foreign policy goals in Rozental, “Fox’s Foreign Policy Agenda.” 52 Vicente Fox as quoted in Gregory Rodriguez, “Vicente Fox Blesses the Americanization of Mexico,” Los Angeles Times, 10 December 2000, http://articles.latimes.com/2000/dec/10/opinion/op-63648. 53 Vicente Fox as quoted in Rodriguez, “Vicente Fox Blesses the Americanization of Mexico.” 54 Mantu and Guild, Constructing and Imagining Labour Migration, 264. 55 Luis Carlos Ugalde, “U.S.–Mexican Relations,” in Mexico Under Fox, ed.

Notes to pages 107–10

56

57

58 59

60 61 62 63 64 65

66 67 68 69 70 71

72 73 74 75 76

225

Luis Rubio and Susan Kaufman Purcell (Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2004), 125. Quoted in Edward Alden, The Closing of the American Border (New York: Harper Collins, 2009), 77; Alexandra Délano, “From Limited to Active Engagement: Mexico’s Emigration Policies from a Foreign Policy Perspective (2000–2006),” International Migration Review 43, no. 4 (2009): 281, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1747-7379.2009.00784.x. US–Mexico High Level Working Group on Migration, “Joint Statement of the US–Mexico High Level Working Group on Migration,” 4 April 2001, https://2001-2009.state.gov/r/pa/prs/ps/2001/2013.htm. Leutert, “The Implementation and Legacy of Mexico’s Southern Border Program,” 8–9. George Bush White House Archives, “Press Release: Joint Statement between the United States of America and the United Mexican States,” 6 September 2001, http://georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/news /releases/2001/09/20010906-8.html. Délano, Mexico and Its Diaspora in the United States, 179–80. Alden, The Closing of the American Border, chapter 4. Ibid., 10. Ibid., 42. Vicente Fox as quoted in ibid., 47. Isidro Morales, National Solutions to Trans-Border Problems? The Governance of Security and Risk in a Post-nafta North America (Abingdon: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd., 2013), 229. Rozental, “Fox’s Foreign Policy Agenda,” 100. “US and Canada Smart Border Declaration” (LegislationOnLine, 12 December 2001), http://www.legislationline.org/documents/id/7543. United States Department of State, “Smart Border.” Ibid.; “US and Canada Smart Border Declaration.” World Bank Databank, “Trade (% of gdp),” 2015, http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/NE.TRD.GNFS.ZS. “Mexico Trade Summary 2000 Data,” World Integrated Trade Solution, 2000, http://wits.worldbank.org/CountryProfile/en/Country/MEX /Year/2000/Summary. “Mexico Trade Summary 2000 Data.” Fox, Revolution of Hope, 233. Vicente Fox talking to George Bush in their first conversation after both were elected, as recounted by Fox in Fox, Revolution of Hope, 207. González-Murphy, Protecting Immigrant Rights in Mexico, 77–8. Ibid., 91–2.

226

Notes to pages 110–13

77 “Mexico and the Migration Phenomenon” (cide Library, October 2005), http://biblioteca.cide.edu/Datos/COPPAN/2005/octubre/271005 _Mexico_and_the_Migration_Phenomenon.pdf; González-Murphy, Protecting Immigrant Rights in Mexico, 90–1. 78 Francisco Alba, “Mexico: The New Migration Narrative” (Migration Policy Institute, 24 April 2013), http://www.migrationpolicy.org/article /mexico-new-migration-narrative; González-Murphy, Protecting Immigrant Rights in Mexico, 90–1. 79 “Mexico and the Migration Phenomenon,” 3–4. 80 Ugalde, “U.S.–Mexican Relations.” 81 Délano, “From Limited to Active Engagement,” 782n12. 82 Larry Storrs, “Mexico–United States Dialogue on Migration and Border Issues, 2001–2005” (Congressional Research Center Report for Congress, 2 June 2005), 7, https://fas.org/sgp/crs/row/RL32735.pdf. 83 George Bush White House Archives, “Press Release: Joint Statement between the United States of America and the United Mexican States.” 84 Storrs, “Mexico–United States Dialogue on Migration and Border Issues, 2001–2005,” 5. 85 Ibid. 86 Edmonds-Poli and Shirk, Contemporary Mexican Politics, 298. 87 Rozental, “Fox’s Foreign Policy Agenda: Global and Regional Priorities,” 103. 88 Storrs, “Mexico–United States Dialogue on Migration and Border Issues, 2001–2005.” 89 United States Department of Homeland Security, “Secretaries Napolitano and Espinosa Announce Agreement on Mexican Repatriation,” 3 April 2009, http://www.dhs.gov/news/2009/04/03/agreement-mexicanrepatriation-announced. 90 “Mexico: Background and U.S. Relations” (Congressional Research Service, 2 May 2019), https://crsreports.congress.gov/product/pdf/R/R42917. 91 Leutert, “The Implementation and Legacy of Mexico’s Southern Border Program,” 16. 92 As quoted in ibid., 12. 93 As illustrated by the quote from Trump and Peña Nieto’s conversation cited at the top of this chapter. Full transcript available here: Greg Miller, Julie Vitkovskaya, and Reuben Fischer-Baum, “‘This Deal Will Make Me Look Terrible’: Full Transcripts of Trump’s Calls with Mexico and Australia,” Washington Post, accessed 14 July 2018, https://www .washingtonpost.com/graphics/2017/politics/australia-mexicotranscripts/.

Notes to pages 113–14

227

94 Sabrina Rodriguez, “Anti-Trump Populist Poised to Clinch Mexican Presidency,” Politico, 1 July 2018, https://www.politico.com/story/2018 /07/01/mexico-election-trump-populist-lopez-obrador-664243; Kirk Semple, “Why Is Trump ‘Not Important’ in Mexico Election? All Candidates Are Against Him,” The New York Times, 8 June 2018, https://www .nytimes.com/2018/06/03/world/americas/mexico-election-trump.html; Dave Graham, “Mexico Leftist’s Pitch to Trump: Growth, Not Walls to Fix Migration,” Reuters, 11 June 2018, https://www.reuters.com/article /us-mexico-election/mexico-leftists-pitch-to-trump-growth-not-walls-tofix-migration-idUSKBN1J611I. 95 López Obrador, Oye, Trump (Mexico City: Planeta Publishing, 2017). 96 As quoted in Alejandro Lazo and José de Córdoba, “Crowds Turn Out to Cheer Mexico’s President – And the Deal He Struck With Trump.” Dow Jones Institutional News, 8 June 2019, http://search.proquest.com /docview/2236981014/citation/A7E76287188541D9PQ/1. 97 Lazo and de Córdoba, “Crowds Turn Out to Cheer Mexico’s President.” 98 President Obrador cut his own salary by 60 per cent and, since nobody in the civil service can make more than the president, thereby effectively capped the salaries of the whole civil service. Luis Gómez Romero, “López Obrador Clashes with Courts after Vowing ‘poverty’ for Mexican Government,” The Conversation, 8 February 2019, http://theconversation.com/lopez-obrador-clashes-with-courts-aftervowing-poverty-for-mexican-government-109357. 99 Azam Ahmed, “Mexico Sets Domestic Priorities Aside to Meet Terms of U.S. Trade Deal,” The New York Times, 8 June 2019, sec. World, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/08/world/americas/mexico-tariffsmigration.html. 100 Clare Ribando Seelke, “Mexico’s Immigration Control Efforts,” Congressional Research Service, 2 June 2019. 101 Ahmed, “Mexico Sets Domestic Priorities.” 102 Lazo and de Córdoba, “Crowds Turn Out to Cheer Mexico’s President.” 103 As quoted in David Agren, “Mexican President Leads ‘celebration’ Rally after US Tariffs Dropped,” The Guardian, 9 June 2019, sec. World News, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2019/jun/09/mexican-presidentleads-celebration-rally-after-us-tariffs-dropped.

