Varied Racialization and Legal Inclusion: Haitian,Syrian,and Venezuelan Forced Migrants in Brazil

Haitians: Dependent, Incapable

Media depict Haitians as dependent on smugglers, the state, and civil society, and emphasize their suffering and vulnerability in Brazil. This portrayal perpetuates skepticism that Haitians are or could become autonomous citizens. By foregrounding and emphasizing smugglers, rather than migrants themselves, media depict Haitians as without agency in their flight and journey. Smugglers “feed” (Globo, 2012b), “promote” (Ferraz & Prado, 2014), and “profit” from (Folha, 2012b) the trafficking of Haitians, while migrants “fall” into the hands of smugglers (Globo, 2012b). ³ Portrayed as hapless pawns, subject to the will of criminal and exploitative others, media accounts elide Haitians’ control over their own migratory fates. Moreover, when reports discuss Haitian precarity in Brazil, they foreground the role of the government and church in providing basic assistance, including food, housing, and employment, thus framing Haitians as dependent on others for their survival. They are not imagined as agents capably responsible for their own lives.

Though Haitians come from varied socioeconomic backgrounds, and have educational attainment higher than Brazilians (Cogo, 2018), portrayals predominantly represent them as destitute poor unable to rebuild their lives. Prevalent accounts describe Haitians arriving in Brazil without money or qualifications, and failing to meet their basic needs. Articles describe migrants as forced to sell their clothing for food (Dantas, 2014), “use water from a church alter to shower” (Oliveira, 2015), and “bathe in the church’s urinal” (Bilenky, 2015). Rather than represent stories of economic perseverance, as with Syrians, the scant coverage of Haitian blue-collar professionals—electricians and bricklayers, for example—depicts them as forced to return home after failing to find employment, as in the case of Pierre, a 42-year-old electrician who decided to return to Haiti after failing to find work following 7 months in Brazil (Fagundez, 2015).

To explain such struggles, narratives focus on what Haitians themselves, rather than the government, fail to provide. This is the case even in articles that convey sympathy for their plight and advocate for better treatment of Haitians. In particular, there is repeated mention of a lack of proper documentation and Portuguese language skills; “without complete documentation, speaking no Portuguese, and in vulnerable situations, these immigrants become easy targets of trafficking, organized crime, and slave labor” (Arruda, 2014). Although none of the three populations are native Portuguese speakers, the racializing emphasis on language difficulties appears acutely with Haitians. Through such discourses, media yoke blackness with helplessness and incompetence, depicting black migrants as unable to adapt and make their own way.

Syrians: Autonomous, Capable

In contrast, media racialize Syrians as highly adaptive and entrepreneurial go-getters, able and capable of rebuilding their lives. In producing stories of Syrians who “succeed” in Brazil, media perpetuate a racist colorblind trope that, for migrants willing to take responsibility for their lives and make the most of opportunities, integration and upward mobility are possible (Campos, 2015). The socioeconomic exceptionalism entailed in white Syrian racialization obfuscates the structural causes of migrant suffering and effaces the difficulties Syrians acutely experience in Brazil (Jensen, 2021).

Seeming socioeconomic success stories abound in media depictions of Syrians. This includes Ali, a twenty-seven-year-old refugee, who arrived in Brazil knowing no Portuguese but now teaches Brazilians English (Médici, 2015). In contrast with Haitians, media admiringly describe Syrians as picking up the language quickly, interpretively venerating them as astute and capable of integration. Other articles emphasize that, once in Brazil, Syrians become businessowners, entrepreneurs, receptionists, accountants, and hairdressers. An especially prevalent narrative describes Syrians becoming successful and popular food street vendors, fabricating even experiences of labor informality as signaling economic prosperity.

Although media accounts rarely depict Syrians struggling to rebuild their lives, when they appear, coverage places fault firmly on Brazil—not the migrant, as it does with Haitians. For instance, media accuse the government of “abandoning” Syrian refugees (Oliveira & Éboli, 2014), or claim that Syrians are ill-fitted to violent and crime-ridden contexts like Brazil. One article reads, “Even though they have lived through a civil war, they are afraid of the crime in Rio…Syrians are a very educated people, in all the senses.…And even being in a state of war, they are not used to robbery and crime” (Globo, 2017). What is seen as causing challenges across national groups serves as an inflection point of racialization. In total, associating Syrians with achievement racializes them as having a unique capacity to regain their autonomy.

