“The only way to reduce immigration’s salience as a political problem is to make the system work better”

For many years, the United States was seen as the ultimate immigration country, but this perception is shifting. Under the Trump administration, migration policy became markedly harsher even affecting highly skilled individuals, including those educated at American universities. What factors might explain this development?

It is important to recognize that U.S. immigration policies had become dysfunctional long before President Trump took office. Decades of failed attempts to reform and expand legal immigration eroded public trust. Combined with persistent illegal migration across the southern border, this undermined any remaining confidence that the government could manage immigration effectively. Trump did not innovate or improve on policy design but, like many right-wing populists in Europe, capitalized on widespread concerns neglected by mainstream politicians, raising the salience of immigration to his benefit. Many of his actual immigration policies, like family separation and the Muslim ban, proved deeply unpopular, even with many conservatives. Despite occasional rhetorical support for skilled immigration, his administration, influenced by openly anti-immigration figures such as Stephen Miller, also made it harder to attract top talent. In effect, a gridlocked system and rising polarization created a vacuum that President Trump filled by mobilizing resentment. The Biden administration’s response has often reinforced rather than repaired the problem. By oscillating between occasional symbolic toughness and humanitarian gestures, without addressing the underlying dysfunction, it deepened the cycle of backlash and counter-backlash. The absence of visible, demonstrably beneficial reforms under both Democrats and Republicans has left many voters unconvinced that the system is under control. This dynamic is not unique to the United States but reflects a broader pattern in many rich democracies, including Germany, where governments of both left and right have failed to satisfy voters on immigration, generating distrust and fuelling populism.

We can observe a similar trend in European countries. Public ressentiment is turning not just against specific forms of migration posing challenges for the welfare state and social cohesion, but against immigration in general. What is your assessment of this dynamic?

Perhaps in a perfect world, people would treat work immigration, border control, and asylum rights as separate issues. In practice, public opinion and political debate rarely make these distinctions. Instead, voters and elites bundle diverse concerns about foreigners in their country into a single category of “immigration.” So, when a certain crisis hits while dominating headlines, the negativity spills over to immigration as a whole. This explains why even countries with strong labour demand have become more restrictive. Another factor is the widespread distrust of governments’ capacity to manage this ‘immigration bundle’ effectively. Across Europe, as in the United States, publics consistently report low confidence in how immigration is handled. These perceptions are not baseless: many systems are decidedly not designed to attract and retain the productive workers countries need, reinforcing the impression that immigration is not being managed in the broader public interest. In such contexts, even modest immigration flows can feel overwhelming, producing a swing in favour of restrictions. But what looks like a shift in fundamental preferences is better seen as a reaction to weak governance. When voters do not see immigration as demonstrably beneficial and under control, skepticism hardens into general opposition.

Your research suggests that, even amid rising scepticism toward immigration in most liberal democracies, certain kind of immigration still receive widespread acceptance. Which types of immigration are we talking about?

Across contexts, high-skilled immigration is perhaps the ultimate type of mobility that commands broad support. Doctors, engineers, and other professionals are consistently viewed as assets because their contributions are intuitive: they fill meaningful jobs, pay taxes, and integrate well. As a lot of empirical research shows, this support does not just reflect an absence of labour competition or some kind of prejudice but a recognition of clear benefits to society. Immediate family and targeted labour migration can also attract support when structured and orderly. Even humanitarian admissions can win majority backing when framed as serving national interests. For example, Canada’s private refugee sponsorship program reflected in Germany’s new NesT initiative shows that when willing citizens are directly engaged in resettlement on their own dime, humanitarian migration gains more legitimacy. The common thread is not a particular migrant category but smart policy design: pathways that appear organized, purposeful, and beneficial.

Advocates of a migration policy guided by humanitarian principles often express concern that an approach primarily focused on economic benefits could negatively impact particularly vulnerable groups those who may not meet purely economic criteria. Is this a legitimate concern?

It is a legitimate concern, but one that can be mitigated by how policies are designed. The common denominator of popular immigration ideas is demonstrable benefit to the host society, whether through economic contribution or cultural integration, and not the exclusion of vulnerable groups. This logic implies that the debate should not be reduced to “skills versus compassion.” The more productive approach is to design specific pathways that voters can recognize as serving diverse national purposes, whether those are purely economic or not. The relatively positive reception of Ukrainian refugees shows how geopolitical concerns can increase support beyond economic or cultural considerations. The principle of demonstrable benefit is about making better policies, not about weighing the worth of particular individuals. Evidence suggests that systems grounded in demonstrable benefit are better positioned to respond generously in crises. Canada’s relatively selective system which is often criticized for its selectiveness by humanitarian advocates has been able to sustain legitimacy while enabling higher humanitarian admissions than most peers. If citizens see immigration filling shortages, revitalizing regions, or strengthening families, they are more likely to extend generosity in emergencies. In this sense, prioritizing national benefit broadly conceived can enlarge, not shrink, humanitarian space in the long run.

Among proponents of more migration-friendly policies, there’s a common argument that a shift in rhetoric placing greater emphasis on the positive contributions of immigration could help shape public opinion and reduce prejudice against migrants. Is this a valid assumption?

Messaging and information provision matter, but they are not sufficient in a competitive political environment. Voters often care about whether immigration serves national interests, not just whether it is described positively. Every compelling pro-immigration message has a restrictionist counter-message that may resonate more strongly when policies appear mismanaged. Rhetoric can inspire, but without policy credibility, it rings hollow. What makes the Canadian system resilient, for example, is not a superior narrative but a set of policies that clearly align with national interests and are widely perceived as fair and orderly, despite current challenges. That said, mainstream parties still need to articulate a constructive, positive vision of immigration when implementing reforms rather than ceding the terrain to populists. Immigration will remain a salient issue for the foreseeable future, so the common suggestion among some advocates to simply avoid the topic will not work. Rhetoric can set the tone, but durable persuasion requires governments to demonstrate benefits through visible, well-functioning programs. The only way to reduce immigration’s salience as a political problem is to make the system work better.

What conclusions can be drawn from this? How can migration policy be designed in a way that it serves national interests while maintaining support from both those who are sceptical about immigration and those who want to live up to humanitarian responsibilities?

The main conclusion is that compromise is indispensable in diverse democracies. Immigration will never be universally popular, but it can be broadly legitimate when policies combine openness with control and deliver benefits visible to ordinary citizens. That means prioritizing demonstrably beneficial channels skilled labour, student mobility, and structured humanitarian pathways that reassure skeptics while expanding opportunities. Over time, such reforms build trust and normalize higher inflows, creating political space for more ambitious, yet still widely accepted, humanitarian commitments. The task is not to resolve the immigration debate once and for all but to manage it responsibly acknowledging trade-offs, minimizing backlash, and sustaining the legitimacy of freer immigration as a long-term feature of democratic societies. Importantly, however, the debate is not only between restrictionists and humanitarians. The largest group is arguably the constituency that wants immigration to function like any other policy: to serve the broad public interest. And in a democracy, it matters less what any of us think individually about the right to asylum or other principles than what most citizens believe collectively, since those voters ultimately shape outcomes. The current representation gaps on immigration will not close on their own, which is why designing credible policies that respond to majority concerns is essential. Well-designed reforms can speak to all three groups by addressing legitimate concerns, protecting the vulnerable, and advancing national prosperity.