228

Notes to pages 117–19

CHAPTER FIVE

1 Paoletti (2011) has written an excellent account of Libyan migration politics under Gaddafi. More information about the Arab Spring era in Libya can be found in Hilsum (2012) and van Genugten (2016). Emanuela Paoletti, The Migration of Power and North–South Inequalities: The Case of Italy and Libya (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). Lindsey Hilsum, Sandstorm: Libya in the Time of Revolution, first edition (New York: Penguin Press, 2012); Saskia van Genugten, Libya in Western Foreign Policies, 1911–2011 (London: Springer, 2016); 2 Katharina Natter, “Revolution and Political Transition in Tunisia: A Migration Game Changer?” (Migration Policy Institute, 28 May 2015). 3 Hassen Boubakri, “Transit Migration between Tunisia, Libya and SubSaharan Africa: Study Based on Greater Tunis” (Paper presented at the Regional Conference on “Migrants in transit countries: sharing responsibility for management and protection,” 2004). 4 Bole Richard Michel, “Les candidats à l’immigration clandestine affluent au sud de l’Europe,” Le Monde, 22 July 1998; Aloise Salvatore, “Le gouvernement italien prend des dispositions pour faire face à l’afflux d’immigrés illégaux; Un document de programmation triennale a été adopté,” Le Monde, 3 August 1998. 5 John Hooper, “Italians Fire at Rioting Illegal Migrants,” The Guardian, 28 July 1998. 6 John Hooper, “Migrants Spur Rome to Act,” The Guardian, 23 July 1998. 7 Salvatore, “Le gouvernement italien prend des dispositions pour faire face à l’afflux d’immigrés illégaux.” 8 Salvatore, “Le gouvernement italien prend des dispositions pour faire face à l’afflux d’immigrés illégaux.” 9 Quoted in Jude Webber, “Italy, Tunisia Vow to Step up Immigration Fight,” Reuters, 6 August 1998. 10 Gideon Long, “Italy Confident of Deal with Tunisia on Immigrants,” Reuters, 5 August 1998. 11 Phillip Willan, “News in Brief: Tunisian Migrants to Go Home,” The Guardian, 7 August 1998; Webber, “Italy, Tunisia Vow to Step up Immigration Fight.” 12 Paolo Cuttitta, “Readmission in the Relations between Italy and North African Mediterranean Countries,” Middle East Institute, 1 August 2010, http://www.mei.edu/content/readmission-relations-between-italy-andnorth-african-mediterranean-countries. 13 Ibid.

Notes to pages 119–20

229

14 Global Detention Project, “Tunisian Detention Profile”; Euro–Mediterranean Human Rights Network, “Tunisia: Inconsistent European Policies Fail to Address Human Rights Abuses in Tunisia,” 20 September 2010, http://www.euromedrights.org/en/publicationsen/emhrn-publications/emhrn-publications-2010/9139.html. 15 Polly Pallister-Wilkins, “Searching for Accountability in eu MigrationManagement Practices,” OpenDemocracy, 19 October 2011, http://www.opendemocracy.net/polly-pallister-wilkins/searching-foraccountability-in-eu-migration-management-practices; Global Detention Project, “Tunisian Detention Profile,” February 2011, http://www.globaldetentionproject.org/countries/africa/tunisi a/introduction.html; “Legal Text Details: Agreement between Italy and Tunisia on Entry and Readmission of People in Irregular Situations,” European University Institute, accessed 25 March 2012, http://www.carim.org/index.php?callContent=401&callText=1109. 16 Paolo Cuttitta, “The Changes in the Fight against Illegal Immigration in the Euro–Mediterranean Area and in Euro–Mediterranean Relations” (Sixth Framework Programme – Priority 7 FP6-2002-CITIZENS-1 New approaches to security and the role of Europe [Theme: 6.1.1], 22 January 2007), 8, http://www.libertysecurity.org/article1293.html. 17 Paolo Cuttitta, “Yearly Quotas and Country-Reserved Shares in Italian Immigration Policy,” Migration Letters 5, no. 1 (April 2008): 41–51. 18 Cuttitta, “The Changes in the Fight against Illegal Immigration in the Euro–Mediterranean Area and in Euro–Mediterranean Relations,” 9; Webber, “Italy, Tunisia Vow to Step up Immigration Fight.” 19 The following discussion of Tunisian politics is drawn largely from White (2001), Honwana (2013), and Perkins (2014) among others. Brand (2006) also has a fantastic chapter on migration politics in the country specifically. Gregory White, A Comparative Political Economy of Tunisia and Morocco: On the Outside of Europe Looking In (Albany: SUNY Press, 2001); Alcinda Honwana, Youth and Revolution in Tunisia (London and New York: Zed Books, 2013); Kenneth Perkins, A History of Modern Tunisia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014); Laurie A. Brand, Citizens Abroad Emigration and the State in the Middle East and North Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). See also Safwan M. Masri, Tunisia: An Arab Anomaly. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2017). 20 Jacob Abadi, Tunisia Since the Arab Conquest: The Saga of a Westernized Muslim State (Reading: Ithaca Press, 2012), 515. 21 Global Detention Project, “Tunisian Detention Profile”; Euro–

230

22 23 24

25

26 27

28 29 30 31

32

33 34

35

Notes to pages 121–3

Mediterranean Human Rights Network, “Tunisia: Inconsistent European Policies Fail to Address Human Rights Abuses in Tunisia.” Honwana, Youth and Revolution in Tunisia, 66–7. Quoted in Perkins, A History of Modern Tunisia, 204. “Euro–Mediterranean Agreement Establishing an Association between the European Communities and Their Member States, of the One Part, and the Republic of Tunisia, of the Other Part,” 30 March 1998, http://trade.ec.europa.eu/doclib/docs/2006/march/tradoc_127986.pdf. Delegation of the European Union to Tunisia, “La Tunisie et l’ue: Relations politiques et économiques,” 17 May 2016, https://eeas.europa.eu/delegations/tunisia/2040/la-tunisie-et-lue_en. White, A Comparative Political Economy of Tunisia and Morocco, 119. Indeed, the expansive eu Association Agreement only mentions human rights issues twice – once in the preamble and once in an article specifying that relations “shall be based on respect for human rights and democratic principles” but without specifying any tangible commitments to these goals. “Euro-Mediterranean Agreement Establishing an Association between the European Communities and Their Member States, of the One Part, and the Republic of Tunisia, of the Other Part” Art. 2. Abadi, Tunisia Since the Arab Conquest, 521–2. Ibid., 533. Gideon Long, “Italy Confident of Deal with Tunisia on Immigrants,” Reuters, 5 August 1998. European University Institute: Return Migration and Development Platform, “European Union: List of eu Readmission Agreements,” February 2013, http://rsc.eui.eu/RDP/research/analyses/ra/european-union/; Paoletti, The Migration of Power and North–South Inequalities, 2010, 75–6. Peter Popham, “Libya Rejects Plan for Italian Troops to Patrol Border,” The Independent, 28 June 2003; Danielle Rouard, “En Italie, le drame des naufrages au large de la Sicile,” Le Monde, 21 June 2003. Stephen Smith, “Les 250 clandestins naufragés au large de Sfax avaient embarqué en Libye,” Le Monde, 24 June 2003. See, for example, Bruno Philip, “La Tunisie tente de mieux contrôler l’émigration clandestine,” Le Monde, 11 July 2003; John Hooper, “Migrants Found Dead off Sicily: Coastguard Recovers 13 Bodies but Fears a Further 50 Drowned,” The Guardian, 21 October 2003; Frank Bruni, “Wave of Immigrants Breaks Against Italian Island’s Shore,” The New York Times, 11 July 2003. Philip, “La Tunisie tente de mieux contrôler l’émigration clandestine.”

Notes to pages 123–5

36

37 38

39 40 41 42 43 44 45

46 47 48 49

231

Boubakri, “Transit Migration between Tunisia, Libya and Sub-Saharan Africa.” Rouard, “En Italie, le drame des naufrages au large de la Sicile”; Smith, “Les 250 clandestins naufragés au large de Sfax avaient embarqué en Libye.” European Council, “Tampere European Council Presidency Conclusions.” Council of the European Union, “Thessaloniki European Council – 19 and 20 June 2003 – Presidency Conclusions,” 5; See also the discussion of the council in Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Migration and Border Management in the Euro–Mediterranean Area: Heading towards New Forms of Interconnectedness,” Mediterranean Yearbook, 2005, 1. Claire Tréan, “A Tunis, Europe et Maghreb cherchent à renforcer leurs relations,” Le Monde, 6 December 2003. Cassarino, “Migration and Border Management in the Euro– Mediterranean Area,” 2. Algeria, France, Italy, Libya, Mauritania, Morocco, Portugal, Spain, Tunisia, and Malta. Tréan, “A Tunis, Europe et Maghreb cherchent à renforcer leurs relations.” Quoted in Cassarino, “Migration and Border Management in the Euro–Mediterranean Area.” Cuttitta, “Readmission in the Relations between Italy and North African Mediterranean Countries,” 32. Emanuela Paoletti, “Migration Agreements between Italy and North Africa: Domestic Imperatives versus International Norms,” Middle East Institute, 19 December 2012. Cuttitta, “Readmission in the Relations between Italy and North African Mediterranean Countries.” Paoletti, The Migration of Power and North–South Inequalities, 2011, 75–6. Quoted in Perkins, A History of Modern Tunisia, 213. United Nations Treaty Collections, “Status of Protocol against the Smuggling of Migrants by Land, Sea, and Air, Supplementing the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime,” 25 March 2012; United Nations Treaty Collections, “Status of Protocol to Prevent, Suppress an Punish Trafficking in Persons, Especially Women and Children, Supplementing the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime,” 25 March 2012; United Nations Treaty Collection, “Status of United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime,” 25 March 2012.