Venezuelans: Struggling, Exploitable

Representations of Venezuelans suggest important parallels with Haitians. Media similarly portray Venezuelans as dependent on others for basic services, and thus frame them as unable to be responsible for themselves. Coverage reinforces this by emphasizing challenges Venezuelans face in Brazil—including their inability to secure stable employment or protect themselves from exploitative work schemes—and depicting those as the migrants’ fault. Venezuelans are also racialized as lacking perseverance, as with an unemployed 31-year-old woman who tried to transfer her degree to Brazil but “gave up” after facing bureaucratic hurdles (Costa & Doca, 2018).

A prevalent narrative presents Venezuelans as trapped in informality. Articles frame migrants as forced to “survive with minor jobs as street vendors” and some “resort[ing] to prostitution and begging” (Folha, 2017). Media attribute these struggles to a lack of Venezuelan capacity, as “without education they are forced to beg on the streets, sell food, or wash car windows at traffic lights” (Uribe, 2018a). The racializing discourse of migrant ability leads street vending to be championed for Syrians as a marker of their economic capability and entrepreneurship. Yet, when Venezuelans and Haitians participate in the same work, it is presented as signaling their economic failures and hardships.

When covering Venezuelan formal employment, media frame Venezuelans as vulnerable to exploitation. Accounts describe migrants promised work but never compensated, falsely accused of owing their employers money (Maisonnave & Kelly, 2018), and forced to work in “slave-like” conditions (Sassine, 2018). Altogether, representations of Venezuelan struggles construct them as unable to gain autonomy and find dignity in Brazil. Racialized outside the bounds of whiteness, Venezuelans are not ascribed the tenacious spirit and ingenuity that Syrians are. At the same time, they are racialized differently from Haitians, as they are more likely to be seen as trying and struggling, rather than fundamentally incapable.

Haitians: Excluded, Subordinated

Despite their legal inclusion, media inaccurately frame Haitians as “illegal” and “irregular” immigrants, questioning the legal basis of their belonging. Although coverage recognizes the precarious conditions from which Haitians fled, accounts emphasize that Haitians do not qualify for refugee status, describing that “the problem of Haiti is not political persecution” (Rossi, 2012). Haitians, it is relationally framed, “are not like Syrians who are fleeing from war” (Sanches, 2015a). Several accounts refer to the “persistence of irregularity” (Folha, 2012a) and foreground migrants who lack “complete documentation” (Arruda, 2014). By framing Haitians as “illegal” or “irregular” migrants, even after policy changes, and despite the fact that neither irregular entry nor a lack of documentation are criminalized in Brazil, reports challenge the legal basis of Haitian belonging.

At the same time, narratives foreground the anti-black racism Haitians—described as “poor and black human beings” (Folha, 2014c) and often grouped with Africans—experience, underlining the existence of a Brazilian racial order and signifying where Haitians fit in it (see also Martínez & Dutra, 2018). In an article that criticizes the government’s treatment of Haitians, a state secretary asks, “If they were white North Americans or Italians how would it be?” (Folha, 2014c). Another speculates that racial prejudice is to blame for backlash after the government’s decision to grant Haitians’ humanitarian visas (Globo, 2012c). Still another describes a banner from a protest organized by migrants following the murder of a Haitian which reads: “Brazil, a country of immigrants. Only black people aren’t welcome” (Folha, 2015). Such references to anti-black racism suggest race forms a central basis for Haitian exclusion, showing an important instance where discourses highlighting racial discrimination can also contribute to racialization (see Brown et al., 2018).

As such, Haitians are both marked as foreign Others, with seemingly illegitimate claims to legal membership, and readily made sense of through local racial prisms. Taken as having a fate paralleling the struggles of Africans and black Brazilians, media frame them as belonging at the bottom of the Brazilian racial order. In coverage, Haitians both do not belong and belong alongside black Brazilians (on the ontological impossibility of black Brazilian citizenship, see Alves, 2014).

