As an American, I feel daily horror watching the UK, our mother country and closest ally, mismanage its borders. The contrast is stark: while the US under President Trump deports unauthorised migrants with unyielding resolve, the UK capitulates to the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR), letting its borders erode.
Suella Braverman recently captured this frustration. Upon learning that “Rwanda has begun receiving US deportees,” she called the UK’s failure to implement its Rwanda deportation plan—scrapped by Labour on their first day in office—humiliating. Labour’s surrender to legal overreach and political cowardice leaves the UK vulnerable, while America pursues a bolder path.
Trump’s approach offers a blueprint for decisive action. US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) data show unauthorised border crossings have dropped to historic lows, with apprehensions falling 85 per cent from January 2024 to January 2025 along the US-Mexico border. The Trump administration has initiated a limited arrangement with Rwanda to accept certain deportees, inspired by the UK’s plan, which Labour abandoned in July 2024.
A March 2025 US State Department cable revealed that an Iraqi national was deported to Rwanda, launching a “third-country” removal programme. By 26 April, ICE confirmed two more deportees—a Syrian and a Somali—had arrived in Kigali, with Rwanda agreeing to accept at least eight additional individuals.
Amnesty International slammed the move as “reckless” amid Rwanda’s regional tensions, but Trump’s team prioritised national security over global criticism. Trump faced legal battles over deportations to El Salvador, yet the Rwanda programme shows adaptability and grit. This is sovereignty at its finest: Trump acts without seeking permission from international courts, unlike the UK’s paralysis. If only this emboldened Labour to put the UK’s interests first.
As an American who cares deeply for Britain, I am horrified by Labour's Strasbourg Surrender - Lee Cohen
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The Rwanda plan, officially the Migration and Economic Development Partnership, aimed to deter unauthorised migration by processing asylum seekers in Rwanda, targeting small boats crossing the Channel.
It never took flight. In 2022, the ECHR halted the first deportation over concerns about Rwanda’s safety for refugees, a ruling the UK Supreme Court upheld, citing risks of refoulement. In July 2024, Labour scrapped the scheme, as Braverman notes, bowing to international pressure and betraying voters demanding secure borders. On 26 April, Labour’s Home Secretary defended the decision, citing data: 3,000 of 5,700 Rwanda-designated asylum claims have been processed in the UK, with 60 per cent granted refugee status. Reform UK argued this incentivises more crossings ahead of local elections. The ECHR’s grip, constraining UK policy since the 1998 Human Rights Act, undermines Brexit’s promise of sovereignty, leaving many Britons enraged.
Why does this matter? Open borders carry enormous risks. Unchecked migration strains resources, overwhelms systems, and threatens security—a crisis exacerbated by Joe Biden and Kamala Harris’s leadership, which Americans have seen at the US southern border. While Trump’s policies project strength, successive UK governments’ failures to stop the boats erode security and national identity. Official data underscore the scale: in 2024, over 30,000 migrants crossed the Channel—a record high—with numbers rising in 2025 despite Labour’s “strong borders” pledge. Public frustration is palpable. Hopefully, this translates into action, with Labour losing seats in upcoming elections over this failure. As an American, I’ve seen my country, under Biden, fail to balance immigration with integration. The UK risks the same, letting cultural cohesion slip amid endless inflows. The boats aren’t just logistical—they symbolise a nation losing control.
From this side of the Atlantic, the UK’s path should be clear. First, leave the ECHR. Many Brexiteers and enlightened Britons have long demanded this. The ECHR’s influence, prioritising asylum seekers’ rights over state sovereignty, ties the UK’s hands. Exiting would let the UK act independently, as the US does. Second, emulate Trump’s pragmatism: partner with third countries like Rwanda, prioritise national interest, and address backlash transparently. On 26 April, Rwanda’s Foreign Ministry affirmed its commitment to the US programme but urged “caution” amid regional unrest, a reminder that partnerships must be adaptable.
Finally, UK leaders must find the political will Labour lacks. The Conservatives failed to deliver on the Rwanda plan, spending £500million to send four people voluntarily. The principle was sound—revive it and act.
The UK’s border debacle is a self-inflicted wound, deepened by Labour’s submission to Strasbourg. Trump’s border gambit proves what’s possible when a leader prioritises nation over noise. The boats will keep coming until the UK grows a backbone. If Labour won’t act, voters must—because a nation without borders isn’t a nation. Let’s see Labour dodge that truth at the ballot box. The UK’s borders won’t hold until Labour stops kneeling to foreign courts—voters must send them packing at the next opportunity.
