Iran's supreme leader says US-Iran talks unlikely to succeed
'During (former President Ebrahim) Raisi's time there were also indirect negotiations that didn't result in anything, and now we also doubt we will reach a conclusion, and we don't know what will happen,' he was cited as saying on his website.
Khamenei called the US demand that Iran not enrich uranium a 'big mistake,' saying that Tehran won't wait for American permission. Addressing American negotiators, he added: 'Try not to talk nonsense.'
American officials have sent mixed signals about whether they will allow Iran to enrich uranium domestically under a nuclear agreement. Uranium is a nuclear fuel that can be used to produce a bomb if enriched to high levels.
Iran insists it has a right to enrich under the United Nations' Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) and says it will not relinquish that right under any circumstances.
US President Donald Trump has threatened to attack Iran if it doesn't agree to a nuclear deal, but he did not explicitly rule out its right to enrich uranium when reiterating that threat during his Middle East trip last week.
But US special envoy Steve Witkoff, who is leading the American delegation to the talks and had previously suggested Iran could be permitted to enrich uranium, told ABC over the weekend that Washington 'cannot allow even 1% of an enrichment capability' under an agreement. 'We've delivered a proposal to the Iranians that we think addresses some of this without disrespecting them,' he said.
Iran's Deputy Foreign Minister Majid Takht Ravanchi was cited as saying by Iran's Nour News on Monday that nuclear talks with the US 'will not actually get anywhere' if Washington insists that Tehran abandon enrichment.
Iran and the US held their fourth round of talks in Oman earlier this month, aimed at curbing Tehran's nuclear program in exchange for sanctions relief. The Iranian foreign ministry described those talks as 'difficult.'
Witkoff said the next round of talks may take place in Europe this week. 'We hope that it will lead to some real positivity,' he added.
Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi said on Tuesday that Iran has been offered a date for the next round of talks, but that it has yet to accept it.
Asked how negotiations were going so far, he jokingly said the two sides are still tussling.
CNN's Leila Gharagozlou contributed reporting.
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Vox
27 minutes ago
- Vox
The terrifying reality behind one of America's fastest-growing dairy brands
is a senior reporter for Vox's Future Perfect section, with a focus on animal welfare and the future of meat. You don't need me to tell you that the US is in the midst of an obsession with protein. By now, you've probably seen extra protein in foods and beverages it once didn't belong: ice cream, popcorn, iced tea — even water. Google searches for 'protein' have surged in recent years, and the macronutrient seems to be on the tip of every fitness influencers' tongue. But the impact of the protein craze goes beyond snacks and social media. It helped the meat industry achieve record sales in 2024, and it likely contributed to a surprising change in American eating habits: Last year, for the first time in 15 years, consumers increased their cow's milk consumption. Perhaps no company has both benefited from and accelerated these converging trends more than Fairlife, the Coca-Cola-owned milk brand that contains zero lactose and boasts 50 percent more protein and 50 percent less sugar than regular milk. That unique nutritional profile, achieved through a patented 'ultra-filtration' process, has helped turn Fairlife into a billion-dollar business in under a decade, ranking second in name-brand refrigerated milk sales last year. Fairlife milk has less sugar and more protein than regular cow's milk, and zero lactose. Roberto Machado Noa/LightRocket via Getty Images 'There's this obsession with protein [among] young men right now that's just been blockbuster to' Fairlife, agriculture researcher Austin Frerick, author of Barons: Money, Power, and the Corruption of America's Food Industry, told me. The company's success has been a godsend for Coca-Cola, which became Fairlife's sole owner in 2020; it's now the beverage giant's fastest-growing US brand. Fairlife has distinguished itself not just with its high protein content, but also by claiming that its milk is higher quality than its competitors, its cows are treated humanely, and its farms are environmentally sustainable. 