Syrians: Included, Embraced

Although references to immigration status question the legitimacy of the Haitian presence in Brazil, in contrast, for Syrians and Venezuelans, media employ legal status to affirm and signify their belonging. At the same time, important differences emerge in the portrayal of these latter groups. In contrast to Haitians, representations of Syrians assume they qualify for and deserve refugee status. Articles present a desire and urgency to help Syrian refugees; “the rising number of asylum claims reinforces the importance of offering help so that people can rebuild their lives and regain their autonomy” (Arruda, 2012). Rather than trigger threat narratives, perceived Syrian whiteness leads rising numbers to signify a need for solidarity. After adoption of the open-door policy, media convey support for the decision, reinforcing the “legal and moral obligation” to offer Syrians safe haven (Bouckaert & Canineu, 2015). Representations also uniquely emphasize the legal rights and protections that Syrians receive and deserve. One article highlights how the government is “required to provide Syrians with healthcare and education and provide documentation to travel and work” (Folha, 2014b). Though entitlements all asylum seekers obtain in Brazil, media racialize Syrians alone as rights-bearing political subjects.

Media frame Syrian refugees as naturally belonging members of Brazilian society through references to historical Syrian immigration to Brazil. Accounts describe how “Syrian migration to Brazil is old” (Arruda, 2012) and “Syrians already have a tradition of closeness with Brazil” (Oliveira & Éboli, 2014). Other articles reference preexisting Syrian and Islamic communities in Brazil, represented as well positioned to welcome newcomers. Accounts cover how the established Syrian community in São Paulo has “organized to receive its co-nationals” (Arruda, 2012). The emphasis on historical Syrian migration to Brazil and the presence of existing Syrian and Muslim communities fabricates a powerful narrative that Syrians belong in Brazil on an ethnic basis. However, while media point to Islamic communities as evidence of existing ties to Brazil, historical Syrian migration to Brazil was overwhelmingly Christian, a fact largely ignored. Nonetheless, framed as part of an existing community, portrayals racialize Syrians as not just legally deserving of membership but ethnically part of Brazil. In contrast, though Brazil is a majority-black country, media construct no such ties of racial affinity with Haitians.

Media also represent Syrians as feeling welcomed into the social fabric. Articles present, for example, a Syrian mother who says her children’s Brazilian friends “make them feel at home” (Folha, 2014a), and another Syrian refugee who “doesn’t get tired of complementing the solidarity he’s experienced” and claims “nobody discriminates against me for being foreign” (Médici, 2015). Moreover, while accounts of xenophobic attacks appear to different extents with all groups, only for Syrians does coverage show Brazilians expressing outrage, mobilizing in solidarity, organizing protests in support, and even physically embracing them in response (Ramalho, 2017). Producing such narratives of Brazilian receptivity signifies Syrians have a place in Brazil.

Thus, whereby media discursively racialize Haitians as excluded and subordinated, white Syrian racialization constructs them as inside the national community—legally, ethnically, and socially. Moreover, while media name and recognize how anti-black racism informs Haitian struggles in Brazil, narratives constructing Syrian belonging are colorblind. Syrian whiteness—and how that impacts the reception they purportedly receive—goes unnamed. Although a discourse of Brazilian hospitality has infused local perceptions of immigration throughout its history, it has only served so-called racially “desirable immigrants” (Campos, 2015).

Venezuelans: Contingent, Proximate.

Like Syrians, Venezuelans are framed as legitimate victims and refugees. At the same time, discourses relationally create distance between the two, noting that “Venezuela doesn’t live a bloody war like Syria” (Caldas, 2018) and focusing on documentation Venezuelans need to regularize their statuses and establish lives in Brazil. Coverage emphasizes requirements of personal identification and proof of vaccination, for example, that Venezuelans seemingly face to be able to gain employment and relocate to other cities in Brazil. By foregrounding such requirements for Venezuelans, while obscuring them for Syrians, media racialize Venezuelan inclusion and belonging as contingent, rather than unconditional or assumed.

