In a move that has drawn both international scrutiny and fierce debate, the Trump administration resumed its controversial policy of deporting immigrant detainees to so-called "third countries" in July 2025, with the small African nation of Eswatini at the center of the latest controversy. According to documents reviewed by The New York Times, Eswatini, a landlocked nation of roughly 1.2 million people, found itself unexpectedly hosting five immigrants deported from the United States—sparking a diplomatic and human rights storm that continues to unfold nearly two months later.
Eswatini, formerly known as Swaziland and bordered almost entirely by South Africa with a sliver of Mozambique to the east, is Africa's last absolute monarchy. The country has a checkered record on human rights: Amnesty International reports that its government has failed to investigate extrajudicial killings, with detainees often subjected to torture and ill-treatment. Even the U.S. State Department warns travelers to "exercise increased caution in Eswatini due to crime and civil unrest." Yet, it is here that the U.S. chose to send five men, all with criminal convictions, under a revived deportation arrangement that has raised eyebrows across the globe.
Perhaps most striking is the financial aspect of the deal. As reported by The New York Times, Eswatini at one point requested half a billion dollars—yes, $500 million—from the Trump administration to detain the five deportees. The documents also reveal that Eswatini was open to detaining as many as 150 people from other nations for more than $10 million, suggesting a willingness to expand the arrangement for the right price.
But the story is not just about money. Eswatini diplomats told The Independent that they were blindsided by the U.S. plan, having learned about the deportation flights only through social media. The nation's officials have since stated their intention to repatriate the detainees to their countries of origin, working alongside the United Nations International Organization for Migration to "facilitate the transit of these inmates to their countries of origin." Yet, as of early September, nearly two months after their arrival, the five men remain imprisoned in Eswatini, their future uncertain as legal and diplomatic wrangling continues.
One of the deported men, Orville Etoria, exemplifies the complexities of these cases. A 62-year-old Jamaican citizen, Etoria arrived in the United States in 1976 at the age of 12 on a green card. In 1996, he was convicted of murder in New York, serving his sentence until 2021. While incarcerated, an immigration judge revoked his legal status, but after his release, Etoria was allowed to live and work in the U.S. legally, provided he kept up with regular check-ins with immigration authorities. He completed a bachelor’s degree while in prison and, after his release, worked at a men’s shelter and pursued a master’s in divinity. Despite these efforts to rebuild his life, Etoria was deported to Eswatini in July 2025 and now finds himself locked up in Matsapha Correctional Complex—without facing any new criminal charges.
Homeland Security officials, for their part, have labeled Etoria and the other men sent to Eswatini as "depraved monsters" and "so uniquely barbaric" that other countries would not accept them. Yet the Jamaican government disputes this characterization. In July, Jamaican foreign minister Kamina J Smith stated, "The Government has not refused the return of any of our nationals to Jamaica." She added that Jamaica will "continue its engagements" with the Trump administration to facilitate the return of its citizens, pushing back against suggestions that Jamaica has been uncooperative.
The situation in Eswatini is further complicated by local activists, who are challenging what they describe as an unconstitutional, secret agreement between their government and the Trump administration. According to The Independent, these activists argue that the arrangement to accept third-country deportees violates both national and international law. Eswatini officials, meanwhile, have asked the U.S. whether they are expected to put the deportees on trial and sentence them locally—a point that remains unresolved.
This episode is just one part of a much broader shift in U.S. immigration policy under the Trump administration. Since taking office, the administration has held hundreds of immigrants at the naval base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and deported dozens of alleged Venezuelan gang members to a notorious maximum-security prison in El Salvador. The Eswatini case marks the first successful third-country deportation under a new legal landscape shaped by a June 2025 U.S. Supreme Court decision. That ruling gave the green light for government officials to send deportees to countries with poor human rights records and no due process, provided those countries give "diplomatic assurances" that deportees will not face torture or abuse. If the State Department deems those assurances "credible," Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) may deport someone to that country without further procedures—or even without advance notice.
According to The New York Times, ICE now has the authority to deport immigrants to third countries with as little as six hours' notice, or none at all, provided the receiving country offers such assurances. Critics, including civil rights attorneys and immigrant advocates, argue that this policy puts immigrants at severe risk of abuse, violence, and indefinite detention in countries where they have no citizenship, family, or connections. The legal and moral implications have sparked heated debate both in the U.S. and abroad.
Eswatini is not the only African nation to reach such an agreement with the Trump administration. Rwanda and Uganda have also accepted deportees under similar arrangements, with at least seven deportees arriving in Rwanda in August 2025, according to officials there. Meanwhile, a parallel case unfolded in South Sudan, where eight men—only one of whom was actually from the country—were deported in July after a prolonged legal battle. Those men remain incarcerated in South Sudan as local officials negotiate their possible return to their home countries.
Back in Eswatini, the five deported men continue to languish in detention. Despite promises of repatriation and ongoing negotiations involving the United Nations, their fate remains uncertain. The controversy has not only strained relations between the U.S., Eswatini, and the home countries of the detainees, but also spotlighted the human cost of aggressive immigration enforcement policies that stretch the boundaries of international law and human rights norms.
As the world watches and legal challenges mount, the case of Eswatini’s detainees underscores the profound complexities—and consequences—of third-country deportation policies in an age of shifting borders and uncertain allegiances.