'Believe in better,' reads one of the company's taglines. That feel-good story has earned Fairlife's husband-and-wife co-founders Mike and Sue McCloskey glowing profiles in Food & Wine, NPR, and Fortune, along with invitations to speak at conferences held by South by Southwest, Yale, Fast Company, and TEDx. Sue McCloskey, a co-founder of Fairlife and Select Milk Producers, at Fair Oaks Farms. Michael Conroy/Associated Press But it's a story that has, in recent years, increasingly collided with reality. In 2019, an undercover investigation by the nonprofit Animal Recovery Mission (ARM) at the McCloskeys' flagship farm in Indiana, a supplier to Fairlife at the time, revealed horrific animal abuse: employees kicking calves in the head, hitting them with steel rods, and slamming them to the ground, among many other cruelties. Soon after, the McCloskeys apologized. But since then, ARM has released several additional stomach-wrenching investigations into dairy farms that belong to Select Milk Producers — a cooperative, also co-founded by the McCloskeys, of some 100 dairy farms that helped launch Fairlife and supply milk to it. The latest investigation, released in late June, recorded workers at a New Mexico dairy hitting cows in the head with a metal pipe, kicking them in the face and body, dragging newborn calves and adult cows in the dirt with a tractor, and numerous other instances of abuse. Fairlife told Vox it hasn't sourced milk from that farm since 2023, but ARM's investigator shared evidence to the contrary. Additionally, in a class action lawsuit filed earlier this year against Fairlife, Coca-Cola, the McCloskeys, and Select Milk Producers, a group of consumers accuse Fairlife of deceiving customers with claims of humane animal treatment, and allege that the New Mexico dairy farm did supply Fairlife at the time of the investigation. Fairlife is far from alone. Farmed animals are largely exempt from federal and state animal cruelty laws, so industry welfare standards are incredibly low, and dairy producers are effectively left to police themselves. Past investigations alleging horrific abuse are legion across the dairy industry, including at dairy farms that have supplied to Burger King, Domino's, Land O'Lakes, Nestlé, Cabot Creamery, and other leading food brands. Between the early 2000s and the mid 2010s, many of these investigations became high-profile news stories. The livestock industry reacted by advocating for laws not to criminalize animal abuse, but to criminalize the investigators who videotaped the abuse. The McCloskeys had a different strategy: They capitalized on this era of heightened concern around animal cruelty by promising transparency and humane treatment of their animals. ARM's slate of investigations have consistently undermined that narrative. But Fairlife has thrived in spite of it all, revealing the consequences of consumers' willingness to believe a good story — or ignore a bad one — in the pursuit of ever-more protein. The 'terrifying' treatment of cows at an alleged Fairlife milk supplier Last Christmas Eve, a man who had worked on dairy farms for 17 years started his first shift at a large industrial dairy operation, called Woodcrest Dairy, in the New Mexico desert. But there was something that set him apart from his coworkers: He was wearing a hidden camera. Years prior, he had been a worker at a Fairlife supplier farm that ARM investigated for alleged animal abuse. Disturbed by their findings, the worker reached out to the organization and eventually became an ARM investigator himself. While employed at Woodcrest Dairy for 10 weeks, through early March of this year, he caught dozens of acts of animal abuse on camera, including workers: Kicking cows in the face and body Forcefully jamming a pill gun, a metal rod used to administer medication, down a cow's throat Hitting cows in the head with a metal pipe and large wrench (according to the investigator, this was done to some cows just after they had given birth) Inserting a clamp into a cows' nose and yanking on it, causing her to bellow in pain Repeatedly smacking a cow in the face with a rope Dragging newborn calves and adult cows in the dirt with a tractor In an interview with Vox conducted via a translator, the investigator, who requested anonymity due to the covert nature of undercover investigations, described the treatment of cows at Woodcrest Dairy as 'terrifying' and said that the owner and managers witnessed it. 'They only care about the money,' he said. 'There's no care about the animals.' 'The actions observed in the video are cruel and reprehensible,' Jim Reynolds, a veterinarian and professor emeritus of large animal medicine and welfare at Western University of Health Sciences, told me in an email. 