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Honor migrants’ quest for a better life
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Exploring New Pathways to Citizenship: Renewing the Immigration Act Registry Statute
Mar 01, 2026
Background
Since the introduction of the visa quota system under the Immigration Act of 1990, average wait times for visas have doubled from 2.8 years to 5.6 years. With the backlog reaching a record high of 11.3 million in 2025, at least 675,000 would-be immigrants are expected to die while awaiting their visa approval. Consequently, analyses of current pathways to citizenship and possible reformation continue to spark public and Congressional action.
Upon closer examination, the 5.6-year average processing time changes drastically depending on the type of visa. For example, some of the lowest wait times are for company-sponsored EB3 visas, which take roughly 2 years. On the other hand, wait times for certain visa categories—such as family-sponsored F3 visas—can extend to over 21 years.
As the number of visa applicants continues to grow—peaking at 34 million applicants in 2024—proposals for more efficient pathways to citizenship have piqued public interest. One such pathway is the Renewing Immigration Provisions of the Immigration Act of 1929, proposed by Senator Alex Padilla (D-CA) on August 28th, 2025. If passed, this bill could offer citizenship to over 11 million immigrants waiting for their visa approval.
Introduction: Renewing the Registry Statute
The bill aims to amend the date of entry requirement described in the Registry Statute of the Immigration Act of 1929. Initially, the Registry Statute offered citizenship to those who had entered the U.S. before 1924 but lacked official paperwork. In 1986 however, Ronald Reagan amended the Statute through the Immigration Reform and Control Act, which expanded it to those who entered the United States before January 1st, 1972.
This change, in theory, allowed nearly 3 million undocumented immigrants to apply for legal status. Yet, between 2015 and 2019, only 305 people did so, showing how ineffective the 50-year-old date became. To correct this, the new bill would require proof of residence in the U.S. for at least 7 years before the application date rather than changing the date again.
Arguments in Support of Renewing the Registry Statute
Given one amendment by Republican President Reagan and the recent proposal by Democratic Senator Padilla, supporters emphasize the longstanding bipartisan support for reforming the bill. They also highlight efforts to streamline immigration policy to allow functional pathways to citizenship for those on the waitlist. Many also highlight President Reagan’s response in a 1984 presidential debate as synonymous with current Democratic policy, despite his affiliation with modern conservatism: “I believe in the idea of amnesty for those who have put down roots and lived here, even though sometime back they may have entered illegally.”
Many pro-reform arguments also compare the cost of continuing to detain and deport immigrants against the economic contributions amnesty would entail. For one, the 11 million immigrants in the U.S. pay $96.7 billion in taxes each year—a higher average tax rate, 10 percent of their income, than the top one percent of Americans, who only pay 7.2 percent of their income. Supporters also point to the fact that offering work authorization would generate $40 to $137 billion annually, since citizenship would mandate higher wages.
In contrast, deportations to Guantanamo Bay in 2025 cost $40 million a month and the 50,000 people detained in ICE facilities cost $8.2 million a day. Moreover, the military deployment to various U.S. cities has cost nearly $500 million as of November 2025. Supporters argue that further anti-immigrant legislation would not only deprive the economy of the benefits of the additional labor, but also cost taxpayers more by enforcing it.
Finally, supporters raise humanitarian concerns about the treatment of undocumented immigrants. Many highlight how their lack of official paperwork denies immigrants access to necessities like healthcare, public housing, and equal workplace protections. Analysis of healthcare outcomes for undocumented immigrants reveals they often resort to using emergency services as primary care, leading to longer hospitalizations and higher mortality rates due to delayed access to care. Moreover, roughly a third of undocumented households face food insecurity but are denied access to food stamps, further jeopardizing their health. Undocumented statuses are also associated with a higher frequency of workplace discrimination.
Arguments Against Renewing the Registry Statute
Opponents criticize the Registry Statute by analyzing the aftermath of President Reagan’s 1986 extension, which strained American resources and jeapordized the safety of immigrants. They point to the subsequent increase in human trafficking and a 17 percent increase in undocumented migrants attempting to cross the southern border. They argue that mass citizenship should not encourage illegal migration to the U.S., but deter it to protect the rule of law and avoid straining government resources.