Although media construct Syrian belonging through imagined ethnic ties, Venezuelan belonging is framed in terms of geographic proximity, familiarity, and solidarity. Media describe Venezuelans as coming from “a neighboring and brother” country (Figueiredo & Fernandes, 2018), and construct a sense of closeness by emphasizing how people have long moved easily and openly across the border. This is further reinforced through references to shared identities, cultures, and histories that connect the region (Globo, 2018d). Such claims of shared Latin American ties mark the ethnic possibilities for Venezuelan belonging. At the same time, accounts use political ideology to mobilize solidarity towards Venezuelans fleeing. Articles present Venezuela as a politically threatening place with frequent descriptions of Maduro’s “increasingly totalitarian regime” and its “violent” response to the erosion of support for Bolivarianism (Globo, 2016).

Nonetheless, despite narratives of regional bonds, media represent their belonging as contingent by portraying Venezuelan appeals for acceptance, such as: “I hope the Brazilian people give me the opportunity to show that I am a good person with talent, prepared and committed to bettering myself” (Globo, 2018b) and “Let’s show the world…that Venezuelans are good and resilient people willing to work” (Globo, 2019). Presenting requests for inclusion and promises to belong constructs a contested inclusion. Thus, whereas media take Syrian belonging for granted, and present Haitians as excluded and racially subordinated, Venezuelan belonging is signified as possible yet not a given in portrayals.

Other articles emphasize xenophobic attacks against Venezuelans. These include graphic accounts of Venezuelans being violently attacked with “homemade bombs and sticks” (Folha, 2018a), their homes burnt down (Salvador, 2018), harassed because of false rumors circulating on social media (Folha, 2018b), and even beaten to death (Globo, 2018c). However, while media highlight the support for Syrians shown following xenophobic attacks against them, coverage of solidarity for Venezuelans is far more muted and limited. Altogether, this constructs Venezuelan welcome as tenuous in Brazil.

Haitians: Inconsequential, Cheap Labor

Although coverage presents Syrians and Venezuelans as having important yet opposing impacts on the nation, Haitian black racialization lends to media imagining them as having comparatively less significant ramifications. Articles do not frame them as substantially contributing to or detracting from the nation. Haitians, branded as hapless and incapable, and incorporated into the bottom rung of the racial order, are not depicted as posing a threat to the nation as Venezuelans are. Racially portrayed as powerless and with little to offer, media interpret them as having a minimal impact.

When articles suggest an impact of Haitians for the nation, they largely frame ramifications in economic terms. Although they may be portrayed as taking jobs away from Brazilians (Globo, 2012a), more prevalent narratives present Haitians as reduced to and objectified as exploitable labor, described as “cheaper than the Chinese” and offering Brazilian companies an “opportunity to reduce the costs of production” (Sanches, 2014). As media depict Haitians as a largely inconsequential surplus of cheap manual labor, they reproduce and extend an anti-black ideology of dehumanization (Alves, 2014).

Syrians: Contributors to Economy and Morality

Of the populations studied, Syrians alone are presented as having a positive and constructive impact on the nation. Articles racialize Syrians as productive contributors to economic development. They are more likely to be shown as coming with venerated skills, as stories foreground their previous professions and educational backgrounds. As one article declares: “Syrian refugees, in general, have a higher level of education than the Brazilian population, and after a period of transition and adaptation, they would elevate the average productivity” (Filho & Zeidan, 2016). Another makes explicit their perceived superiority over black migrants, claiming “the profile of Syrian refugees is different than Africans” (Sanches, 2015b). Though Haitian migrants also have on average more schooling than Brazilians (Cogo, 2018), media accounts do not describe them as possible drivers of economic development like Syrians. Although blackness signifies Haitians as an exploitable source of manual labor, Syrian white racialization entails representing them as astute professionals signaling an economic boom for the country.

