In a sweeping set of immigration policy changes rolled out this summer, President Donald Trump’s administration has dramatically reshaped who can enter, remain in, or become a citizen of the United States. The revived and expanded travel ban now targets 12 countries—including Myanmar—while new rules for naturalization applicants introduce more subjective criteria, such as screening for “anti-American” views and antisemitic ideologies. Together, these measures are reverberating across Southeast Asia, the U.S. immigrant community, and America’s global standing.
On August 20, 2025, the White House announced the latest iteration of the travel ban, reviving a signature Trump-era policy but with a broader reach. According to reporting by East Asia Forum, the ban now includes Myanmar, a nation mired in civil war, as well as other countries like Iran and Yemen. Administration officials cited Myanmar’s 27 percent tourist visa overstay rate and lack of cooperation on deportations as justification. Yet critics argue these reasons ignore the reality on the ground: Myanmar’s government is barely functional, and many overstayers are refugees with nowhere else to turn.
This move marks a sharp reversal from two decades of U.S. refugee resettlement efforts. Over the past decade alone, the United States welcomed more than 160,000 Myanmar refugees, according to East Asia Forum. That’s nearly a quarter of all U.S. refugee admissions since 2007, with the Karen, Chin, Kachin, and Rohingya ethnic groups benefiting most. The legacy of these programs is visible in strong diaspora networks and successful integration stories, particularly among the Chin, who have relied on church ties and community support.
Now, those pathways have been abruptly closed. The suspension of refugee resettlement programs has left thousands of pre-approved refugees stranded across Southeast Asia. In Thailand’s border camps, where over 80,000 Myanmar refugees have lived for decades, medical facilities have shuttered due to USAID funding cuts. In Malaysia, which hosts about 200,000 refugees—predominantly from Myanmar—the absence of U.S. resettlement options is creating a growing population with no durable solutions. As East Asia Forum notes, Malaysia alone has over 179,000 registered Myanmar nationals, and these numbers are expected to rise.
The Rohingya crisis perhaps best illustrates the consequences of these policy shifts. Over one million Rohingya refugees remain in Bangladesh’s Cox’s Bazar camps, the world’s largest refugee settlement. The United States was the single largest donor, providing $301 million in 2024—more than 55 percent of all international aid, according to East Asia Forum. With the suspension of this funding, food rations have been halved and medical clinics forced to close, fueling fears that desperate conditions could lead to radicalization and regional instability. Bangladesh, already facing domestic political upheaval, has taken out $407 million in World Bank loans just to maintain basic services for the Rohingya.
But the Trump Administration’s immigration overhaul doesn’t stop at travel bans and refugee restrictions. On August 15, 2025, the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) issued a memo introducing more stringent criteria for assessing “good moral character” in citizenship applications. The new guidelines, reported by TIME and CBS, require a “holistic” review, including an applicant’s community involvement, family ties, education, stable employment, length of lawful residence, and tax compliance.
Most notably, the policy now instructs officers to screen for “anti-American” views and antisemitic ideologies, including on social media. “America’s benefits should not be given to those who despise the country and promote anti-American ideologies,” said USCIS chief spokesperson Matthew Tragesser in a statement quoted by TIME. He added, “[USCIS] is committed to implementing policies and procedures that root out anti-Americanism and supporting the enforcement of rigorous screening and vetting measures to the fullest extent possible.”
The memo goes further, authorizing officers to disqualify applicants for acts “contrary to the average behavior of citizens in the jurisdiction where aliens reside,” even if technically lawful. This has sparked alarm among legal experts and advocacy groups. Jane Lilly Lopez, an associate professor of sociology at Brigham Young University, told the Associated Press, “For me, the really big story is they are opening the door for stereotypes and prejudice and implicit bias to take the wheel in these decisions. That’s really worrisome.”
Critics say the new rules inject a troubling degree of subjectivity and political bias into immigration decisions, particularly targeting pro-Palestinian views and stifling free speech on college campuses. The Stanford Daily has filed a lawsuit alleging that the administration’s targeting of non-citizens with pro-Palestinian views amounts to ideological discrimination. The American Association of University Professors is also suing Secretary of State Marco Rubio over what it calls an “ideological deportation policy.”
Meanwhile, the administration has threatened to use these new standards to denaturalize U.S. citizens accused of violating eligibility conditions, including high-profile figures like tech billionaire Elon Musk and New York City mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani. A Justice Department memo in June instructed the civil division to “prioritize and maximally pursue denaturalization proceedings in all cases permitted by law and supported by the evidence.”
These developments come amid a broader tightening of immigration policy. Trump has moved to end birthright citizenship, restrict international students (especially from China), raise visa fees, and terminate Biden-era asylum programs. Troops have been deployed to assist immigration enforcement, and tens of thousands—including some legally in the U.S.—have been detained or deported.
For Southeast Asia, the implications are stark. Without U.S. resettlement as a pressure valve, countries like Malaysia and Bangladesh face mounting humanitarian and political pressures. As East Asia Forum reports, regional leaders have repeatedly called for burden-sharing mechanisms and protection frameworks that depend on U.S. leadership. The suspension of refugee programs and aid signals to partners that American commitments are contingent and potentially unreliable, undermining decades of diplomatic investment and moral authority.
Strategically, critics warn that these policies risk ceding influence in the Indo-Pacific to China. The U.S. has long projected power not just through military presence and trade agreements but through soft power—humanitarian aid, refugee resettlement, and a reputation for upholding democratic values. By retreating from these commitments, the administration may be handing Beijing a narrative victory: that American values are hollow and partnerships fickle.
Supporters of the administration’s approach argue that immigration benefits are a privilege, not a right, and that the U.S. must prioritize security and cultural cohesion. “U.S. citizenship is the gold standard of citizenship—it should only be offered to the world’s best of the best,” said Tragesser in a statement to TIME. The administration maintains that the new policies are necessary to protect the nation from terrorism and ideological extremism.
But for thousands of refugees stranded in Southeast Asia, and for many aspiring Americans now facing new hurdles, the human cost is immediate and profound. As U.S. policies grow more restrictive and subjective, the world is left wondering who will step up to fill the void—and what kind of nation America wants to be in the years ahead.
