Two Feet, One Ass
Why Colombia (and others) are refusing Trump's "refoulment flights"
In the world of international relations, a country’s choices are often reduced to managing competing pressures—sometimes as bluntly as deciding whose proverbial foot lands harder. This dynamic appears to be playing out in real-time as Colombia, Mexico, Brazil, and others refuse to accept deportees on U.S. military aircraft. On the surface, this might look like a logistical dispute or a symbolic gesture, but the stakes are much higher. These nations are navigating a diplomatic minefield where their options boil down to one harsh reality: two feet, one ass.
What’s Happening
Several countries have publicly refused to accept their nationals being deported from the United States on military aircraft in the last few days. Colombia’s President Gustavo Petro has outright rejected these flights, citing concerns over the treatment of deportees and insisting that any returns must be conducted with dignity—and on civilian aircraft. Brazil has also pushed back after its nationals arrived handcuffed on U.S. military planes, calling it "degrading treatment" and demanding explanations. Meanwhile, Mexico denied permission for a U.S. military flight carrying deportees to land, further highlighting the growing resistance.
These objections come from heightened scrutiny of U.S. immigration practices under the Trump administration, particularly after an executive order that halted diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives in federal agencies, including how deportations are handled. Countries are now weighing the optics, legal risks, and moral dimensions of accepting deportees under conditions that could violate international human rights norms. The standoff has created a flashpoint that pits U.S. pressure against the broader international consensus on human dignity and rights.
The First Foot: Uncle Sam
The United States has long leveraged its economic and political clout to pressure other nations into compliance on immigration issues. Its tools are broad and powerful, often leaving little room for negotiation:
Visa Sanctions: Under Section 243(d) of the Immigration and Nationality Act, the U.S. can impose visa restrictions on countries that refuse to accept deportees. These sanctions can target government officials, business leaders, and ordinary citizens, disrupting travel and creating immediate political and economic pressure.
Economic Leverage: The U.S. is a significant trading partner and source of foreign aid for many nations. Threatening tariffs, delaying trade agreements, or cutting off financial assistance can hit a country's economy, which is where it hurts the most.
Military and Security Assistance: Many countries rely on U.S. support for defense and counterterrorism efforts. Reductions in military aid or the suspension of joint security initiatives can leave nations vulnerable to external threats, making compliance with U.S. demands more likely.
Diplomatic Pressure: The U.S. wields significant influence in international institutions such as the United Nations, the World Bank, and the IMF. By leveraging its clout, it can isolate non-compliant countries or push for punitive measures within these organizations.
Reputational Damage: The U.S. can use public diplomacy or private backchannels to portray non-compliant nations as irresponsible or uncooperative, tarnishing their reputation on the global stage. This tactic is particularly effective in regions where U.S. approval carries significant weight.
For countries reliant on U.S. goodwill, saying "no" to Uncle Sam can have immediate and tangible consequences. These pressures create a powerful incentive to comply, even when doing so may conflict with international norms or a country's domestic interests.
The Second Foot: Geneva
The second foot is Geneva’s, representing the international human rights community. Under the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and other human rights norms, countries must ensure humane treatment, dignity, and due process for all individuals—including deportees. Accepting deportees transported under conditions that violate these principles (e.g., being handcuffed, flown on military aircraft, or subjected to degrading treatment) risks complicity in potential human rights violations. Such complicity can bring reputational damage, domestic backlash, and scrutiny from the international community or human rights organizations.
What is the ICCPR?
The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) is a multilateral treaty adopted by the United Nations General Assembly in 1966 and entered into force in 1976. It is a core international human rights treaty, establishing binding obligations on states to respect and protect civil and political rights. The treaty has been ratified by more than 170 countries, including the U.S. and the nations currently refusing deportees.
Key provisions of the ICCPR relevant to this situation include:
Article 7: Prohibition of Torture and Degrading Treatment
States must ensure that no one is subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment. This provision is often cited in cases where individuals are subjected to humiliating or undignified conditions, such as being handcuffed or deported in a militarized manner.
Article 13: Protection Against Arbitrary Expulsion
Non-citizens lawfully present in a state cannot be expelled without due process. Even in deportation cases, individuals have the right to challenge their removal and to be treated fairly and humanely.
Principle of Non-Refoulement (Implied by Articles 6 and 7)
While non-refoulement is explicitly mentioned in the Refugee Convention, it is widely accepted under human rights law that states cannot return individuals to countries where they face a real risk of torture, persecution, or inhuman treatment.
Why Are Countries Worried About the ICCPR?
The governments refusing these deportations are likely concerned about the following:
Complicity in Violations: By accepting deportees transported in potentially degrading or inhumane conditions, these states risk being seen as complicit in ICCPR violations. For example, the use of military aircraft, combined with practices like handcuffing, can be interpreted as a failure to respect the deportees' dignity and rights.
Reputational Damage: Being associated with practices that violate human rights norms could harm these countries' standing in the international community. This is especially important for nations that are actively trying to build or maintain human rights credibility.
Legal Accountability: Deportees, NGOs, or international bodies could bring complaints against these countries for accepting transfers that violate ICCPR principles, leading to investigations or findings of complicity in human rights violations.
Optics of Militarization: The use of military aircraft blurs the line between civilian and military processes, creating the perception that deportees are treated as security threats rather than individuals with rights.
