Introduction⁸

Human smuggling or trafficking is defined by the Protocol Against the Smuggling of Migrants by Land, Sea and Air⁹ as: “enabling the illegal entry of a person into a State of which said person is not a national or permanent resident in order to obtain, directly or indirectly, a financial or other material benefit” (^{UN, 2000, p. 2}). However, the person who pays to be smuggled, in the best of cases, enters the countries of transit and/or the country of destination as a clandestine migrant, joining the ranks of irregularized migration. We use the term irregularized migration to emphasize that both clandestine crossing and living in hiding in the destination country, are involuntary situations within a legal framework, which result in administrative irregularity and irregular permanence (^{Liberona, 2020}).

In Chile, migrant smuggling¹⁰ is a crime that is very rarely proven by means of a judicial process. Instead, a transgression of the law is committed by administratively decreeing the expulsion order from the country (^{Jara Bustos, 2018}) of the person who entered through unauthorized transit, that is, clandestinely. Clandestine entry into Chile is considered a crime both by the executive order 1094 on Immigration and by Law No. 20.507 of 2011, which defines the crimes of migrant smuggling and human trafficking. Under this logic, smuggling becomes a phenomenon in which migrants who have been “an object of smuggling” upon entering the country are penalized, as we will see in this analysis of the Cuban case.

Likewise, in 2012 a decrease in refugee applications was detected in Chile, while South American and Caribbean immigration to the country increased (^{Departamento de Extranjería y Migración del Ministerio del Interior y Seguridad Pública, 2016}), which was interpreted as an administrative problem (^{Courtis, 2012}) when analyzing the case of Colombian women seeking asylum (^{Liberona & López, 2018}). We hypothesize that there is a link between smuggling and asylum, which lies in the obstacles to achieving asylum when requests from a specific group become massive at the border, making it difficult to or directly preventing entry (^{Liberona, 2015}). That was what began to happen in 2017 with the Cuban population, who resorted to migrant smuggling networks to gain entry to Chile.

After verifying the lack of empirical research that would make it possible to understand why people are pushed into migrant smuggling despite all the risks it entails, we asked ourselves the following: what is it that drives people to undertake risky and costly migration projects? What is the role of the border in the irregularization of migrants? What are the implications of clandestine entry? In this way, we are now interested in highlighting the process by which this migration makes use of migrant smuggling in order to carry out its migration project in Chile, and what its consequences are. This process has been identified as clandestine migration in transit.

The theoretical elements presented here will allow us to understand how the association between migration and security is established in the international order, and how the law tends to be applied to the detriment of migrant rights. Likewise, briefly touching upon the concept of forced migration will allow us to realize that such is not only a characteristic related to the reason for emigration but also a way of migrating. Next, we will address the clandestine migration in transit of Cubans to Chile as an object of study, which has been associated with the increase in migrant smuggling into Chile since 2017.

To reconstruct the phenomenon, we will first reveal the context of origin and the conditions that encourage migration. Then we will present evidence of a complex (social, economic, and political) process based on the stories of the people who participated in this research, to understand the reasons for their migration via smuggling, and establish the routes and strategies to advance clandestine migration in transit. It is interesting to highlight how the loss of control over the situation and the absence of voluntariness appear throughout the process, even in clandestine entry, determined by the denial of entry into Chile and of the refugee request at the political-administrative border. Our questions will be answered with this evidence, pointing out that this Cuban migration into Chile is a paradigmatic case of forced migration, and we will demonstrate the density of transit implied in smuggling, taking into account the social, political, and economic dimensions of this uneven mobility (^{Heyman, 2012}).

Methodology

The bibliography reviewed shows the methodological challenges faced by this type of research, which concerns a group of “hidden” population (clandestine migrants). There are at least two problems: the first is that its quantity cannot be estimated, so it is not possible to establish a sampling; and the second is that this population does not want to be interviewed, or provides unreliable information to protect their privacy (^{Tyldum & Brunovskis, 2005}). The literature highlights that no source is perfect and that a combination of sources is needed if meaningful information is to be obtained.

