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I beleive you will find your answer by carefully reading The Declaration of Independence.

I think its also mentioned in this second portion of the article:

Some legislators had also mentioned to us (oftentimes laughing) how they had "defanged" or "gutted" anti-immigration bills and measures, by neglecting to fund this program or tabling that provision, or deleting the other measure, etc. "Yes, we passed that law, but it can’t work because we also…" was a usual comment to assuage the Mexican
delegations.

In light of what we learned from speaking to them privately, it is surprising that many legislators have gone public recently with their pro-immigration views, as opposed to simply adding their votes discreetly and imposing a fait accompli. This is another conundrum, but may be explained because legislators also suffer a collective-action problem. My feeling is that if the vote on granting amnesty to the illegal migrants was up for a secret vote, then perhaps we would see a 90 percent vote in favor, coinciding with my random sample from six years ago.

One such example of "natural progress" that legislators attempted to impose with no debate was when Pennsylvania state legislators—in the middle of the night before a recess— in July 2005 passed a bill giving themselves a modest pay raise. The civic reaction and spontaneous popular mobilization was such (with effigies of pigs carried by demonstrators calling their legislators "Harrisburg Hogs"), the legislators recanted and, with only one dissenting vote, repealed their pay raise weeks later.

To Govern Is to Populate
A group of Argentine statesmen in the 19th century sought to populate their country with immigrants from certain parts of Europe, believing that they were more politically mature and more propitious for a stable state than the criollo and mestizo populations in their country at the time. One of those statesmen, President Domingo Faustino Sarmiento, had a slogan: "To govern is to populate," perhaps because Argentina traditionally has been both under-populated and ungovernable.

What could be motivating U.S. legislators to do the opposite, that is, to see their constituents—already politically mature and proven as responsible and civic-minded—as an obstacle needing replacement? In other words, why would they want to replace a nation that works remarkably well (that Sarmiento was hoping to emulate), with another that has trouble forming stable, normal countries?

Mexicans are kind and hardworking, with a legendary hospitality, and unlike some European nations, harbor little popular ambitions to impose models or ideologies on others. However, Mexicans are seemingly unable to produce anything but corrupt and tyrannical rulers, oftentimes even accepting them as the norm, unaffected by allegations of graft or abuse.8 Mexico, and Latin American societies in general, seem to suffer from what an observer called "moral relativism," accepting the "natural progress" of the political class rather than challenging it, and also appearing more susceptible to "miracle solutions" and demagogic political appeals. Mexican intellectuals speak of the corrosive effects of Mexican culture on the institutions needed to make democracy work, and surveys reveal that most of the population accepts and expects corruption from the political class.9 A sociological study conducted throughout the region found that Latin Americans are indeed highly susceptible to clientelismo, or partaking in patron-client relations, and that Mexico was high even by regional standards.10

In a Latin environment, there are fewer costs to behaving "like a knave," which explains the relative failure of most Spanish-speaking countries in the Hemisphere: Pauperized populations with rich and entrenched knaves. Montesquieu’s separation-of-powers model breaks down in Latin America (though essentially all constitutions are based on it) since elites do not take their responsibilities seriously and easily reach extra-legal "understandings" with their colleagues across the branches of government, oftentimes willingly making the judicial and legislative powers subservient to a generous executive, and giving the population little recourse and little choice but to challenge the system in its entirety.

These pathologies are already evident across the border. For example, at the height of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, when even President Clinton’s strongest backers such as Rep. Richard Gephardt were distancing themselves from him and calling on the president to "tell the truth," the Hispanic Caucus in the U.S. Congress lent its support to the president. Rep. Esteban Torres stated "We’re going to stand by him to the end … no matter what!"11 The case of the "unconditional support" by the Hispanics in Congress to their patron demonstrated why the Montesquieu-Madisonian model had difficulty functioning in the Latin American context. This type of unconditional support seems to be what professional politicians of both parties expect from their Hispanic constituents and allies.

