This article is part of TPM Cafe, TPM’s home for opinion and news analysis. It was originally published at The Conversation.

After much back-and-forth over several months, President Donald Trump announced on July 9, 2025, that he planned to levy a 50% tariff on Brazilian exports to the United States. While Brazilian authorities, along with leaders of most other countries, have been expecting new tariffs given their centrality to Trump’s economic agenda, the announcement seemingly caught Brazilian officials off guard, as trade negotiations between the two nations were still ongoing.

Brazil President Lula da Silva was quick in reacting, stating his country could respond in kind, if tariffs indeed come into effect on Aug. 1.

There has been much speculation about the reasons behind Trump’s decision and timing, with some onlookers noting the proximity to the recent meeting of the BRICS nations, a grouping of emerging economies, including Brazil, which had already drawn Trump’s ire. Others argued that this was a protective measure to defend key U.S. industries, such as steel, which have been facing continued difficulties against cheaper products from Brazil.

The clearest answer, however, came from Trump himself.

In a letter to Lula, the U.S. president indicated that his main grievance with Brazil is in fact the trial that former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro faces in front of that country’s highest court. The former far-right firebrand is charged for refusing to recognize the result of the last presidential election in October 2022 and for allegedly having led an attempted coup against the democratic institutions and rule of law in January 2023. If convicted, Bolsonaro and some of his closest associates could face long prison sentences.

A history of meddling

The only economic rationale mentioned in Trump’s letter, that of a deficit that his country is said to face with Brazil, is belied by the numbers. The U.S. has sustained consistent surpluses in trade with the South American nation for close to two decades now.

And Steve Bannon, Trump’s former adviser, active cheerleader and primary conduit between the Trump camp and Bolsonaro, was even more blunt than the U.S. president. In an interview with one of Brazil’s main news site, he stated: “Stop the trial and we will reverse the tariffs.”

As the history of U.S.-Latin American relations ably demonstrates, this is far from the first time Washington has meddled in the region in order to satisfy its own political proclivities. Indeed, particularly during the Cold War, a slew of U.S. decision-makers actively intervened to support friendly right-wing regimes or to otherwise remove from power administrations considered unacceptably independent.

This was nonetheless the first time in recent history that the official U.S. position is that a foreign nation should face harsh economic punishment unless its current government illegally circumvent the judicary’s constitutional role to stop a major investigation against someone accused of high crimes.

Trump-Bolsonaro: Mutual admiration

Of course, Trump’s overt support for Bolsonaro is not surprising, nor new. Their relationship of mutual admiration and ideological affinity hearkens back to the latter’s first presidential campaign in 2018, when he was labeled, to great reciprocal delight, the “Trump of the Tropics.”

During the subsequent two years when their terms coincided (2019-2000), both men pledged to have a mutual special relationship, though to little consequence – no consequential bilateral projects were put in place.

Both leaders also share the experience of having failed to obtain a second consecutive term and having supported the derailment of the peaceful transfer of power.

Now that Trump is back in power, Bolsonaro hopes that the U.S. president will come to his rescue.

Seeking to obtain explicit support, Bolsonaro’s third son, Eduardo, a member of Brazil’s lower house of congress and his family’s most eloquent international voice, took a leave from his legislative duties and moved to the U.S. early this year. He did so to lobby on behalf of his father based on the fallacious argument that Lula is a left-wing dictator, that Bolsonaro faces a politically motivated trial, and that the U.S. government should act against Lula’s administration.

Given Trump’s tariff notice and the explicit reasons he gave for it, it seems safe to assume that Eduardo’s actions paid dividends.

Which direction will Brazil head?

Like the U.S., Brazil is deeply fractured along left and right political lines. So it was no surprise that the local reactions to Trump’s announcement manifested along ideological camps.

Despite their leader’s legal travails, Bolsonaro’s supporters remain very influential in politics, the media and among important economic areas, such as the agribusiness sector. Whether Trump’s decision will serve to help people rally around and in support of Lula and against a case of foreign interference is unclear. Lula’s initial pronouncement that Brazil would respond in kind was seen favorably among his supporters, though the opposition and many in the media pinned the blame on Lula for not being able to forge compromise with the Trump administration.

Key industrialists in the powerful state of Sao Paulo, where Bolsonaro’s powerful ally Tarcisio de Freitas serves as governor, will be the first ones affected by the new tariffs. But the pain will likely spread into other activities, including in the countryside.

And given that the bulk of the country’s agricultural exports go to China rather than to the U.S., the important question is whether these powerful exporters will act pragmatically and work with Lula to enlarge trade with the Asian giant and other countries, or whether they will continue to act ideologically and continue to support Bolsonaro’s enduring partnership with Trump against their own economic interests.

Dialogue has been a hallmark of Brazil’s diplomacy, and even in the middle of these latest heated diplomatic exchanges, Lula reiterated his willingness to negotiate. It is unclear, though, whether the Trump adminstration’s actions in Latin America will be conducted on the basis of rationality and actual numbers, or if they will indeed bring back some old ideologically driven behaviors of picking sides in the internal political disputes of foreign nations. Should one consider at face value Trump’s latest letter, there is reason for concern.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

This article is part of TPM Cafe, TPM’s home for opinion and news analysis. It was originally published at The Conversation.

