A Migration Studies Manifesto?

I am indebted to Ilse van Liempt, Jonathan Darling and Lauren Martin for such a considered engagement; it is good to be discussing the questions facing Migration Studies as it ‘matures’. As they describe, migration research is accused of becoming a ‘crisis industry’ documenting exclusion without the possibility for influence (Baldwin-Edwards et al. 2018; Rozakou 2019); and chasing a flawed, neoliberal ‘impact’ agenda that feeds policy demands for data that ‘fits’ with prescribed positions (Darling 2026). Our evidence-gathering is mostly ineffectual, and our knowledge production is problematic. As academic research on human mobility has expanded and professionalised, so too have borders, migration governance and xenophobic politics. At best, we have had little ‘impact’ (in any sense of the term). But in the context of ever-more monstrous immigration policy and rhetoric (Martin 2026), perhaps our research ‘gaze’ (and funding, crisis-framing, speaking-for, teaching etc.) helps entrench power dynamics and subjectification, and fan the flames of exceptionalism? Might it help sustain the sense that contemporary human migration is unusual or disproportionate (cf de Haas 2023); or that borders and nation states are natural, inevitable and unchangeable? With nationalism, nativism and anti-migrant politics and violence proliferating worldwide, migration research's failings become especially critical. Academic research on topics as power-laden, polarised, racialised and violent as ‘migration’ should be intelligent and active, with purpose and rationale, working to somehow improve matters. We must be conscious of our aims and ambitions and be ‘savvy’—even ‘strategic’—in our research and teaching. (Strategic does not necessarily mean being overtly political;, a reconsideration of terminology and the focus of one's gaze, for example, can be significant in dislodging assumptions). Working strategically includes knowing what drives, intrigues, empowers, depletes and overwhelm us; what skills and resources we offer; and where we need to heal, develop, skill-up and take risks. It might entail developing a guiding philosophy of ethics and knowledge production. Building on existing conversations about migration research2 and disciplinary codes of ethics (e.g. Clark-Kazak 2019), we might develop a mission statement or declaration by which to go beyond ‘do no harm’ and individual integrity, to consider collective responsibilities, principles and potential (Thambinathan and Kinsella 2021). Such a document might one day exist for Migration Studies collectively, but in the meantime, we can develop our own individually or in dialogue with colleagues. It could be a loose set of guiding principles, a personal philosophy, commitment or a witnessed pledge. It could even be a manifesto; a set of ethical-political declarations of our intentions, motives and objectives, acting as a call and catalyst for action. This might be a broad set of guiding principles (e.g. to challenge oppression and promote social justice; recognise the worth and dignity of all people; and ensure professional integrity3). Or it could be subject-specific (e.g. to resist migration narratives or policies that victimise, criminalise or violate human rights; democratise border knowledge; engage in radical solidarity). Such a document could help us orientate ourselves, develop our priorities and agenda and better know how to focus and maximise our time and energies (see McKeown 2020). Like any moral compass, it will require us to periodically revisit and readjust in response to personal, disciplinary and socio-political changes. We need to help suck the oxygen out of hysterical migration politics, and offer ways to contextualise, reframe, rehumanise and nuance. This might include being able to historicise contemporary migration patterns and regimes within historical nation-building, colonialism, slavery, warfare and dispossession. And be able to articulate how immigration systems build upon and continue imperial forms of oppression, appropriation and forced movement (El-Enany 2020; Walia 2021); and how cheap, available, hypermobile and easily exploitable migrant workforces are structural requirements of our economic systems (Xiang 2006; Henaway 2023). We might problematise or reject statist categories, labels, assumptions and binaries (Anderson 2019; Dahinden 2025); or ensure that we have the means to confront and ‘discard false information’ in our everyday lives (Bashi 2023). Such as the evidence to correct migration misinformation and myths or to call-out false premises, such as the idea that people moving is unusual or optional; that borders can be anything other than discriminatory and violent; and that human (im)mobility is