232

Notes to pages 125–9

50 Philip, “La Tunisie tente de mieux contrôler l’émigration clandestine.” 51 “Loi N° 197540 Du 14 Mai 1975, Relative Aux Passeports et Aux Documents de Voyage Telle Que Modifiée et Complétée Par La Loi N° 199877 Du 2 Novembre 1998, La Loi N° 20046 Du 3 Février 2004 et La Loi N° 100813 Du 18 Février 2008,” 18 February 2008, http://www.carim.org/public/legaltexts/LE3TUN262_801_FR.pdf. 52 Global Detention Project, “Tunisian Detention Profile.” 53 Salvatore Colucello and Simon Massey, “Out of Africa: The Human Trade between Libya and Lampedusa,” Trends Organ Crim 10 (2007): 77–90; Boubakri, “Transit Migration between Tunisia, Libya and SubSaharan Africa”; Global Detention Project, “Tunisian Detention Profile.” 54 Colucello and Massey, “Out of Africa,” 82. 55 Boubakri, “Transit Migration between Tunisia, Libya and Sub-Saharan Africa,” 23–4. 56 Honwana, Youth and Revolution in Tunisia, chapter 1. 57 Perkins, A History of Modern Tunisia, 214–22. 58 For more on the return and emergence of Ennahda in modern Tunisian politics, see Anne Wolf, Political Islam in Tunisia: The History of Ennahda (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017). 59 Honwana, Youth and Revolution in Tunisia, 119–20. 60 Ibid., 94. 61 “Popular Protests in North Africa and the Middle East (iv): Tunisia’s Way” (International Crisis Group, 28 April 2011); Honwana, Youth and Revolution in Tunisia, 99. 62 “Qui Sommes Nous?,” Forum Tunisien pour les droits économiques et sociaux, accessed 11 March 2017, http://ftdes.net/qui-sommes-nous/. 63 “Who We Are,” EuroMed Rights, 2016, http://www.euromedrights.org /about-us/who-we-are/. 64 “Citoyenes Des Deux Rives,” n.d., http://citoyensdesdeuxrives.eu/. 65 Perkins, A History of Modern Tunisia, 231. 66 Honwana, Youth and Revolution in Tunisia, 100–3. 67 Perkins, A History of Modern Tunisia, 236. 68 Thomas Fuller, “Upheaval Opens the Exits in Tunisia,” The New York Times, 15 February 2011. 69 Scott Sayare, “Now Feeling Free, but Still Without Work, Tunisians Look Toward Europe,” The New York Times, 24 March 2011. 70 John Hooper, “Rome Seeks eu Help with Tunisian Influx,” The Guardian, 14 February 2011. 71 Fuller, “Upheaval Opens the Exits in Tunisia”; Béatrice Gurrey, “Zarzis, la

Notes to pages 129–31

72 73

74 75

76 77

78 79 80 81 82

83 84 85 86

87 88 89 90

233

cité des hommes perdus,” Le Monde, 19 February 2011; Sayare, “Now Feeling Free, but Still Without Work, Tunisians Look Toward Europe.” “In Quotes: Reaction to Tunisian Crisis,” bbc News, 15 January 2015. “Italy Struggles with Tunisia Influx: Rome Calls on European Union for Help after 6,000 Tunisians Flee to Tiny Island Following Political Upheaval,” Aljazeera, 14 February 2011. As quoted in Rachel Donadio, “Italy Seeks to Use Forces to Halt Illegal Immigrants From Tunisia,” The New York Times, 14 February 2011. As quoted in “‘Tunisia Categorically Rejects Any Interference in Its Internal Affairs’ Says Foreign Ministry,” Agency Tunis Afrique Press, 14 February 2011. Ibid. As quoted in “Frattini: Italy Suggests Operational Co-Operation in Compliance with Tunisia’s Sovereignty,” Agency Tunis Afrique Press, 15 February 2011. Ibid. Ibid.; Jean-Pierre Stroobants, “Migrants tunisiens: crise désamorcée entre Tunis et Rome,” Le Monde, 16 February 2011. “Gestion des flux migratoires et sécurité – Le soutien au développement en réponse à l’immigration,” La Presse (Tunis), 26 March 2011. “Frattini: Italy Suggests Operational Co-Operation in Compliance with Tunisia’s Sovereignty.” “Foreign Ministry: No Recent Agreement Signed with Italian Authorities on Fight against Illegal Immigration,” Agency Tunis Afrique Press, 2 April 2011; “Après les professions de foi à Tunis, Maroni menace de rapatrier de force les immigrés tunisiens,” Le Temps, 29 March 2011. Hooper, “Rome Seeks eu Help with Tunisian Influx.” Ibid.; “L’Italie proclame l’état d’urgence humanitaire,” Le Temps, 13 February 2011. Donadio, “Italy Seeks to Use Forces to Halt Illegal Immigrants from Tunisia”; “Reprise des procès de Berlusconi,” Le Temps, 5 April 2011. Tom Kington, “Berlusconi Pledges to Remove Migrants from Lampedusa: Italian PM Says Islanders Deserve the Nobel Prize. Opposition Claims His Trip Is a ‘Diversionary Tactic,’” The Guardian, 31 March 2011. Tom Kington, “International: Italy Calls on Neighbours to Help with North African Migrant Influx,” The Guardian, 1 April 2011. Ibid. Kington, “Berlusconi Pledges to Remove Migrants from Lampedusa.” Kington, “International: Italy Calls on Neighbours.”

234

Notes to pages 131–4

91 Isabelle Mandraud, “M. Berlusconi dénonce à Tunis un ‘tsunami humain,’” Le Monde, 6 April 2011. 92 “L’Italie menace de rapatrier 19000 Tunisiens,” Le Temps, 1 April 2011. 93 Tom Kington, “Libya: North African Refugees: Fears Grow for 400 Missing at Sea as Italy Tackles Lampedusa’s Migrant Bottleneck,” The Guardian, 4 April 2011. 94 “Orage Passager,” Le Temps, 5 April 2011. 95 Mandraud, “M. Berlusconi dénonce à Tunis un ‘tsunami humain,’” author’s translation. 96 Ibid. 97 “Italian pm Berlusconi to Visit Tunisia on Monday,” Agency Tunis Afrique Press, 1 April 2011. 98 “French pm Fillon: France to Propose to Tunisia Association Agreement with eu in Return for Taking Back Nationals,” Agency Tunis Afrique Press, 2 April 2011. 99 “Une commission technique mixte pour un accord commun avec l’Italie,” La Presse (Tunis), 5 April 2011. 100 “Mésentente « cordiale » ?,” Le Temps, 5 April 2011. 101 Ibid. 102 Ibid. 103 Elisabetta Povoledo, “Tunis to Allow Italy to Help Patrol Coast,” The New York Times, 5 April 2011. 104 “Italy to Grant Temporary Stay Permits to Tunisian Immigrants,” Agence Tunis Afrique Presse, 7 April 2011; “Most Illegal Migrants to Benefit from Temporary Residence Permits-Interior Ministry,” Agency Tunis Afrique Press, 8 April 2011. 105 “Signature d’un accord à plusieurs volets avec l’Italie,” La Presse (Tunis), 6 April 2011; “Les Autorités Italiennes Vont Délivrer Un Permis Temporaire de Séjour à Des Centaines de Clandestins Tunisiens,” Le Temps, 7 April 2011. 106 Ibid. 107 “Most Illegal Migrants to Benefit.” 108 “Signature d’un accord à plusieurs volets avec l’Italie.” 109 “Tunisia Insists on Need to Respect National Sovereignty,” Agency Tunis Afrique Press, 6 April 2011. 110 “Les Autorités Italiennes Vont Délivrer Un Permis Temporaire.” 111 “Italy to Grant Temporary Stay Permits to Tunisian Immigrants.” 112 “Most Illegal Migrants to Benefit.” 113 “Réseau euro-méditerranéen des droits de l’Homme – L’éloignement

