Political status of Puerto Rico
Based on Wikipedia: Political status of Puerto Rico
America's Constitutional Paradox: The Strange Case of Puerto Rico
Here's a puzzle that would baffle most civics students: there are 3.2 million American citizens who cannot vote for president. They pay into Social Security and Medicare. Their sons and daughters serve—and die—in the U.S. military. They carry blue American passports. Yet every four years, when the nation heads to the polls to choose its leader, these citizens have no say whatsoever.
They live in Puerto Rico.
The island's political status is one of the strangest arrangements in modern democracy. Puerto Rico is not a country. It's not a state. It's something in between—a constitutional limbo that has persisted for more than a century, creating a situation where the same document that guarantees rights to Americans in Texas or Maine applies only partially to Americans in San Juan.
How Did This Happen?
The story begins with a war that most Americans have forgotten. In 1898, the United States defeated Spain in a brief but consequential conflict. The spoils included Cuba, the Philippines, Guam, and Puerto Rico. Suddenly, America—a nation founded in opposition to colonial rule—found itself in possession of overseas territories with millions of inhabitants.
This created an immediate constitutional crisis. The U.S. Constitution was written for a republic of states, not an empire of territories. What rights would these new subjects have? Were they Americans? Could they become Americans?
The Supreme Court answered these questions in a series of decisions between 1901 and 1922, collectively known as the Insular Cases. The name comes from the Latin word for "island," and the rulings remain controversial to this day. The Court invented a new category: the "unincorporated territory." Unlike Alaska or Hawaii, which were on a path to statehood, these new possessions would be held indefinitely in a kind of constitutional holding pattern.
The key distinction was this: in incorporated territories, the Constitution applied fully. In unincorporated territories, only "fundamental" constitutional rights applied. Which rights were fundamental? The Court would decide case by case.
One of the earliest casualties was the right to a jury trial. In 1904, the Supreme Court ruled that criminal defendants in the Philippines didn't need juries because trial by jury wasn't "fundamental" enough. This logic would later apply to Puerto Rico as well.
Citizens Without Full Citizenship
In 1917, Congress passed the Jones-Shafroth Act, granting U.S. citizenship to Puerto Ricans. But here's the catch: this citizenship exists by statute, not by constitutional right.
What's the difference?
If you're born in any of the fifty states, your citizenship is protected by the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution. Congress cannot take it away. But Puerto Rican citizenship rests on an act of Congress—and what Congress gives, Congress can theoretically revoke. This isn't just an academic distinction. It means that the 3.2 million American citizens in Puerto Rico have a fundamentally different legal standing than their counterparts on the mainland.
The practical effects are significant. Puerto Ricans cannot vote in presidential elections unless they move to a state. They have no senators. Their single representative in Congress—called a Resident Commissioner—can speak on the House floor but cannot cast a vote except in committee. When it comes to the laws that govern their lives, Puerto Ricans are essentially observers.
Yet they must serve in the military when called. Puerto Ricans have fought and died in every American conflict since World War One. More than 200,000 served in World War Two. Thousands more served in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. They fulfilled the ultimate obligation of citizenship without receiving its full benefits.
The Tax Arrangement
There is one area where Puerto Rico's unusual status provides an advantage, at least on paper. Most Puerto Rican residents don't pay federal income tax on income earned in Puerto Rico. They do, however, pay into Social Security and Medicare. They pay federal customs taxes. And they receive fewer federal benefits than state residents.
This trade-off has real consequences. In 1978, the Supreme Court upheld Congress's decision to deny Supplemental Security Income—a program that helps the elderly, blind, and disabled—to residents of Puerto Rico. The case involved people who had worked their entire lives on the mainland, paying into the system, but lost their benefits when they retired to Puerto Rico. The Court said this was permissible because Puerto Rico is an unincorporated territory.
More recently, in 2022, the Supreme Court reaffirmed this principle. An elderly man who had lived in New York and worked for decades was denied disability benefits after moving back to Puerto Rico. The Court ruled, eight to one, that Congress could make this distinction because Puerto Ricans don't pay federal income tax—even though this particular man had paid federal income tax for most of his working life.