Many opponents also believe the bill is illegal because it offers citizenship to immigrants who entered the U.S. illegally. The Registry Statute excludes people “deportable under section 1251(a)(4)(B)”— meaning that it should deport anyone who has committed a crime. Since entering the U.S. illegally is a crime, opponents have long opposed mass amnesty solutions for the immigration crisis.
Finally, opponents argue that mass amnesty is a threat to American job security. They point to the fact that immigrants form 18 percent of the labor force to claim that mass amnesty would displace American-born workers and decrease wages. This is exacerbated by fears of an economic recession and oncoming repercussions of tariffs. Opponents also point out that amnesty alone cannot fix poor working conditions for undocumented immigrants, blaming instead their “youth, low education and skill levels, limited English proficiency and short stints with specific employers.”
Conclusion
Support for changing the Registry date under the Renewing Immigration Provisions of the Immigration Act of 1929 is rooted in goals of economic reform, bipartisan cooperation, and humanitarian concern. At the same time, the proposal has faced criticism for insufficiently addressing potential strains on government resources, the economic security of legal residents, and the possibility of encouraging further unauthorized immigration. Regardless of whether the bill is ultimately adopted, it is clear that the population of approximately 11 million undocumented immigrants awaiting a path to citizenship continues to grow each year, heightening the need for systemic relief.
Exploring New Pathways to Citizenship: Renewing the Immigration Act Registry Statute was first published on The Alliance for Civic Engagement and was republished with permission.
Chloe Durham is an undergraduate student at the University of California, Berkeley, studying Linguistics and Japanese Language
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U.S. President Donald Trump delivers the State of the Union address during a joint session of Congress in the House Chamber at the Capitol on February 24, 2026 in Washington, DC.
(Photo by Kenny Holston-Pool/Getty Images)
I Watched the State of the Union Address: Everyone is “Winning” Except Child Care
Feb 28, 2026
During Tuesday night’s State of the Union address, we heard repeatedly that America is “winning.” The message was clear and consistent. But when it came to child care, there was only a single mention, briefly noted during a guest recognition for a woman in the audience who balances work and family responsibilities.
That was it.
The Institute for Child Success reports that the child care crisis costs the United States $172 billion each year. Why is no one listening? When child care appeared only once, in passing, it underscored just how absent it remains from national priorities.
Since January, we have seen ongoing and intentional pressure on the child care sector, including a funding freeze affecting five states. Any delay in child care funding, regardless of length, threatens both the stability of the child care infrastructure and the livelihoods of working families. Without reliable care, families cannot work. Without reliable funding, child care businesses cannot operate.
Research consistently shows that a lack of dependable child care leads to lost wages, stalled careers, and long-term financial consequences for parents. It also contributes to workforce instability and broader economic disruption. At the same time, polls show that voters prioritize the economy above nearly every other issue. It is time to treat child care as the economic issue it is.
The child care sector contributes approximately $152 billion to the economy and generates a thirteen percent return on investment. Yet the system continues to operate under sustained strain.
Across the country, child care businesses are being pushed into crisis. Many are reducing services or considering closure. Families are losing access to care, often with little notice and few alternatives. These impacts are not isolated. They are affecting entire communities.
Family child care educators are central to this conversation. They provide flexible hours, mixed-age care, and long-standing relationships with families. In many communities, especially rural and low-access areas, they are the primary source of care. According to the NAFCC Annual Survey Report, 87 percent of family child care educators offer care outside of standard business hours. When these programs close, there are often no immediate replacements.
These programs operate on margins so thin they cannot absorb sudden funding disruptions or prolonged uncertainty. Educators still face rent or mortgage payments, food costs, utilities, insurance, and staffing expenses regardless of whether payments are delayed.
It is true that the FY2026 funding bill includes increases for key programs such as the Child Care and Development Block Grant, Head Start, and Preschool Development Grants, Birth through Five. These investments matter. However, their impact must be viewed in the context of sustained inflation and rising operating costs.