Taking these considerations into account, we carried out collaborative ethnographic monitoring between January and October 2018, which consisted of a progressive and gradual collection of information in order to establish a relationship of trust with the people who acknowledge having been “objects of smuggling.”

This relationship was built mainly on legal and social support, the derivation in the regularization process, or the search for social rights. In addition, in-depth interviews were conducted, and observation was carried out in different contexts: in places of residence, work, socialization, and leisure, as well as at the border of Chacalluta (in Peru-Chile) and that of Colchane (in Bolivia- Chile).

For this paper, we considered two women who were contacted through the Asamblea Abierta de Migrantes y Pro Migrantes de Tarapacá (AMPRO, acronym in Spanish for Open Assembly of Migrants and Pro Migrants of Tarapacá), as well as the information obtained in a meeting held together with AMPRO with a group of approximately 10 people of Cuban nationality, who needed to report how their request for refugee was denied at the border. A Cuban couple who requested help was also included.

Likewise, a search for complementary sources was carried out to contextualize and compare information, thus learning about immigration policy. Key informants, immigration officials, and civil society organizations were interviewed.

For the same purpose, immigration legislation and news from the local, national and international press referring to migrant transit in the northern borders of Chile were reviewed. Data systematization was carried out by means of the qualitative analysis software Nvivo 10, developing conceptual nodes to arrange the information according to the dimensions proposed in this research.

A critical approach to the study of migrant smuggling

The literature on migrant smuggling shows a strong association with human trafficking, a fact that makes the specific analysis of the phenomenon difficult. This association has been promoted by international organizations advising States on the matter, such as the United Nations (UN), the ^{International Organization for Migration (IOM)}, among others.

Likewise, research has shown two crucial aspects to analyze in our case study: first, that in the international political debate there is a strong opposition between a rights-based approach and another that promotes the enforcement of the law, managing so that the victim protection measures is overshadowed by the fight against immigration (^{Krieg, 2009}); second, that looking upon smuggling as criminal behavior favors the production of “illegal” migrants (^{Aradau, 2004}; ^{Cornelius & Rosenblum, 2005}; ^{De Genova, 2002}).

Authors such as ^{Álvarez Velasco (2009}, ²⁰¹⁶), ^{Mezzadra and Nielson (2014}), ^{Chávez and Arcentales (2016}), and ^{Mansur Dias (2017}) have developed a critical approach towards traditional perspectives on migrant smuggling, centering on the debate on the responsibility of the capitalist production system that, through irregular migration, has generated a new regime of flexible accumulation (^{Ramírez & Álvarez, 2009}).

When it comes to the association between “human trafficking” and “migrant smuggling,” ^{Mansur Dias (2017}) reports that these issues passed from the human rights agenda to the UN criminal structure during the signing and ratification of the United Nations Convention against Transnational Organized Crime in 2000. This has allowed States to systematically interpret cross-border migration from a criminal perspective, addressing it as a security problem. Chávez and Arcentales speak of “the perverse construction of the Illegal Smuggling of Migrants crime” (2016, p. 78), as they understand smuggling as a “social fact” that is experienced by a migrant and that cannot be considered a crime. Why so? because since the “crime” of Illegal Smuggling of Migrants exists, clandestine entry is interpreted only as a dynamic or migratory flow that does not conform to normative parameters (^{Chávez & Arcentales, 2016}), looking upon cross-border social practices that occur outside the norm as if they were security attacks.

In this sense, Álvarez criticizes the foundation of the Protocol Against the Smuggling of Migrants, stating that it is based on a binary perspective whose sharp line marks a distinction between legal and illegal activities; between smuggler and migrant; between trafficking and smuggling (Álvarez, 2015, cited in ^{Mansur Dias, 2017}). The reasons for clandestine migration are this way is kept unknown and made invisible.

