T&T has long shared deep historical, cultural, and economic ties with Venezuela. For centuries, the two countries have traded goods, shared migration flows, and developed familial and social links across the Gulf of Paria.
Venezuelans have long been part of T&T society—fishermen, traders, energy workers, and more recently, migrants fleeing the political and economic turmoil of their homeland. These ties make the current shift in the Kamla Persad-Bissessar administration’s migration policy all the more striking.
The government that once championed humanitarian principles now appears to be walking a tightrope between law enforcement and human rights. Recent actions toward Venezuelan migrants have raised uncomfortable questions: has the UNC abandoned its previous stance of compassion, or is this a pragmatic response to an increasingly complex situation?
The parallels with the United States under Donald Trump are striking. Both leaders, separated by geography and context, have relied heavily on crime-linked rhetoric to justify harsh immigration measures. For Trump, migrants—especially from Latin America—are often painted as potential criminals or threats to national security. This framing paved the way for mass deportations.
Persad-Bissessar’s administration has taken a hardline approach that mirrors Trump’s playbook in tone and structure. The Ministry of Homeland Security recently ordered that undocumented Venezuelan migrants be detained at the Immigration Detention Centre pending deportation, with work permits slashed by 82 per cent from 4,275 in 2024 to just 757 this year.
While the Prime Minister has avoided the overtly xenophobic language that defines much of Trump’s rhetoric, her messaging similarly links migrants to criminality and social disorder, citing gang activity, drug trafficking, and border insecurity as justification for sweeping measures.
This alignment in rhetoric is significant because it reveals the power—and peril—of framing migration primarily as a security threat. By equating undocumented status with criminal intent, the government risks casting a wide net that punishes the innocent along with the guilty. Many Venezuelans in T&T fled political and economic instability, seeking safety, work, and dignity. Yet the current policy appears to be eroding the humanitarian values that the UNC once espoused.
Already, the Venezuelan Justice Minister has publicly criticised T&T’s new approach, claiming it is part of a larger plan to send “undercover mercenaries” back home. While the government may view the deportations as a law-and-order measure, the optics and regional consequences cannot be ignored.
The public deserves clarity. Are deportations targeted and selective, or will they encompass all undocumented migrants regardless of circumstance? Will legitimate asylum seekers and those who contribute to the economy have any protections, or is the policy now one of blanket deterrence? Until these questions are answered, confusion and fear will dominate both migrant communities and the broader public.
T&T must enforce the law, protect its borders, and safeguard public safety. But these goals should not come at the expense of humanity. Persad-Bissessar and her Cabinet must act now to clearly define a migration policy that upholds both security and compassion. Draw a firm line between criminals and those fleeing crisis, and honour the history that binds our nations. Only a decisive, humane policy will protect our values and our future.
To fail in this moment is not just a policy failure—it is a moral failure. The choice is clear. Act now!
