Opinion H-1B visa row brings in differences between Indian and American rights
While denouncing globalism and labour displacement, populists remain entwined in the capitalist structures they ostensibly oppose. The H-1B visa is emblematic of this structural impasse: A tool for capitalist expansion that fuels nationalist anxieties.

In 2016, Donald Trump, during his presidential campaign, unleashed a tirade against the H-1B visa programme, branding it as “very bad” and “unfair” to American workers. He framed it as a dire threat to the American job market, a weapon wielded by the technocratic elite to undermine the economic stability of the nation. His 2017 executive order, “Buy American, Hire American,” was presented as an attempt to “protect” American workers by prioritising skilled foreign workers for H-1B visas. This, Trump insisted, was part of a broader nationalist agenda — a defence of sovereignty against the “menace” of global labour competition. Fast forward to 2020, and this position solidified into something far more hostile.
In a stunning reversal, figures like Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy — staunch proponents of fiscal conservatism — positioned themselves as unlikely advocates for expanding the very pipeline of foreign tech talent that Donald Trump had once vehemently opposed. Their persuasive efforts culminated in a dramatic shift in 2024, where Trump aligned with their vision. This shift fractured the MAGA (Make America Great Again) movement, exposing deep ideological fissures. Adding to the turbulence, the appointment of Sriram Krishnan, an Indian-American venture capitalist, to spearhead AI policy in a second Trump administration has intensified the discord. Krishnan’s advocacy for lifting country caps on green cards for skilled immigrants has drawn fierce backlash from far-right figures like Laura Loomer, who condemned the move as “deeply disturbing.” The result is an ideological standoff brimming with racialised vitriol against Indian migrants — a confluence of populism and xenophobia.
This conflict transcends immigration policy, revealing the structural contradictions within nationalist populism itself. It is not merely a rift between the “right” and the “far right” but a manifestation of the broader ideological struggle within right-wing populism, which attempts to reconcile religious fundamentalism, nationalist rhetoric, and the imperatives of global capital. The divide between Musk and Ramaswamy, advocates of “merit-based” immigration reforms, and Trump’s hardline anti-immigrant supporters underscores this inherent tension. Critics on the right claim the programme undermines American workers, accusing multinational corporations of exploiting the visa to suppress wages and displace “native” talent.
These fears are amplified by broader concerns about economic insecurity and deindustrialisation, where the H-1B serves as a convenient scapegoat for the erosion of stable, middle-class jobs. Conversely, in India, the H-1B visa is a symbol of national pride, showcasing the country’s ability to supply skilled labour to the global economy. Both Musk and Ramaswamy, staunch right-wing ideologues, argue that loosening H-1B visa restrictions is vital for sustaining America’s dominance in the tech sector. Ironically, the US tech boom they seek to preserve has been fuelled by federal concessions, such as the expansion of the H-1B programme and generous corporate tax breaks.
Here lies the technocratic repurposing of “democracy” as a euphemism for market liberalisation. The H-1B visa programme, introduced under George H W Bush’s 1990 Immigration Act, became a cornerstone for Silicon Valley, meeting its insatiable demand for cheap, compliant labour. Framed as essential for maintaining America’s technological supremacy, these policies have entrenched exploitative labour practices, eroding worker rights in the process. As Alberto Toscano argues, we must abandon the simplistic notion of fascism as a centralised, uniform force. Instead, it should be understood as an uneven, inconsistent project that naturalises racialised conceptions of freedom to delineate who is entitled to market liberties.
This ideological battle over immigration, labour, and capitalism not only reveals the fractures within right-wing populism but also underscores the contradictions of a system that seeks to reconcile the exploitative demands of global capital with exclusionary nationalist agendas.
Indian IT professionals — once peripheral to the global economy — have been rebranded as indispensable to America’s tech industry, celebrated for their innovation yet commodified as cost-effective labour. This reflects a deeper shift: The post-colonial dream of self-sufficiency has given way to the promise of belonging to a transnational elite straddling the Global North and South. For the American right, the H-1B visa programme represents the betrayal of domestic workers; for the Indian right, it signifies India’s rise as a technological powerhouse. This convergence of nationalisms reveals the underlying churn of global capitalism, reshaping aspirations and allegiances.