Over the past several years, child care business owners have experienced significant increases in food, utilities, insurance, staffing, and compliance expenses. When adjusted for these realities, current funding levels largely maintain existing capacity rather than expand it. In practice, this means preventing further decline rather than strengthening the system.
If we are serious about strengthening the economy, then child care must be seen as an economic issue, a policy issue, not a family issue. Funding should align with the true cost of care, account for inflation, and provide stability for both educators and families.
As someone who has spent a career building early childhood systems and who directly benefited from early learning opportunities, such as Head Start, Family Friend and Neighbor care, and Family Child Care, I understand what is at stake. Early investment shaped my life. Every child deserves that same opportunity.
So before we celebrate all the “winning,” let’s remember: America does not win without working families, and that doesn’t happen without child care.
Eboni Delaney is the Director of Policy and Movement Building at the National Association for Family Child Care (NAFCC), and a Public Voices Fellow of the OpEd Project in Partnership with the National Black Child Development Institute.
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America is guilty of over-incarceration
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Constitutional Democracy Requires That Prisoners No Longer Be Treated Like Slaves
Feb 28, 2026
When the United States added the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution in 1865, it ended slavery but left a loophole, which allowed involuntary servitude to continue “as a punishment for crime.” Today, state constitutions in places like Georgia, Indiana, Kansas, Michigan, and Mississippi still contain a similar provision.
For example, Article I, Section 37 of Indiana’s Constitution prohibits slavery or “involuntary servitude, within the State, otherwise than for the punishment of crimes, whereof the party shall have been duly convicted.” Article I, Section 9 of the Michigan Constitution says: “Neither slavery, nor involuntary servitude unless for the punishment of crime, shall ever be tolerated in this state.”
However, in recent years, other states have amended their constitutions to close the loophole for penal servitude. They include Colorado (2018), Utah (2020), Nebraska (2020), Alabama (2022), Oregon (2022), Tennessee (2022), Vermont (2022), and Nevada (2024).
Such changes are an important step in the ongoing effort to perfect America’s constitutional democracy. As the political theorist George Kateb explains, “the democratic sentiment that should accompany inflicting punishment should be reluctance. From reluctance should come leniency….”
He adds that “the spirit of democracy hates using (punishment even) when necessity calls for it.”
While the constitutional changes noted above are a step in the right direction, they have not meant that prison officials are no longer treating incarcerated individuals like slaves.
On February 13, a Colorado trial court sought to put an end to that treatment when she ordered the state Department of Corrections to stop engaging in “practices…that amount to involuntary servitude.” Those practices include “the loss of earned time,” solitary confinement in a special housing unit, or confinement in one's own cell for up to 21 hours a day for failure to work.
Before saying more about that decision, let’s recall that making prisoners work or exploiting their labor has a long history in this country. That history is a reminder of how far we have to go to reconcile our practices of punishment and democratic sentiment.
As Yale Law Professor Judith Resnick notes, “During the Civil War, both North and South commandeered prisoner labor through contracts with private sector producers…. The 13th Amendment was seen as licensing prisons to require labor without compensation.”
That the 13th Amendment gave states unfettered power over prisoners was made clear in a 1871 case involving a convict who was “hired to work on a railroad… in attempting to escape, …kill(ed) the man put by the contractor to guard him.” As a judge in Virginia explained, the law in that state allowed the governor “to hire out, as in his judgment may be proper, such able-bodied convicts in the penitentiary, whose terms of service at the time of hiring do not exceed ten years, as can be spared from the workshops therein, to responsible persons, to work in stone quarries, or upon any railroad or canal in this State, or for any other suitable labor.”
Unfortunately, one of the prisoners hired out under the terms of that law killed one of the people guarding him during an escape attempt. As the judge sorted out the procedural and jurisdictional issues in the case, he noted, “The bill of rights is a declaration of general principles to govern a society of freemen, and not of convicted felons and men civilly dead.”
Judge Joseph Christian went on to explain that “For the time being, during his term of service in the penitentiary, he is in a state of penal servitude to the State. He has, as a consequence of his crime, not only forfeited his liberty, but all his personal rights except those which the law in its humanity accords to him. He is, for the time being, the slave of the State.”