'The abusive and cruel actions seen in the video represent serious problems in management of the dairy.' The workers' aggressive calf delivery method leaves behind a pool of blood. Animal Recovery Mission A worker kicks a restrained cow in the head numerous times. Animal Recovery Mission Beyond the most blatant cruelty, the investigator documented other animal welfare problems, like 'downer' cows — cows unable to stand or walk on their own, often due to disease, metabolic issues, or post-birth pain. Some were lifted with a hip clamp that was placed on their bodies and attached to a tractor; one cow was dragged through the dirt while attached to the tractor. Another cow had a band wrapped around her hind legs to keep them from splaying. Because cows, like all mammals, need to give birth to produce milk, dairy farms revolve around continual pregnancies and births, which is immensely taxing on their bodies. The investigator documented numerous instances of workers doing something during the birthing process he had never seen: tying a chain to the legs of baby calves while they were still in their mothers' birth canals, and then jumping on it to pop the calf out. In one scene, the cow bellows in pain and the calf is partly covered in blood. 'The cow and calf both definitely suffered from this mistreatment,' Reynolds wrote to me about this part of the investigation. 'The actions seen tell us the employees are not trained appropriately for delivering calves, they have not been provided appropriate equipment, and they are not managed appropriately.' Fairlife declined an interview request for this story. In an email to Vox, the company said it stopped sourcing milk from Woodcrest Dairy in 2023. However, ARM's investigator, in a videotaped conversation shared with Vox, asked a truck driver transporting milk from the farm in January if he was taking the milk to a nearby Fairlife plant. The driver answered yes, specifying that they bring milk to the Fairlife plant three times a day. What's wrong with dairy? The livestock industry — not just Fairlife — has long portrayed dairy as an essential, wholesome product from cows who just happen to be producing milk on quaint, green pastures. But cows on dairy farms, even when they're not overtly abused like those seen in undercover investigations into Fairlife, still face severe welfare issues because of the very nature of dairy production. Today's cows have been bred to produce far more milk than they naturally would, which greatly taxes their bodies. They're (artificially) impregnated each year — another physical stressor — to induce milk production. After they give birth, their calves are quickly taken away so that humans can take their mothers' milk. Newborn calves are then confined alone in tiny hutches. Females go on to become dairy cows once they're sexually mature, while the male calves are dehorned and castrated — often without pain relief — and sold off to become veal or beef. Most dairy cows have little to no access to pasture and spend their lives confined indoors or on dirt feedlots. Naturally, they might live to 15 to 20 years of age, but by 5 or 6 years old, when bodies give out and their milk yield wanes, they're sent off to slaughter. Many of these practices have become standard on dairy farms of all sizes — not just on mega dairies. It's a reality far different from what consumers often see in advertisements and on milk bottles. Woodcrest Dairy has since closed down and couldn't be reached for comment. Select Milk Producers, the cooperative that Woodcrest belonged to, told Vox in an email that 'animal care is a core value' at the cooperative, and that it investigates 'any report of inappropriate animal care.' (Select Milk confirmed to me that Woodcrest has shut down.) As recently as this March, Select Milk Producers' website stated that the 'highly nutritious milk products of fairlife come from the 99 family owned dairies of Select Milk Producers.' That web page has since been taken down. The Woodcrest Dairy findings were the latest in a string of similar recent investigations. Earlier this year, after ARM released disturbing videos showing animal cruelty at two Arizona dairy farms that supplied Fairlife, the company said it had immediately suspended ties with the farms. But weeks later, investigators from the group Consumer Protection Foundation, separate from ARM, followed milk being trucked from the Arizona farms to a processing plant run by United Dairymen of Arizona (a cooperative that Fairlife sources some of its Arizona milk from), and then to a Fairlife plant. Fairlife told Vox in an email that it did not resume sourcing milk from these farms. And in 2023, ARM released a shocking investigation into an Indiana dairy operation that ARM says belongs to the Select Milk Producers cooperative (SMP didn't reply to a question about whether the farm is currently a cooperative member, and the farm couldn't be reached for comment). Videos from the investigation show workers hitting cows with screwdrivers, knives, and sawed-off golf clubs, and in one scene, a worker takes a rod with a huge flame at the end and brushes it against cows' legs as they're being milked. At one point in the video, the ARM investigator asks a manager about a dairy cow he had just shot: 'Do you feel remorse for killing her?' The manager replies, 'No! It's why I live in this country, so I can kill these asshole cows.' Fairlife denied sourcing milk from the operation. Soon after, ARM followed milk trucks from the facility to a Fairlife processing plant in Michigan. ARM also recorded a conversation with a milk truck driver who said he took milk from the farm to the Fairlife processing plant. Fairlife stated that it had been considering bringing on the farm as a supplier and that the milk shipment ARM observed was simply a test run that was subsequently dumped and never entered Fairlife's supply chain. The class action lawsuit filed earlier this year accuses Fairlife of lying about its relationship with the Arizona, Indiana, and New Mexico farms. 