That is why in this article we take the concept of “clandestine migration in transit” by ^{Ramírez and Álvarez (2009}), understood as the mobility of those people unable to access a visa, who enter the countries of transit and destination through irregular routes as an alternative, with the help of third parties. We picked up the concept as it emphasizes the arbitrariness of the migration policies that produce clandestine migration in transit; a political nuance rescued by the authors, who understand this transit in its social, political, and economic dimensions (^{Ramírez & Álvarez, 2009}).

Migration in transit, according to an exhaustive bibliographic review carried out by ^{Rodríguez, Fernández Calleros, Luna González, and Rodríguez García (2016}), has not yet consolidated as an area of knowledge; however, it is of great interest due to its growing magnitude, geographic diversification and risks involved. The contributions refer to migration trajectories through different countries without the required documents, highlighting issues pertaining to the human rights of migrants, their vulnerability, “humanitarian crises” and government policies.

“This ‘transit’ is understood as the temporary stay or the journey from one country to another” (^{López & Wessel, 2017}, p. 20). However, López and Wessel suggest that definitions of transit require further analysis and propose the need to demonstrate the non- existence of a linear and dichotomous emigration-immigration process, highlighting how a third “transit” country is involved. They also highlight the impossibility of defining a fixed duration for this transit, and that the arbitrary use of the category “transit country,” referring to countries crossed by migration flows, is ambiguous and excessively politicized. Seeking to contribute to this debate, we will refer to the density of transit, which in the case studied is reduced to the concept of smuggling.

Emigration context

During the entire first half of the 20th century, Cuba was, fundamentally, a host country for European and Caribbean migrants. Thousands of Spaniards arrived in the island’s cities,

while Haitians, Jamaicans, and Barbadians settled in the sugar cane plantations. Significant Chinese flows also enriched the island society. This situation began to change in the 1950s due to the suffocation of the agro-export economy, and above all, due to the revolutionary takeover of 1959, when emigration not only intensified but also acquired a markedly political hue.

In the early years, emigrants were motivated by their political disagreements with the radical turn of the Cuban Revolution, and emigration was encouraged by the hostile imperialist policy of the United States, which made us of emigration as a battering ram against the revolution. Subsequently, migrant flows were nurtured by popular sectors dissatisfied with the authoritarian evolution of the political system and with the weak economic performance, a result of both the nature of the centralized system and the hostility of the United States expressed in the economic embargo (blockade) imposed since 1960.

Set in this context, the Cuban political class based its legitimizing discourse on the presentation of the emigrant as an ‘other’ antithetical to “revolutionary and patriotic” values (^{Dilla, 2018}) for decades. And even if as of today this discourse has attenuated its more aggressive formulations -emigrants have become a vital economic factor for popular survival and the balance of payments (^{Eckstein, 2013})- emigrants still are politically and morally anathematized, and if they do not return to Cuba within two years, they lose all their citizenship rights.

In the first five post-revolutionary decades, emigration was essentially a dominant flow towards the United States, particularly to southern Florida, where emigrants had become an economically prosperous enclave. The 2010 census figures reported a total of 1.8 million Cubans and descendants, of which 1.1 million were born in a place other than the United States. 67% of them lived in Florida (^{Dilla, 2018}).

This enclave was a basic factor for the favorable integration of Cubans, which was also favored by two legal provisions: the Cuban Adjustment Act that allowed them to quickly obtain residency, and the “dry feet, wet feet” policy that provided those benefits without considering the legal status of migrants and how they arrived. Whether they were transiting the border with Mexico or coming in rafts through the dangerous Straits of Florida, Cubans were granted the chance of integrating with ease (^{Freeman, 2006}), a privileged condition that, together with their initial class origins and their aversions to the Cuban regime that they identified as communist, made them a very politically conservative community (^{Pedraza, 2007}).