He was not alone in that view.
While convict leasing of the kind at issue in the 1871 case mostly disappeared in the early twentieth century, today more than eight hundred thousand inmates in state and federal prisons are forced to work while they are incarcerated.
As the Economic Policy Institute’s Nina Mast observes, “Most of these workers (about 80%) are employed in facility maintenance and operations…tasks that keep the institutions that imprison them running. Of the other roughly 20%, about 17% work for government-run businesses, where they might staff DMV call centers or wash laundry for public hospitals…. The other 3% work for private-sector employers, where they earn meager wages producing goods and services for industries across the U.S. economy.”
Because neither workplace safety nor minimum wage laws apply, incarcerated individuals generally are paid less than a dollar per hour and work in unsafe conditions. And as Mast notes, “In seven Southern states—Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas—almost all work by prisoners remains unpaid.”
An effort to organize a nationwide strike among inmates in 2018 was designed “to highlight exploitative labor practices, inadequate pay, and the lack of basic rights for those behind bars.” However, the strike did little to achieve its goals.
Eight years later, it remains true, as the American Civil Liberties Union reports, “From the moment they enter the prison gates, incarcerated people lose the right to refuse to work.”
That is the case in Colorado.
There, on February 15, 2022, incarcerated individuals filed a class action lawsuit alleging that the state’s use of “compulsory labor” violated the state’s constitutional prohibition of “either slavery or involuntary servitude.” It detailed the experiences of inmates who refused to work for any reason, including illness or disability.
The suit focused on many of the deprivations imposed on those inmates, the most severe of which was being sent to a Special Housing Unit, otherwise known as the “hole,” where they were forced to spend days alone.
The Colorado Department of Corrections responded that “CDOC does not… impose work as a punishment for a crime… our policies are meant to have individuals be engaged in work for rehabilitative purposes…and… Turn out the sentence for the crime.”
Judge Sarah Wallace was not persuaded.
She found that inmates in the state’s prisons are “compel(led) to work.” The threat of the deprivations imposed for refusing to do so is “unconstitutional coercion.”
The prohibition of “involuntary servitude” found in the state constitution “applies with Full force to the administrative extraction of Labor within CDOC.” Judge Wallace characterized the state’s effort to distinguish administrative consequences and imprisonment to be a ”distinction of form rather than substance.”
Those consequences, she said, are designed “to subdue the will of the individual.” They play,” Wallace argued, on “the unique vulnerabilities” of prison inmates.
Wallace’s decision underlines an important fact about punishment in a constitutional democracy. As Resnick puts it, “in democratic orders the acknowledgement of all members' equality must be reflected in the treatment of detained people.”
Failure to act on that premise, Resnick warns, imposes “’lasting injury’” not just on incarcerated individuals but on “the body politic” as well. A commitment to constitutional democracy demands that we work to end that injury.
Austin Sarat is the William Nelson Cromwell professor of jurisprudence and political science at Amherst College.
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Map highlighting Mali over Mali flag
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A tragedy in Mali, West Africa is a reminder of solidarity across difference and the work needed at home in the United States
Feb 28, 2026
This fall, I got a phone call from a longtime friend in Mali, West Africa. I could hear the familiar hum of insects in the background, even as I heard the audible strain in his voice. A tragedy had just unfolded - innocent people were being displaced, villages destroyed, and people killed in the name of religion and political extremism. Even though it has been over two decades since I last visited, Mali is a place I grew to know and love - and for over 25 years, I’ve been blessed with a close friendship with my host family, with whom I lived during my time in the U.S. Peace Corps. I had been one of just over 2,500 volunteers who had served in the country until security concerns forced the closure of Mali’s Peace Corps program in 2015. And now, the village where I lived had been burned down, and my friends and host family were refugees on the run.
It was a reminder about how quickly things can change. One day, you wake up to the familiar path of sunlight across mud brick walls and the large baobab trees that frame the dirt path leading from the main road. Another day, you wake up to a worst nightmare - a country in chaos, extremism on the loose, and the very real force of violence right at your doorstep. It was also a reminder that political unrest can strike close to home, to the places and people I know and love, and that political instability and violent, polarizing rhetoric takes its toll.
