The Economic Roots of Mass Immigration

It is easy to fall into conspiracy thinking when a situation seems to benefit multiple groups. Often, the explanation is simpler: each group is chasing money, rather than following a grand pre-planned scheme. This dynamic applies to mass immigration in Western Democracies. Some observers claim there is a hidden plot, but closer scrutiny reveals that capitalists want cheap labor, politicians want dependable voter blocs, and academics provide ideological cover through theories of identity politics. The result is the same: borders remain open, social cohesion weakens, and society moves closer to “Brazilification,” in which multiple ethnic groups coexist but harbor mutual resentment, while a small elite remains protected behind guarded walls.

Historically, economic motives have always dominated decisions about human migration. In the Americas, colonists imported enslaved people to work the land and increase profits. Brazil illustrates this better than anywhere, having received about 4.9 million Africans—more than any other part of the Americas during the transatlantic slave trade (Telles 2004). The native populations were nearly destroyed by Old World diseases such as smallpox and malaria. With Indigenous labor decimated, enslaved Africans were brought in to address the resulting shortage. Moving into the twentieth century, a similar logic shaped labor imports in Western Europe. In October 1961, West Germany faced a shortage of truck drivers. Rather than raising wages for Germans, capitalists arranged for the arrival of Turks, referred to as “guest workers” intended to leave after two years (Hunn 2005). However, businesses soon lobbied to change the rules so Turkish drivers could remain indefinitely, having recognized the expenses tied to constant turnover. This exemplifies the typical pattern: drive wages lower, import cheaper labor, and maximize profit.

Great Britain followed a comparable approach, granting citizens of its Commonwealth nations the right to move to the UK after World War II. The rationale was to fill factory jobs, driving positions, and other roles without paying British citizens the higher wages that might have been necessary otherwise. Recruiting workers from the Caribbean, India, or Pakistan became the default solution. Over time, these migrants brought their families, settled long-term, and established communities. The same pattern surfaces repeatedly: capitalists expand the labor pool to keep wages low, while politicians permit or even promote it to serve their own interests. This process produces a perpetual influx of newcomers who may not share host-country cultural norms and are not strongly incentivized to assimilate. Employers simply need bodies to fill roles, with little regard for the cultural implications.

This influx naturally drives wages downward. Economists point to the fact that adding more workers often suppresses or even reduces wages in real terms (Hira 2010). In the United States, the pursuit of inexpensive labor accelerated with the advent of H-1B visas, a program that brings in foreign software engineers. Silicon Valley corporations such as Facebook, Google, and Apple continually petition for more H-1B slots because the cost of hiring skilled labor from India or China can be lower than hiring American programmers. Those foreign workers earn less and rarely challenge workplace policies, largely because losing a job can lead to losing visa status. This situation fosters what some call a “race to the bottom” in the American labor market, as profits go up for tech giants while local workers face stagnating pay.

Over time, these migrant workers understandably wish to bring their families. Expanded family units often introduce cultural differences that may not align with local norms or languages. Meanwhile, the corporations that demanded a cheaper workforce rarely consider the social ramifications of large immigrant enclaves lacking integration. Politicians, particularly on the left, realized that such enclaves could become valuable voting blocs. Academia then supplied a theoretical shield: identity politics. Rather than promoting assimilation or addressing legitimate cultural conflicts, identity politics labels any opposition to mass immigration as “racist.” Initially, this may look like a humanitarian effort to defend newcomers; in reality, it provides cover for corporate interests that thrive on unending expansions of the labor supply.

In the United States, the Democratic Party once championed the working class. By the 1990s, party leaders recognized that workers might not remain loyal, especially if they blamed large-scale immigration for depressing wages. Consequently, the party pivoted to a strategy of courting specific ethnic and racial groups through identity politics, assuming that those groups would become dependable voters (Huntington 2004). This shift marginalized broad working-class issues, turning the focus toward group identities. New immigrants learned they could maintain linguistic and cultural distinctiveness without significant assimilation, since demanding integration would be painted as bigotry. By positioning itself as the defender of minority cultures, the Democratic Party guaranteed support from immigrant communities—ensuring a steady stream of loyal voters.

In essence, an uncomfortable alliance took shape: businesses prioritize cheap labor, certain politicians seek new voters, and some academics promote a narrative praising diversity above unity. The unintended price is diminished social cohesion. Democracies function best when people share a foundation of customs or at least mutual respect. Fragmenting into separate ethnic or religious enclaves undermines that trust. James Madison, in The Federalist Papers, cautioned that too many competing factions can tear a republic apart (Madison 1787). Under globalization and identity politics, groups form around perceived victimhood while suspicion spreads among the native population.