'This conduct constitutes bad faith, collusion, deception, and fraud,' the lawsuit states. ARM has asked the US Department of Agriculture and state agriculture departments to take a deeper look into Fairlife's supply chain and the pattern of animal cruelty, but no such inquiry has ever been taken up, according to Richard Couto, ARM's founder and CEO. Federal and state agriculture agencies are 'out to protect industry and dollars,' Couto told me. 'They're not out to protect the animal.' Fairlife became a rare success story in dairy — built on promises of doing better Animal Recovery Mission's first investigation into a Fairlife supplier, released in 2019, has since been viewed over 19 million times — more than perhaps any other farm animal cruelty video in history. It garnered widespread news coverage, and several Midwest grocery chains temporarily pulled Fairlife bottles from their shelves. Fans posted videos of themselves pouring Fairlife down the drain, vowing to never buy the product again. By 2022, Coca-Cola, the McCloskeys, their farm business, and Select Milk Producers settled a $21 million class action lawsuit (separate from the one filed earlier this year) alleging the companies had falsely advertised their milk as coming from humanely treated cows. That wasn't how it was all supposed to turn out. In the early 1990s, the McCloskeys — who at the time owned a large dairy farm in New Mexico — launched the cooperative Select Milk Producers, differentiated by a promise of increased transparency and higher standards that led to healthier cows and cleaner milk. A few years later, they moved to Indiana and opened Fair Oaks Farms, which is now one of the country's largest dairy operations, with an eye-popping 36,000 cows — what's considered a mega dairy. At the time, industrial animal agriculture was under increasing scrutiny as investigations into factory farms by animal rights groups gained media attention. Rather than hunker down and ignore Big Ag's negative publicity, the McCloskeys saw a business opportunity in transparency — or at least their version of it. In 2004, the McCloskeys expanded Fair Oaks Farms to become what's been called an agricultural Disneyland — a farm-meets-theme park tourist attraction that draws more than 100,000 visitors annually. 'The farm was founded out of necessity to counter the very loud, very well-funded, and often, very misleading voices against modern farming and animal agriculture,' Sue McCloskey told Food & Wine in 2018. Today, visitors can take a sanitized tour of Fair Oaks's dairy and pig operations. The programming 'attempts to make the public comfortable with the factory farm,' Jan Dutkiewicz, a Vox contributor and assistant professor of political science at the Pratt Institute who went on the tour, wrote in 2018. Fair Oaks, he added, deploys a 'selective transparency that seems to perform radical revelation — even as it hides overt and structural forms of violence against animals.' There are also interactive dairy, pork, and crop museums, a 25-foot tall rock climbing wall in the shape of a milk bottle called 'Udder Heights,' and a 'Legen-Dairy Drop MegaSlide,' two on-site restaurants, and a Marriott hotel. Visitors to the Fair Oaks Farm's Pig Adventure exhibit look out over the sows barn. John Luke/The Times/Associated Press Dairy cows riding a rotating milking machine at Fair Oaks Farms. M.L. Johnson/Associated Press Throughout their time at Fair Oaks Farms, visitors are inundated with messages that modern animal agriculture is sustainable and humane. 'At Fair Oaks, Mike is essentially able to create a new reality,' Frerick, the ag researcher and author, said in The Price of Milk, a new documentary series on the dairy industry. 'They built one of the most popular tourist attractions in the state of Indiana, full of propaganda, to refute claims that industrial animal operations (CAFOs) were cruel,' he told me in an email. Yet the McCloskeys' claims about what separates their farms and businesses from typical dairy factory farms have always been scant on specifics. For example, Mike McCloskey has told NPR that the fact that he's fluent in Spanish has enabled him to better communicate with his largely Spanish-speaking workforce, which has resulted in better care for animals. Select Milk Producers's website mentions its adherence to voluntary animal welfare guidelines that were developed by dairy industry groups, which largely mirror standard industry practices. Fair Oaks Farms did not respond to multiple requests for comment for this story. 