Liberia has agreed to receive nationals of third countries. Eswatini and other African states have also participated in the scheme. Burundi announced on 30 September that it too would accept people with no prior connection to its territory, excluding, according to the Burundian presidency, people prosecuted for crimes or linked to terrorism. The numbers, timetables and terms offered in return are not always public.
The scheme has already produced scenes illustrating how far this separation of nationality from destination can go. In August, five people — three Cubans, one Brazilian and one Cameroonian woman — refused to leave an aircraft in Liberia, saying that they feared for their safety. They were eventually taken to Equatorial Guinea. The episode gives tangible form to the legal debate: a ‘third country’ is not always a destination known in advance, nor a territory to which the deported person has any connection whatsoever.
Agreements shrouded in opacity
The question arises first for African governments themselves. Why receive a person with no connection to the national territory?
There is no single answer. The arrangements differ from one country to another. Authorities may cite diplomatic co-operation with Washington, reception capacity, humanitarian considerations or other bilateral interests. The United States has on several occasions linked its deportation policy to financial or diplomatic commitments. The coexistence of aid and a migration agreement is not, however, sufficient, without further documentation, to establish that one is the exact price paid for the other.
The lack of transparency leaves African publics with elementary questions. Who negotiated the agreement? How many people are to be received? What status will they be given? Will they be able to seek asylum, work, travel, settle permanently or be removed to another country? Which administration will be responsible for their accommodation, identification and protection? Where answers are available, they vary.
The transfer does not end when the aircraft departs. It opens a second administrative phase on African soil. A state that accepts third-country nationals must determine their status upon arrival. At that point, the international agreement and domestic law meet, together with obligations arising from refugee law and the prohibition on returning a person to a country where they face a risk of torture or persecution.
After the conquest of the West, the American border extends into the Global South
US policy relocates part of the border without moving United States territory. Washington retains the decision to remove; another state receives the person and subsequently assumes part of the legal, administrative and human consequences.
This arrangement does not eliminate sovereignty. African states remain free to conclude agreements and, within the limits of their international commitments, to determine the conditions governing entry and residence on their territory. That sovereignty makes public disclosure of the decisions taken all the more necessary. An agreement concluded in the name of a state also commits its public administrations, its finances and its legal system.
The US legal battle now concerns the safeguards afforded before departure. The Supreme Court has allowed transfers to resume while it considers their legality. Organisations defending migrants’ rights argue that a person must have a genuine opportunity to raise the risks they would face in the destination country. The Trump administration maintains that the procedures required by lower courts obstruct a removal policy it considers indispensable.
Africa is therefore not merely the distant backdrop to a US migration policy. Some of its states have become its relays. The next agreements will show what they accept in legal terms, what they receive diplomatically or financially and, above all, what happens to people once they have stepped off the aircraft.
