Border Crackdown: U.S. Demands English or Stops Mexican Trains Cold

Paul Riverbank, 12/20/2025New U.S. rule halts Mexican trains without English-proficient crews, citing safety, jobs, and security.

Let’s rewind a bit. For decades, routine played out like clockwork at spots like Eagle Pass and Laredo: Mexican locomotive engineers would hand over their trains right at the boundary, job done. Lately, though, the line where crews switched has crept further north, sometimes several miles into U.S. territory. There was little fanfare about it, but those working closest to the tracks began to worry.

Train unions—mainstays in debates about border policies—have been ringing alarm bells about these longer cross-border journeys. Their concerns come down to three words: safety, jobs, and security. It’s not an abstract worry. This spring, federal inspectors showed up at Texas border yards and made a troubling discovery: Gaps in English proficiency were slowing crucial safety procedures. There were instances where inspectors had to bring in interpreters just to conduct basic brake tests, and more than one crew seemed fuzzy on American rail protocols.

That’s no small oversight. Union Pacific and Canadian Pacific Kansas City Limited (the latter a fusion of Canadian and Mexican rail power) both operate trains that daily cross this busy corridor. These companies insist they share common purpose with U.S. regulators—”safety is foundational to everything we do,” a CPKC spokesperson assured me—but adapting to the rules won’t happen overnight.

Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy framed it bluntly to reporters: “It doesn’t matter if it’s a big rig or a 14,000-ton freight train—if you’re in charge, you have to communicate in English. Otherwise, you put lives at risk.” He didn’t mince words about why the administration is digging in its heels. In emergencies, muddled communication can mean tragedy. Long freight trains aren’t forgiving, and when minutes count, first responders need instant access to crew members—not to language hurdles.

So what’s actually changing? From now on, no Mexican train crew is permitted beyond the 10-mile mark past the official border unless every operator shows certified English skills. Interpreters must meet U.S. safety certifications, and crews unable to meet the bar must transfer their trains right at the border. The Federal Railroad Administration didn’t sugarcoat matters, calling the language gap a “significant safety risk that should not be ignored.”

There’s a larger picture here—one that echoes in recent news about truck crashes involving drivers who spoke little or no English. Cases like the Florida crash, where a driver faced vehicular homicide charges, have put the spotlight on enforcement. The federal government has already started putting financial pressure on states reluctant to enforce national standards. California, for example, kissed goodbye to $40 million for skipping compliance on commercial driver language rules.

For unions, the new rail language mandate feels overdue. Mark Wallace, who leads the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers and Trainmen, praised the move as a rare alignment of public safety and worker protection. There’s no question, he told me, that language is the first line of defense—both for border security and protecting American jobs.

Tensions aren’t just theoretical. Union leaders pointed to two recent, sobering arrests: one crew member charged with facilitating a migrant crossing, another caught in possession of illegal narcotics. Both incidents involved non-U.S. crews operating inside the country.

When you look at the U.S. rail network—a nervous system for the American economy—it becomes clear why officials are digging down on something as granular as language requirements. A misheard order, a misunderstood signal, a missed bulletin: the margin for error is vanishingly thin.

So here’s where things stand: for the foreseeable future, whether you’re moving containers of electronics or cars or wheat, crews must prove they can communicate—no exceptions. Anything less, and the next stop is the border itself.

It’s not often that a Department of Transportation policy change captures the attention of both border towns and the nation’s sprawling freight networks. Yet, a recent regulatory shift around Mexican train crews crossing into Texas has managed to do just that — and it's raising questions that go beyond railways, stretching into the realms of public safety, labor rights, and even national security.Let’s rewind a bit. For decades, routine played out like clockwork at spots like Eagle Pass and Laredo: Mexican locomotive engineers would hand over their trains right at the boundary, job done. Lately, though, the line where crews switched has crept further north, sometimes several miles into U.S. territory. There was little fanfare about it, but those working closest to the tracks began to worry.Train unions—mainstays in debates about border policies—have been ringing alarm bells about these longer cross-border journeys. Their concerns come down to three words: safety, jobs, and security. It’s not an abstract worry. This spring, federal inspectors showed up at Texas border yards and made a troubling discovery: Gaps in English proficiency were slowing crucial safety procedures. There were instances where inspectors had to bring in interpreters just to conduct basic brake tests, and more than one crew seemed fuzzy on American rail protocols.That’s no small oversight. Union Pacific and Canadian Pacific Kansas City Limited (the latter a fusion of Canadian and Mexican rail power) both operate trains that daily cross this busy corridor. These companies insist they share common purpose with U.S. regulators—”safety is foundational to everything we do,” a CPKC spokesperson assured me—but adapting to the rules won’t happen overnight.Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy framed it bluntly to reporters: “It doesn’t matter if it’s a big rig or a 14,000-ton freight train—if you’re in charge, you have to communicate in English. Otherwise, you put lives at risk.” He didn’t mince words about why the administration is digging in its heels. In emergencies, muddled communication can mean tragedy. Long freight trains aren’t forgiving, and when minutes count, first responders need instant access to crew members—not to language hurdles.So what’s actually changing? From now on, no Mexican train crew is permitted beyond the 10-mile mark past the official border unless every operator shows certified English skills. Interpreters must meet U.S. safety certifications, and crews unable to meet the bar must transfer their trains right at the border. The Federal Railroad Administration didn’t sugarcoat matters, calling the language gap a “significant safety risk that should not be ignored.”There’s a larger picture here—one that echoes in recent news about truck crashes involving drivers who spoke little or no English. Cases like the Florida crash, where a driver faced vehicular homicide charges, have put the spotlight on enforcement. The federal government has already started putting financial pressure on states reluctant to enforce national standards. California, for example, kissed goodbye to $40 million for skipping compliance on commercial driver language rules.For unions, the new rail language mandate feels overdue. Mark Wallace, who leads the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers and Trainmen, praised the move as a rare alignment of public safety and worker protection. There’s no question, he told me, that language is the first line of defense—both for border security and protecting American jobs.Tensions aren’t just theoretical. Union leaders pointed to two recent, sobering arrests: one crew member charged with facilitating a migrant crossing, another caught in possession of illegal narcotics. Both incidents involved non-U.S. crews operating inside the country.When you look at the U.S. rail network—a nervous system for the American economy—it becomes clear why officials are digging down on something as granular as language requirements. A misheard order, a misunderstood signal, a missed bulletin: the margin for error is vanishingly thin.So here’s where things stand: for the foreseeable future, whether you’re moving containers of electronics or cars or wheat, crews must prove they can communicate—no exceptions. Anything less, and the next stop is the border itself.