My host father, Ismail, had called to let me know that the village had been attacked by a group called JNIM - Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin - which translates roughly as “the group for the support of Islan and Muslims,” and whose aim has been to drive foreign aid and forces (especially French and the United Nations) out of the country and to impose its version of Islamic law. He had been alone at home when the attackers flooded the village, and he had hidden himself in the surrounding trees and bushes while a gunfight ensued. Everyone fled, and at least four members of the community were killed, including my host mother’s younger brother, who was shot in the back as he was running to escape. The village was then burned down - along with many others in the region. The destruction had spread not only to homes but also to grain stores and agricultural fields. Now, everyone from the village was on the move in different directions. The whole family had scattered, and he was scrambling to find out where everyone was.
While coverage in the international news has been minimal, a political and humanitarian crisis has been brewing in Mali for years, with the country ranking fifth in 2024 by the Global Terrorism Index among countries most affected by terrorism. Armed conflict has led to thousands of deaths, with a growing number of people suffering from political violence coupled with the ongoing challenges of food insecurity, drought, and political instability.
In the span of 25 years - one generation - everything had changed. I was 21 years old, and it was the late 1990s when I first stepped off the plane in the capital city of Bamako. I had just graduated from college and was about to realize a long-time dream of becoming a Peace Corps volunteer, which became my reality and has profoundly impacted my life ever since. For two years, I lived in southern Mali as a public health volunteer, working at the local health center, weighing babies and talking with mothers about child nutrition. On other days, I organized well-repair workshops, soap- or jam-making workshops, and taught guest lessons at the local school. The border of the Ivory Coast was a bus ride to the south, and nearby Burkina Faso was a day’s bike ride to the east through dirt paths, past banana trees and villages with mud houses and thatched roofs.
In the Bambara language (spoken by most Malians either as a first or second language), the word for one’s host family is jatigi, which roughly translates as ‘shadow keeper.’ Having a jatigi in Mali in the late 1990s was an essential component of any successful Peace Corps volunteer’s tenure in the country. It meant that, during my time living in the village, I had a host family and, in particular, a host ‘father’ who was indeed like the keeper of my shadow, ensuring my safety and connecting me with neighbors, the village chief, and collaborators across the region.
My host father, in particular, did indeed become like a real family, welcoming my own parents and brother when they visited, attending my wedding years later, and even staying at my grandparents' home during one of his two visits to America since my time living with his family. Being part of a ‘jatigi family’ meant that I also had host mothers and siblings with whom I shared every aspect of life. These were the people who I ate daily meals with and sat by the fire with in the evenings, drinking tea and talking late into the night, On days when the Peace Corps public health work was slow, I would walk to the rice fields to help plant rice, or bike to the other fields to help with the peanut, corn or cotton farming. Living in West Africa had left me with an overwhelming experience of hospitality and collaboration - peppered with the best of humanity across borders, language, culture, and religion. The enduring friendship has been a reminder of the possibility of solidarity across differences.
Back then, there was no electricity or running water in the village, and cell phones were just ramping up in the United States. I had to take a bus or ‘bush taxi’ (as they were called) to a town 30-some miles away to find the nearest telephone to call home. When I came back to the United States, staying in touch was a feat of magic, requiring planning phone calls months in advance and often foiled by poor connections and downed power lines. Since then, phone booths have cropped up close to the village, along with electricity, cell phones, and the internet, which now make it much easier to text or make a phone call to stay in touch.
Mali had been a constitutional democracy with a multi-party system, having just transitioned away from authoritarian rule in the early 1990s. Democratic institutions were taking hold, and political parties were allowed to operate. For two decades, Mali was often seen as a prominent example of democracy in West Africa, until a 2012 military coup. JNIM, which has been designated as a terrorist group by the U.S. State Department, was formed following years of tumult and has now been expanding its geographical reach throughout Mali, with the Malian army and Russia’s Wagner Group, along with local militias, contributing to the deepened instability and unrest in the country. This fall saw record levels of violence and mass atrocities throughout Mali, especially in the Sikasso region in the southeast, where Ismaill’s village is.
