Essay

The United Nations, and multilateralism more generally, is under pressure from all sides: insurgent nationalist governments, perpetual funding crises, a hamstrung Security Council that has failed to act on the famine and genocide in Gaza, record levels of UN staff killed in conflict zones, open defiance of International Court of Justice (ICJ) rulings and the returning Trump administration whose mantra continues to be “America First”.

United Nations, Geneva, Switzerland

In particular, the Trump Administration 2.0 has reasserted its aggressive, transactional diplomatic style – especially on policies impacting migrants and refugees, while at the same time undermining traditional multilateralism and global forums. Trump has disregarded core principles of the world order – like the UN Charter’s ban on the use of force and conquest – and openly threatens military force against America’s neighbours and allies. Trump is more emboldened in his second term than his first, because he interprets his re-election as an endorsement of his hardball style of governance. In addition, there are few moderate Republicans in his cabinet after the 6 January attack on the US capital, and few checks on his powers because Republicans hold the House of Representatives, the Senate and the majority on the Supreme Court.

While many of Trump’s immigration executive orders have focused on domestic enforcement and deportations, migration and displacement have also emerged as contentious foreign policy issues. Trump’s style of hardball migration diplomacy – with travel bans and visa sanctions, tariff threats and drastic cuts to migration aid – is an assault on global migration governance.

This essay surveys the escalation of hardball diplomacy before analysing the current state of global migration governance. There is a growing gap in leadership and political power within multilateral institutions without the United States, but it is unclear if the EU, China or other governments can or are willing to step into the void. The Global Compacts on refugees and for migration, along with the global forums every four years, appear even more irrelevant in the current political climate. However, UN plans for reform and the pledging format of each forum could open space for more transactional politics.

For nearly 80 years, the US was one of the global hegemons providing leadership, funding and programmes that formed the basis of migration multilateralism. While much global migration governance was ad hoc, it became increasingly more institutionalised in the last 20 years with regular global forums, increasing migration aid, the 2016 New York Declaration on Refugees and Migrants and the 2018 Global Compacts. From 2003 to 2023, the US resettled more than a million refugees, accounting for 60 percent of those resettled through UNHCR. In 2023, the US was the lead donor for UNHCR (USD 1.9 billion, or 57% of UNHCR’s total donations), IOM (USD 1.4 billion, or 51%) and UNRWA (USD 422 million, or 33%). The next largest donors to UN agencies specialising in migration were Germany (USD 796 million), The Netherlands (USD 273 million), Canada (USD 287 million) and the  United Kingdom (USD 250 million). In 2016, the US hosted the Leaders’ Summit, at which Obama cajoled world leaders into pledging more commitments to refugees and eagerly signed the New York Declaration.

However, the first Trump administration pulled the US out of negotiations for the Global Compact for Migration (GCM), slashed refugee resettlement and temporarily paused funding to UNRWA. While chants of “Build the Wall” dominated rallies and headlines, Trump 1.0 was more focused on domestic enforcement – through deportations, ending Temporary Protection Status (TPS) and child-separation policy – than global engagement on migration.

Trump 2.0 is setting fire to the UN and migration multilateralism. Trump is withdrawing the US from key UN agencies and treaties, like the World Health Organization, UN Human Rights Council, UNRWA, UNFCCC and the Paris Agreement, and sanctioning the ICC. The closing of USAID and cuts to foreign aid will impact the WFP, UNHCR, IOM and UNICEF; a leaked document suggested that USD 781 million (74%) of USAID grants to IOM could be terminated (see also The end of development aid? How aid cuts may reshape migration). Instead of channeling US aid through UN agencies that have operated in Gaza for 76 years, the Trump administration is backing the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF) – a recently created American non-profit founded by private security contractors with no experience of delivering aid – despite nearly 1,400 Palestinians being killed attempting to receive food aid from GHF. Trump’s strategy in Gaza – sidelining UN agencies, empowering private contractors and threatening military conquest – may foreshadow his approach to conflicts and displacements around the world. Trump is not afraid to threaten the use of military force or conquest by the US to end wars – despite its explicit prohibition in the UN Charter.