Notes to pages 134–9

114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121

122 123 124 125

126 127 128

129

130 131 132 133

235

forcé des migrants tunisiens, une mesure indécente,” La Presse (Tunis), 26 March 2011, author’s translation. B. Oueslati, “Emigration clandestine – L’Europe, terre d’accueil ou citadelle?,” La Presse (Tunis), 26 March 2011, author’s translation. “La société civile dénonce les conditions lamentables dans lesquelles vivent les migrants à Lampedusa,” Le Temps, 5 April 2011. Ibid. Naceur Bouabid, “Une fuite en masse sans précédent,” Le Temps, 15 February 2011. “500 migrants dimanche à Lampedusa – Dégagez, dégagez!,” La Presse (Tunis), 23 March 2011. Cited in Hooper, “Rome Seeks eu Help with Tunisian Influx.” Fuller, “Upheaval Opens the Exits in Tunisia.” “‘Two Attempts of Illegal Emigration Thwarted And Fugitive Prisoners Arrested’ Announced Interior Ministry,” Tunisia Online (Tunis), 9 March 2011. “A travers les régions – Assistance aux Tunisiens de retour de Libye,” La Presse (Tunis), 25 March 2011. As quoted in “Tunisia Insists on Need to Respect National Sovereignty.” Gaddafi as quoted in Ronald Bruce St John, Libya: From Colony to Revolution (London: Oneworld Publications, 2011), 240. Emanuela Paoletti, “Relations Among Unequals? Readmission between Italy and Libya” (Middle East Institute, 1 August 2010), http://www.mei.edu/content/relations-among-unequals-readmissionbetween-italy-and-libya. Paoletti, The Migration of Power and North–South Inequalities. Gaddafi as quoted in Hilsum, Sandstorm, 33. As quoted in “Italy Is Rocky Shore for Europe’s Boat People,” bbc, 11 July 2011, sec. Europe, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe14103752. As quoted in Hans Lucht, “Libyan Migrants Used as Political Pawns,” The New York Times, 18 May 2011, sec. Opinion, http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/19/opinion/19lucht.html?_r=1&emc =tnt&tntemail1=y. Lucht, “Libyan Migrants Used as Political Pawns.” “Italy Is Rocky Shore for Europe’s Boat People.” Hilsum, Sandstorm, 36. David Gritten, “Key Figures in Libya’s Rebel Council,” bbc News, 25

236

134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142

143 144 145

146 147 148

149 150

151

Notes to pages 139–42

August 2011, http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-12698562; Hilsum, Sandstorm, 37–8. van Genugten, Libya in Western Foreign Policies, 1911–2011, 151–2; Hilsum, Sandstorm, 198. van Genugten, Libya in Western Foreign Policies, 1911–2011, 151–9. Hilsum, Sandstorm, 20. Ibid., 118. “Libya: France Recognises Rebels as Government,” bbc News, 10 March 2011, http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-12699183. van Genugten, Libya in Western Foreign Policies, 1911–2011, 153. Silvio Berlusconi as quoted in ibid., 149. “Italy Recognises Libya’s Rebel National Council,” bbc News, 4 April 2011. Stefan Talmon, “Recognition of the Libyan National Transitional Council,” Insights; American Society of International Law 15, no. 16 (16 June 2011), https://www.asil.org/insights/volume/15/issue/16/recognition-libyannational-transitional-council. Hilsum, Sandstorm, 199. “Libyan Rebels Sign Migration Pact with Italy,” Agence France Presse, 17 June 2011. Victor L. Simpson and Paolo Santalucia, “Italy Signs Immigrant Crackdown Accord with Libyan Rebels, UN Watching Warily,” Associated Press, 17 June 2011. “Italy Signs Accord with Libyan Rebel Leader in Naples,” Agenzia Nazionale Stampa Associata, 17 June 2011. “Libya and Italy Hold Talks on Illegal Migration, Border Security,” Agence de Presse Africaine, 4 April 2012. European Commission, “Press Release: Supporting Human RightsBased Migration Management and Asylum System in Libya,” 20 January 2014, http://europa.eu/rapid/press-release_MEMO-14-26_en.htm. “Italy, Libya Sign an Anti-Migration Pact,” Agenzia Nazionale Stampa Associata, 3 April 2012. Murphy, Francois, “Libya Says Stops Hundreds of Italy-Bound Migrants,” Reuters, 5 December 2011, http://in.reuters.com/article/2011/12/05/libya-migrantsidINDEE7B40LA20111205. As quoted in Murphy, “Libya Says Stops Hundreds of Italy-Bound Migrants.”

Notes to pages 142–7

237

152 “Kremlin Envoy Says Tripoli Rejects Qaddafi Departure as Italy to Host Meeting of Libyan Tribal Leaders,” Al Arabiya, 15 June 2011. 153 “Kadhafi Son Calls for Libyan Elections,” Agence France Presse, 16 June 2011. CHAPTER SIX

1 As quoted in Serigne Mansour Tall, “La Migration internationale Sénégalaise: des recrutements de main-d’œuvre aux pirogues,” in Le Sénégal des migrations: Mobilités, identités et sociétés, ed. Momar-Coumba Diop (Dakar: Crepos, 2008). 2 Those looking for more information on Senegalese–European migration relations may find the following sources helpful. Maguemati Wagbou, “Governance of Migration in Senegal: The Role of Government in Formulating Migration Policies,” in International Migration and National Development in Sub-Saharan Africa: Viewpoints and Policy Initiatives in the Countries of Origin, eds. Aderanti Adepoju, A. L. van Naerssen, and E. B. Zoomers (Leiden: brill, 2008); Lorenzo Gagrielli, “Flux et contre-flux entre l’Espagne et le Sénégal. L’externalisation du contrôle des dynamiques migratoires vers l’Afrique de l’Ouest,” revue Asylon(s) 3 (March 2008); Meng-Hsuan Chou and Marie V. Gibert, “The eu-Senegal Mobility Partnership: From Launch to Suspension and Negotiation Failure,” Journal of Contemporary European Research 8, no. 4 (31 December 2012), http://www.jcer.net/index.php/jcer/article /view/434; Tall, “La Migration internationale Sénégalaise”; Roos Willems, “Les ‘fous de la mer’: Les migrants clandestins du Sénégal aux Iles Canaries en 2006,” in Le Sénégal des migrations: Mobilités, identités et sociétés, ed. Momar-Coumba Diop (Dakar: Crepos, 2008). 3 eumagine: Imagining Europe from the Outside, “Senegal,” 11 January 2016, http://www.eumagine.org/pages/eumagine_country_details .aspx?cid=2. 4 Tall, “La Migration internationale Sénégalaise,” 58. 5 Felix Gerdes, “Senegal,” focus-migration, 23 January 2015, http://focusmigration.hwwi.de/Senegal.2636.0.html?&L=1. 6 Personal interview with a program manager at iom Dakar, 16 October 16, 2014. 7 Tall, “La Migration internationale Sénégalaise.” 8 gni per capita (Atlas method, current US dollars) ranged from $470–$810 between 2000 and 2006 according to World Bank data.

238

Notes to pages 147–9

9 National estimates put unemployment at 10 per cent and youth unemployment at 14.8 per cent in 2006, according to World Bank data. 10 Tall, “La Migration internationale Sénégalaise.” 11 Ibid., 50–4. 12 Jørgen Carline et al., “Migration Aspirations in Senegal: Who Wants to Leave and Why Does It Matter?” (European Commission, January 2013). 13 Axel Kreienbrink, “Country Profile: Spain,” focus migration, August 2008. 14 Willems, “Les ‘fous de la mer,’” 284. 15 Ibid. 16 Gagrielli, “Flux et contre-flux entre l’Espagne et le Sénégal.” 17 Giles Tremlett, “Spanish Search for African Migrants Lost in Atlantic,” The Guardian, 27 March 2006, LexisNexis. 18 “Senegal Growing as Point of Departure of Illegal Immigrants to Spain,” bbc Monitoring Europe, 11 May 2006, LexisNexis. 19 Willems, “Les ‘fous de la mer,’” 277. 20 Council of the European Union, “Council Regulation No 2212/80 on the Conclusion of the Agreement between the Government of the Republic of Senegal and the European Economic Community on Fishing off the Coast of Senegal,” 27 June 1980, http://eurlex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/ALL/?uri=CELEX:31980R2212. 21 Council of the European Union, “Council Regulation No 2323/2002 on the Conclusion of the Protocol Setting out the Fishing Opportunities and the Financial Contribution Provided for by the Agreement between the European Economic Community and the Government of the Republic of Senegal on Fishing off the Coast of Senegal for the eriod from 1 July 2002 to 30 June 2006,” 16 December 2002, http://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/ALL/;ELX_SESSIONID =TJqCJztXHNRDywkJhyvC232517Z8QY4pwJJLJKRNZDwvw XDc22x6!716962510?uri=CELEX:32002R2323. 22 Nick Johnstone, “Discussion Paper 96-02: The Economics of Fisheries Access Agreements: Perspectives on the eu-Senegal Case” (International Institute for Environment and Development, December 1996), 13–22, http://transparentsea.co/images/d/d6/Johnstone_1996_eu _Agreements.pdf. 23 Personal interview with a program manager at iom Dakar. 24 Meg Bortin, “Making Money in Senegal off Human Cargo,” The International Herald Tribune, 30 May 2006, LexisNexis; Personal interview with a program manager at iom Dakar.