When I spoke with Ismail and lamented with him about how people had died and were being killed across the region - he corrected me by saying, “No - they are not just being killed. A young boy’s throat was slit, killing him like a sheep.” He wanted me to understand that this wasn’t only about death. This was about the horror - and dehumanization - of how people were dying. They were being slaughtered like animals.
Why do I tell this story? I tell it not only because it is a heart-wrenching reminder of the degree of cruelty that we humans can be capable of, but also to bring awareness to a largely unknown tragedy underway in West Africa. I tell this story because it has not been in the news: a vast human rights, humanitarian, and refugee crisis with murders and mass migrations following on the heels of recent extreme weather events (including severe flooding and drought conditions just last year).
I also tell this story as a reminder of how swiftly political systems and stability can shift. Mali went from being an emerging multi-party democracy to then experiencing three successful military coups in 2012, 2020, and 2021, establishing military rule that continues today. In both the buildup and aftermath, terrorist groups such as JNIM have grown and spread - a whole country and region’s previous tenuous stability swept away by the voracious and indiscriminate force of political and religious extremism. It didn’t matter that this destroyed village was a village populated by devout Muslims. It didn’t matter that they were fellow Malians or West Africans. The rise of fundamentalism and extremism on any side risks the worst of the worst ends: the overall breakdown of civility, senseless violence that knows no boundary, and indiscriminate cruelty and destruction.
Perhaps we are too inundated with our own vicious, stressful news cycles, self-absorbed, like frogs in boiling water in our own country, on the precipice of preventable disasters. Fueled by the flames of political violence and dehumanizing policies here at home, a profound uptick in violent rhetoric and the destabilizing of civic and democratic institutions, the rise of authoritarianism and fundamentalism looms right here in the world’s oldest modern, continuing democracy - a shadow of its former self.
This story is a reminder of what happens when extremism of any kind is allowed to take root - and when tending to the basic humanity of one another is systematically neglected. When demonizing and dehumanizing the ‘other’is tolerated as a norm, especially by our leaders, we risk grave consequences. We are suffering these consequences already in the United States as violent political rhetoric runs rampant and unchecked, and those who have the power and influence to step in and counter it have failed to do so (yet). This is what happens when we neglect the basic human connection and empathy that is possible even across vast divides.
As someone who has dedicated my career to issues spanning public health, homelessness, environmental conservation, and climate change, my journey to join the Peace Corps represented the raw idealism I wanted to believe America stood for. At the time, I was proud to be an American overseas - part of a “global effort to promote world peace and friendship through community-based development and intercultural understanding.” Today’s America is grossly different with DOGE’s cuts to the Peace Corps and the axing of international development and humanitarian aid - the impacts of which have been devastating and culminating in hundreds of thousands of preventable deaths across the globe.
What new version of America will prevail? While the tides of political instability and authoritarianism continue to wreak their havoc, Ismail and his family return home to survey the damage and begin rebuilding their community. Some Americans are still looking for ways to do good by our global neighbors - even ones far away on a separate continent. Over 20 families and friends here in the U.S. have just come together to support the region in its rebuilding. It will make all the difference for this one place’s survival and recovery. Did it matter who we voted for? No. Did we reflect different political beliefs? Yes. Did it matter that we still knew how to come together to remember our basic humanity and the basic humanity of others? Absolutely - more than ever.
As ICE agents continue to amass and inflict violence in the name of ‘safety,’ and as threats to our collective constitutional rights mount, I consider what is worth defending and protecting now here at home - remembering that in one short generation everything we hold dear can be extinguished just like the throw of fire that destroyed a community I know well and love, even from far away.
Deborah McNamara is a former Peace Corps volunteer in Mali, West Africa. She studied Philosophy, Political Science and Environmental Policy at Boston University and Environmental Leadership at Naropa University and is currently the Executive Director of a U.S. based environmental NGO. She invites people who want to support Mali’s recovery to consider donations to the International Rescue Committee, Doctors Without Borders, or Human Rights Watch.
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