Trump 2.0’s damage to migration multilateralism – and global governance writ large – is extensive and will likely get worse over the next three years. Without strong diplomacy and multilateral institutions, the international community will be left with few tools for ending conflicts and preventing mass displacements.

Instead of working through United Nations or other multilateral forums, states sometimes make backroom deals about migration and displacement. Scholars define migration diplomacy as the process through which countries use diplomatic tools like treaties, declarations, bilateral agreements or development aid to control the movement of people or use the movement of people to influence diplomacy. For example, the UK, Australia and the EU have spent billions in order to deter migration, while transit countries like Libya, Turkey or Belarus have deliberately encouraged migration to Europe in order to extract concessions from the EU. While Trump has a unique rhetorical style and penchant for X (formerly Twitter) tantrums, migration diplomacy has been used by many other countries to deter or manage migration.

In many ways, Trump’s personality and governing style are conducive to transactional, tit-for-tat agreements related to migration. Because migration was a central issue of his first term, Trump was willing to negotiate over, threaten and pull in tangential issues (like tariffs or trade agreements) to US migration diplomacy. During Trump 1.0, the administration used threats of tariffs, cuts in migration aid, bilateral deportation agreements and travel bans and visa sanctions to coerce states into cooperating with his migration agenda.

In March 2025, Trump made a USD 6 million deal with El Salvadorean dictator Nayib Bukele to accept deportations from the US and indefinitely detain migrants in CECOT, the mega-prison notorious for its brutal conditions and absence of due process. Similarly, the US Supreme Court approved deportations of non-nationals to South Sudan and was reportedly considering Libya as well. Both Israel and President Trump floated a plan for forcibly resettling Palestinians from Gaza to Libya or South Sudan – despite scholars considering these plans as ethnic cleansing. We may be entering another era in which powerful Western states shuffle people from country to country, based on geopolitical and financial interests, not human rights or international law.

In May 2019, Trump tweeted: “the United States will impose a 5 percent Tariff on all goods coming into our Country from Mexico, until such time as illegal migrants coming through Mexico, and into our Country, STOP. The Tariff will gradually increase until the Illegal Immigration problem is remedied (sic).” Mexico agreed, just 11 days later, to increase border enforcement, expand the Remain in Mexico programme and work to counter human trafficking. Similarly, Trump threatened on X to cut USD 400 million in aid to Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras; within a few months, all signed Asylum Cooperative Agreements (ACA) with the United States. ACAs are safe third country agreements which allow the US to deport asylum seekers to these countries if they have travelled through their territories on their way to the US.

Trump 2.0 has expanded this hardball migration diplomacy. Just six days after his second inauguration, Trump threatened 25 percent tariffs, travel bans and financial sanctions on Colombia because their government refused to cooperate on deportations. Within hours, Colombian President Gustavo Petro conceded, after obtaining guarantees that Colombian deportees would be treated humanely during the deportation process. Other countries took note and began talks with the Trump administration about repatriation agreements.

In June 2025, the Trump administration reinstated the infamous “travel ban” – effectively blocking entry into the US by any citizen from 12 countries, and imposing partial bans on seven more. These bans and threats to ban are a type of blackmail: conform to US standards of data sharing and identity management or be banned. The administration demanded that 36 other countries conform to US data-sharing practices or else be added to the travel ban list.

What is clear from Trump’s first term and the first months of his second is that hardball migration diplomacy has been successful at achieving his short-term goals. States are making deals, conceding to threats and mimicking his transactional style of governance to the detriment of international law and international organisations. What is not clear yet is what will happen if or when states stop conceding to the United States and instead fight back.

