On a brisk Monday in early October 2025, the small southern African kingdom of Eswatini found itself at the center of a growing international controversy. The government confirmed it had received ten third-country nationals deported from the United States, adding to the five who arrived earlier in July. This latest group, part of a broader US initiative under President Donald Trump’s hard-line immigration policy, was accepted despite ongoing legal challenges and mounting criticism from human rights organizations and local activists.
The Eswatini government, in a statement released Sunday evening, announced it would be taking in 11 deportees in total, though only ten ultimately arrived. The official explanation for the discrepancy in numbers was not provided, and the identities and nationalities of these individuals have remained undisclosed. According to the government, these deportees would be “housed in a secured area separate from the public, while arrangements are made for their return to their countries of origin.” This echoes the protocol followed with the initial group of five, who came from Vietnam, Jamaica, Laos, Cuba, and Yemen.
For some, these arrangements might seem straightforward—just another chapter in the global migration saga. But for many in Eswatini and beyond, the situation is anything but simple. The arrival of the deportees has sparked fierce debate about legality, transparency, and human rights. Local activists have filed a lawsuit challenging the government’s agreement with the Trump administration, arguing that such a significant international arrangement should require parliamentary consent, which was not sought in this case. The Southern African Litigation Centre (SALC) and other civil society groups have labeled the deal an example of "executive over-reach" and a sign of "democratic regression," especially poignant as Eswatini marks two decades since adopting a constitution aimed at strengthening the rule of law and parliamentary oversight.
“We would have expected this milestone to reflect a maturation of our democracy—stronger rule of law, greater accountability, and clearer separation of powers,” Melusi Simelane of the SALC told the BBC. Their criticism is not merely theoretical; they have taken to the streets in protest, holding demonstrations outside the US embassy in Mbabane and pressing their case in the courts. The legal challenge is set to resume in the capital on October 7, a day after the latest group’s arrival.
Eswatini’s government, for its part, insists it has acted within its constitutional powers. Prime Minister Russell Dlamini told parliament that the arrangement had been handled at the "top clearance level," and the government has defended its actions in court. An official statement from the Department of Correctional Services stated, “HMCS remains committed to the humane treatment of all persons in its custody.” The government also stressed that the deportees are being “securely accommodated” and pose no threat to the public, a reassurance aimed at addressing concerns voiced by both Eswatini’s citizens and neighboring South Africa. The latter has expressed alarm that deportees could cross into its territory via the porous border the two countries share.
Yet, these assurances have done little to quell the controversy. Human rights groups allege that members of the first group of deportees were held in solitary confinement within prison facilities. According to BBC reporting, Eswatini’s acting government spokesperson, Thabile Mdluli, confirmed that the deportees were being held in solitary confinement in a secure facility, a detail that has only fueled further criticism. Legal and human rights activists argue that such treatment falls short of international standards for the humane treatment of migrants and detainees.
The United States, meanwhile, has remained largely silent on the specific details of the arrangement. However, Human Rights Watch (HRW) reported in September that it had seen the agreement between the US and Eswatini, which would allow for up to 160 deportees to be accepted in exchange for $5.1 million aimed at boosting Eswatini’s "border and migration management capacity." The Trump administration’s rhetoric has also sparked outrage; the five deportees in the first group were described as "depraved monsters"—a characterization that many see as inflammatory and dehumanizing.
Not all of the deportees are expected to remain in Eswatini for long. The government has confirmed that one Jamaican man from the initial group has already been repatriated with the cooperation of his home government, and two others are expected to follow soon. For now, however, the latest arrivals remain in limbo—kept apart from the public, their fates uncertain, as legal and diplomatic processes play out.
Adding another layer to the story, the BBC reported on the case of Kilmar Ábrego García, a Salvadoran man at the center of a long-running immigration dispute. The Trump administration had considered deporting him to Eswatini, alleging ties to the MS-13 gang—claims he denies. García was mistakenly deported to El Salvador in March, then returned to the US, where he faced human smuggling charges. A US federal judge has ruled that his prosecution could be for "vindictive" reasons, with further hearings pending. Whether García is among the latest group sent to Eswatini remains unclear, as officials have not disclosed the names of the recent arrivals.
The larger context of these events is a global one. President Trump’s administration has made no secret of its intent to deport millions of immigrants living in the US illegally, seeking agreements with countries willing to accept third-country nationals as a stopgap measure before repatriation. Eswatini, a small, landlocked nation bordered by South Africa and Mozambique and led by King Mswati III since 1986, has become an unlikely participant in this international drama.
The opacity surrounding the deal’s terms, the lack of parliamentary oversight, and the treatment of deportees have all contributed to a sense of unease—both within Eswatini and among international observers. For many, the episode is a litmus test for the kingdom’s democratic institutions and its commitment to human rights. As the legal battle continues and the world watches, the fate of the deportees—and the future direction of Eswatini’s democracy—hangs in the balance.
As Eswatini’s courts prepare to weigh in, and as activists continue their push for greater transparency and accountability, the story of these deportees remains a vivid illustration of how global policy decisions can reverberate in the lives of individuals and the politics of even the world’s smallest nations.