What Does "Commonwealth" Actually Mean?
Since 1952, Puerto Rico has been officially known as a "Commonwealth." In Spanish, the term is Estado Libre Asociado—literally, "Free Associated State." This sounds grand, suggesting a voluntary partnership between equals.
The reality is more complicated.
The word "commonwealth" has no fixed legal meaning in American law. Kentucky, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Virginia all call themselves commonwealths, but they're just regular states with a fancy name. The Commonwealth of Australia is an independent country. The Commonwealth of Nations is an international organization. The term can mean almost anything.
In Puerto Rico's case, it means very little. As Secretary of the Interior Oscar Chapman explained when the commonwealth status was created, the arrangement "would not change Puerto Rico's political, social, and economic relationship to the United States." Puerto Rico could write its own constitution and govern its internal affairs, but ultimate authority remained with Congress.
Federal Judge Juan Torruella, who sits on the appeals court with jurisdiction over Puerto Rico, has been blunt about this. He calls the "commonwealth" label something that "can deceive and obscure the true nature of things." Puerto Rico, he argues, is simply a territory—a possession of the United States with no more sovereignty than Guam or the U.S. Virgin Islands, regardless of what it's called.
The Never-Ending Referendum
Puerto Ricans have voted on their political status six times since 1967. The results tell a story of a deeply divided society.
In the early referendums, maintaining the commonwealth status won. In 1967, 60 percent voted to keep things as they were. But support for statehood grew steadily. By 1993, the vote was essentially a three-way tie between statehood, enhanced commonwealth, and independence.
The 1998 plebiscite produced an absurd result. The pro-commonwealth party, unhappy with how the options were worded, urged voters to choose "none of the above." That option won with 50.3 percent of the vote.
More recent referendums have favored statehood. In 2012, for the first time, a majority voted against the current territorial status, and statehood led among the alternatives. In 2017, an overwhelming 97 percent voted for statehood—but only 23 percent of eligible voters participated, as opponents boycotted. In 2020, statehood won again with 52 percent in a better-attended vote.
None of these results have mattered. Congress has ignored them all.
This is the fundamental problem with Puerto Rican self-determination: the decision doesn't belong to Puerto Ricans. Under the U.S. Constitution's Territorial Clause, Congress has absolute power over territories. It can grant statehood, allow independence, or maintain the status quo indefinitely. Puerto Rican referendums are essentially opinion polls—they express the will of the people, but they don't bind anyone to act on it.
The Three Futures
Puerto Rican politics revolves almost entirely around the status question. The island's main political parties don't align with the Democratic-Republican divide of the mainland. Instead, they represent three visions for the island's future.
The New Progressive Party wants statehood. They argue that Puerto Ricans deserve the same rights as other Americans—voting representation in Congress, the ability to vote for president, full constitutional protections, and equal access to federal programs. Statehood, they say, would end Puerto Rico's colonial status once and for all.
The Popular Democratic Party wants to maintain or enhance the commonwealth arrangement. Some members advocate for "enhanced commonwealth"—greater autonomy while remaining under American sovereignty. Others support "free association," a relationship similar to what the United States has with countries like Palau and the Marshall Islands, which are independent nations with special treaty relationships with the U.S.
The Puerto Rican Independence Party wants exactly what its name suggests. They argue that Puerto Rico is a nation with its own language, culture, and identity, and that true self-determination requires full sovereignty. Independence supporters point out that the United Nations removed Puerto Rico from its list of non-self-governing territories in 1953, but many international observers consider this premature—the island remains, in their view, a colony.
Why Congress Won't Act
Given that Puerto Ricans have repeatedly voted for change, why hasn't Congress responded?
The answer is politics.
Statehood would add two senators and four or five representatives to Congress. Puerto Rico votes Democratic in presidential primaries, and its politics lean center-left on many issues. Republicans have little incentive to add what they perceive as two Democratic senators. Meanwhile, some Democrats worry about adding a state with complex racial politics and a conservative religious culture.