The Trump administration wants to take away citizenship from naturalized Americans on a massive scale.

While a recent Justice Department memo prioritizes national security cases, it directs the department to “maximally pursue denaturalization proceedings in all cases permitted by law and supported by the evidence” across 10 broad priority categories.

Denaturalization is different from deportation, which removes noncitizens from the country. With civil denaturalization, the government files a lawsuit to strip people’s U.S. citizenship after they have become citizens, turning them back into noncitizens who can then be deported.

The government can only do this in specific situations. It must prove someone “illegally procured” citizenship by not meeting the requirements, or that they lied or hid important facts during the citizenship process.

The Trump administration’s “maximal enforcement” approach means pursuing any case where evidence might support taking away citizenship, regardless of priority level or strength of evidence. As our earlier research documented, this has already led to cases like that of Baljinder Singh, whose citizenship was revoked based on a name discrepancy that could easily have resulted from a translator’s error rather than intentional fraud.

A brief history

For most of American history, taking away citizenship has been rare. But it increased dramatically during the 1940s and 1950s during the Red Scare period characterized by intense suspicion of communism. The United States government targeted people it thought were communists or Nazi supporters. Between 1907 and 1967, over 22,000 Americans lost their citizenship this way.

Everything changed in 1967 when the Supreme Court decided Afroyim v. Rusk. The court said the government usually cannot take away citizenship without the person’s consent. It left open only cases involving fraud during the citizenship process.

After this decision, denaturalization became extremely rare. From 1968 to 2013, fewer than 150 people lost their citizenship, mostly war criminals who had hidden their past.

How the process works

In criminal lawsuits, defendants get free lawyers if they can’t afford one. They get jury trials. The government must prove guilt “beyond a reasonable doubt” — the highest standard of proof.

But in most denaturalization cases, the government files a civil suit, where none of these protections exist.

People facing denaturalization get no free lawyer, meaning poor defendants often face the government alone. There’s no jury trial — just a judge deciding whether someone deserves to remain American. The burden of proof is lower — “clear and convincing evidence” instead of “beyond a reasonable doubt.” Most important, there’s no time limit, so the government can go back decades to build cases.

As law professors who study citizenship, we believe this system violates basic constitutional rights.

The Supreme Court has called citizenship a fundamental right. Chief Justice Earl Warren in 1958 described it as the “right to have rights.”

In our reading of the law, taking away such a fundamental right through civil procedures that lack basic constitutional protection — no right to counsel for those who can’t afford it, no jury trial, and a lower burden of proof — seems to violate the due process of law required by the Constitution when the government seeks to deprive someone of their rights.

The bigger problem is what citizenship-stripping policy does to democracy.

When the government can strip citizenship from naturalized Americans for decades-old conduct through civil procedures with minimal due process protection — pursuing cases based on evidence that might not meet criminal standards — it undermines the security and permanence that citizenship is supposed to provide. This creates a system where naturalized citizens face ongoing vulnerability that can last their entire lives, potentially chilling their full participation in American democracy.

The Justice Department memo establishes 10 priority categories for denaturalization cases. They range from national security threats and war crimes to various forms of fraud, financial crimes and, most importantly, any other cases it deems “sufficiently important to pursue.” This “maximal enforcement” approach means pursuing not just clear cases of fraud, but also any case where evidence might support taking away citizenship, no matter how weak or old the evidence is.

This creates fear throughout immigrant communities.

About 20 million naturalized Americans now must worry that any mistake in their decades-old immigration paperwork could cost them their citizenship.

A two-tier system

This policy effectively creates two different types of American citizens. Native-born Americans never have to worry about losing their citizenship, no matter what they do. But naturalized Americans face ongoing vulnerability that can last their entire lives.

This has already happened. A woman who became a naturalized citizen in 2007 helped her boss with paperwork that was later used in fraud. She cooperated with the FBI investigation, was characterized by prosecutors as only a “minimal participant,” completed her sentence, and still faced losing her citizenship decades later because she didn’t report the crime on her citizenship application — even though she hadn’t been charged at the time.

The Justice Department’s directive to “maximally pursue” cases across 10 broad categories — combined with the first Trump administration’s efforts to review over 700,000 naturalization files — represents an unprecedented expansion of denaturalization efforts.

The policy will almost certainly face legal challenges on constitutional grounds, but the damage may already be done. When naturalized citizens fear their status could be revoked, it undermines the security and permanence that citizenship is supposed to provide.

The Supreme Court, in Afroyim v. Rusk, was focused on protecting existing citizens from losing their citizenship. The constitutional principle behind that decision — that citizenship is a fundamental right which can’t be arbitrarily taken away by whoever happens to be in power — applies equally to how the government handles denaturalization cases today.

The Trump administration’s directive, combined with court procedures that lack basic constitutional protections, risks creating a system that the Afroyim v. Rusk decision sought to prevent — one where, as the Supreme Court said, “A group of citizens temporarily in office can deprive another group of citizens of their citizenship.”

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.