Starting in the nineties, migration flows intensified as encouraged by the economic crisis that the country went through -as a result of the collapse of the Soviet bloc to which it had been inserted, and the ongoing United States blockade. One feature of this flow has been its greater geographic dispersion, accentuated in recent years due to the restrictions imposed on Cuban immigration in the United States after the repeal of the Cuban Adjustment Act and the “dry feet, wet feet” policy.

Consequently, Cuban migration began to seek other routes, either in order to reach the United States surreptitiously or to other Latin American destinations, always using the very few countries that do not require a visa. At the onset of this period, Ecuador was the choice

-until this country imposed a mandatory visa on Cubans- from where they used to cross all of Colombia and Central America on their journey to the Mexico-United States border. Later the South American corridors were activated, mainly directed to Chile, perceived as a country with higher income and more opportunities. The starting point has been English Guyana, although other continental countries such as Suriname are already emerging as choices; the journey migrants undertake is precisely what the people interviewed here talked about.

Finally, even though Cuban government policy has put aside its most aggressive overtones against its emigrants, it continues to be a utilitarian, exclusionary and selective policy. For the Cuban regime, citizenship is not a categorical condition of rights, but rather a militant condition (^{Dilla, 2018}). Consequently, an emigrant -one who remains in another country for more than 24 months, according to current legislation- can only return to reside in Cuba if he or she requests a special permit and such is authorized by the State, which virtually means asking for forgiveness. Consequently, immigrants lack consular protection of all kinds, which places these people at a very high level of vulnerability.

From forced migration to migrant smuggling

The reports of the people participating in this research show that migration is rarely totally voluntary or free, as the literature supposes. Therefore, we take the concept of forced migration, in particular, to explain that the phenomenon of smuggling is part of it. Forced migration is looked upon from the reasons for emigration, as we will see below.

According to the interviews, this Cuban migration responds to multiple factors that intersect, among which the economic crisis caused by the embargo/blockade on the island and the rule of a single party that prevents free labor development stand out. However, it is a country that provides free education, as well as a community perceived as supportive and safe. Yet low wages and a lack of products on the market result in frustration and a dark vision of the future.

Well, in Cuba I studied till I was 18 when I graduated from Gastronomic Systems and Commerce. Uhm… From there I began to work, I mean when you graduate you get your title at 18, but you are already out there working at 17. I worked for about a year or year and a half […] I worked in different areas, in pizza restaurants, but all was related to foreigners […] after two years they give you your title. Interviewer: did you receive any payment for these practices? Interviewee: yes, my salary was 10 dollars [laughs] (Personal communication with M., ¹¹ 21-year-old woman, April 7, 2018).

First, I did social work, then I began relating with the population, and I always wanted to interact, to work based on that. But that path didn’t provide economically, and so I decided to study Tourism. You expand a little more in Tourism; […] I have two kids here, I want a future for them, over there I have two young nephews and I also want a future for them. I have a degree, but my siblings don’t; they left school in the ninth grade, so they don’t have a career […] I would have had a salary of 450 in national currency [17 dollars approximately], not even 15 bucks [20 dollars approximately]! (personal communication with Y., 34-year-old woman, April 4, 2018).

Cuba is a beautiful country, very hospitable, and we Cubans are very strong, we are used to, for example, if you visit a Cuban home, they tell you “You stay to eat and that's it.” And you eat well. With a bowl of chicken, you get 50 chicken nuggets, and it’s maybe more flour than chicken but they will also serve you coffee. And if they don’t have anything they’ll just tell you “Excuse me for a moment” and they’ll ask the neighbor and make up for whatever they need. After all that has happened, it’s still a happy country, children playing in the street. Sure, there are bad things, such as not being able to express yourself as an individual; lack of access to information, we still don’t have Internet […] We know about food scarcity, chicken for example, but it’s not only that; basic products such as cleaning products, you can’t find it at the store and you have to go all over Havana if you want to find the product… (personal communication with A., 45-year-old woman, September 14, 2018).

