This is a world where politicians often treat national borders as mere suggestions and compassion as an unlimited obligation. But two medieval saints — St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine — provide a far more coherent and balanced framework for immigration than much of what we see in modern legislatures, whether in the U.S. Congress, the EU Parliament, or international bodies like the UN.
Today's debates frequently stall on the simple question: How many immigrants should a nation accept? Advocates for open policies invoke compassion but rarely offer concrete numbers — 1 million? 10 million? Unlimited? — while dodging the maths of capacity, resources, and social cohesion. Yet Aquinas, in his Summa Theologica (I-II, Q. 105, Art. 3), directly addresses whether strangers should be allowed to dwell among a people. His answer is yes, but not without conditions. Drawing from Old Testament law, he distinguishes between peaceful travellers or temporary sojourners, who deserve protection and kindness (as in Exodus 22:21: "Thou shalt not molest a stranger"), and those seeking permanent settlement. For the latter, he insists on gradual integration — often over generations — to ensure they adopt the host nation's laws, virtues, and commitment to the common good. Immediate full citizenship for newcomers risks dangers, as those not yet rooted in the shared good might act against it. This logic aligns closely with merit-based systems: vetting, language proficiency, civic loyalty, and phased assimilation — precisely the kind of approach some leaders have pursued but often seen undermined.
Augustine, writing amid the crumbling Roman Empire and waves of barbarian migrations, offers a complementary principle in The City of God. He never advocates unchecked openness. While acknowledging human movements as inevitable, he emphasises that nations must receive them in realistic, proportionate ways. Hospitality is virtuous, but not suicidal. Mercy must not descend into madness. Central to his thought is tranquilitas ordinis — the tranquillity of order — as the foundation of civilized life. Mass, unregulated influxes disrupt this order, breeding chaos, crime, and cultural erosion. The Church may be a "city of foreigners" where Christ is present in the stranger, but the state is not the Church. The state's primary duty is preserving earthly order for the common good, not unlimited charity.
Together, these saints outline a practical playbook:
Prioritise the common good: A nation's first duty of care is to its own citizens — securing borders, protecting jobs, schools, and hospitals before extending resources indefinitely.
Uphold the rule of law: Entry requires permission; unauthorised presence undermines order, so enforce deportations where laws are broken and end lax practices like catch-and-release.
Require gradual integration: Citizenship comes after demonstrated loyalty, language skills, and shared values—no instant voting rights, no immediate welfare access.
Maintain realistic proportions: Limit inflows to what a society can absorb without strain — perhaps 100,000 to 200,000 annually in large nations, focused on merit rather than chain migration.
Extend mercy wisely: Protect genuine refugees, especially the persecuted (such as those fleeing religious genocide), while distinguishing them from economic migrants exploiting systems.
Modern policies often falter here. Recent U.S. administrations have overseen millions of illegal crossings, framing them as humanitarian inevitabilities rather than challenges to sovereignty. European leaders have treated migration as an inherent "value," redistributing burdens without regard for national cohesion. Some nations import large numbers without strong integration mandates, risking demographic shifts that prioritise quantity over citizenship. Activists and NGOs sometimes fund or facilitate mass movements under charity's banner, yet this can resemble aiding disorder rather than true aid — forgetting the biblical call to "render unto Caesar" what is Caesar's.
Consider vivid symbols of the problem: during unrest in American cities, foreign flags waved amid destruction, signalling divided loyalties. Aquinas would view this as monstrous — a newcomer undermining rather than joining the host polity. Without oaths of allegiance and shared commitment, citizenship becomes hollow.
Economist Thomas Sowell cuts through the noise: there are no perfect solutions, only trade-offs. Open borders promise cheap labour, but deliver wage suppression, rising crime, and cultural dilution. Zero immigration risks stagnation and demographic decline. A Thomistic-Augustinian middle path — controlled, merit-based, assimilation-focused — offers renewal without self-destruction.
True compassion lies not in unchecked entry, but in policies that halt human trafficking (cartels profited billions from smuggling), shield vulnerable migrants from exploitation and danger, give legal immigrants a fair chance uncompeted by millions of unauthorised arrivals, and restore trust in governance through equal enforcement.
While politicians pander and profiteers exploit, Aquinas and Augustine remind us of a blueprint that is pro-citizen, pro-order, pro-mercy, and grounded in reality: Secure the border. Vet entrants rigorously. Integrate those who prove loyal. Aid others where they are, whenever possible.
This isn't cruelty — it's conservatism with both spine and soul. The true Christian way.