By Kimahli Powell and Jean Freedberg
The views expressed below are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the Carr-Ryan Center for Human Rights or Harvard Kennedy School. These perspectives have been presented to encourage debate on important public policy challenges.
The selective admission of this small group of white Afrikaans-speaking South Africans suggests that the Trump administration’s approach to refugee resettlement is not constrained by capacity but shaped by a strategic repurposing of USRAP to advance political and racialized priorities.
This past week, the Trump administration oversaw the resettlement of a group of white Afrikaans-speaking South Africans through the United States Refugee Admissions Program (USRAP), the federal program responsible for vetting and resettling refugees in coordination with the State Department, the Department of Homeland Security, and international partners. This action stands in stark contrast to the administration’s ongoing freeze on nearly all other refugee populations, despite multiple court orders demanding the resumption of travel. While presented as a necessary act of humanitarian protection, the selective admission of this small group of white Afrikaans-speaking South Africans suggests that the Trump administration’s approach to refugee resettlement is not constrained by capacity but shaped by a strategic repurposing of USRAP to advance political and racialized priorities.
Since returning to office, the Trump administration has issued a sweeping set of executive orders and administrative actions dismantling immigration and refugee protections:
Protecting the American People from Invasion reinstated mass deportation tactics, expanded expedited removal, and targeted sanctuary jurisdictions;
Protecting the United States from Foreign Terrorists and other National Security and Public Safety Threats authorized “enhanced vetting” and entry bans for nationals of non-compliant countries, echoing earlier travel bans; and
Realigning the United States Refugee Admissions Program indefinitely suspended USRAP, halting all new refugee processing and revoking Biden’s prior expansion order.
In parallel, DHS terminated parole for 532,000 CHNV nationals (Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, and Venezuelans), removing their legal status and placing them at risk of deportation. And of course, the administration has also invoked the Alien Enemies Act of 1798 to pursue deportations with minimal due process.
Collectively, these measures reflect a marked expansion of executive authority over immigration and refugee policy—an assertion of presidential power that bypasses congressional oversight, narrows statutory discretion, and weakens procedural due process. While Trump v. Hawaii (2018) affirmed broad presidential authority under INA § 212(f), the administration's extreme actions signal a shift toward leveraging emergency powers as a primary instrument of immigration policy. This approach bypasses traditional refugee protocols and undermines procedural safeguards, raising critical questions about the long-term implications for U.S. commitments under domestic and international refugee law.
Juxtapose these actions to the stunning reception the Administration brought to the South Africans who arrived at Dulles International Airport on a chartered plane and were greeted by senior Administration officials. Stephen Miller, White House Deputy Chief of Staff, declared, “What’s happening in South Africa fits the textbook definition of why the refugee program was created.” He continued, “This is race-based persecution.”
The Executive Order suspending USRAP claims that “the United States lacks the ability to absorb large numbers of migrants, and in particular, refugees, into its communities in a manner that does not compromise the availability of resources for Americans, that protects their safety and security, and that ensures the appropriate assimilation of refugees.” Yet despite evidence that the refugee resettlement system can in fact absorb newcomers, the swift processing and arrival of these Afrikaners also contradicts this justification, demonstrating that the infrastructure rebuilt under the Biden administration remains functional and can be rapidly mobilized—when politically or ideologically advantageous.
So how did we get here? On February 7, 2025, Trump signed the executive order“Addressing Egregious Actions of the Republic of South Africa.” The order took two principal actions: it suspended U.S. foreign assistance to South Africa and directed the State Department and DHS to promote the resettlement of Afrikaners. It marks the only group-specific refugee carveout since the suspension of USRAP. Claims that white South African farmers are the victims of a “genocide” and potential land seizure have circulated in U.S. political discourse for years, often promoted by groups such as AfriForum, which positions itself as a civil rights organization advocating for Afrikaner interests.
This small minority group is aligned with an extremist ideology that has historically resisted integration and democratic reform, and has gained visibility through lobbying and international amplification.