Another thing that characterizes it is security, it’s a very safe country, to the point that kids can play out there in the streets and I don’t worry about it. Now, what happens in Cuba? The political system in Cuba failed years ago, it doesn’t work, what they tried to achieve, it failed, and it will never work; as long as you are for that process and never speak out against it, you’ll have no problems, you’ll only have financial problems just like every other Cuban. Now, the day you try to speak your mind or if you are against it, then you stop being a person (personal communication with J., 38-year-old man, September 14, 2018).

In the previous extracts, we can read a complex interplay of factors that promote emigration. Thus, the lack of freedom of expression, access to information, products, and work appear as weighty factors creating discontent. Another of the reasons stated for emigration was male chauvinist violence. Such is the case of a woman who was deceived by her husband to leave the country:

Well, my husband asked me to marry him when I was still working, he told me that we were to spend our honeymoon in Guyana […] so he told me: “let’s bring our clothes with us so that we can keep traveling if we feel so,” and so on, and as the days went by he told me: “if once we are in Guyana we find a way into Brazil, will you go with me?” … “No, I said, Brazil is too much for me”; and when I got to Guyana he already had everything figured out to cross over to Brazil… he was in contact with… and everything, so I had to follow him… (personal communication with M., 21-year-old woman, April 7, 2018).

A glimpse of the consequences of political persecution is also given to us here; in the following extract, a woman recounts her impotence when she was unable to work, as well as her appreciation of her work:

I have always worked, I have never been a housewife, even if we managed to make it I wanted to work, I wanted to practice my profession. So these things… they were also a violation of my right to work, even if I don’t get paid, but getting up and going to work and providing my expertise, that made me feel good as a human being (personal communication with A., 45-year-old woman, September 14, 2018).

Political dissent has an impact on the loss of work and the difficulty of finding a new one, as the following story shows:

I left Cuba because of the situation there, not only economic but […] I was the head of the office of the second Chief General of the Republic. My sister came over because of my father's death. My sister is a citizen of the United States and there is an article that when you occupy a position in the Ministry of the Interior you cannot meet with anyone coming from the United States, but she’s my sister and I received her in my home because she is family, and even though I tried to hide the fact, they found out and the first thing they told me was that I could no longer work there. They downgraded me and told me that the best I could do was requesting to be removed from working there, and as a consequence of that, I could not find a job, because when you apply for a job you have to provide a reference from the previous one (personal communication with A., 45-year-old woman, September 14, 2018).

As of 2016, I stopped voting, I did not want to vote, it was a waste of time, as I understood that what we were doing made no sense, we were giving salary to someone I don’t know, so that person would vote for another one and then that one voted for the president. From there problems started, I had to leave my job […] I was head of security, a militant, and it was unthinkable that someone in that position and a militant would stop voting (personal communication with J., 38-year-old man, September 14, 2018).

At this point, it can be seen that the complex interplay of factors influencing the decision to migrate reveals economic, social, and political problems that allow this migration to be conceptualized as forced. However, the accounts of our interviewees reveal a tendency to politicize the specific reasons for their migration for practical purposes. We understand this discourse, at least in part, as a strategy to address the need for regularization in the destination country. Arguing based on the political situation -which affected them personally- is used many times as a formula to obtain asylum.

The Importance of “Open Visa” on Smuggling Routes

The narratives show that Chile is not presented as an attractive option, but that when migrating, the first thing to consider is going to a transit country wherein Cubans have open visas:

[…] in Cuba, if you want to leave for any country that asks for a visa, you to apply for that visa, and have the money for it […] you have to provide the letter of invitation. If you have the letter of invitation then you can leave, when you have everything needed, your criminal record, yet if they muddy the waters for you […] Let's say you were fined 10 years ago riding a bicycle, the fine is tripled by now, so now you have a penalty and you can’t leave because of that fine. So almost everyone takes advantage of open visas, that's how most people leave (personal communication with Y., 34-year-old woman, April 4, 2018).