Notes to pages 149–51

239

25 gdp per capita at the time was $808. World Bank Databank, “gdp per Capita (Current US$),” accessed 18 April 2013, http://data.worldbank .org/indicator/NY.GDP.PCAP.KD; Gwynne Dyer, “Migrant Wave on eu’s Shores,” The Guardian, 18 September 2006, LexisNexis; Tall, “La Migration internationale Sénégalaise,” 49. 26 Walter Kemp, “Learning from the Canaries: Lessons from the ‘Cayucos’ Crisis” (International Peace Institute, May 2016), https://www .ipinst.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/1605_Learning-from-theCanaries.pdf. 27 David Rennie, “Spain to Free 1,500 Illegal Immigrants into Europe,” The Daily Telegraph, 12 April 2006, LexisNexis. 28 Giles Tremlett, “Spain Will Urge Africa to Stem Immigrant Tide,” The Guardian, 16 May 2006; “Spain to Launch Diplomatic Offensive to Curb African Immigration,” bbc Monitoring Africa, 18 May 2006. 29 “Africa Must ‘Share Responsibility’ for Migration – Spanish Diplomat,” bbc Monitoring Africa, 12 May 2006, LexisNexis. 30 “Spanish Islands Demand Navy Patrols to Curb Migration,” bbc Monitoring Africa, 22 May 2006. 31 “Senegal Launches Campaign against Illegal Migration,” bbc Monitoring Africa. Source, Radio France Internationale, 22 May 2006. 32 Frontex, “Annual Report” (Frontex, 2006), 12, http://www.europarl .europa.eu/document/activities/cont/200801/20080111ATT18445/200801 11ATT18445EN.pdf. 33 “Spain, Senegal to Set up Joint Patrol to Stem Illegal Migration,” bbc Monitoring Africa, 22 August 2006, LexisNexis; “Spain and Senegal Sign Agreement to Cooperate against Illegal Immigration,” bbc Monitoring Europe, 24 August 2006, LexisNexis. 34 According to Spanish ambassador to Senegal Fernando Moran, as quoted in “Senegal, Spain Sign Deal for Joint Anti-Migration Patrols,” bbc Monitoring Newsfile, 25 August 2006. 35 Personal interview with a former Frontex employee, 14 October 2014. 36 “Spain and Senegal Tackle Migration: Spain Promises Aid as Attempts to Combat Illegal Immigration from Africa Continue,” Al Jazeera, 5 December 2006, http://www.aljazeera.com/news/europe/2006/12 /2008525121635716212.html; “Spain Grants Senegal $24 Million to Fight Illegal Migration,” Panapress, 5 December 2006. 37 “Western African Route” (Frontex, 2017), http://frontex.europa.eu /trends-and-routes/western-african-route/. 38 Willems, “Les ‘fous de la mer,’” 299–300. 39 “Spanish Islands Demand Navy Patrols to Curb Migration.”

240

Notes to pages 151–4

40 Giles Tremlett, “Spain and Italy Send Patrol Boats to End Migrant Tide from Senegal,” The Guardian, 1 September 2006. 41 Ibid. 42 Emmanuelle Bouilly, “Senegalese Mothers ‘Fight Clandestine Migration’: An Intersectional Perspective on Activism and Apathy among Parents and Spouses Left Behind,” Review of African Political Economy 43, no. 149 (2 July 2016): 416–35, https://doi.org/10.1080 /03056244.2016.1217839. 43 Personal interview with a program manager at iom Dakar. 44 TEDxSandaga, La Voix Des Femmes: Yayi Bayam Diouf at TEDxSandaga, 2013. 45 Moussa Touré, dir., La Pirogue (Paris: Les Chauves-Souris, 2013). 46 Macodou Mbengue, “Le Clan du destin ou Mbëk mi,” 2006, http://festart.over-blog.com/page/4. 47 Africulturban, “Les pirogues du hiphop se mobilisent contre la migration clandestine,” 16 November 2012, https://soundcloud.com /pauline-23/les-pirogues-du-hiphop-se. 48 Personal interview with a former Frontex employee. 49 Bouilly, “Senegalese Mothers ‘Fight Clandestine Migration,’” 426. 50 “Spanish Police Admits Forcefully Repatriating Senegalese Immigrants,” bbc Worldwide Monitoring. Source, Radio France Internationale, 5 June 2006, LexisNexis. 51 Willems, “Les ‘fous de la mer,’” 292; David White, “Back from the Canaries, Then a Short Stop before Home ...,” Financial Times, 7 October 2006. 52 Gagrielli, “Flux et contre-flux entre l’Espagne et le Sénégal.”; White, “Back from the Canaries, Then a Short Stop before Home ...” 53 Mankeur Ndiaye, chief of staff at the Senegalese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, as quoted in “Senegal Suspends Cooperation with Spain in Repatriation of Immigrants.” 54 Ousmane Ngom, Senegalese interior minister, as quoted in “Senegalese Interior Minister Gives Interview on France Migration Talks,” bbc Monitoring Africa, 5 September 2006. 55 White, “Back from the Canaries, Then a Short Stop before Home ...” 56 Willems, “Les ‘fous de la mer,’” 278; “Spain Grants Senegal $24 Million to Fight Illegal Migration.” 57 Frontex, “Annual Report,” 12. 58 Gagrielli, “Flux et contre-flux entre l’Espagne et le Sénégal.” 59 “Senegal Delays Signature of Immigration Deal with Spain,” bbc Monitoring Europe, 11 October 2006, LexisNexis.

Notes to pages 164–6

241

60 “Senegal Says Repatriation of Its Nationals from Spain Is Over,” bbc Monitoring Europe, 29 October 2006, LexisNexis. 61 Sergio Carrera, “The eu Border Management Strategy: frontex and the Challenges of Irregular Immigration in the Canary Islands” (Center for European Policy Studies: Working Document No. 261, March 2007), 22, http://aei.pitt.edu/7385/1/1482.pdf. 62 Jean-Pierre Cassarino, “Readmission Policy in the European Union” (European Parliament: Directorate General for Internal Policies: Policy Department C: Citizens’ Rights and Constitutional Affairs, 2010), 34, http://cadmus.eui.eu/bitstream/handle/1814/14957/EP_Readmission Policy_en.pdf?sequence=4. 63 Personal interview with a program manager at iom Dakar. 64 Mark Doyle, “Senegal: Where Democracy Was the Winner,” bbc News, 21 March 2000; Lucy Creevey, Paul Ngomo, and Richard Vengroff, “Party Politics and Different Paths to Democratic Transitions,” Party Politics 11, no. 4 (1 July 2005): 471–93, https://doi.org/10.1177 /1354068805053213. 65 Steven Levitsky and Lucan A. Way, Competitive Authoritarianism: Hybrid Regimes after the Cold War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 276; Penda Mbow, “Senegal: The Return of Personalism,” Journal of Democracy 19, no. 1 (17 January 2008): 156–69, https://doi.org/10.1353 /jod.2008.0013. 66 Sheldon Gellar, Democracy in Senegal: Tocquevillian Analytics in Africa (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 89, summarizing an argument made by Abdou Latif Coulibaly. 67 Levitsky and Way, Competitive Authoritarianism, 276. 68 Peter J. Schraeder, “Senegal’s Foreign Policy: Challenges of Democratization and Marginalization,” African Affairs 96, no. 385 (1 October 1997): 485–508. 69 Mbow, “Senegal,” 158–9. 70 Ibid., 158. 71 Personal interview with a civil society activist in Dakar, 28 October 2014. 72 Willems, “Les ‘fous de la mer,’” 292. 73 Ibid., 300. 74 “Me Wade sur l’immigration « si Paris s’inspire de l’Espagne, nous parviendrons à un accord »,” Le soleil, 2 September 2006 75 “Négociations de Paris Sur La Gestion Des Flux Migratoires : Ousmane Ngom : « Il Faut Rompre Avec La Politique Du Fait Accompli ! »,” Le Soleil, 4 September 2006.

