How metaphors catalyze and crystallize anti-immigrant sentiment and policy

To shift the dialogue, we can open a conversational 'side door' into a topic that Americans typically enter through well-worn partisan arguments.

By Julie Sweetland

In the heated crucible of modern political discourse, few topics ignite passions like immigration. The past weeks have been illustrative: militarized immigration enforcement operations in Los Angeles designed to intimidate immigrant communities were met by community members using their First Amendment rights to express their dissent. The fiercest heat waves of summer will surely include a torrid back-and-forth about how we should treat immigrants and enforce immigration laws. Within these policy debates lies a powerful, often unacknowledged force fueling the fire: metaphor.

Metaphor isn’t just a literary device; it’s also a device for thinking. Whether expressed through a simile, analogy, or other comparison, metaphorical language recruits people’s everyday experiences to help them understand another topic. By prompting mental reclassifications, metaphors channel our attention and our perceptions of sensible solutions. For example, my colleagues at the FrameWorks Institute found that comparing education reform to a remodeling project sparked people to agree that meaningful change was possible without tearing down our public education system. This reduced support for anti-democratic education reforms, such as privatization, which weakens public systems under the guise of “parental choice.”

Metaphors that demonize immigrants have a chilling history around the world and here at home. Whether people were coming to the United States from Ireland or China in the 19th century, southern and eastern Europe in the 20th, or the Muslim world in the 21st, metaphors have been used to elevate social anxieties and drive anti-immigrant sentiment and policy.

Looking at the language of our past helps us understand and shape our current moment. Aggressive, even violent actions are being justified by language that depicts immigrants as a dangerous intrusion. It’s time to heighten our collective awareness and capacity to respond.

Consider the “contaminant” metaphor—a toxin, poison, or pollutant that harms or degrades the body politic. This metaphor evokes the sense that we must immediately purge the pollution and take steps to prevent future exposure. Talking about “poison in the blood” is the most well-known example, but the same metaphorical work happens in subtler ways, as in rhetoric that decries the supposed “corrosion” of national identity.

Then there's the metaphor of “infection”—an uncontrolled, harmful growth within a host organism. The proposed solution, by extension, is to “restore health” by “clearing our system of this disease,” often through drastic measures like mass deportations or severely restrictive immigration policies.

Perhaps the most dehumanizing is the “infestation” metaphor, which likens immigrants to swarms of pests—insects, rodents, vermin—invading our homes. The response to an infestation is typically to fortify our living spaces, “root out” the unwelcome creatures, or, in the darkest corners of this metaphor's implications, even “exterminate” them.

The chilling resonance of these metaphors with genocides and ethnic cleansings should send shivers down our collective spine. When political figures use these metaphors, they are not being colorful; they are activating parts of human and social psychology that tap into fear and disgust and justify extreme, inhumane actions.

But metaphors need not dehumanize immigrants to justify harsh, violent, or cruel policies. Take the metaphor of “invasion”— an aggressive, unwanted incursion, an attempt at conquest. It’s not technically dehumanizing, but it is demagoguery. War-footing framing of immigration rhetorically transforms people seeking refuge or opportunity into enemy combatants, legitimizing a response predicated on force and conflict. Comparing our national borders to a “war zone” justifies militaristic responses, from building walls to deploying National Guard troops and the Marines. With “invasion,” it’s hard to make the case for anything but aggressive action, because retreat, in this mental scenario, is failure, and breach is defeat.

These metaphors are not accidental; they are strategic. They channel attention to supposedly threatening aspects of immigration—such as the fear of a drain on public resources—while de-emphasizing benefits, such as our collective economic, civic, and personal relationships with people who were born elsewhere, but now live, laugh, and love with us.

How can we shift the discourse?

We can’t control the way others talk about immigration, but we can help create social norms that invite and insist on respect for the humanity and dignity of all.

One step in our direction is to raise our own—and others’—awareness of the nuances of harmful, hateful rhetoric. Metaphors can work subtly. We aren’t always aware how a comparison has shaped our thinking. By noticing how political or media voices deploy problematic comparisons, we can rethink and reject any negative biases we might have absorbed.

We can also start conversations about anti-immigrant language with our friends, family, neighbors, and networks. By commenting on anti-immigrant metaphors as a matter of general interest, we can open a conversational “side door” into a topic that Americans typically enter through well-worn partisan arguments. This matters because the way people encounter a topic influences how they respond. People who might dismiss condemnations of “dehumanizing language” as exaggerated might be intrigued by a fresh, curiosity-driven conversation about metaphors and their implications.

Perhaps most important, to support positive change at a broad scale, we can support and join organizations that are mobilizing more welcoming and humanizing approaches and narratives about immigration. One of my favorites is Welcoming America and its partners in the #WeWillWelcome Pledge. In the comments, I’d love to hear about the pro-immigrant organizations and storytellers you trust and support.

The language around us sets the parameters for what’s seen as normal, acceptable, and possible. Consciously rejecting metaphors that heighten anti-immigrant fear isn’t merely an exercise in semantics; it is a fundamental step toward building a more compassionate and just society.

Julie Sweetland, PhD, is a sociolinguist and a senior advisor at the FrameWorks Institute.

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