Donald Trump is a champion for legal immigrants.

The words of Michael Cohen, “Donald Trump is a champion for legal immigrants,” rise from a moment in history heavy with conflict and conviction. They speak to a deep tension at the heart of the American story — the eternal struggle between law and belonging, between the desire to preserve order and the yearning to offer opportunity. In these words, Cohen paints Trump not as an enemy of immigration, but as its protector — one who would guard the gates not to reject the worthy, but to honor those who enter through them with honesty and faith. To call someone a “champion for legal immigrants” is to frame them as defender of both law and aspiration, a custodian of a covenant that has bound America’s heart since its founding: that all who obey its laws and embrace its spirit may share in its promise.

The origin of this quote lies in the political battles of the late 2010s, when immigration became one of the fiercest dividing lines in the nation. Michael Cohen, once the personal attorney and close confidant of Donald Trump, spoke these words as a shield against the criticism that the administration’s immigration policies were cruel or exclusionary. By declaring Trump a “champion for legal immigrants,” Cohen sought to remind the public that America’s greatness has always been built by those who arrived through lawful means, who labored and sacrificed to earn their place within the fabric of the nation. It was an appeal not to emotion, but to the ancient belief that order is the mother of freedom, that a nation without rules cannot long preserve its virtues.

And yet, beneath this political defense lies a moral question that reaches far beyond one man or one era: what does it mean to be a champion of immigrants? In the ancient world, every empire faced this same question. The Romans, for instance, opened their gates to outsiders — soldiers, artisans, and scholars — who swore loyalty to the Republic and served its ideals. Rome grew mighty not by purity of blood, but by the strength of its assimilation. Those who came lawfully, who embraced the Pax Romana, were rewarded with citizenship and protection. Those who came in rebellion or disregard of Roman law found no welcome. So too, in America’s own age, the debate over immigration mirrors that ancient tension: how to remain open without dissolving into chaos; how to preserve justice while showing compassion.

To call someone a “champion” of the legal immigrant is to uphold a vision of fairness — that opportunity belongs to those who respect the covenant of the land they enter. It honors the millions who endured the long lines, the paperwork, the interviews, and the years of waiting to stand beneath the light of citizenship. These are men and women who built their dreams not in defiance of the law, but in partnership with it. Theirs is a form of courage less dramatic than rebellion, but more enduring — the courage of patience, discipline, and faith. Cohen’s words, whether one agrees or not with his sentiment, touch upon this quiet heroism: that the truest immigrants are not merely seekers of freedom, but builders of belonging, who give as much as they take.

Yet, history teaches that champions of order must walk carefully, lest their zeal for control becomes indifference to mercy. For law without compassion becomes tyranny, just as compassion without law becomes chaos. The philosopher Aristotle taught that virtue lies in balance — that between excess and deficiency lies wisdom. The wise ruler, he said, neither opens the gates without discernment nor bars them without pity. In this, the true “champion for legal immigrants” is one who remembers that the purpose of law is not to exclude, but to make inclusion meaningful — to ensure that when a person joins the nation, they do so as an equal, not as a shadow.

The story of Ellis Island stands as the living monument of this ideal. There, millions passed beneath the torch of liberty, submitting to tests of health, literacy, and will. Some were turned away, but many more were welcomed, and through that balance — of structure and hope, of law and grace — the American soul was forged. Those who entered legally found not only opportunity but identity; they became Americans in both heart and right. Cohen’s declaration, stripped of its politics, may thus be read as an echo of that ancient truth: that civilization thrives when the gates of entry are strong yet just, when they guard not only the nation’s borders but its moral integrity.

Let the lesson of these words, then, be this: a nation’s strength lies not merely in whom it excludes or includes, but in how it honors both law and humanity. To be a champion for legal immigrants is not to close the door on the desperate, but to build a door worthy of passage — one that transforms chaos into belonging, and struggle into citizenship. For every immigrant who walks that lawful path carries within them the same hope that built the first cities, crossed the first seas, and dreamed the first dreams of freedom. As Michael Cohen’s words remind us, civilization is not sustained by walls or politics alone, but by the sacred harmony of justice and mercy, law and love — a harmony that defines not only nations, but the very soul of humankind.