242

Notes to pages 166–76

76 “Me Wade sur l’immigration.” CHAPTER SEVEN

1 Kelly M. Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration: Forced Displacement, Coercion, and Foreign Policy (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2010). 2 Robert O. Keohane and Joseph S. Nye, Power and Interdependence (Boston: Longman, 2012). 3 Gerasimos Tsourapas, “The Politics of Migration Interdependence in the Post-Arab Spring Middle East,” in The Dynamics of Regional Migration Governance, eds. Andrew Geddes et al. (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar Publishing, 2019). 4 Kelsey P. Norman, “Co-Ethnicity, Security and Host Government Engagement: Egypt as a Non-Traditional Receiver of Migrants and Refugees,” Refugee Review: Re-Conceptualizing Refugees and Forced Migration in the 21st Century 2, no. 1 (June 2015): 78. 5 Johannes Gerschewski, “The Three Pillars of Stability: Legitimation, Repression, and Co-Optation in Autocratic Regimes,” Democratization 20, no. 1 (1 January 2013): 13–38, https://doi.org/10.1080/13510347 .2013.738860. 6 Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration, 24–6. 7 James D. Fearon, “Domestic Political Audiences and the Escalation of International Disputes,” The American Political Science Review 88, no. 3 (1994): 577–92, https://doi.org/10.2307/2944796. 8 Greenhill, Weapons of Mass Migration. 9 Christopher Marquis, “Aristide Says He’ll End US Immigration Pact Move May Stop Automatic Repatriations,” Miami Herald, 6 April 1994. 10 “Réseau euro-méditerranéen des droits de l’Homme – L’éloignement forcé des migrants tunisiens, une mesure indécente,” La Presse (Tunis), 26 March 2011, author’s translation. 11 Rey Koslowski, Global Mobility Regimes (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011); Jeannette Money and Sarah P. Lockhart, Migration Crises and the Structure of International Cooperation (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2019); Randall Hansen, Jobst Koehler, and Jeanette Money, Migration, Nation States, and International Cooperation (New York: Routledge, 2011). 12 Oliver Blakewell, “South–South Migration and Human Development: Reflections on African Experiences” (undp, April 2009), http://www .albacharia.ma/xmlui/bitstream/handle/123456789/31931/HDRP_2009 _07.pdf?sequence=1.

Notes to pages 176–82

243

13 Hélène Thiollet, “Managing Migrant Labour in the Gulf Transnational Dynamics of Migration Politics since the 1930s” (International Migration Institute, hal-01346366f, July 2016). 14 Adrian J. Shin, “Tyrants and Migrants: Authoritarian Immigration Policy,” Comparative Political Studies 50, no. 1 (1 January 2017): 14–40, https://doi.org/10.1177/0010414015621076; Michael K. Miller and Margaret E. Peters, “Restraining the Huddled Masses: Migration Policy and Autocratic Survival,” British Journal of Political Science, March 2018, 1–31, https://doi.org/10.1017/S0007123417000680. 15 Kurt Weyland, “Autocratic Diffusion and Cooperation: The Impact of Interests vs. Ideology,” Democratization 24, no. 7 (10 November 2017): 1235–52, https://doi.org/10.1080/13510347.2017.1307823. 16 Ibid. 17 Emanuela Paoletti, The Migration of Power and North-South Inequalities: The Case of Italy and Libya (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). APPENDIX

1 Douglas Guilfoyle, Shipping Interdiction and the Law of the Sea (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009); Niels Frenzen, “US Migrant Interdiction Practices,” in Extraterritorial Immigration Control: Legal Challenges, eds. Bernard Ryan and Valsamis Mitsilegas (Leiden: brill, 2010). 2 European University Institute: mirem, “Inventory of the Agreements Linked to Readmission,” March 2015, http://www.mirem.eu/datasets/ agreements/tunisie/index. 3 European University Institute: Consortium for Applied Research on International Migration, “Migration Profiles,” accessed 25 October 2013, http://www.carim.org/index.php?callContent=502. 4 Secondary sources include Paolo Cuttitta, “Readmission in the Relations between Italy and North African Mediterranean Countries,” in Unbalanced Reciprocities: Cooperation on Readmission in the Euro–Mediterranean Area, ed. Jean-Pierre Cassarino (Middle East Institute: Special Edition Viewpoints, 2010), http://www.mei.edu/sites /default/files/publications/ReadmissionWeb.pdf; Paula Garcia Andrade, “Extraterritorial Strategies to Tackle Irregular Immigration by Sea: A Spanish Perspective,” in Ryan and Mitsilegas, Extraterritorial Immigration Control; Alessia di Pascale, “Migration Control at Sea: The Italian Case,” in Ryan and Mitsilegas, Extraterritorial Immigration Control, 292–6.

244

Notes to page 182

5 Australian Government: Department of Immigration and Border Protection, “Departmental Annual Reports,” 2012, http://www.immi.gov.au /about/reports/annual/. 6 Particularly helpful sources included Guilfoyle, Shipping Interdiction and the Law of the Sea; Susan Kneebone, “Controlling Migration by Sea: The Australian Case,” in Ryan and Mitsilegas, Extraterritorial Immigration Control.

Life without Earlids

Index

Aal, Fouzi Abdul, 141 Abbott, Tony, 62 Albania: migration control cooperation with Italy, 50–3, 190 Albright, Madeleine, 91 Algeria , 124; migration control cooperation with Italy, 53, 191 Alia, Ramiz, 51 al-Islam, Saif, 142 Antigua and Barbuda: migration control cooperation with the United States, 188 Arab Spring, 10, 29, 35–6, 115–17, 143–4, 163; Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia, 115–16, 126–36, 143–4, 161, 170; Libya, 116–17, 136–44, 160 Aristide, Jean-Bertrand, 33–4, 70, 72, 80–95, 159–62, 166, 169–72 Armenia: Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57 Ashton, Catherine, 129 Australia, xii, 8, 26–8, 40–1, 163, 167, 182–3; development of extraterritorial migration control policies, 57–62; extraterritorial processing, 41; Indo-Chinese refugee crisis,

57–8; legal decisions, 64–5; Operation Sovereign Borders, 62; overview of migration agreements signed, 38–41, 184–8; “Pacific Solution,” 41, 60–2 Australian Department of Home Affairs, 182 autocracy. See state institutions Azerbaijan: Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57 Baby Doc. See Duvalier, Jean-Claude Bahamas: migration control cooperation with the United States, 50, 89, 93, 188; treatment of Haitian migrants, 80, 94 Bali Process on People Smuggling, Trafficking in Persons and Related Transnational Crime, 61, 184–8 Belarus: Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57 Belize: migration control cooperation with the United States, 188 Ben Ali, Zine El Abidine, 115, 118–29, 134–8, 143–4, 159–61, 164–5, 168–72

245

246

Index

Berisha, Sali, 51 Berlusconi, Silvio: negotiations with Libya, 139–41; negotiations with Tunisia, 36, 115–16, 129–36, 171, 177 Bosnia and Herzegovina: migration control cooperation with Italy, 191 Bouazizi, Mohamed, 126 Bourghiba, Habib, 118 Braceros program, 97, 101 Brunei: migration control cooperation with Australia, 184 Bush, George H.W., 64, 82–6, 88 Bush, George W.: negotiations with Haiti, 93; negotiations with Mexico, 99, 106–12 Cámara, Fernando Solís, 103 Cambodia: Indo-Chinese refugee crisis, 57; migration control cooperation with Australia, 61–2, 184 Canada, 26, 41, 104, 109, 113; Haitian migration to, 71, 74; migration control cooperation with the United States, 12, 50, 108, 188 Cape Verde: migration control cooperation with Spain, 54, 191; Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 56–7 carrier sanctions, 27, 41–3 Carter, Jimmy, 47–8, 74–5 Castro, Fidel, 46–8, 50, 75 Cédras, Raoul, 82, 85–6, 169 Christopher, Warren, 85 civil society mobilization, 100, 160–1, 164–7, 170–5; in destination states, 84–7, 121–2, 167; in Mexico, 100, 108–11, 114, 173; in

