Deport the ‘Illegals”

The news report plays out like a chilling highlight reel from a society tearing at its own seams. Masked figures, a baying crowd, the attempted storming of a hotel – not a scene from a distant land, but a snapshot of today’s violent protests against asylum seekers. Police Commander Adam Slonecki’s report paints a grim picture: arrests for assault on an officer, affray, violent disorder. These are not minor infractions; these are direct challenges to the very fabric of civil society.

And then, the banner. Large, stark, unambiguous: “Illegals.” It’s a word used like a weapon, a blunt instrument to dehumanise and dismiss, to justify the very rage being unleashed. The irony, however, is not just palpable; it’s a grotesque, fragrant stench rising from the scene itself. Who, in this scenario, is truly acting illegally?

Let us be clear. Seeking asylum is not an illegal act. It is a fundamental human right, enshrined in international law, a plea for sanctuary from persecution, war, or unimaginable hardship. The process of claiming asylum, while often complex and fraught, is a legal pathway. To label those traversing this path as “illegals” is often a deliberate mischaracterisation, a euphemism for dehumanisation, an attempt to strip individuals of their inherent dignity and rights.

The protesters, however, are a different story. Their actions, as detailed by Commander Slonecki, are undeniably, unequivocally illegal. Assault on a police officer. Affray. Violent disorder. These are not expressions of legitimate protest; they are criminal acts. They disrupt public order, endanger lives, and violate the very laws they claim to uphold in their cries for “order” and “justice.”

So, we arrive at a chilling paradox. If the fervent demand is to “deport the ‘illegals’,” and the basis for this demand is an alleged breach of law or status, then where does our moral compass point when faced with citizens brazenly committing violent criminal acts on our own streets?

If we are to apply the principle of “deporting illegals” consistently, then surely, the most immediate and glaring candidates for such action are those who, by their own admission and their violent acts, embody the very definition of lawbreakers. Those masked figures attempting to storm a hotel, those assaulting police officers, those engaging in violent disorder – these individuals are not just expressing dissent; they are actively undermining the rule of law, which is the bedrock of any stable society.

Perhaps, then, the call should indeed be reversed. Perhaps all law-abiding citizens should be demanding accountability for those who choose violence and illegality on our own soil. Perhaps we should be questioning the citizenship, or at the very least, the right to free movement, of those who actively engage in such destructive behaviour. For if the argument is that our society cannot tolerate those who break its laws, then the litmus test must be applied evenly, rigorously, and without prejudice.

The true “illegals” in this scenario are not necessarily those seeking refuge, often from situations far more terrifying than a protest line. The true “illegals” are those who, under the guise of patriotism or grievance, choose to break the law, incite violence, and sow discord within their own communities. Their actions are a far greater threat to national security and social cohesion than any asylum seeker peacefully awaiting a decision on their fate. Let us not be distracted by the banner; let us look at the hand that holds it, and the illegal acts that hand commits.