'This is just the one classic textbook example of why self-policing just fails. How can you even take the company at their word now to do better?' — Austin Frerick, agriculture researcher and author After Fair Oaks Farms came Fairlife. In 2012, the McCloskeys, through Select Milk Producers, developed a partnership with Coca-Cola to distribute Core Power, a milk-based protein shake made using their ultra-filtration process to enhance the drink's protein content. Two years later, Select Milk Producers and Coca-Cola launched the Fairlife brand. Their timing was perfect. The protein craze was gaining steam, while cruelty investigations into factory farms had become a frequent news story. Fairlife promised consumers everything: a low-sugar, lactose-free, high-protein milk beverage with a humane and sustainable sheen. Coca-Cola's market dominance helped get Fairlife drinks into 76,000 US retail outlets by 2017. The company took off, and the McCloskeys became a positive story in an otherwise struggling industry: Over the last 80 years per capita fluid milk consumption in the US has declined dramatically, and hundreds of thousands of small- and mid-sized dairies went under. Large dairy producers like the McCloskeys were well-positioned to benefit from the industry's structural problems. In the years that followed, Mike McCloskey landed on President Donald Trump's short list for agriculture secretary. Sue, meanwhile, was busy on the conference and media circuit, where she frequently, and lovingly, referred to the couple's cows as 'our girls.' 'There's a degree of business brilliance to them that you have to admire,' Frerick said. Neither of the McCloskeys came from a big farm family, yet their business savvy, political connections, and marketing prowess, he said, has made them 'unquestionably the most powerful dairy farmers in America in a lifetime.' We've become numb to Fairlife's animal cruelty scandals It wasn't long before Animal Recovery Mission's first investigation revealed how the 'girls' were treated in the McCloskeys' dairy empire. Following ARM's first investigation in 2019, Mike McCloskey released an apology video, saying that Fairlife doesn't tolerate animal abuse and would clean up its supply chain. Yet ever since, Animal Recovery Mission continued to release new investigations into Fairlife suppliers and Select Milk Producers members at a regular clip, each with similarly disturbing findings. Along the way, Fairlife removed humane care claims from its bottles, and earlier this year, it took down a lengthy yet vague web page about its animal welfare commitments. Of course, no one at the top of these companies actively wants animals to be abused, but the continued investigations reflect a structural reality of animal agriculture: Mass producing cheap animal products is all but impossible to do humanely. Dozens of investigations into the US meat, milk, and egg industries have revealed that the constantly growing demand for cheap animal products — combined with virtually zero legal protections for farmed animals and captured regulatory agencies — means that efficiency and profit are almost always prioritized over animal welfare. 'This is just the one classic textbook example of why self-policing just fails,' Frerick said. 'How can you even take the company at their word now to do better?' The story here, he added, 'is the failure of regulators.' Through it all, Select Milk Producers and the McCloskeys have continued to prosper. All told, Coca-Cola spent $7.4 billion to acquire Fairlife, Bloomberg reported earlier this year. And the public shock and disgust that followed the first investigation into Fairlife six years ago has since largely faded into the background, while the brand just gets more and more popular. 'The scariest thing from all these animal abuse scandals is it feels like that, with each additional scandal, the tension goes down,' Frerick said. 'This abuse is becoming seemingly a fact of life. I think that's kind of an unsaid strategy of Fairlife — it's just to ride it out so [people] become numb to it.' Fairlife, after all, has always managed to effectively foresee and meet the cultural moment. It's now reaping the financial rewards of a protein fad that it anticipated long before its competitors. And although the McCloskeys once promised that a bottle of Fairlife came from humanely raised cows at a time when animal welfare concerns were particularly salient, the company has appeared just as happy to quietly shed its commitments to animal welfare when they were no longer convenient. But Couto said Animal Recovery Mission isn't going away. 'ARM is such a thorn in Coca-Cola's side,' he told me, 'because we're never going to stop investigating.'