Media also racialize Syrians as reputable people with traditional family values and strong ethics, good for the nation’s soul. Compared to the other groups, media foreground Syrians’ family lives before and after displacement, including the experiences of women and children. Mourad, for example, is admiringly described as saving what he earned from his food business to bring “17 relatives, including brothers, nephews, and parents” to Brazil (Sanches, 2015c). Notably, such portrayals racially interpret Syrians not as a demographic threat but an unthreatening, family-oriented people. Articles further racialize Syrians through moral frames presenting them as law-abiding and rule-following. One such account highlights a Syrian who “carefully filled out all the requirements for family reunification and refugee status in accordance with Brazil’s migratory policy” (Globo, 2020). Another describes a Syrian businessman offering employment to refugees who says, “the first thing I do is legalize their situation, so they can start to have direction” (Mageste, 2017). Such representations racialize Syrians as embodying morality in ways absent in depictions of Haitians and Venezuelans. In total, media frame Syrians as serving the country well, economically and culturally.

Venezuelans: Threats to Health and Morality

Although Syrians are interpreted as having positive ramifications, media construct Venezuelan migrants as the greatest threat. A prominent narrative imbues Venezuelans with immorality and criminality, though not singularly so. Media emphasize individuals considered dangerous and marginal, including single men, prostitutes, and beggars. Other narratives blame Venezuelans for a rise in crime and violence, and associate Venezuelans with an increase in “weapons and drugs” (Coutinho, 2018). Nonetheless, of the groups studied, media depict Venezuelans as the most diverse socioeconomically. As one article claims: “Some people entering are criminals, drug traffickers, and individuals escaping from the justice system in Venezuela. But you also have highly educated people, including doctors, engineers, administrators, and professionals” (Folha, 2018d). Such variations in signification signal the complex and contested nature of migrant racialization.

Media commonly link the increase in violence with intense competition between Brazilians and Venezuelans for public services. A prevalent narrative exclaims that the greatest impact of Venezuelans has been to overload the healthcare system, warning that hospitals have run out of medications and are “overrun” (Urbim, 2018), “saturated” (Alencastro & Castro, 2018), and “overwhelmed” (Roxo, 2016) to the detriment of Brazilians. “High” birth rates among Venezuelan women are often blamed for “overcrowded hospitals” (Urbim, 2018). At the same time, articles express sympathy for the women and children forced back into precarious and “unhealthy conditions” once they leave the hospital (Camporez & Soares, 2018). Nonetheless, by framing Brazilian and Venezuelan use of public goods as a zero-sum game, media interpret the welfare of Venezuelans as coming at the cost of Brazilians. Although media frame Syrian access to public services as a legitimate entitlement, coverage portrays Venezuelan access as detracting from the nation and thus signifies they are outside of it (see Santa Ana et al., 2007). Moreover, media do not racialize Syrian families and children as threats, burdens, or objects of sympathy in the ways Venezuelans are. At the same time, that notions of threat sit alongside expressions of pity toward Venezuelan mothers and children, reveals important intersectional complexities in how media racialize Venezuelans.

In addition to blaming Venezuelans for overwhelming hospitals, media brand migrants themselves as a health threat to Brazilians. Numerous articles blame Venezuelans and the “sanitary and health risks they pose” for the return of previously eradicated diseases like measles (Globo, 2018a). Others urge that “all migrants are vaccinated and their exams up to date” (Folha, 2019), or emphasize Venezuelans should undergo a “quarantine period” before relocating within Brazil (Uribe, 2018b). Articles also suggest a lack of sanitation among migrants, arguing “migrant families [need to] receive personal hygiene kits…and toilet paper” (Folha, 2018c). Racialization of Venezuelans as “dirty,” disease carriers perpetuate xenophobic stereotypes of migrants as a national health threat. Indeed, media conflate the dangers Venezuelans are escaping from—including a collapsed healthcare system, massive medicine shortages, and increased levels of infectious diseases—with who they are. By framing Venezuelans as the sole culprits of outbreaks, described as “importing” diseases into Brazil, media obscure the structural issues—like inadequate vaccine coverage and healthcare infrastructures—that experts explain provide for such outbreaks (Globo, 2018e).

Through such portrayals, media signify that Venezuelans can have dangerous ramifications for Brazil. Yet representations are mixed. The juxtaposition of sympathetic narratives of the plight of Venezuelan women, with descriptions of overwhelmed hospitals and prostitutes, for example, suggest the dynamism of migrant racialization as media variably consider and contest the meanings and possibilities of inclusion.