It can be seen how the routes are conditioned by the “open visa” and are articulated as people see a possibility of moving towards a destination that is considered moderately favorable to live in:

Yes, in Guyana there is an open visa: Guyana, Haiti, Russia, because they closed Ecuador now. In Haiti, there’s no open visa anymore but they have these monthly packages for 900 pesos, for a week in Haiti, to buy or for consumption expenses in the hotel, so people go and then leave with an open visa (personal communication with Y., 34-year-old woman, April 4, 2018).

In this way, a fairly defined route is outlined both in the stories collected and in what is published by the press, such as the following headline: “From Guyana to Chile: the new route for smuggling in Cuban immigrants” (^{Velasco, 2018}, w/o page number). The route is Guyana-Brazil-Peru-Chile or Guyana-Brazil-Bolivia-Chile. The Head of Immigration of Iquique confirms this information: “Their route starts from there to Brazil; oftentimes they do not settle due to economic or language issues, and thus they migrate to Peru, Bolivia, and Chile as a final destination” (Personal communication with the Head of Immigration, May 29, 2018). The same route is also detailed in the following testimony:

From Cuba to Panama, from Panama to English Guyana, from Guyana to Brazil, from Brazil to Bolivia, and from Bolivia to Chile, here […] from Boa Vista we went to Manaus, from Manaus to Porto Belo and then to Guayamerin, which is Brazil’s border with Bolivia, then we got our passports stamped and got our visa. The Bolivian consulate gave us a one-month visa and we crossed that same day […] and we left for La Paz by plane and then from La Paz to Oruro, and we got here from Oruro (personal communication with M., 21-year-old woman, April 7, 2018).

However, we noticed that the Bolivian policy lacked continuity: Woman: […] “you cross to Bolivia, you are illegal in Bolivia because they wouldn’t give you a visa, you leave Bolivia and enter Chile, and you’re still illegal. We, for example, entered through the border, through one side of the border at night” (personal communication with a participant of a Cuban migrant group meeting, January 10, 2018).

This same route is confirmed by the coordinator of the Migration and Refugee Roundtable of Amnesty International Chile, who brings the issue of asylum request as one of the benefits supposedly included with paying to the smuggling network:

…when facing the case of Cuba, one of the comments we often make is that they sell them the idea […] when they arrive, we feel that the asylum matter was included in the network, why so? Because of their attitude when they get to FASIC (acronym in Spanish for Foundation for Social Aid of Christian Churches), the attitude of Cubans is like “hello, good day, I’m here to leave my application and I would like to know about the benefits I have” […] the phenomenon as I was able to intuit is that they sell them the idea of asylum and everything pertaining the asylum institution with the smuggling network, from there my anger, well the anger is really experienced by receptionists, but the point is that the anger is because you paid an amount of money when they told you “don’t worry! When you get to Chile you’ll have asylum, you qualify for the FASIC program and they give you money” (Personal communication with the coordinator of the Migration and Refugee Roundtable of Amnesty International Chile, July 13, 2018).

Route 1 (in red): Cuba-Panama-English Guyana-Boa Vista-Manaus-Porto Belo Gauyaramerin-La Paz-Oruro-Iquique.

Route 2 (in blue): Cuba-English Guyana-Lethem-Boa Vista-Iñapari-Cusco-Arequipa-Tacna- Iquique (own elaboration).

Source: own elaboration based on ethnographic research.

Map 1 Examples of Cuba to Chile routes 

From smuggling to clandestine migration in transit

At the international level, the literature shows that migrants and/or transmigrants (^{Ramírez & Álvarez, 2009}) who cross one or more borders clandestinely are treated as criminals after having in most cases experienced dehumanizing and risky situations during their transit. It has also been identified that the most extreme consequence is the possible death of smuggled individuals. In Chile, despite the fact that the number of deaths resulting from smuggling is small, there is evidence that when occurring they have been caused by the victim being abandoned in the middle of the journey or by severe dehydration (^{Barros Sánchez, 2018}).