While Europe has not been as brash as Trump, it embraced a similar approach to migration through deterrence, externalisation and deportations long before Trump’s second term. The European Commission just proposed its new budget for 2028-2034, earmarking some EUR 81 billion for migration controls, tripling the amount from the previous budget. The EU was key in negotiations for the Global Compact for Migration and European governments made significant pledges at the 2022 International Migration Review Forum, even though there is no continent with such a low adoption rate of the GCM as Europe and the GCM is generally absent from any European migration policy discussions. But the European approach to migration is not so different from Trump’s – despite their engagement with multilateral institutions. In March 2024, the European Council adopted the Pact on Asylum and Migration as a set of Europe-wide reforms on asylum, detention and resettlement. The goal is a more unified approach, but it will potentially undermine migrant and refugee rights in similar ways to Trump. The Pact allows the EU to collect more information about asylum seekers in EU-wide databases, expands detention in hotspots or “transit zones” and allows states to suspend asylum rules when neighbouring states weaponise migration – (think, for example, of Trump’s calls to suspend asylum because of migrant caravans approaching the US border).

The EU Pact also pushed for an expanded use of “safe countries” – meaning asylum seekers who travel through other countries can be deported to those countries, regardless of the “connection criteria” enshrined in the EU Return Directive, which states that someone needs to have a connection to the country they are deported to. This mirrors Trump’s agreements with Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras and opens the door for the EU to deport rejected asylum seekers to places like Albania or Rwanda.

Remarkably, Denmark – who was beginning its turn in the EU Council presidency – issued a joint letter in May 2025, along with eight other EU governments, demanding more flexibility in deporting “criminal foreign nationals”. The letter calls for a wider reinterpretation of the European Convention on Human Rights, claiming that the high court has protected “the wrong people and posed too many limitations on the states’ ability to decide whom to expel from their territories.” This rhetoric and legal interpretation parallels Trump’s challenges to US courts and judges who frustrated his attempts to deport supposedly “criminal” migrants in the first months of his second term.

In March 2025, the European Commission proposed new rules on returns (i.e. deportations) that would allow for fast-track deportations, removals before appeals are decided and return hubs outside the EU. All this points to the EU following Trump’s playbook on migration diplomacy and the externalisation of migration controls. EU-level cooperation on deportations (i.e. European governments using treaties to manage migration) is a type of migration diplomacy within the continent and also requires diplomacy with countries of origin who must agree to cooperate on deportations. The European style of migration diplomacy comes with less blackmail and more migration aid but to the same effect. The EU still believes in international cooperation – however, nationalist governments are using international institutions (EU and UN agencies) to endorse and facilitate more restrictive migration policies.

Geopolitically, China could seize this moment to assert its leadership within migration multilateralism by expanding its Belt and Road Initiative to include migration infrastructure, like shipping ports, airports or railways that move both people and goods. However, there is little evidence that migration is high on its agenda: China only became a member of IOM in 2016 and was a tepid participant in the GCM negotiations.

If China did prioritise migration multilateralism, it would likely prioritise development and global inequality. Chinese representatives often say in multilateral forums that, “Underdevelopment and unbalanced development are the main drivers of migration. Ultimately, solutions to the problems resulting from underdevelopment can only be achieved through development.” During the 2022 IMRF, the Chinese representative emphasised that regional forums like the Bali Process, Colombo Process or ASEAN+3 (China, Japan, South Korea) were important for the implementation of the GCM.

Alternatively, Gulf states are seeking to expand their diplomatic agenda and soft power. For example, the United Arab Emirates (UAE) volunteered for the chair of two migration forums: the Global Forum on Migration and Development in 2020 and the Abu Dhabi Dialogue (2020-21). In addition, UAE hosted the UN climate conference (COP28) in 2023. The UAE invested significantly in its diplomatic capacity to host the delegates for each event, in part seeking to gain a reputation as a developed, responsible state within the international community. The UAE also established the International Humanitarian City (renamed Dubai Humanitarian in 2024) as a logistics and warehouse hub for UN agencies and other humanitarian actors. In 2024, the hub facilitated 22,000 tons of aid, primarily to Gaza, Lebanon, Sudan and the DR Congo. The UAE, Rwanda and Kenya – amongst others – expressed interest in relocating the headquarters of some UN agencies to their capitals.

