Uruguay cannot continue to confuse itself. While the government of Yamandú Orsi maintains an open dialogue with the Trump administration to receive Cubans expelled from the United States, the data does not allow for sentimentalism. There are hardworking, entrepreneurial, and trustworthy Cubans who have built dignified lives far from the island and also here. That is a fact. But this flow is not of migrants seeking work nor of persecuted individuals fleeing tyranny with clean hands. It is of people that the United States decides to remove from its territory, and the numbers explain why.
The analysis by Human Rights Watch on ICE ERO data is clear and compelling. Of the 4,353 Cubans sent to Mexico between January 2025 and March 2026 —the largest contingent from third countries during that period—:
56% had prior criminal convictions in the United States.
16% faced pending criminal charges.
Only 26-27% had no criminal record.
Therefore, nearly 72% had a criminal history or active cases. The most common convictions were for assault, theft, robbery, driving under the influence, document forgery, and drug offenses. Only 16% of the total had a violent or potentially violent crime as their most serious offense. Many had resided for decades in the United States with green cards and lost them precisely because of those convictions. Cuba often refuses to take them back, which is why they end up bouncing to third countries.
The United States does not expel randomly. It prioritizes those who have already caused security or public order problems. There are direct flights to the island carrying individuals convicted of homicide, rape, kidnapping, and drug trafficking. When Havana closes the door, those profiles seek another destination. The Mariel of 1980 already taught a fundamental lesson: even a relatively low percentage of serious criminals can measurably alter local crime rates. Here, we are not dealing with a low percentage. We are facing a majority with a criminal record.
Uruguay has 3.4 million inhabitants. Its security, health, and assistance apparatus is not equipped to absorb a group in which more than seven out of ten people have already had problems with the justice system of one of the most demanding societies on the planet. Many are elderly with chronic illnesses —diabetes, hypertension— which implies immediate and permanent healthcare costs. Incorporating individuals with a criminal history raises the risk of recidivism, strains social cohesion, and sows perfectly legitimate distrust among Uruguayans as well as among those Cubans who do work, pay taxes, and respect the rules.
The Cuban diaspora has shown, in Miami, in Spain, and also in Uruguay, that it can be productive and loyal to the institutions of the countries that host it. Confusing that majority with a group selected precisely because another country has already decided not to tolerate them is a costly misjudgment. Bringing deportees with this rate of criminal records is not solidarity: it is importing a problem that the United States, with all its resources, preferred to externalize.
Any agreement that moves forward without thorough individual vetting, without absolute transparency about the profiles, and without subordinating the decision to the safety of Uruguayans would be irresponsible. The data is not ambiguous. This specific flow is high-risk. Uruguay has the right —and the obligation— to close the door to those arriving with a history that has already cost them their stay in U.S. territory. Caution is not xenophobia. It is the minimum sense of reality that a sovereign country owes to itself.
