Eswatini, formerly known as Swaziland, stands as Africa’s last absolute monarchy, exemplifying a dire disregard for human rights. Under the reign of King Mswati III, who ascended to the throne at just 18, the kingdom operates in an environment where dissent is not merely discouraged, but violently suppressed. In a chilling proclamation in 2023, the king warned against “complaining if mercenaries kill” political activists, a grim precursor to the assassination of Thulani Maseko, a leading human rights lawyer, just hours later. The lack of accountability for such acts underscores the oppressive nature of this regime, where the government deftly avoids responsibility and punishes those who dare to challenge its rule.
In a troubling partnership that highlights the United States’ troubling diplomatic engagements, the Trump administration signed a deal with Eswatini in May, facilitating the deportation of individuals from around the globe to this repressive monarchy. This arrangement, which involves a staggering $5.1 million payment to Eswatini for accepting up to 160 so-called “third country nationals,” raises profound ethical and legal questions about the United States’ commitment to human rights and due process.
The normalization of sending ICE detainees—individuals who have neither ties to Eswatini nor any legal recourse—into the hands of a despotic regime signals a moral decay in U.S. immigration policy. The first five deportees arrived in Eswatini in July, quickly confined to a maximum-security prison without any semblance of legal justification. A recent shipment of ten more individuals further illustrates this alarming trend, where lives are upended and rights stripped away, all under the guise of enforcing immigration law.
This practice is not only exploitative; it creates a “legal black hole,” as described by attorney Tin Thanh Nguyen, who represents several of these detainees. The inability to communicate with his clients—blocked by the very government that has taken them into custody—exemplifies a catastrophic failure of the legal system. Eswatini’s refusal to allow attorney access is a blatant violation of human rights, a grim reminder that the rule of law is non-existent in a nation ruled by fear and tyranny.
Moreover, the arrangement with Eswatini resembles past grim deals, such as the deportation of Venezuelans to an infamous prison in El Salvador, highlighting a broader trend of targeting vulnerable populations and offloading responsibility to countries with abhorrent human rights records. While the plight of the Venezuelans garnered international outrage, the deportations to Eswatini have flown under the radar, reflecting a systemic indifference to the suffering of those deemed disposable by the state.
The Department of Homeland Security’s response to inquiries about these deportations is revealingly silent, suggesting a deliberate obfuscation of the brutal realities these individuals face. Assistant Secretary Tricia McLaughlin’s warning that immigrants could end up in “CEOT or a country you didn’t even know existed” trivializes the severe human consequences of such actions.
The legal landscape governing third-country deportations has shifted dangerously. The Supreme Court’s recent removal of protections that prevented deportees from being sent to places like South Sudan—despite a federal injunction—has empowered the Trump administration to sidestep due process entirely. Justice Sonia Sotomayor’s dissent, which criticized this decision, resonated with those who understand that the true cost of such policies extends far beyond legalities; it is a matter of life and death for countless individuals.
The Trump administration’s justification for these deportations often hinges on framing the detainees as dangerous criminals. Yet, the legal stakes are far more complex; all the individuals sent to Eswatini had served their sentences and were living as productive members of society before their abrupt and unjust removal. This raises the fundamental question: does the government possess the authority to send individuals to a country where they have never committed any crime, stripping them of their rights in the process?
As advocates like Trina Realmuto assert, this situation sets a terrifying precedent. The likelihood that individuals without criminal convictions will be subjected to similar fates looms large. The erosion of legal protections for immigrants, particularly those with complex histories, signals a troubling trajectory that could ensnare many more in this web of injustice.
The anonymity enforced by the U.S. government in these deportations further complicates matters, as family members remain in the dark about the fate of their loved ones. Individuals like Roberto Mosquera, a Cuban national sent to Eswatini, and Orville Etoria, a Jamaican national, have faced insurmountable barriers to legal representation and communication. The consistent denial of attorney access and the use of false claims to justify these deportations not only violate fundamental rights but exemplify the depths of cruelty to which the U.S. government has descended in its pursuit of a brutal immigration policy.
As advocates continue to fight for access to their clients, the struggle takes on a Kafkaesque quality, with bureaucratic obfuscation and outright denial of rights becoming the norm. The chilling reality is that many detainees live in fear, not just of the prison environment but of the very legal system that is supposed to protect them.
Eswatini’s government, aware of the growing discontent among its citizens regarding the presence of foreign criminals, has attempted to downplay these deportations. This contrasts sharply with other nations, like El Salvador, that proudly flaunt their punitive measures. The silence surrounding these deportations reveals the precarious nature of human rights in both countries, where the marginalized are left to bear the brunt of systemic failures.
The U.S. government’s aggressive deportation strategy, particularly to nations like Eswatini, must be met with fierce opposition. As we navigate a political landscape tainted by xenophobia and disdain for the vulnerable, we must unflinchingly confront the moral implications of our nation’s actions. The fight for justice and accountability is not merely a legal battle; it is a fundamental struggle for the very soul of our society, demanding that we uphold the principles of dignity and human rights for all.
This article highlights the importance of TO ESWATINI’S MONARCHY.