Miami Herald
28 minutes ago
- Miami Herald
Miami-Dade's mayor is defending immigrants with moral clarity and courage
As our president and his top leaders issue a drumbeat of invective demonizing all immigrants, our Miami-Dade mayor repeatedly stands up with courage and reason to call for the humane treatment of our immigrant neighbors. We thank Mayor Daniella Levine Cava for her leadership and encourage others to follow her example. Miami-Dade is an exciting and culturally rich community largely because nearly half of our residents are first-generation immigrants. People are drawn to Miami-Dade's melting pot of customs, languages, cuisine, music, art and businesses. Our mayor rightfully celebrates our county's rich diversity as a showcase of the American dream. Our immigrant friends and neighbors are now being terrorized. They watch as many who have lived here for decades, worked hard, raised families, paid taxes and have no criminal history are taken into custody by ICE agents. Some are being held in the blazing heat in the tents that house cages hurriedly assembled on an abandoned airstrip in the historic Florida Everglades. People will tolerate this dysfunction and cruelty if they perceive those in custody as less than human. The state's naming of the new detention facility 'Alligator Alcatraz' sends that message. When powerful leaders broadly refer to immigrants as 'criminals,' 'illegals,' even 'animals,' they tell us we can look the other way. Levine Cava consistently and repeatedly speaks out against this false narrative. She reminds us that each of us deserves to be treated with respect and humanity. In her recent Miami Herald opinion article — 'Alligator Alcatraz is not who we are' — our mayor called out the 'federal immigration actions that prioritize fear and enforcement over compassion and justice.' She called upon our national leaders, as she has done many times before, to implement policies that 'focus on securing our borders and deporting dangerous criminals, not removing protections for people who are following the law and helping build our economy.' The mayor rightly has her eye on the economic health of the county. She understands that we need immigrants as our essential workers, entrepreneurs, consumers and taxpayers. In other recent statements, Levine Cava has urged those with power over immigration policy to focus on keeping families together, not tearing them apart. She reminds us that sending people back to countries 'facing rampant violence, risks to personal safety and economic turmoil [is]... inhumane and unjust.' Miami-Dade's mayor continues to speak the truth: overcrowded detention facilities are unsafe, with poor access to medical care. Contact with legal counsel is seriously compromised at Alligator Alcatraz, and its tents and cages will be deathtraps in a serious storm. It was built on county-owned land, which Gov. Ron DeSantis took control of with his declaration that immigration has caused a state of emergency in Florida. As the top county officer, Levine Cava has repeatedly written our governor, seeking county access to monitor this newest detention facility. We live in a time when bullying and demonizing behavior and language erode our norms of civility. Levine Cava's moral leadership is sorely needed. Let us heed her call that everyone in this community, regardless of race, ethnicity or ancestry be treated with respect, fairness and dignity. David Lawrence, Jr., is the former publisher of the Miami Herald and chair of the Children's Movement of Florida. Cheryl Little is a co-founder of Americans for Immigrant Justice and its executive director emeritus. Chris McAliley is a retired U.S. magistrate judge.
Miami Herald
28 minutes ago
- Miami Herald
‘We came to contribute': End of Venezuelan TPS threatens South Florida economy
Two months after the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the Trump administration's authority to end deportation protections for Venezuelans, businesses in South Florida, home to the largest Venezuelan population in the U.S., are feeling the strain. 'How do you tell an employee they have to go back to Venezuela? Those who left didn't leave because they wanted to—they left out of necessity,' said Mario J. Benedetti, a Venezuelan-American owner of multiple car dealerships in South Florida who employs a hundred fellow Venezuelans. 'If our country hadn't gone through such a political and economic crisis, we'd still be there.' Benedetti, 61, a naturalized U.S. citizen, is a third-generation car dealer whose family began selling vehicles in eastern Venezuela over a century ago. He left the country in 2009 to start over in South Florida. Since then, he has built and expanded a network of car dealerships representing Toyota and Kia, along with a certified body shop servicing those automotive brands. A third of Benedetti's 325 employees are Venezuelan — including five with Temporary Protected Status, 63 asylum seekers, and 32 U.S. residents. Benedetti said the only option for him is to help them secure legal immigration status. He is now exploring employment-based labor certifications not only for TPS holders, but also for asylum seekers, who make up about 20% of his workforce. 