As I write this article, I’ve just read that under President Trump, the U.S. Supreme Court approved the deportation of Venezuelan migrants using a wartime-era law—as if migration were a crime to be punished. Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, dissenting, wrote: “But make no mistake: We are just as wrong now as we have been in the past, with similarly devastating consequences.”
We live in countries built by migrants. More than 70 million people worldwide claim Irish descent, and over one million Irish-born individuals currently live abroad. As an international student in Ireland, I’ve never once felt like a foreigner. The warmth and empathy of the Irish people—extended not only to me but to countless migrants—offers the world a lesson in humanity. And that lesson often begins with a simple but powerful word: Welcome.
Yet for countless migrants around the world, that simple word remains just a hope—too often met with closed doors, suspicion, or outright hostility.
Ireland today finds itself at a crossroads. On one hand, it has a proud humanitarian tradition and a diaspora scattered across the globe. Consider what the country achieved after the peace agreement of the 1990s, transforming decades of violence into opportunities for unity and progress. However, Ireland’s economic and social context is different today. We are now facing a growing housing crisis, strained public services, and widespread public concern demanding urgent solutions.
Let’s not forget that since the riots of 2023, following the incident of three children and a school care assistant stabbed outside a city centrer, led to a systematic propaganda of misinformation on social media regarding asylum seekers and the core of immigration policies.
Recent tensions around accommodating asylum seekers have exposed these contradictions. While many Irish citizens continue to support humanitarian aid in principle, there is growing debate about the government’s capacity to deliver it effectively. According to recent data from the Central Statistics Office (CSO), the average national rent is now €1,955 per month — 43% higher than before the outbreak of COVID-19. This surge coincides with a seventeen year peak in migration. Concerns about housing are increasingly visible: in communities, in government debates — especially following last November’s elections where migration and the housing crisis dominated the agenda — and in everyday conversations.
Media coverage — often reactive and sensational — has only deepened the divide. In some areas, far-right groups have exploited fears over housing shortages, while in others, people have rallied to welcome and support new arrivals.Lets not forget what happened on 2023 when just over the course of of a night public transport was set alight, dozens of shops were looted and dozens were arrested, which resulted in public opinion being uncertain on how prepared exactly the Gardaí were to maintain order in the crisis.The debate is no longer just about numbers, but about identity: How can a small nation uphold its compassionate values without losing control over its resources or sense of self?
According to the European Migration Network, approximately 149,200 immigrants entered the Republic of Ireland in 2024, while 69,900 people left the country — resulting in a net migration figure of 79,300. Though slightly below the peak seen in 2007, the data confirms that most migration is still driven by employment and education, strengthening the country’s human capital.
Make no mistake: for many people — including some of our own ancestors — migration was not a choice but a means of survival. It is because of the welcoming of migrants that cultural diversity has flourished, enriching cities like Dublin, New York, and London. These cities would not be what they are today without the waves of migration that shaped them.
The middle ground lies not in closing borders, but in building systems that are both humane and sustainable. This means long-term planning, cross-border cooperation, and responsible media coverage. It also means reframing public discourse — shifting it from fear and misinformation to empathy and truth.
Now, it’s true — and it must be acknowledged — that not everyone openly supports a liberal migration agenda. It is also important to recognise that every state has the right to control its borders and determine the scale and conditions under which migration is managed. However, these decisions should be grounded in international cooperation, built on multi-party agreements between civil society and governments — not on principles of scepticism or on incongruent arguments, such as invoking wartime protocols to prevent the migration of the most vulnerable.
Perhaps Ireland, with its long history of emigration and its enduring culture of kindness, can show the way. The question is no longer whether to welcome migrants, but how to do so in a way that honors both our compassion and our capacity.
If national identity is evolving, perhaps what truly defines a nation is not just its borders — but how it treats those who cross them. A year on from the riots that shock Dublin, one may consider that the public perception of migration has changed.
As I finish these words, let us reflect on the cruelty faced by thousands of people who are forced to leave their homes, their loved ones, and their identities, clinging to the hope of a better, safer future. A future that was promised by our democratic systems, and by the founding ideals etched into monuments like the Statue of Liberty in New York, where we are reminded:
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
