Trump Crackdown: No English, No Entry for Mexican Train Crews!

Paul Riverbank, 12/20/2025English fluency now required for Mexican train crews crossing into US, sparking safety debates and operational changes.

The latest twist came last Friday. At rail yards near Eagle Pass, Texas, a pair of stern letters—one for Union Pacific, another for Canadian Pacific Kansas City (CPKC)—arrived from the Federal Railroad Administration. Inspectors hadn’t been pleased by what they saw: when they surprised Mexican crews with sudden English-language tests, more than a few struggled to decipher routine safety bulletins and essential train orders.

Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy, never known for euphemism, put the matter plainly: “If you’re operating an 80-ton freight train here, you’d better be able to communicate in English. Otherwise, it’s a risk we can’t brush aside.” The new mandate isn’t subtle—without the necessary English skills, Mexican crews aren’t allowed to drive trains deeper than ten miles into the U.S. Any further, and the train must stop at customs for a crew change. Even interpreters, if they’re to be used, face a fresh gauntlet of certification checks. The rationale, according to officials, boils down to safety and clarity during emergencies; first responders can’t afford misunderstandings when seconds count.

This didn’t materialize out of thin air. Just last year, a spate of high-profile truck accidents—often involving drivers who struggled with English—triggered a broader crackdown on language qualifications for commercial operators of every stripe. California, in fact, watched $40 million in federal funds vanish after running afoul of tougher requirements. Duffy warned that other states could be next in line.

Railroad unions, for their part, have long agitated for exactly this kind of regulation. Mark Wallace, president of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers and Trainmen, praised the move, calling it a needed step for border security and job safety alike. He didn’t shy from citing recent incidents: two Mexican train crew members were arrested, one over migrant transport, another caught attempting to move narcotics across the line. “We have to be sure,” Wallace said, “that everyone driving trains on U.S. soil can talk with dispatchers and law enforcement—directly, in English, no matter the scenario.”

The major railway companies have chosen their next words carefully. Union Pacific’s Kristen South pointed out that her company is now swapping out Mexican crews just seven miles in from the border, with the blessing of U.S. Customs and Border Protection. CPKC echoed the focus on safety: “It’s central to every decision we make,” said their spokesman Patrick Waldron. Both firms vowed to meet the new requirements, though the details are still coming together.

For some, these new policies are obvious, overdue—pragmatic choices for a country where language can be a matter of life and death on the rails. Others worry about unintended consequences. Critics warn that shovel-ready English hurdles could strain supply lines, slow freight, or even drive skilled workers out just as railways scramble to keep up with demand. Mixed into the argument is a hard truth: English proficiency often leads to higher wages and more opportunity, but forced transitions don’t always go smoothly in practice.

For now, the reality is clear. Paperwork—and spoken word—must be in order for anyone steering a locomotive past the border’s edge. We’ll measure success by how well these rules play out on the ground, not on paper. Whether the changes ultimately make rail travel safer remains to be seen, but for hundreds of towns—that depend on the rhythmic rumble of cross-border trains—this new chapter is already here, shaping the future one cautious handoff at a time.

America’s railways have long been a crossroads—literally and figuratively—for trade, labor, and the day-to-day logistics that keep the country on its feet. Now, a new set of rules targeting Mexican train crews at the southern border is stirring up a debate that reaches far beyond steel tracks and dusty border towns.The latest twist came last Friday. At rail yards near Eagle Pass, Texas, a pair of stern letters—one for Union Pacific, another for Canadian Pacific Kansas City (CPKC)—arrived from the Federal Railroad Administration. Inspectors hadn’t been pleased by what they saw: when they surprised Mexican crews with sudden English-language tests, more than a few struggled to decipher routine safety bulletins and essential train orders.Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy, never known for euphemism, put the matter plainly: “If you’re operating an 80-ton freight train here, you’d better be able to communicate in English. Otherwise, it’s a risk we can’t brush aside.” The new mandate isn’t subtle—without the necessary English skills, Mexican crews aren’t allowed to drive trains deeper than ten miles into the U.S. Any further, and the train must stop at customs for a crew change. Even interpreters, if they’re to be used, face a fresh gauntlet of certification checks. The rationale, according to officials, boils down to safety and clarity during emergencies; first responders can’t afford misunderstandings when seconds count.This didn’t materialize out of thin air. Just last year, a spate of high-profile truck accidents—often involving drivers who struggled with English—triggered a broader crackdown on language qualifications for commercial operators of every stripe. California, in fact, watched $40 million in federal funds vanish after running afoul of tougher requirements. Duffy warned that other states could be next in line.Railroad unions, for their part, have long agitated for exactly this kind of regulation. Mark Wallace, president of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers and Trainmen, praised the move, calling it a needed step for border security and job safety alike. He didn’t shy from citing recent incidents: two Mexican train crew members were arrested, one over migrant transport, another caught attempting to move narcotics across the line. “We have to be sure,” Wallace said, “that everyone driving trains on U.S. soil can talk with dispatchers and law enforcement—directly, in English, no matter the scenario.”The major railway companies have chosen their next words carefully. Union Pacific’s Kristen South pointed out that her company is now swapping out Mexican crews just seven miles in from the border, with the blessing of U.S. Customs and Border Protection. CPKC echoed the focus on safety: “It’s central to every decision we make,” said their spokesman Patrick Waldron. Both firms vowed to meet the new requirements, though the details are still coming together.For some, these new policies are obvious, overdue—pragmatic choices for a country where language can be a matter of life and death on the rails. Others worry about unintended consequences. Critics warn that shovel-ready English hurdles could strain supply lines, slow freight, or even drive skilled workers out just as railways scramble to keep up with demand. Mixed into the argument is a hard truth: English proficiency often leads to higher wages and more opportunity, but forced transitions don’t always go smoothly in practice.For now, the reality is clear. Paperwork—and spoken word—must be in order for anyone steering a locomotive past the border’s edge. We’ll measure success by how well these rules play out on the ground, not on paper. Whether the changes ultimately make rail travel safer remains to be seen, but for hundreds of towns—that depend on the rhythmic rumble of cross-border trains—this new chapter is already here, shaping the future one cautious handoff at a time.