'That's an economic burden I have to assume,' he said, adding that the administration's revocation of TPS has disrupted every aspect of his business, generating deep uncertainty—especially surrounding the expiration of work permits. The decision to end TPS, which provided work permits for many of the 607,000 Venezuelan who have the status, has sent shock waves through the Miami area and beyond. As the largest TPS migrant group in the U.S., Venezuelans make a significant economic impact, contributing an estimated $11.5 billion annually to the U.S. economy, according to the immigration reform nonprofit Venezuela was designated in 2021 for TPS — a temporary immigration status granted to nationals of countries facing unsafe conditions for return — due to a severe humanitarian crisis marked by political and economic instability, widespread human rights abuses, and high levels of violence. The Biden administration expanded TPS in 2023, and extended it through 2026. The Trump administration reversed the extension and the Supreme Court on May 19 upheld that decision, immediately stripping protections from roughly 350,000 people, with another 257,000 slated to lose their protected status on Sept. 10. Benedetti was among several Venezuelan business people who gathered last week at Florida International University for the launch of the Venezuelan Business Power survey — an initiative led by the Coral Gables-based Venezuelan-American Chamber of Commerce of the United States aimed at capturing a comprehensive picture of Venezuelan entrepreneurship in the U.S.. As one of the sponsors of the poll, Benedetti said the initiative seeks to challenge the negative stereotypes surrounding Venezuelan immigrants. 'For me, it's crucial that people understand Venezuelans are not criminals. We didn't come here to take from the state — we came to contribute, to help this country grow,' he said. 'The best way to show our gratitude for the opportunity the U.S. has given us is by giving back. We need to restore the dignity of Venezuelans, whose reputation has been unfairly attacked.' Chamber President Leonardo Trechi told the Herald that nearly every industry in South Florida — from automotive and finance to services — relies on Venezuelan workers. 'Many are specialized and highly trained,' he said. 'If they're laid off, it won't just harm those workers. It will hurt the companies that invested in them.' The chamber estimates that, based on national Hispanic entrepreneurship trends showing that 7% of Hispanics own businesses, there could be more than 70,000 Venezuelan-owned businesses across the country. These businesses are believed to employ over 420,000 people and contribute an estimated $63 billion annually to the U.S. economy through billing, wages, and overall impact on GDP. In South Florida, the food industry — a cultural and economic lifeline for Venezuelan immigrants — is already feeling the pain. From food trucks to brick-and-mortar restaurants, Venezuelan-owned eateries not only offer familiar cuisine but also provide jobs for fellow immigrants. Many owners, particularly those who hold TPS themselves, say they fear becoming targets for Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Florida is likely to bear the brunt of the fallout from the end of TPS. Nearly half of all Venezuelans who had deportation protections live in the state, according to economist Michael Clemens, a professor at George Mason University, who based his findings on U.S. Census Bureau data. Clemens estimates that a third of the roughly 350,000 people who have already lost TPS protections are in Florida. Many may have also lost their work permits. While some TPS holders remain legally authorized to work through other pending immigration processes, such as asylum claims, there is no public data confirming how many still have valid authorization. Clemens' analysis shows Venezuelan workers with TPS are heavily concentrated in service-based industries, with the hospitality and recreation sector employing the largest share, followed closely by the retail trade. Other major sectors include professional and scientific services, construction and health care and education. Unlike other migrant groups, Venezuelans are rarely employed in agriculture or rural jobs. He said there's a perception that jobs for waitresses, cleaners and cooks are easy to fill, but in reality those workers are indispensable. 'That's why research in the U.S. has found that mass deportation is followed by a reduction of business activities.' One in 10 Venezuelan TPS holders in the U.S. are self-employed, while half work for wages. The remainder are not currently employed, a group that includes children, retirees, students and others outside the work force. The end of TPS is being felt not only by families, but by entire industries and local governments across Florida. From Orlando to Miami, layoffs, legal uncertainty and business instability are on the rise. Major companies like Disney laid off 45 Venezuelan employees following the Supreme Court's decision. A company spokesperson said affected workers were placed on leave with benefits to ensure compliance with immigration law. The Miami Herald spoke with 10 South Florida businesses owned by or catering to Venezuelans. Most asked not to be identified, fearing retaliation from immigration authorities. But they all echoed a shared concern: Venezuelans are not just employees — they're also customers. A sharp drop in consumer spending is already being felt, and many fear the ripple effects will deepen across multiple sectors, weakening the region's economy. Alexander Rueda, CEO of PANNA New Latino Food — a company founded in 2000 by a Venezuelan family in Weston and now a staple of Latin American cuisine in Broward County — said the impact goes beyond his workforce. 'More than a direct impact on our employees, the biggest impact is on the consumers,' he said. 