Adam, an undocumented Mexican day laborer, has been in the United States less than ten years. After living on and off the streets for a few years, he now has a decent single-room occupancy hotel in San Francisco. He worries that he won’t be able to keep up the rent, even though by San Francisco standards it is inexpensive.

Almost 50, he has been sober for over five years and religiously attends a day labor program, looking for scarce work. He cannot return to Mexico for complicated reasons, and recognizes at this stage in life his prospects for stable work are diminishing. What type of immigration policy could be forged that recognizes his humanity and addresses his life dilemma?

A week into President Obama’s second term, the race is on to present variations of a comprehensive immigration policy package. It begins as political jockeying, aimed mainly at wooing the Latino vote. But fancy rhetoric about social inclusion will not counter legislative actions that leave many Latinos out in the cold, perceived as law-breakers. The comprehensive immigration package under debate is really a half measure that will establish second-class citizenry for Latinos who are lucky enough to be eligible to remain in the U.S. legally.

Both parties’ ideas for immigration reform are actually warmed-over arguments, disguised as reasonable policies of social inclusion. Some ideas included are: not everyone is eligible; mandatory return to home country to receive permission and get in the back of the line; payment of fees and back taxes; and ineligibility for state assistance of any kind. A bipartisan blueprint for immigration will inevitably involve rhetoric of inclusion while erecting innumerable hurdles that will reproduce the Jim Crow legislation that legally disenfranchised Black Americans, rendering them second-class citizens.

In mainstream America, documented and undocumented Latinos remain objects of suspicion because of the perception that they are here illegally. This thinking asserts that if the U.S. is willing to accept some Latinos, extra precautions must be institutionalized to insure the system is not abused. The supposed charitable willingness to provide amnesty will be so qualified by provisions and legalities that it will make Adam’s journey for citizenship a faint hope.

Federal monies and contracts will not be spent on the immigrants and the public agencies that serve them. They will instead be directed toward greater border enforcement by doling out private contracts for militarization of the borders and ports of entry—complete with drones, remote cameras and sensors, better systems of exit control, tracking systems and maybe even a national identity card. Latinos lucky enough to begin their path toward citizenship will be categorized as second-class citizens, disqualified from receiving basic state entitlements, and instead officially indebted and obligated to pay back taxes and fines with no consideration of the exploitative life-conditions undocumented Latinos have labored under. There will be debate over the smallest of immigration details.

However, there appears to be bipartisan agreement on one point: the call for the undocumented “to go to the back of the line,” as if the undocumented rudely raced ahead of others standing in line. Congress has no idea what it’s like to stand in line outside U.S. embassies that take exorbitant, nonrefundable fees from poor people seeking visas to the United States only to inform them they are ineligible. Nor would they understand what it’s like to figuratively stand in line waiting years to be legitimately reunited with a family member in the U.S., but then be systematically denied because of some bureaucratic protocol that has not been met.

This standing-in-line rationale advanced by the Republican Cuban-American Senator, Marco Rubio of Florida forces Latinos to compete against each other. Worthiness would be based on utility. Priority would be given to highly skilled immigrants or seasonal low-wage workers because their contributions to society are financially quantifiable to Silicon Valley start-ups or Central Valley agribusiness that need cheap, just-in-time labor. Meanwhile the rest must get in the back of the line to find out whether they are even eligible to begin the path toward citizenship.

In all these considerations, it’s difficult to see what Adam might derive from a new comprehensive immigration bill. Would he be counted as worthy, or would his unpaid traffic fees or a one-time ticket for public intoxication come back to haunt him and make him ineligible? And if by luck Adam does acquire some kind of permanent residency, would he be eligible for comprehensive health care or have access to educational and retraining possibilities? His second-class citizenry status would deny him entitlement to a whole host of social services. It would be nice to believe a comprehensive immigration policy is possible, but if the current conditions and qualifiers already being enunciated remain, is any indication, we can only prepare for the worst while hoping for the best.

(James Quesada, Ph.D., is an Associate Professor of Anthropology at San Francisco State University)