When thinking of populating as a way of obtaining power, perhaps these U.S. legislators, rather than from the statesman Sarmiento, took an unconscious cue from another Latin American leader who used migration and ethnic policy for less laudable goals. Mexican President Luis Echeverría (1970-76), who began the cycle of political violence and economic crisis from which the country has yet to recover, pursued a policy of moving hundreds of thousands of impoverished people from the country’s south to the more prosperous and dynamic northern states, where they remain to this day, mostly in shantytowns. His goal was to neutralize those states’ more active civic culture that threatened his power—as these states were at the time the main source of opposition to his dictatorial ambitions. These pauperized and dependent migrants and their offspring would provide a ready source of votes for the ruling party along with a mobilizeable mass to counter (politically as well as physically) the more civic-oriented middle classes of those northern states and "crack" their will to challenge his corporatist regime. Along with other extra-constitutional tools (he almost succeeded in canceling the constitution to remain indefinitely as president), migration from undeveloped areas was used by Echeverría as "politics by other means." Echeverría, in other words, was the ultimate knave.

Do the U.S. legislators have an overt and well thought-out "plan," as Echeverría did? That is unlikely.

Unlike Echeverría, these 45 U.S. legislators (especially the Republican ones) may simply be following a string of what can be called "rational short-termisms," that seem beneficial now even though they may unwittingly lead to adverse outcomes for them in the end. Like a diet rich in fats and sugar brings a jolt of energy and pleasure in the short run but causes health problems in the longer term, these congressmen still have incentives to allow and encourage mass immigration because of its low political cost for them and the perceived short-term benefits it brings (for them and the special interests that fund them).

If these "rational short-termisms" exist within a given individual (where he assumes both the benefits and the costs, such as with an irresponsible diet), they are more prevalent in a country, as those accruing the benefits are not those who pay the costs, and have an incentive to organize themselves to pursue the behavior leading to those outcomes. Because of collective-action problems, those benefiting from mass immigration are better organized, even if they are in the minority and even if they are vaguely aware that "someone else" pays for their largesse. These groups only see the assets, not the liabilities. By nature, legislators should prefer these short-termisms, since the payoffs are immediate and directly attributed to a political figure, whereas the costs can be pushed into the future. The payoffs and benefits of more long-term policies are unlikely to be associated with a particular political figure and become, essentially, public goods. Just as there is a large body of literature on "economic failure," we should begin to explore a related concept—"political failure," which could be the Achilles heel of the American and other models of representative democracy. In the end, the result of mass Latin American immigration will not likely present the stark choice of democracy versus non-democracy for the United States, but the quality of democracy may indeed be affected.

Acción Directa as a Double-Edged Sword
What awaits the United States when a critical mass of the American people realizes the immigration issue is little different than what happened in Pennsylvania with the pay-raise issue? What if they decide to organize?

These legislators are probably correct that, by acquiescing to mass immigration, they will eventually "crack" the immigration-control advocates. They do not need to win or even engage in a debate if they can change the terms of the game so decisively. However, they have only taken into account the legal or civilized resistance—from those who write in the papers or volunteer peacefully at the border. In Latin America, people engage in un-civil direct action because they have come to realize that attempting to convince their elites that their antisocial behavior has adverse consequences for the country—and expecting that this will dissuade them from engaging in it—is largely a futile exercise. But in the United States as well, once immigration-control advocates realize they cannot reach their goals through legal means, this could breed a form of resistance that has not occurred yet, but cannot be discounted offhand.

The degree of usurpation and neglect of their fiduciary duty by legislators could provoke immigration-reform advocates to engage increasingly in civil resistance, so that instead of influencing political institutions through civic engagement (as Americans traditionally have), they may attempt to politicize individual institutions. Their direct actions are already being reported: local officers taking it upon themselves to detain illegal migrants, sit-ins at immigration offices, vandalizing of Mexican restaurants, threatening calls to the Hispanic mayor of Los Angeles, etc. Once these types of mobilizations begin, they will be difficult to stop.

Some Americans may take a cue from Spanish/Latin American culture itself and engage in what Spaniards call acción directa, or "direct action." A Spaniard once lamented that "In this country, nobody votes, but everyone protests." Immigration advocates should not be surprised if Latin American immigrants and their offspring continue their tradition of direct action and ignoring laws and institutions—as the recent mass protests in cities across the country demonstrate. But they should also not be surprised if Americans also learn to pursue acción directa. An interesting test for the U.S. political class will be how they respond to Americans utilizing direct action, since they seem to tolerate and even encourage it for Latin American immigrants and their offspring. So far, their reaction has been predictable—accusing peaceful volunteers of being "vigilantes" and labeling critics as "racist," while backing down in the face of mass protests by the illegal immigrants. There were even reports that the U.S. government had handed over to the Mexican government the names of the "Minutemen" critics and border-control volunteers.