There’s a peculiar notion making the rounds—chiefly among people far removed from its effects—that illegal immigration isn’t really a crime. Not in the moral sense, they say. It's more like an ambitious clerical oversight. A lapse in paperwork wrapped in noble intentions.
Of course, this theory tends to sound best in places far from the border, far from overcrowded schools, underfunded hospitals, or neighborhoods absorbing population surges without proportional support. In those environments, belief becomes a luxury. So does denial.
The legal framework of a nation isn’t something you set aside because the violator had their heart in the right place. If that logic held, we’d no longer prosecute shoplifters so long as they were hungry—or speeders so long as they were in a rush to better themselves.
What’s overlooked—often deliberately—is that law is not about motives. It's about boundaries. Physical, civic, national. And when a state begins excusing violations based on sentiment, it invites not compassion, but incoherence.
Meanwhile, the people living with the real consequences—ranchers along the southern border, local governments straining to meet demand, working-class communities watching wages flatten and housing grow scarce—they’re not dealing with theories. They’re dealing with outcomes.
There’s no public hearing for these Americans. No sympathetic op-ed. No waiver on their property taxes because a federal failure dumped new burdens in their laps.
This isn’t a screed against immigration. Just honest accounting. Because policies that bypass the rule of law don’t exist in a vacuum—they accumulate. They send signals. They reward circumvention and punish compliance. And they place the cost-on those who had no say in their implementation.
The people most affected by illegal immigration are not the ones being invited to the conversation. They’re expected to remain polite, patient, and compliant while the system grinds down their expectations of order and reward.
Eventually, that conversation will happen. But it won’t be on cable news or in a university panel. It will be at the ballot box, at the town hall, or when people decide the law is no longer mutual, and the deal is no longer fair.
Consequences don’t disappear because we redefine them. They only arrive later, and with interest. -Rick Wagner