Why These Countries Are Taking a Stand
So why are countries like Colombia choosing to defy the United States in this instance? My guess: they’ve done the calculus and decided that it’s better to align with the international community than to cave to Trump’s pressure. Trump, after all, is seen as an international pariah. While the U.S. is undoubtedly powerful, many nations might feel that dealing with Trump’s administration—isolated and widely criticized—is a lesser evil than finding themselves at odds with the broader international community.
By refusing to accept deportees under these controversial conditions, these countries are signaling a bet: "World versus Trump" is better than "Us versus the world." They’re gambling that Trump’s short-term political leverage—visa bans or aid reductions—is less dangerous than the long-term damage of being seen as complicit in degrading, militarized deportation practices.
For Colombia, the decision to push back against Trump’s administration on deportations is a calculated and strategic move—one grounded in both principle and pragmatism. By refusing to accept deportees under these controversial conditions, Colombia is signaling that it prioritizes alignment with international human rights standards over capitulating to unilateral U.S. demands.
This stance positions Colombia as a defender of human dignity, rejecting practices that could be seen as militarized or degrading. By doing so, Colombia aligns itself with broader global norms and reinforces its role as a cooperative player in the international community. This choice is about more than just optics; it reflects a deliberate calculation that Trump’s political leverage—in the form of visa bans or aid reductions—is a short-term threat that pales in comparison to the long-term consequences of being seen as complicit in potential human rights violations.
What Colombia Gains by Standing Firm
Strengthened Human Rights Credibility: By resisting practices perceived as degrading, Colombia enhances its image as a nation committed to upholding international law and human dignity. This reputation boost can translate into greater influence in international forums like the United Nations and the Organization of American States (OAS).
Avoiding Reputational Damage: Accepting deportees under questionable conditions could tarnish Colombia’s standing among allies and advocacy groups. By standing firm, it avoids being labeled as a passive participant in controversial U.S. immigration practices.
Global Solidarity: By refusing these deportations, Colombia strengthens ties with other nations facing similar pressures from the U.S. Regional alliances and cooperative stances with countries like Brazil and Mexico create a united front that can mitigate the impact of U.S. retaliation.
Long-Term Diplomatic Benefits: While Trump’s administration may impose short-term penalties, Colombia’s bet is on the broader international consensus—including a potential post-Trump world—where standing for human rights will pay dividends in restored partnerships and enhanced credibility.
Domestic Political Optics: Internally, taking a principled stance reinforces national sovereignty and bolsters support among Colombian citizens, who may view U.S. deportation practices as heavy-handed or unfair.
Navigating the Risks of U.S. Retaliation
Colombia’s defiance isn’t without risk. The U.S. has powerful tools at its disposal, including visa restrictions, trade penalties, and reductions in military or economic aid. But Colombia’s strategy seems to rest on several mitigating factors:
Diversifying Partnerships: Colombia can reduce its reliance on U.S. aid and trade by deepening ties with other major powers, such as the European Union, China, or regional trade alliances.
Leveraging International Sympathy: By positioning itself as a victim of U.S. overreach, Colombia can rally support from human rights organizations, advocacy groups, and sympathetic governments, blunting the impact of U.S. actions.
Optics of Sovereignty: Defying the U.S. on an issue of dignity and human rights reinforces Colombia’s image as an independent and principled state, particularly in Latin America, where resistance to U.S. influence carries historical and political weight.
By choosing to align with international norms and resist U.S. pressure, Colombia is betting on the power of the collective international community. It’s a gamble, to be sure, but one that could pay off by reinforcing its global standing and securing long-term benefits over temporary compliance.
The Long Game
The ICCPR and the principle of non-refoulement provide a strong foundation for their stance. Non-refoulement, the idea that no one should be returned to a country where they face torture, inhumane treatment, or other serious harm, has become a cornerstone of international human rights law. Even though these deportees are returning to their countries of origin, the way they are treated during transit—militarized and potentially degrading—raises flags under Article 7 of the ICCPR, which prohibits inhumane or degrading treatment.
It’s also about optics. Military aircraft, typically reserved for combat or high-risk operations, create a visual narrative of deportees as threats or criminals, rather than civilians. That perception matters on the global stage, especially for countries like Colombia or Brazil, which are trying to cultivate their own human rights credentials. Accepting these deportees as-is would undermine their ability to stand as defenders of dignity and sovereignty.
In choosing this path, these countries are playing a longer game. They’re banking on the international community’s broader condemnation of Trump’s administration to shield them from significant fallout. While Trump may be quick to retaliate, his administration’s credibility on the global stage has been eroded, making it easier for these nations to weather the storm of U.S. backlash. After all, aligning with international norms and human rights law may isolate them temporarily from the U.S., but it positions them as cooperative players in the global arena—a status that carries significant weight in the long run.
Ultimately, this standoff is a classic example of international diplomacy boiled down to raw power dynamics. With two powerful forces pressing on them, these countries have chosen the lesser of two evils. Better to take Uncle Sam’s foot up their ass for a while than risk Geneva’s for the long haul.
As crude as it sounds, this is the calculation they’ve made. And while the specifics of this case may fade, the broader question of how nations navigate these competing pressures is here to stay. For now, Colombia and its peers seem to be betting on the right side of history.
Time will tell if they’re correct.