The United States Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency, now significantly funded, is poised to drastically expand its immigrant detention infrastructure, surprisingly opting for what it terms “hardened soft-sided facilities”—essentially, large tents. This ambitious yet controversial plan signals a stark shift in the nation’s approach to detaining individuals, raising immediate concerns about humanitarian standards and the long-term implications for civil rights.
Despite a substantial budget, ICE’s vision for these new ICE facilities appears remarkably low-tech, designed for rapid deployment. Internal government documents reveal a strategy to erect thousands of these tents swiftly, primarily on US military bases and adjacent to existing brick-and-mortar ICE jails. Officials contend this approach offers efficiency, allowing for the quick establishment of numerous beds in new locations rather than scrambling for space within existing structures.
However, the use of tents for prolonged detention poses severe humanitarian crisis risks. Experts like Eunice Cho of the ACLU’s National Prison Project highlight numerous logistical problems, including inadequate sanitation, challenges in food distribution, vulnerability to weather extremes, and insufficient provisions for addressing detainees’ medical concerns. Past examples have shown that such temporary structures are ill-suited for the complex needs of long-term incarceration, often leading to dire conditions.
Historical precedents underscore these dangers. In 1993, then-Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio famously established an outdoor “Tent City” in Phoenix to address jail overcrowding. At its peak, this facility housed up to 1,700 people in military tents, many of whom were awaiting trial. As Joe Arpaio shifted his focus to undocumented immigrants, his “Tent City” became synonymous with inhumane treatment, with temperatures soaring to 130 degrees in summer and plummeting to 41 degrees in winter, coupled with widespread unsanitary conditions and minimal protection from the elements.
While immigrant detention tents were not used by ICE for long-term purposes prior to 2025, other agencies have utilized soft-sided facilities, often with problematic outcomes. US Customs and Border Security Protection (CBP), for instance, has used them, despite not being designed for detaining people longer than 72 hours. An audit of a CBP station in El Paso, Texas, in 2019 revealed detainees in “netting-covered enclosures” on asphalt, lacking direct access to water or seating, raising significant concerns about health and safety, and illustrating the challenges of managing such temporary structures.
More recently, amid a decline in border crossings, CBP has transferred some of its ICE facilities to ICE, despite their temporary design. Advocacy groups like Detention Watch Network warn that this represents a concerning shift, as structures intended for short-term border security processing are now being repurposed for extended stays. The Trump administration has even extended an invitation to states to partake in building these soft-sided facilities, further expanding this controversial model nationwide.
Florida’s “Alligator Alcatraz,” a tent camp on an abandoned airstrip in the Everglades, serves as a chilling contemporary example. Despite its capacity to house thousands, reports of malfunctioning air conditioners, rampant mosquitoes, overflowing toilets, frequent power outages, and severe time limits for eating have emerged. Experts argue these awful conditions are not accidental but part of a deliberate design to dehumanize immigrants and coerce self-deportation, raising profound ethical questions about humanitarian crisis implications and the deliberate fostering of suffering.
Officials in Florida have tried to justify these conditions by suggesting the detainees are “hardened criminals,” but investigations reveal many have no prior arrests, including minors. Critics contend that the administration’s demand for so many detention beds stems from a policy of arresting individuals who might not have been detained by previous administrations—law-abiding people simply living their lives. Moreover, alternatives exist, with many traditional jails across the country having surplus bed space, offering far more humane and cost-effective immigrant detention options.
The financial implications are also staggering. While tent cities may appear cheaper to build than traditional jails, their operational costs are significantly higher due to increased staffing needs for managing logistical challenges. For instance, in 2018, housing an immigrant in a tent city cost $775 per day, compared to $133-$319 in a traditional center, and just $4.50 for community monitoring. The projected annual cost for Alligator Alcatraz alone is $450 million. This exorbitant spending, combined with the compromised civil rights and humanitarian crisis aspects, leads former officials to describe the strategy not as cost-cutting, but as dangerous “theater,” prioritizing spectacle over actual solutions for border security and effective immigrant detention.
