A federal judge in San Francisco has thrown a wrench into the Trump administration’s push to strip Temporary Protected Status (TPS) from 60,000 immigrants, mostly from Central America and Nepal.
Judge Trina L. Thompson’s ruling on Thursday ensures that TPS protections remain in place for Hondurans, Nicaraguans, and Nepalese while legal battles continue, thwarting plans by Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem to end the program as NBC News reports. The decision blocks what critics call a politically charged move to deport long-settled immigrants. It’s a classic case of judicial overreach clashing with executive authority.
TPS, a program allowing immigrants from unsafe countries to live and work in the U.S., has been a lifeline for those fleeing natural disasters or political turmoil. The Trump administration argues that it is meant to be a temporary measure, not a permanent free pass. Justice Department attorney William Weiland put it bluntly: “It is not meant to be permanent.”
Noem moved to end TPS for 51,000 Hondurans and 3,000 Nicaraguans, claiming their countries have recovered from 1998’s Hurricane Mitch. She also targeted 7,000 Nepalese, whose protections were set to expire on Aug. 5. The administration’s reasoning? Conditions back home are stable enough for a return.
Thompson’s ruling slammed Noem’s decision as lacking objective review, pointing to ongoing political violence in Honduras and recent hurricanes in Nicaragua. The judge didn’t set a new TPS expiration date, keeping protections active pending further court proceedings. Next hearing? Nov. 18.
Lawyers for the National TPS Alliance argued Noem’s decisions were driven by President Donald Trump’s campaign rhetoric, not facts. They claimed her moves reeked of racial bias, a charge Thompson echoed in her ruling. This “discriminatory belief” narrative feels like a progressive talking point dressed up in legalese.
Ending TPS could devastate lives, stripping immigrants of jobs, health insurance, and family stability. Many of these 60,000 have been in the U.S. for over 25 years, with no ties to their birth countries. Deportation would mean upheaval to places they barely know.
The economic fallout isn’t trivial either -- terminating TPS for these groups would cost the U.S. $1.4 billion. That’s a hefty price tag for a policy rooted in campaign promises rather than pragmatic governance. Yet, the administration insists Noem’s authority over TPS is clear and tied to broader immigration goals.
Thompson’s order called out Noem and Trump for statements suggesting that immigrants threaten America’s demographic makeup. “Color is neither a poison nor a crime,” she declared. That’s a lofty soundbite, but it sidesteps the core issue: whether TPS is being abused as a backdoor to permanent residency.
Honduran Foreign Minister Javier Bu Soto cheered the ruling on X, calling it a win for immigrants’ “right to live in freedom.” Nice sentiment, but it glosses over the legal question of whether TPS should be extended indefinitely. Honduras still grapples with political violence, which complicates the “safe to return” argument.
In Nicaragua, the situation is even more bleak -- President Daniel Ortega and co-President Rosario Murillo have crushed dissent, shuttering thousands of NGOs and jailing opponents. A U.N. panel in February flagged their regime for systemic human rights abuses. No wonder thousands have fled into exile.
The Trump administration’s broader TPS crackdown hasn’t stopped here -- it has already targeted 350,000 Venezuelans, 500,000 Haitians, and others, with some cases still in court. The government defends these moves as aligning with its immigration and foreign policy objectives. Critics, though, see a pattern of heartless bureaucracy.
Thompson’s ruling accused the administration of ending TPS without proper review, citing “predetermined” decisions tied to Trump’s campaign. “The freedom to live fearlessly, the opportunity of liberty, and the American dream. That is all Plaintiffs seek,” she wrote. Stirring words, but they lean heavily on emotional appeal over legal clarity.
Plaintiffs’ attorney Ahilan Arulanantham decried the short two-month window given to TPS holders to leave, calling it “awful.” Compare that to the usual one-year grace period, and it’s hard to argue the process wasn’t rushed. Still, the administration’s push for swift action reflects a broader goal: restoring order to a chaotic immigration system.
This ruling is a reprieve, not a final victory for TPS holders. With the case ongoing, the fight over America’s immigration future remains as contentious as ever. Thompson’s decision may delay deportations, but it’s a judicial speed bump, not a roadblock, for an administration determined to reshape policy.