really the cause of people's problems. We could problematise the idea that contemporary statistics are unprecedented or unsustainable5; or that severely restricted human mobility is either possible or desirable. Immigration systems have repeatedly proven ‘failures’ in managing immigration or preventing unwanted entrants (e.g. places with the ‘toughest’ border controls invariably have growing numbers of ‘illegal’ migrants) (Castles 2004; Massey et al. 2016; Andreas 2022). We should be vocal about how the continuation of such failed projects reflect their enormous profitability, power and political currency (Andersson and Keen 2023); and shift immigration conversations onto these underlying dynamics. We are a world in poly-crisis and run-away inequality. Old certainties, promises and world orders are in violent decay, but new futures and organising principles are still unknown. As Gramsci wrote, the old is dying and the new cannot be born (Fraser 2019). The far right is effective in identifying and verbalising people's fears and problems, as well as in misdirection and scapegoating. Migration politics will not improve as long as broader socio-political, economic and ecological worlds continue to fail so many people,6 and alienation, division and diversion remain so prevalent. The problems exploited by the far right are real, even if the explanation and blame are misplaced. Fundamentally, whether it is violent borders and immigration regimes, anti-migrant xenophobia, racism, ultranationalism or any other of our systems of oppression or existential threat, capitalism provides the impetus and fuel. This pervasive socio-political (i.e. not merely economic) ideology prioritises the pursuit of profit and growth over everything, and is inextricably bound up in exploitation, expropriation, white supremacy, patriarchy, domination and exclusion (Jenkins and Leroy 2023; Blakeley 2025). Capitalism is an unsustainable, ‘cannibalistic’ social organising principle that requires (but devours and destroys) labour, care and natural resources (Fraser 2022); and that works through a self-reinforcing system of ever-more grotesque inequality and destruction (Blakeley 2025; Monbiot and Hutchison 2024). It is an ideology of division, competition, hierarchisation, alienation and burnout. In such a context, we need to encourage connection, relationship and community. To practice solidarity (‘as a verb’), treating others as equals in ways that stretch ‘far beyond familiarity’ (Right to Remain 2026) (or research specialism). To make meaningful progress around migration politics, we need to engage with these underlying issues, injustices and power structures, be it in our research, writing, teaching, engagement (or broader lives). Illuminate the ways that systems (not people) are at the root of problems (and thus solutions), and cultivate care, communication and curiosity for each other. There is power in numbers. Building radical solidarity is vital; an ‘inclusive populism’ that brings together people and justice issues (Fraser 2019). We might do this by articulating the role of race, class, imperialism, geopolitics, corporate interests and profit in migration regimes; or sharing knowledge, skills, platforms and resources; or unearthing the ‘collateral damage’ and ‘migrantisation’ of citizens done in the name of securing borders. We might work and talk more across issues, groups or disciplines; seek new methods, audiences, conversations and allies, including across disciplines and beyond academia (or migration, or the human). We could develop collaborative engagements with communities or movements; engage in wider or unusual exchanges of ideas and knowledge; or identify synergies (conceptual or real-world). Not just tracing commonalities of discrimination, disenfranchisement and disciplining, but sharing strategies of organising, resisting and progressing. If Migration Studies were to have a manifesto, I would hope that creativity and solidarity were at its heart, so that we can help build the power and possibilities required for (re)imagining better collective futures. My deep thanks to Ilse van Liempt for the invitation to give the TESG lecture at the 2025 Royal Geographical Society conference and to provide this article, and to Johnathan Darling and Lauren Martin for their time, insight and generosity in engaging with this conversation. Many thanks also to Jonathan Oldfield, Jennifer Allsopp, Bridget Anderson and Eiri Ohtani for their comments and insights on earlier drafts and years of rich discussion. This work was supported by the British Academy under Grant MFSS24\240015. There are no competing interests to declare. Data sharing not applicable to this article as no datasets were generated or analysed during the current study.