“The politicization of citizenship rights is something that really worries me, I think it’s just flatly inconsistent with our democratic system,” Cassandra Burke Robertson, law professor at Case Western Reserve University, told CNN. That concern is rippling through legal circles and immigrant communities as the Department of Justice’s denaturalization efforts, once reserved for war criminals and Nazi collaborators, are now expanding in scope and ambition.
What’s happening? The DOJ’s June 11 memo didn’t just revive an old law—it turbocharged it. The Civil Division is now directed to “prioritize and maximally pursue denaturalization proceedings in all cases permitted by law and supported by the evidence,” Assistant Attorney General Brett Shumate wrote in the memo (NPR). That means anyone who “may pose a potential danger to national security,” has committed violent crimes, is associated with gangs or cartels, or has committed fraud could be in the crosshairs. But here’s the kicker: the memo’s language is so broad that it also allows for denaturalization in “any case deemed sufficiently important”—a catch-all that’s setting off alarm bells among civil rights advocates (ACoM).
This isn’t just a technical shift. For the nearly 25 million naturalized citizens in the U.S., it’s a game-changer. The denaturalization process is a civil matter, meaning those targeted aren’t entitled to a government-provided attorney, and the burden of proof is lower than in criminal cases. As Robertson pointed out, “stripping Americans of citizenship through civil litigation violates due process and infringes on the rights guaranteed by the 14th Amendment” (NPR). That’s a big deal, especially when even minor paperwork errors or old, expunged records could be reframed as “material misrepresentation.”
The history here is both fascinating and sobering. The law’s roots stretch back to the McCarthy era, when denaturalization was wielded as a political weapon against Communists and so-called “un-American” activities. At its peak, there were about 22,000 denaturalization cases filed annually—a staggering number for a smaller population (NPR). The Supreme Court slammed the brakes in 1967, declaring that such practices created “two levels of citizenship.” But the Obama-era Operation Janus revived the tactic, using digital tools to root out alleged fraud, and the Trump administration has now supercharged it, aiming for maximal enforcement.
For policy analysts and legal scholars, the implications are profound. The DOJ’s new approach could have a chilling effect on free speech and political participation, especially among immigrants and critics of the administration. Irina Manta, law professor at Hofstra University, told CNN, “I regularly observe the fear firsthand.” And the real-world consequences are already surfacing: New York City mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani, a naturalized citizen, found himself the subject of a denaturalization demand by a Republican congressman for his political speech (Democracy Docket).
Globally, the U.S. isn’t alone. Security-based citizenship deprivation is resurgent and widespread. Nearly 80% of countries have laws allowing citizenship loss for reasons like disloyalty, treason, or service to a foreign power. Yet, many of these laws are criticized for their ambiguity and lack of due process safeguards, leading to statelessness and legal limbo for affected individuals.
History shows that denaturalization has often been used as a tool for political repression—from Nazi Germany to apartheid South Africa and modern-day Turkey (Kennedy School Review). In the U.S., the Supreme Court’s 1967 ruling in Afroyim v. Rusk was supposed to put an end to “conditional citizenship,” but today’s trends suggest a return to old patterns.
As the DOJ moves forward, the ripple effects on families, communities, and the very meaning of American citizenship are just beginning to unfold. The conversation is no longer just about who gets to be American, but about what it means to belong—and whether that belonging can ever truly be secure.
