There is a narrative taking hold in Western capitals, one that presents itself as realistic pragmatism but warrants far more questioning than it receives. The story goes something like this: borders must become harder, migration must be restricted, and security walls are simply the future we must accept. From new behavioural guidelines imposed on asylum seekers to increasingly militarized approaches to irregular migration, we are being told that this direction is not merely preferable but inevitable, the only sensible response to modern challenges.
This framing should trouble us.
The language of inevitability is a powerful rhetorical tool. When something is presented as unavoidable, natural, or the only grown-up position, it discourages scrutiny. We stop asking whether these policies actually work. We stop examining whether they align with our stated values. We certainly stop considering alternatives. The trend toward what we might call "fortress state" approaches is being sold this way, and therein lies the problem.
Consider the recent proliferation of new restrictions and guidelines. Asylum seekers are being instructed on how to behave in their host countries. Smuggling networks are being targeted with intensifying enforcement. Proposals for economic consequences against countries that deviate from approved stances on global issues are being floated. Each policy exists in its own context, with its own stated justification. Yet together, they compose a picture of governance increasingly oriented toward exclusion and control as the default mode.
None of this is presented as controversial anymore. It simply is. The debate has shifted from "should we do this?" to "how aggressively should we do this?" That should give us pause.
The skepticism worth applying here is straightforward. First, do these policies actually achieve their stated aims? Hardline approaches to migration have existed for decades, yet irregular migration continues. Restrictive policies toward asylum seekers may make headlines, but they do not appear to reduce the desperation that drives displacement. When we see new guidelines or new enforcement mechanisms presented as solutions, we should ask: what evidence suggests these will work where similar approaches have not?
Second, what are the actual costs we are incurring? These are not merely financial, though they often are substantial. There are diplomatic costs when allies feel pressured to align with particular positions. There are humanitarian costs when vulnerable populations face increasingly harsh treatment. There are social costs when entire communities live under surveillance or suspicion. These costs are real, even if they are less visible in policy announcements than the benefits are purported to be.
Third, and perhaps most importantly: are we giving away things we cannot get back? Once certain authorities or practices are normalized, reversing them becomes politically difficult. Once borders are instrumentalized in particular ways, or once certain populations are treated as inherent security threats, it takes generations to change the institutional culture that forms around these assumptions. The shift toward fortress approaches may seem incremental and reasonable in the moment, but cumulatively, we may be making choices that constrain our future options more severely than we realize.
This is not an argument for open borders or for naive approaches to legitimate security concerns. It is an argument that we should resist the notion that current policy directions are inevitable or beyond question.
The world is genuinely complicated. Displacement is real. Security matters. But complexity demands nuance and continuous examination, not deference to inevitability. When leaders and institutions present hardline approaches as the only mature, grown-up position, that is often a sign that we should ask harder questions, not fewer ones.
The trend toward fortress states is being sold as inevitable. That alone is reason to be skeptical.