Nine days into the country’s 47th presidency, Donald Trump issued an executive memorandum that contained his latest mass deportation plan. The three-paragraph, 148-word order called for a migrant facility located at the US Naval Base in Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, to be expanded “to full capacity”. The US president later said the camp would house 30,000 migrants.
Troop deployments quickly followed and on 4 February, the first planes carrying a few dozen migrants arrived at Guantánamo, with officials sending more each day.
If the past is any guide, rather than accelerating Trump’s drive for unprecedented mass deportations, the Guantánamo migrant detention plan is destined to repeat the cruelty, confusion, protracted legal battles and staggering financial costs that have defined US detentions at Guantánamo since the September 11 attacks.
Today we know Guantánamo mainly as the detention facility that held a total of 780 war on terror detainees over the past 23 years. The cruelty of Guantánamo has been exhaustively documented, notably in the 2023 UN special rapporteur’s report on the detention facility which described “the depth, severity, and evident nature of many detainees’ current physical and psychological harms”, both those still in Guantánamo and those who had been released as constituting human rights violations.
Instead of acting as an effective deterrent, Guantánamo has become a worldwide symbol of US hypocrisy.
The US has also found it impossible to bring to trial those who are charged with conspiring in the attacks of September 11. In sum, once detention in Gitmo was set up, it has seemed doomed to perpetual limbo, all too easy to fill up and nearly impossible to empty.
And the prison complex, which currently holds 15 prisoners, has served taxpayers poorly as well. It now operates at an astounding estimated cost of $44m – per prisoner per year – up from $13m in 2019 when the prison held 40 detainees. Every ounce of water used on the base must be created by a single desalinization plant. Food, construction material and all other supplies must be brought in by barge. Troops for security and logistics support must be deployed. Medical personnel as well.
The war on terror’s prison is not the only warning sign from the past. For decades before September 11, Guantánamo served as a warehouse for migrants, a zone where laws were conveniently pushed aside, and legal resolution remained elusive.
Originally established as a coaling station in 1903, the island military base took on a new role in the 1990s when Cubans, and then Haitians fleeing the overthrow of the democratically elected president, Jean-Bertrand Aristide, were apprehended at sea while seeking asylum in the United States.
Culminating in Operation Sea Signal, 50,000 migrants were detained over time, with 24,000 in place at the peak, housed in vast expanses of tent cities where conditions were dangerously unsanitary, legal processes slow to nonexistent, and treatment of the migrants reportedly harsh. Despite the Clinton administration’s promises of processing their cases for asylum, most of the Haitians were summarily returned to Haiti. Cubans as well often remained in legal limbo in one “sad camp” or another.
Since then, the Migrant Operations Center (MOC) has continued to serve as a holding facility for migrants apprehended at sea. In 2020-2021, the MOC held an average of 14 detainees at a time. By 2024, 37 migrants were housed there, reportedly living in legal limbo, under unsanitary conditions and reported mistreatment and abuse.
The sense of deja vu is unsettling. Tom Homan has referred to those who will be sent to Guantánamo as “the worst of the worst”, the same words used by the secretary of defense, Donald Rumsfeld, when he first set up the post-9/11 prison camp. Tellingly, the first troops sent last week to facilitate the new operations were marines from Camp LeJeune, just as they had been after September 11. And the essential policy parallel holds as well: an administration has given up trying to tackle complex policy problems and has instead embraced viral images of shackled prisoners and tough-talking soundbites that energize its political base.
Guantánamo makes a mockery of our claim that we are a nation of laws, prudence and common sense. It has become a global symbol of the US inability to address complex challenges, in this case the unprecedented level of mass migration under way worldwide, with an eye towards a realistic, long-term solution. Nor is there a compelling argument that the threat of detention at Guantánamo will deter those seeking asylum from fears of persecution in their home countries and are willing to risk the dangers of the migration routes.
In a 1996 after-action manual based on interviews with military personnel who had served at Guantánamo during the detention operation of the 1990s, the authors made a series of recommendations. The manual highlighted the need to clarify the “legal basis for the operation” and “for understanding the nature and scope of the mission at the outset”.
Such clarity, Gen Joseph Hoar, the head of USCentcom at the time wrote, was “paramount”.
The general’s warning was ignored after September 11. It is absent today as well in the rapid, indiscriminate, legally vague and underprepared operation currently under way.
It’s time to finally take a lesson from the past. The throughline of Guantánamo represents one thing and one thing only: it exists outside the law. It is ineffective, exorbitantly expensive, and will not solve complex, insufficiently addressed policy messes. Using it to tackle migration will lead predictably not to solving a problem but to creating new ones.
Karen J Greenberg is the director of the Center on National Security at Fordham Law and author of The Least Worst Place: Guantanamo’s First 100 Days
Mike Lehnert (MajGen USMC ret) served as the joint task group commander of the Cuban and Haitian migrant camps during Operation Sea Signal (1995) and the first joint task force commander of JTF GITMO (2002)
Source: US Politics - theguardian.com