Importantly, the UAE aspires to be a leader within migration multilateralism through hosting and logistics – but not necessarily reinforcing the normative core of refugee and migrant rights and treaties. Complicating matters, the UAE has been accused of providing weapons and aid to the Rapid Support Force in Sudan. In March 2025, Sudan filed a case against the UAE at the ICJ, accusing the UAE of being complicit in the genocide in Darfur. While clearly hypocritical, it is not the first leader in global migration governance to contribute to the persecution and the aid of the same refugees.

Regardless of who may step in to fill the void, the result of Trump 2.0 is a severely weakened multilateral system, which will likely struggle even further to resolve the conflicts that often drive much of the world’s migration.

The architecture of global migration governance – regular global forums, UN agencies, treaties and compacts – remains in place but looks more irrelevant than ever. The Trump administration’s cuts, threats and deals will disrupt the way humanitarian organisations assist people along mixed migration routes with direct impact on aid, staff and protection pathways. This will likely result in less protection, less direct support and less trust in legal routes to migration – resulting in more people turning to smugglers to circumvent tougher restrictions and militarised borders.

UNHCR still plans to host the Global Refugee Forum in December 2025, but the prospects for major pledges are slim given the current geopolitical climate. The International Migration Review Forum is scheduled for 2026, but there has been slow momentum in the regional reviews and national UN Networks on Migration. Both global forums include voluntary reviews and pledges, which could suit a transactional style of migration diplomacy because states often make their pledges contingent on adequate financial support from rich countries. It is, nonetheless, unlikely the Trump administration will participate in the forums for fear of legitimising any role for the UN or multilateralism in migration governance.

Trump’s assault on multilateralism means that UN agencies will struggle in the new climate. Cuts to US funding mean that the UN refugee and migration agencies will struggle to continue their current operations. The UN is considering significant reforms – including the potential merger of UNHCR, IOM, UNRWA and other humanitarian agencies like OCHA and WFP – to streamline operations and cut overlap. One advantage of a merged UN Refugee and Migrant Agency would be that mixed migration would be covered in one organisation that could coordinate work in this complex space. But the disadvantages would be the dilution of UNHCR’s normative mandate, the shrinking of the protection space and an agency that is less critical of its member states’ policies.

Since joining the UN system in 2016, IOM has gained diplomatic strength within international forums. In May 2025, IOM announced it was partnering with the United States to deliver assisted voluntary returns (AVR) – a controversial but standard part of IOM programming around the world. Trump posted a video claiming that he created “the first-ever self-deportation programme for illegal aliens”, including “free flights” and “exit bonuses”. IOM attempted to distance itself by asserting that it does not do deportations – but at least Trump considers IOM’s new AVR programme as self-deportation. In partnering with Trump, IOM may find a way to maintain and gain relevance within global migration governance over the next four years.

Trump’s hardball migration diplomacy is displacing that of the rules-based system. In this new world order, regular forums, cooperation and shared responsibility are replaced with threats, backroom deals and delegated responsibility. While it is easy to pin this normative shift on Trump 2.0, the EU and others are joining this race to the bottom.

Nicholas R. Micinski

Author

Nicholas R. Micinski is an Assistant Professor in the School of International Service at American University. Micinski’s research focuses on the global governance of migration, the political economy of aid, development, climate displacement, the United Nations, the EU, and human rights. He is the author of three books: Delegating Responsibility: International Cooperation on Migration in the European Union (University of Michigan Press, 2022), UN Global Compacts: Governing Migrants and Refugees (Routledge, 2021), and Aiding Autocrats: Migration Management, Governance and Repression in Africa (co-authored with Kelsey Norman, forthcoming Cambridge University Press).