The most recent serious attempt came in 2022. The Puerto Rico Status Act passed the House of Representatives, offering Puerto Ricans a binding choice between statehood, independence, and free association. The Senate never voted on it.
Previous attempts have met similar fates. Bills are introduced, hearings are held, and then nothing happens. The status quo has tremendous inertia. It costs Congress nothing to maintain, and changing it would create winners and losers.
The International Dimension
From outside the United States, Puerto Rico's situation often looks straightforwardly colonial. The United Nations Special Committee on Decolonization has repeatedly called for the United States "to allow the Puerto Rican people to take decisions in a sovereign manner." Various international organizations recognize Puerto Rico as a distinct Caribbean nation with its own identity, whatever its legal status under American law.
This creates an awkward situation for the United States, which generally presents itself as an opponent of colonialism. American officials typically respond that Puerto Rico's status is an internal matter and that Puerto Ricans are American citizens with the right to seek any political future they choose. Critics note that this right is meaningless without Congressional action to implement it.
Life in Limbo
What does all this mean for ordinary Puerto Ricans?
It means uncertainty. Major corporations must account for Puerto Rico's unusual tax status. Federal programs operate differently there. When Hurricane Maria devastated the island in 2017, the federal response was slower and more contentious than it might have been for a state. When Puerto Rico's government declared bankruptcy in 2016—the largest municipal bankruptcy in American history—Congress had to pass special legislation because normal bankruptcy laws didn't apply to territories.
It means migration. Nearly as many Puerto Ricans live on the mainland as on the island. Unlike other Latino immigrants, they can move freely, vote immediately upon establishing residency, and face no immigration barriers. This has created a diaspora that maintains close ties to the island while participating fully in American political life—a strange situation where Puerto Ricans gain rights by leaving their home.
It means identity questions. Are Puerto Ricans Americans? Latinos? Caribbean people? All of the above? The island's culture is distinctly its own—Spanish-speaking, with a unique blend of Taíno, African, and Spanish influences—yet it exists within the American political and economic system. This tension between national identity and political status runs through every discussion of Puerto Rico's future.
The Insular Cases Reconsidered
In recent years, some legal scholars and even Supreme Court justices have begun questioning the Insular Cases. These century-old decisions rest on reasoning that would be considered racist today. The original opinions spoke openly of "alien races" and the unsuitability of certain peoples for full constitutional rights.
Justice Sonia Sotomayor—herself of Puerto Rican descent—has been particularly critical. In dissenting opinions, she has called the Insular Cases "premised on beliefs both combating and about combating the full citizenship of the territories' inhabitants." Justice Neil Gorsuch, from the opposite end of the ideological spectrum, has also expressed skepticism, calling the doctrine "ripe for reconsideration."
But the Court has not overturned these precedents. When given the opportunity in 2022, the majority declined to revisit the Insular Cases directly, instead ruling narrowly on the specific question before them. The constitutional framework that treats Puerto Ricans as second-class citizens remains intact.
No Resolution in Sight
Puerto Rico's status is sometimes compared to Schrödinger's cat—existing in two states simultaneously until someone opens the box. But unlike the famous thought experiment, there's no guarantee the box will ever be opened.
Congress has no deadline to act. Puerto Ricans can vote in referendums forever without forcing a resolution. The island's population continues to decline as residents leave for the mainland, seeking the full citizenship rights that should be theirs by birthright. The economy struggles under the weight of debt, disaster recovery, and the inherent limitations of territorial status.
And every four years, when Americans choose their president, 3.2 million citizens watch from the sidelines, citizens in name but not in full democratic practice.
The question of Puerto Rico's political status isn't just about one island. It's about what American citizenship means, whether the Constitution's promises apply to everyone or only to some, and whether a nation founded on the principle that governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed can indefinitely rule a people who have no meaningful say in their own governance.
More than a century after the Insular Cases, those questions remain unanswered.