'Consumer demand has changed; many are now diverting part of their budgets to immigration processes instead of dining out or spending as they used to.' Over the past 25 years, PANNA has grown from a small food stand inside a gas station into a thriving enterprise with five restaurants—three in Broward, one in Miami-Dade, and one in Orange County—as well as two food production factories in North Miami Beach and Miami Gardens. The company produces 4.6 tons of food daily for several brands and currently employs 246 people. In 2024, PANNA reported $46 million in annual sales and expected to exceed that in 2025. However, the revocation of TPS is beginning to take a toll on the company through declining consumer spending at its restaurants. Rueda said demand at PANNA's locations has fallen by 20% over the past three months. Rueda, 54, like Benedetti—a sponsor of the chamber's poll—emphasized that 'Venezuelans are more than the stigma tied to the Tren de Aragua gang,' he said, referring to the notorious criminal group. 'We are entrepreneurial, educated, and we contribute significantly to the economy.' Miami-Dade Mayor Daniella Levine Cava said she is 'deeply saddened' by the potential impact of the TPS termination on the more than 300,000 Venezuelans living in the county. 'This decision not only puts thousands of our neighbors and friends at risk,' she said, 'it punishes those who followed a legal process and are here contributing to our economy, our culture, and driving some of our most important industries.' The northwest Miami-Dade municipality of Doral — the U.S. city with the largest Venezuelan population, fondly known as 'Doralzuela' — is at at the epicenter of the crisis. A well-known Venezuelan bakery in Doral has grown from humble beginnings as a food truck, where it sold traditional sweets such as pan dulce, soft bread topped with sugar, and bombas rellenas , cream-filled puffs. The truck traveled across Miami-Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach counties, often stopping in cities with large Venezuelan communities, including Pembroke Pines and Weston—the latter nicknamed 'Westonzuela' for being one of the earliest hubs of Venezuelan settlement more than two decades ago. Today, the owner has expanded into a brick-and-mortar location in Doral. A TPS holder, he lives in the U.S. with his family. Before obtaining deportation protections in 2021, they had tried to apply for an investor visa. The Doral bakery owner is among the 12% of Venezuelans with TPS who are self-employed, contributing to the U.S. economy through small businesses, independent contracting and entrepreneurship, according to data from Clemens. Like thousands Venezuelans in the U.S., the Doral bakery owner has a pending asylum case, filed in 2018. After years waiting for an asylum interview, TPS provided his family with much-needed stability that is now slipping away. Despite the uncertainty, he keeps running his bakery and dreams of opening a second location in Weston. But he fears being forced to leave the U.S.. 'The promise of stability is disappearing,' he said. 'And with it, the American dream.' Returning to Venezuela is not an option for him. 'The country I left no longer exists,' he says, citing violent crime, the country's humanitarian crisis and political persecution. He fears for his family's safety as well as losing their livelihood. Their TPS protection could expire as early as September if a federal district court does not rule to extend deportation protections. Litigation is still ongoing in several federal courts, because the Supreme Court ruling did not address the actual merits of a lawsuit challenging the administration's revocation policy. The fear is spreading through government offices too. In Doral, Mayor Christi Fraga said the city has already had to terminate a Venezuelan employee in code enforcement whose work permit expired after the Supreme Court ruling. Several more city employees could face the same fate in September. Fraga, a Cuban-American Republican, warned of broader fallout: 'We'll likely see properties flood the market, driving down prices. Businesses may struggle to find workers or shut down. There's a real risk of people working illegally or ending up homeless.' About 40% of Doral's residents are of Venezuelan origin. Roughly 10,000 are now U.S. citizens, a third of the city's electorate, but many of their friends and relatives face growing legal uncertainty. 'This city's success is largely due to Venezuelan investment,' Fraga said. 'It mirrors what happened with Cuban immigrants in Miami.' City Council Member Rafael Pineyro, the only currently Venezuelan-born elected official in Doral, echoed the mayor's concerns. 'This has a knock-on effect that will impact not just Doral, but all of Miami-Dade,' he said. 'Business owners might be forced to sell their homes and businesses — everything they legally built while contributing to this community.' A Republican, Pineyro criticized the Trump administration's decision to end TPS for Venezuela, saying it was based on a mistaken assessment that conditions there had improved. 'Venezuela hasn't improved — it has regressed,' he said. 'The regime is more oppressive than ever.' As TPS protections unravel, thousands of Venezuelans in Florida and across the country face difficult choices: stay and risk being deported, try to find another legal path, or flee again. More than 66% of Venezuelans in the U.S.—a community now exceeding 903,000 people—were protected under TPS. Despite their growing numbers, Venezuelans remain among the least likely immigrant groups to be naturalized U.S. citizens. According to the Migration Policy Institute, a nonpartisan think tank, one key reason is that most Venezuelans are recent arrivals: 74% have come to the U.S. since 2010, compared to 35% of all immigrants. 'Venezuelans, like other immigrants, sit at the dinner table with American family members, and a significant number have U.S. citizen children,' Clemens said. 'That's why making life precarious for Venezuelans, and the potential removal of over 600,000 people, isn't just about disrupting immigrant lives. It risks a chilling effect that will reach into every corner of American society.'