Two elements caught our attention when following up the people interviewed: first, the experiences of abuse and insecurity, and second, the deception and dispossession of which they were victims:

We got there about two days later, they put us in a truck, eleven people, the driver, and his helper were armed, we crossed the entire Amazon back there and at every stop Guyanese officers asked for money […], there was even this truck that they riddled with bullets, killing everyone inside. I mean, it was risky because they know that every family there carries at least 2,000 or 3,000 dollars with them. We arrived in Brazil, and it took a whole day, 24 hours through inaccessible roads, and then the fear whenever the truck stopped and the officers with long guns approached because what I saw could happen to us: they could kill everyone and take their money… It’s a country where, you know, anything can happen. We finally got to Brazil, they were waiting for us there, and they took us to the house of this person who had arranged everything […] It was about three days […] non-stop (personal communication with a Cuban migrant couple, 45-year-old A. and 38-year-old J., September 14, 2018).

[…] we came from Oruro and didn’t know they closed the border, and in that bus, they told us that the border would be open by seven in the morning, that if we wanted to get a visa for our passport we had to wait for the next day, and we already […] they tell us to leave your things there, we’re giving you blankets and everything for you to cover and spend the night… that was at about eight or nine, at night, we got out to buy food and it was really cold, we went to sleep. At four or five in the morning…. It was late, and we heard “cover up well, we are having control” and that was to enter Chile […] they dropped us before getting to the bus stop, and there they asked us for money… and we had to pay […] my idea was to get a visa, that was the best way to get in, but no (Personal communication with M., 21-year-old woman, April 7, 2018).

The description of migrant transit is crucial to understand that when we talk about smuggling, we are actually talking about clandestine migration in transit. ^{Ramírez and Álvarez (2009}) argue that this transit, which can include several border crossings, constitutes in itself a border, in this case, marked by abuse and dispossession. The bodies become the object of the people who are paid for transportation and/or border crossing. We can see how control of the situation is lost, and bodily suffering is also noticed, resulting from transit in terrible conditions and which may be longer than expected due to various inconveniences.

Closing remarks

After an arduous transit in which Cuban migrants are stripped of control of their situation and their money, they take risks, feel pain and fear. At the Chilean border, they are arbitrarily denied entry into the country or are not admitted to the asylum request process. In this way, they are left in the administrative limbo that is irregularity. The border thus plays a fundamental role as a mechanism for irregularization, by denying the right to human mobility and asylum.

We were able to verify that migration narrowly classified as “economic” is not exempt from being forced, as in the case of Y., and that forced migration also has an economic background, as in the case of A. and J., therefore they are not exclusive. In any case, “smuggling” is an alternative. Consequently, clandestine migration in transit can also be considered a variant of forced migration, as pointed out by Chávez and Arcentales, “not in the sense of pressuring their departure, but by imposing the way to do it” (2016, p. 72), by means of clandestine border crossing.

It is important to bring into question what is stated in the Protocol Against the Smuggling of Migrants (UN, 2000) because in no case should the migrant be considered an accomplice of the crime for their act of paying. This fact accounts for the injustice of emphasizing the willingness of being smuggled, which is why criminal justice is involved. This narrow vision has meant that internationally, and particularly in this case, in Chile the phenomenon is analyzed only from a criminal perspective, in which the person who is smuggled in is not considered a victim, but rather jointly responsible for clandestine border crossing, even erroneously referring to “illegal” migrants who commit a transnational crime against State law (^{Barros Sánchez, 2018}).

By perpetuating this binary legal/illegal perspective, the density of transit implied in smuggling is not considered, which is made up of social, political, and economic dimensions that are in turn reflected in different clandestine mobility strategies that require significant agency capacity in the face of the plurality of actors that exploit the vulnerability of migrants. Therefore, the phenomenon that the international community should address in order to avoid risks and abuses in the system of clandestine mobility exploitation, for which States should begin by rethinking their restrictive migration policies.

Translation: Fernando Llanas.