Brazil’s historical trajectory offers a cautionary glimpse into the potential outcome of extensive diversity without a unifying culture. European colonists, Indigenous peoples, and enslaved Africans intermingled for centuries, creating a deeply stratified, multiethnic society. Although the nation has attempted to embrace the concept of a “racial democracy,” color-based hierarchies endure. Lighter-skinned Brazilians often wield economic power, while darker-skinned Brazilians bear the brunt of social and institutional disadvantages (Telles 2004). Western Democracies risk reproducing these divisions on a broad scale, evolving into societies with a wealthy, predominantly white minority in secluded communities, while large groups of immigrants and disenfranchised locals remain stuck at the lower rungs. Gated enclaves and private security become the norm, a scenario evocative of Brazil’s stark class separations.

Critics sometimes dismiss these warnings as exaggerated, yet unfolding events in Western nations point to real problems. Violent crime has risen in certain European areas, sometimes tied to marginalized migrant populations, such as in parts of Sweden or France. The Yellow Vest protests in France highlighted deep economic disparity and signaled that many native workers felt ignored while new waves of immigrants settled in. Brexit reflected the sentiment that Britain had forfeited its sovereignty to the European Union’s open-borders approach. Donald Trump’s electoral victory can be read as a reaction to years of lax immigration policies and an economy perceived to prioritize elite interests over those of ordinary citizens. None of these occurrences stand alone; all are rooted in overlapping drivers of globalization, cheap labor practices, and cultural tensions.

Pointing out these dynamics often leads to accusations of xenophobia or racism. That is the potency of identity politics. Mentioning the necessity of limiting immigration or promoting assimilation routinely incurs charges of intolerance. Historically, assimilation proved crucial for uniting immigrants and natives under a common national identity. In the United States, earlier waves of immigrants learned English, adopted local customs, and developed a shared sense of “American-ness.” That process is now sometimes framed as erasure of other cultures—reinforcing the idea that integration is oppressive rather than stabilizing.

There is no single secret conspiracy behind these policies. Instead, overlapping interests repeatedly converge to produce similar outcomes. Corporate lobbying, political maneuvering, and academic reverence for “diversity” result in policies that perpetuate mass immigration, irrespective of the social consequences. Viewed from afar, it may seem orchestrated, but it unfolds through everyday decision-making that caters to short-term economic and political gains.

Democracies are inherently fragile. Trust evaporates when different factions suspect each other of imposing alien norms. Alienation can breed paranoia, which in turn fosters violence. Greater diversity demands robust integration policies, but those measures are swiftly denounced as culturally insensitive or racist. Meanwhile, corporate leaders and allied politicians exploit the situation, reaping the benefits of low-cost labor and dependable voting constituencies. The result is a patchwork of enclaves, each forging separate cultural identities and harboring deep-seated suspicions of the others. Madison’s fears about factions prove timely in an era where identity politics and globalization generate a surge of segregated interests.

Brazil provides a prime example of the lasting damage that can arise from failing to unite a highly diverse population under a shared framework. Centuries of uneven power relations have led to rampant crime, corruption, and largely unaddressed social rifts. Western Democracies risk staggering down the same path: small elites remain behind barricades while ordinary individuals live in fractured communities, separated by language, tradition, and economic standing. The upheavals represented by Brexit, the Trump phenomenon, and the Yellow Vest demonstrations attest to the intensifying fault lines in the West. If systemic grievances remain unresolved, bigger eruptions may follow.

Some contend that these concerns are exaggerated, but neglecting them only deepens the societal divisions. This discussion does not boil down to hatred of immigrants; it concerns the reality that extensive demographic changes require governance and consistent cultural principles. The blend of capitalist profiteering, political opportunism, and identity-focused academic discourse has eroded the push for assimilation. In the absence of meaningful reforms, societies across the West face creeping “Brazilification,” characterized by rigid stratification by race, ethnicity, and class, with wealthy elites insulating themselves from the majority through physical and economic barriers.

AUTHOR

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References

  • Eurostat (2017). “Asylum and first time asylum applicants by citizenship, age and sex.”
  • Hira, R. (2010). “The H-1B and L-1 Visa Programs: Out of Control.” Economic Policy Institute.
  • Hunn, K. (2005). Nächstes Jahr kehren wir zurück …: Die Geschichte der türkischen “Gastarbeiter” in der Bundesrepublik.
  • Huntington, S.P. (2004). Who Are We? The Challenges to America’s National Identity. Simon & Schuster.
  • Madison, J. (1787). Federalist No. 10, in The Federalist Papers.
  • OECD (2019). International Migration Outlook. OECD Publishing.
  • Pew Research Center (2018). “U.S. Foreign-Born Population: How and Why is it Changing?”
  • Telles, E. (2004). Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton University Press.
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