The H-1B visa, a cornerstone of Silicon Valley’s ascendancy, encapsulates the contradictions of global capitalism and nationalist populism. By enabling tech corporations to suppress wages and sidestep labour protections, the programme creates a precarious workforce reliant on employer-sponsored legal status. A Aneesh’s concept of “algocratic governance” aptly captures this dynamic, where workers are reduced to nodes in a global labour algorithm, valued solely for cost-efficiency rather than human dignity. Indian IT professionals celebrated as “global talent” often find themselves commodified as “cyber coolies,” exemplifying the paradox of being heralded as innovators while being treated as disposable labour.
This duality underscores the broader ideological tensions within right-wing populism. While denouncing globalism and labour displacement, populists remain entwined in the capitalist structures they ostensibly oppose. The H-1B visa is emblematic of this structural impasse: A tool for capitalist expansion that fuels nationalist anxieties. It exposes how global capital drives the very alienation populism claims to resist, binding these movements to the systems they critique.
Carol Upadhya’s analysis highlights how Indian IT professionals became symbols of India’s neoliberal success, framed by narratives of meritocracy and upward mobility. Yet, their achievements rest on systemic inequalities: The exploitation of labour in India’s IT hubs and racialised hierarchies within US tech firms. For the American right, the H-1B programme represents a betrayal of domestic workers by a technocratic elite. For the Indian right, it signifies India’s global ascent. Both, however, are complicit in sustaining the same capitalist order — one stoking fears of economic displacement, the other celebrating labour exportation as a nationalist triumph.
By the 1990s, Silicon Valley’s neoliberal fervour converged with India’s entrepreneurial aspirations, fostering a transnational identity exemplified by networks like The Indus Entrepreneurs (TiE). Figures such as Nandan Nilekani championed this vision, transforming Bangalore into a global tech hub. Yet, this utopian neoliberal project carried inherent contradictions: Indian talent was embraced as indispensable abroad, even as foreign workers were scapegoated domestically for labour market insecurities.
The nationalist fervour of both the American and Indian right reveals irreconcilable visions. The Indian IT sector, straddling nationalism and global ambition, mirrors the neoliberal narrative of progress through market forces. While companies like Infosys flaunt nationalist credentials, they operate within transnational capitalist networks, leveraging connections to claim India’s place in the global economy. This duality obscures the systemic inequalities underpinning their success, from labour exploitation in India to policies like the H-1B visa that commodifies Indian workers abroad.
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The H-1B visa has fostered a transnational class of Indian tech professionals drawn to the US by the promise of upward mobility. Yet, this mobility is often illusory, as these workers, like their counterparts in India’s IT hubs, are commodified and rendered expendable within a neoliberal system that prioritises profit over dignity. Celebrated for driving Silicon Valley’s rise, they occupy a role in a global division of labour that perpetuates systemic inequalities under the veneer of meritocracy and progress. As Samir Amin notes, globalisation restructures class relations, creating a multiracial global elite complicit in exploitative capitalist logic.
This dynamic obscures emergent class formations while deepening inequalities. The American right’s “America First” rhetoric and the Indian right’s pride in labour exportation highlight the contradictions of right-wing populism, which critiques globalism yet sustains its structures. The H-1B programme exemplifies these tensions, functioning both as a gateway to opportunity and a tool of dispossession. It reinforces transnational class hierarchies, exposing the uneasy alignment between nationalist ideologies and capitalist imperatives. By integrating labour into a globalised network, this system reconfigures class structures while reproducing inequality. The multiracial elite, far from advancing equality, mirrors the systemic exploitation it claims to transcend, concealing the persistent inequalities at the heart of global labour markets.
(The writer is a PhD scholar at the Centre for Comparative Politics and Political Theory, JNU)