It is important to distinguish the political subgroup at the center of these resettlement efforts from the broader Afrikaner population, and white South Africans. They do not represent all Afrikaans speakers, or all white South Africans, many of whom fought for, and support, the post-apartheid democratic project, even if they may have political disagreements with the current government. Rather, this small minority group is aligned with an extremist ideology that has historically resisted integration and democratic reform, and has gained visibility through lobbying and international amplification. In 2018, during his first term, President Trump tweeted that he had directed the Secretary of State to investigate “land and farm seizures” and the “large scale killing of farmers”—language that echoed longstanding “white genocide” narratives and led to diplomatic backlash. While the State Department acknowledged awareness of the issue, it declined to validate Trump’s claims. But by 2025, with Trump back in office, this narrative has been formalized into U.S. refugee policy.
The tipping point came in January, when the current South African government passed the Expropriation Act 13 of 2024, a land reform law aimed at addressing the enduring legacy of apartheid-era land dispossession. The legislation permits, under specific and limited circumstances, the expropriation of abandoned, underutilized, or state-prioritized land without compensation, provided it serves the public interest, such as expanding access to housing, agriculture, or restitution for communities displaced under apartheid. While supporters regard the law as a long-overdue step toward racial and economic justice, critics have described it as discriminatory toward white farmers and an affront to property rights.
Within weeks, Trump issued an executive order portraying the South African government as a human rights violator and designating Afrikaner farmers as a population at risk and in need of American protection. President Cyril Ramaphosa immediately denounced the claims —and with good reason. While South Africa faces high rates of violent crime across all demographics, there is no evidence that white farmers are uniquely targeted, and the legislation, still not into force, has yet to result in a single case of expropriation without compensation.
By legitimizing these claims through refugee resettlement, the administration signals a willingness to politicize both domestic and international refugee frameworks. This practice undermines the principle of non-discrimination reflected in the Refugee Act of 1980 and deviates from global norms that seek to ensure refugee protection is based on vulnerability rather than racial or political preference.
Ironically, the resettlement framework used for these South Africans mirrors the very mechanisms Rainbow Railroad and allied organizations have long championed for LGBTQI+ refugees—to have a referral pathway to be admitted to the United States in recognition of their heightened vulnerability and systemic barriers to access. For years, Rainbow Railroad has advocated for a Priority 1 (P-1) pathway to allow direct embassy referrals for LGBTQI+ individuals unable to flee their countries, and for a Priority 2 (P-2) designation to enable group-based resettlement of highly vulnerable LGBTQI+ populations. The initiative showed success through partnerships with the Welcome Corps and the resettlement of LGBTQI+ Afghans. However, these pathways have since been abandoned under the current administration, leaving many at-risk individuals in precarious conditions.
At the same time, it rescinded Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Afghans (despite Afghanistan’s designation under TPS in 2022 following the Taliban’s return to power) placing thousands at risk of deportation despite ongoing Taliban rule which has included widespread human rights abuses, and the targeting of journalists, LGBTQI+ individuals, and women activists.
Between 2021 and 2024, Refugee Council USA and its national coalition of partners helped secure historic increases in the U.S. refugee admissions ceiling, while also working to rebuild the infrastructure necessary to welcome refugees at scale. In Fiscal Year 2024, the United States admitted 100,034 refugees—the highest total in three decades—reflecting years of policy engagement, coalition mobilization, and coordination across federal and civil society actors. The expedited acceptance of this group into the U.S. as refugees erodes the credibility of USRAP, distorts the foundational principles of humanitarian protection, and signals globally that the worthiness of a refugee’s claim to the U.S. may depend less on the severity of persecution than on racial identity and political expediency.
But the swift resettlement affirms what refugee advocates have long asserted: the United States can rapidly identify, process, and protect those at risk—when it chooses to. When advocating for LGBTQI+ refugees we were repeatedly told the emergency resettlement tools we were demanding either did not exist or were logistically unfeasible. This policy proves otherwise. It reveals that the barriers are never technical, they are political.
And it also offers a model. The challenge now is to ensure that these mechanisms are reoriented toward those in real need of protection.
Kimahli Powell, Fellow, Carr-Ryan Center; Former CEO of Rainbow Railroad
Jean Freedberg, Human Rights and Democracy Strategist; Founding Practitioner Affiliate, Global LGBTQI+ Human Rights Program, Carr-Ryan Center for Human Rights Policy, Harvard Kennedy School