Senegal, 37, 145–6, 151–5, 173; in Tunisia, 120–1, 126–9, 134–5, 144, 172 class divisions, 93–5, 156–7, 165, 175, 177 Clinton, Bill, 174; negotiations with Aristide (Haiti), 72, 84–8, 162; negotiations with Préval (Haiti), 90–3, 169, 172; negotiations with Zedillo (Mexico), 103 coercive engineered migration, 10, 138, 162–3, 169 Cold War, 17–18; and politics of exit, 43–4; United States relations with Cuba, 46–8; United States relations with Haiti, 48–50, 78–9 Colombia: migration control cooperation with the United States, 188 colonial legacies: impact on state institutions, 20; and partner state politics, 13–14, 24, 166–7 Communism: and migration policies, 43–4, 67–8, 169 Congressional Black Caucus, 85–6 Costa Rica: migration control cooperation with the United States, 188 counternarcotics: drug interdiction cooperation agreements, 40, 89–95, 103–4; in Mexico, 112; war on drugs, xi, 178 countries of origin. See partner states Croatia: migration control cooperation with Italy, 191 Cuba, 10, 70; migration control cooperation with the United States, 44–50, 75, 188. See also Castro, Fidel

Index

Cuban Adjustment Act, 47 de la Madrid, Miguel, 99 democracy. See state institutions democracy promotion, 24–5, 169, 171–2, 175 deterrence: along the US–Mexico border: 102, 112; Australia and the Indo-Chinese refugee crisis, 59; in the Australian context, 62; of Haitian migrants, 83–4 diaspora engagement, 176; in autocratic states, 23; domestic opinions of diaspora, 135; expatriate antiregime mobilization, 79–80, 84–7, 127, 168; Mexico, 102, 106 Dini, Lamberto, 119 Dominica: migration control cooperation with the United States, 189 Dominican Republic: control cooperation with the United States, 50, 89, 93, 189; and Haitian migrant workers, 70, 78, 81, 94 Duvalier, François, 70–3 Duvalier, Jean-Claude, xii, 33, 44, 48–50, 70–82, 87, 94–5, 159–60, 164–5, 168–9 East Timor: migration control cooperation with Australia, 8, 61, 184 Egypt, 10, 134, 138; migration cooperation with Italy, 53, 191 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 46 El Salvador: migration control cooperation with the United States, 40, 112, 189 Ennahda, 126 Erdoğan, Recep Tayyip, xiv Essebsi, Beji Caid, 127–8, 130–2

247

Ethiopia: Common Agenda on Migration and Mobility with the European Union, 57 EU. See European Union Euro-Mediterranean Network of Human Rights (EMHRN), 134 European Convention on Human Rights, 65 European Union (EU): Barcelona Process, 124, 127; development of extraterritorial migration control policies, 27, 55–7, 123; eastward expansion, 123–4, 164; Global Approach to Migration and Mobility, 56–7; legal decisions, 64–5; Tampere Program and the Common European Asylum System, 56, 123; and Tunisia, 121, 123–4, 129–31, 160–1, 164. See also Frontex; Schengen expatriates. See diaspora engagement Federation of Tunisians for Citizenship on both Shores (FTCR), 127, 134 Fernandez-Mazarambroz, Miguel Angel, 150 Fiji: migration control cooperation with Australia, 62, 185 fishing and fisheries, 119, 147, 149 Fox, Vicente, 33, 35, 97–8, 101, 106–12, 145, 159, 161, 164, 166, 172–4 France, 18; and Libya, 140; migration relations with Haiti, 71, 74; migration relations with Senegal, 31, 146–7, 155–6, 161, 166, 177; migration relations with Tunisia, 31, 118, 127 Frattini, Franco, 52, 141, 129–30

248

Index

freedom of exit, xii–xiii, 42–4, 68, 171; in historical perspective, 40, 42–4; Mexico, 101, 104 Frontex, 148, 191–2; data on irregular entries, 55; North Africa, 53, 55, 57; operations with Spain, 54, 150–2, 154, 156 Gaddafi, Muammar, 8–9, 53, 65, 117, 137–44, 163–8, 176 Gambia: migration control cooperation with Spain, 54, 191 General Law of Population (Mexico), 103, 105 Georgia: Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57 Ghannouchi, Mohamed, 127–30 Governor’s Island Accord, 85 Greece: advocacy for EU solidarity, 26–7, 55–6, 123; cooperation with Turkey, xiii–xiv, 40 Grenada: migration control cooperation with the United States, 189 Grupo Beta, 103 Guatemala: migration control cooperation with the United States, 112, 189 Guinea: migration control cooperation with Spain, 54, 191 Guinea-Bissau: migration control cooperation with Spain, 54, 191 Haiti: migration control cooperation with the United States, xii, 29, 31, 33–4, 47–50, 64, 70–95, 159–62, 164, 166, 168–72, 189. See also Aristide, Jean-Bertrand; Duvalier, François; Duvalier, JeanClaude; Préval, René; Sale v. Haitian Centers Council

Haitian National Office of Migration, 87, 94 Hart-Cellar Act (United States), 97 Hirsi Jamaa and Others v. Italy, 65, 194n5 Honduras: migration control cooperation with the United States, 112, 189 Howard, John, 60 human rights, 169; advocacy, xii, 23; advocacy for Haitian refugees, 83–4; advocacy relating to Palermo Protocols, 66–7; asylum, 4; and prevention of returns, 4; refugee protection, 4, 43, 57, 63–4, 169, 179–80; Tunisian context, 119–22, 126; Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 43. See also freedom of exit; nonrefoulement human smuggling and trafficking, xiii, 179 human trafficking: criminality as a lens for framing cooperation, 12, 65–6, 110, 125–6, 179; and partner state interests, 13 illegal migration. See irregular migration Immigration Reform and Control Act (United States), 97, 101–2 Indo-Chinese refugee crisis. See Australia; Vietnam Indonesia: migration control cooperation with Australia, xii, 60–2, 185 informal alliances and cooperation, xi, 172, 175; Haitian context, 88–95, 172; Senegal, 150 Instituto Nacional de Migración

Index

(INM). See Mexican National Institute of Migration International Maritime Organization, 66 International Organization for Migration (IOM), 94, 105 international relations theory: complex interdependence, 9, 163; cooperation, xi, xv, 6–12; dependency theory, 7; impacts of asymmetry, xv, 6–12, 18, 24, 26, 87, 96, 162–4, 176; structural realism, 7–9, 26, 92; two-level games, 5 irregular migration: impacts of NAFTA, 104; international expansion of, 42–4, 67; and migrant safety, 67, 93–5, 102, 122–4, 145–6, 151–2, 163; and partner state interests, 13, 101, 165 Italy, 25–41, 147, 162, 177, 182; and Albania, 50–2; development of extraterritorial migration control cooperation, 50–4; domestic immigration policy, 52–5; and Libya, 9, 116–17, 136–44, 160, 176; overview of migration agreements signed, 38–41, 190–2; and Tunisia, 115–16, 118–36, 143–4, 160–1, 164, 166, 172. See also Hirsi Jamaa and Others v. Italy Jackson-Vanik amendment, 43 Jalil, Mustafa Abdel, 139 Jamaica: migration control cooperation with the United States, 190 Jordan: Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57 labour migration, 13, 53, 147; labour migration agreements,

249

10–11, 97, 118, 176; and partner state interests, 13. See also Braceros program labour unions, 97, 100, 120–1, 127 Lampedusa, xi, 131–6 Laos: Indo-Chinese refugee crisis, 57 Lavalas party, 81–2, 87, 90 liberation theology: of JeanBertrand Aristide, 81 Libya, 29, 31, 65; migration control cooperation with Italy, xii, 8–10, 33, 36–7, 53, 65, 116–17, 136–45, 159–60, 165–6, 168–9, 191. See also Gaddafi, Muammar; National Transitional Council (NTC) López Obrador, Andrés Manuel, 113–14 Malaysia: Australian High Court decision regarding refugee processing, 64–5; migration control cooperation with Australia, 58, 62, 64, 186, 188 Mariel Boatlift, 44, 47–8, 75 Maroni, Roberto, 130–3 Martelly, Michel, 94 Mauritania: migration control cooperation with Spain, 54, 149–50, 154, 191 Mebazaa, Fouad, 127–8 Mérida Initiative, 112 Mexican Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI), 97–106, 111, 166, 172 Mexican National Guard, xiii, 114 Mexican National Institute of Migration (INM), 102–3 Mexico, 10, 28–9, 31, 145, 157; migration control cooperation with the United States, xiii, 8, 12,

250

Index

33–5, 50, 96–114, 159, 161, 164–6, 170–4, 177, 190. See also Fox, Vicente; Mexican Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) Micronesia: migration control cooperation with Australia, 186 migrant detention, 60, 62, 119; of Haitians, 83, 88; in Tunisia, 119–20 Moldova: Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57 Montenegro: migration control cooperation with Italy, 192 Morocco, 10, 124; migration control cooperation with Spain, 12, 54, 56, 148; Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57; readmission agreement with Italy, 118 Mustapha, Said Ben, 119 NAFTA. See

North American Free Trade Agreement National Transitional Council (NTC), 36, 116–17, 136–44, 159–60, 168 NATO, 138–42 Nauru: migration control cooperation with Australia, 60–2, 65 Nérette, Joseph, 82 New Zealand, 28, 41, 60 Ngom, Ousmane, 151 Nicaragua: migration control cooperation with the United States, 190 Nigeria , 28; Common Agenda on Migration and Mobility with the European Union, 57 9/11 and war on terror, xi, 68, 125, 178–9; impact on migration dis-

course and law, 41, 44, 50, 98, 163; impact on US–Mexico negotiations, 107–11; Islamism, 115, 121, 125, 139 nonrefoulement, xii, 43; domestic court cases interpretation of, 63–5 North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), 98, 100, 104, 107–10, 113 Northern League, 130, 135 Obama, Barack, 112 Obrador, López, xiii–xiv onboard screenings of refugees, 83 Operation Desert Safeguard, 112 Operation Hold the Line, 102 Operation Pellicano, 51 Operation Sovereign Borders, 62 Organization of American States, 93 Pacific Solution, 41, 60–2 Palau: migration control cooperation with Australia, 186 Palermo Protocols, 63, 65–7, 125 Panama: migration control cooperation with the United States, 190 Papa Doc. See Duvalier, François Papua New Guinea: migration control cooperation with Australia, 61–2, 65, 186 Parliament of Australia, 57 partner states: asymmetry in relations with destination states, 6; differences between countries of origin versus transit, 14, 31; major global destination states, 26–7; and transit state politics, 14 Peña Nieto, Enrique, 96, 112–13 Philippines: migration control cooperation with Australia, 62, 187

Index

Plan Sur, 107 police cooperation, 53, 57, 119, 124, 182, 191 populism, xiv, 14, 21, 34, 73, 81, 110, 138, 157; in destination states, 112–13, 135, 177; Haitian context, 90–1, 95 Presidential Office for Mexicans Abroad (OPME), 106 Préval, René: negotiations with the United States, 24, 89–95, 159, 161, 170 PRI. See Mexican Institutional Revolutionary Party Puebla Process, 12 Rassemblement constitutionnel démocratique (RCD), 120, 126–8 readmission: and domestic politics, 87–8, 97, 152–4 readmission agreements, 182; as distinct from extraterritorial interdiction agreements, 3–4, 176; early Italian agreements, 53; in Europe, 8; with the European Union, 56; with Mexico, 112; with Spain, 152–4; with Tunisia, 116, 119, 132–3 Reagan, Ronald, xi, 48–9, 64, 70–80, 103, 178 Refugee Convention and Protocol, 40, 43, 64 refugee protection. See human rights remittances, 31, 78, 165; as a lens for understanding partner state behaviors, 13; in Mexico, 101–2, 110; in Senegal, 147 repatriation and agreements. See readmission agreements

251

resettlement agreements with Australia, 58–62, 183, 186 Retour vers l’agriculture program, 155 root causes of migration, 37, 107, 111, 151, 155, 164, 174–5 safety of life at sea. See irregular migration: and migrant safety; undocumented migration safety valve theories of migration, 13, 23, 79, 97, 165, 167–8 Sale v. Haitian Centers Council, 64–5 Salinas de Gortari, Carlos, 33, 99–100, 104, 159 sanctions: against Haiti, 82, 85 Schengen, 40–1, 52–5, 118, 122, 143, 160, 162, 191 securitization of migration, 37, 124, 134 Senegal, 29, 31; migration control cooperation with Spain, 33, 37, 54, 93, 145–57, 159, 161–2, 164–6, 172–4, 177, 192. See also Wade, Abdoulaye Singapore: migration control cooperation with Australia, 58, 187 Sistema Integrado de Vigilancia Exterior (SIVE), 148 Smart Borders Agreements. See Canada; Mexico Solomon Islands: migration control cooperation with Australia, 187 Sovereignty, xi, xiii–xiv, 3–4, 13, 22, 29, 33, 36, 38, 49, 67–9, 116, 130–3, 166, 170, 178–9 Spain, 12, 25–31, 37–8, 41, 182; Canary Islands, 37, 54, 145–6, 148–51; Ceuta and Melilla, 148; development of extraterritorial

252

Index

migration control cooperation, 54–6; domestic immigration policy, 145, 147–8; overview of migration agreements signed, 38–41, 190–2; and Senegal, 145–57, 161, 166, 177 Spanish Guardia Civil, 151 Sri Lanka: migration control cooperation with Australia, 60, 62 state institutions, xiv, 14–25, 158–62, 167–75; cooperation with autocratic states, 22–3; cooperation with fragile democracies, 24–5; cooperation with strong democracies, 25; defining autocracy, 15–16; defining democracy, 15; influence on negotiation outcomes, xiv, 15–25, 167–74; and “liberal paradox,” 4; regime strength influence on negotiation outcomes, 18–20 St Kitts and Nevis: migration control cooperation with the United States, 190 St Vincent and the Grenadines: migration control cooperation with the United States, 190 Syria: Syrian refugees to Europe, xiii, 40 Tampa Incident, 60–1 Thailand: migration control cooperation with Australia, 61, 187–8 trade relations: 165, 172; between the US and Mexico, 98, 100, 104, 108–9, 113, 164; between Tunisia and the EU, 121–2, 124, 133, 164, 169 transit migration, 165–6; in the Mexican context, 104–5, 112,

165–6; in the North African context, 118–19, 123, 137, 165–6. See also partner states Trump, Donald, 96, 112–14, 177 Tunisia, 29, 31; migration control cooperation with Italy, 33, 35–6, 53, 115–38, 143–4, 159, 160–1, 164–72, 177, 192; Mobility Partnership with the European Union, 57. See also Ben Ali, Zine El Abidine Tunisian Coast Guard, 119, 122, 131, 135–6 Tunisian Social and Economic Rights Forum (FTDES), 127, 134 Turkey: migration control cooperation with the EU, xiii, xiv, 40, 192 undocumented migration. See irregular migration unemployment, 13, 37, 97, 101, 125–6, 128, 147, 155–6, 172 UNHCR. See United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees United Nations General Assembly, 66 United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), xii, 51, 59, 61, 64, 185 United Nations Organized Crime Convention, 66, 125 United Nations Security Council (UNSC): and Albania, 51–2; and Haiti, 86, 172; and Iraq, 111; and Libya, 138, 141 United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH), 94 United States, 12, 25–31, 129, 141, 163, 147, 177–8; development of extraterritorial migration control

Index

cooperation, 42–50, 63–6; and Haiti, 34, 70–95, 160–2, 168–72, 177; and Mexico, xiii, 8, 35, 96–114, 156, 160–1, 164, 166, 172, 174, 177; overview of migration agreements signed, 38–41, 181–2, 188–90. See also Sale v. Haitian Centers Council; United States Coast Guard United States Coast Guard, 45–6, 64, 73, 77, 82–4, 94, 190 United States Customs and Border Protection, 44–5 United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement, 30, 181 United States Immigration and Nationality Act (INA), 64 United States Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS), 102 United States–Mexico–Canada Agreement (USMCA), 113 United States Office of Legal Counsel (OLC), 48–9

253

United States State Department, 83, 181 Vanuatu: migration control cooperation with Australia, 187 Venezuela: migration control cooperation with the United States, 190 Vietnam: Indo-Chinese refugee crisis, xii, 57–60; migration control cooperation with Australia, 188 visas, 11, 27, 41–3, 55, 67, 71, 119, 121, 126, 132, 146, 148, 151, 155, 165; visa quota allotments, 119, 124, 130, 146, 151, 155 Wade, Abdoulaye, 33, 37, 145–6, 149–57, 159, 161, 164, 172–4 war on terror. See 9/11 and war on terror Zapatistas, 100 Zedillo, Ernesto, 33, 100, 103, 159

254

Index