IT IS GROWING harder to keep track of America’s immigration rules. Every so often President Donald Trump’s administration tries to restrict entry for one category of immigrants or another, provoking outrage from Democrats, immigrant advocates and some state governments. Then courts push back on the proposed limitations, often pointing to clumsily written regulations.

One such rule, which had been due to come into force on October 15th, would have cracked down on low-income foreigners already in America who were seeking green cards or visa extensions. On October 11th three federal courts, in California, New York and Washington state, put a hold on it, calling it ill-justified. Two of the three judges issued rulings that apply nationally. One federal judge, in Manhattan, dismissed the proposed rule as “repugnant to the American dream of the opportunity for prosperity and success through hard work and upwards mobility.”

The rule was first proposed a year ago by the Department of Homeland Security (the State Department applies a similar rule for those outside of the country who seek entry). Although America has, for more than a century, refused permanent status to some immigrants seen as likely to rely on public welfare, the current administration is especially keen—thanks in part to Stephen Miller, a young immigration hawk who is a senior adviser to the president—to broaden the definition of whom is too poor or ill qualified to stay.

Since 1999 officials have been able to reject applicants deemed a “public charge”, that is, those who relied on cash benefits as “needy families” or supplementary social insurance for prolonged periods. The new rule allowed an expanded understanding of that term. It could cover immigrants getting non-cash benefits, such as food stamps, medical care in the form of Medicaid, some subsidies for drugs under Medicare or federal housing subsidies.

By broadening the rule in this way officials would have had more discretion to reject applicants. They were to assess the “totality of circumstances” of a migrant’s life, looking at factors such as whether he or she speaks good English, has a high-school diploma, a job or a place in college, or a sufficiently high income.

How many applicants might it affect? Researchers at the Migration Policy Institute (MPI), in Washington, DC made a recent estimate by looking at census data for foreign-born residents who arrived in the four years to 2016. They suggested 69% of applicants for green cards or visa extensions would have failed by at least one of the mentioned measures; 43% would have failed by two of them.

In response to the planned change, immigrants might already be adjusting their behaviour, by shunning public services, so as to avoid being seen as a public charge. Lawsuits filed by 21 states, against the expansion of the public-charge definition, cite concerns that poor migrant families will end up with less access to food, health and other beneficial public services. Courts are likely to consider the matter, which could end up in the Supreme Court, with the justices ruling on the meaning of “public charge”.

A second new rule, meanwhile, is due to come into effect from November 3rd, although that too could be affected by court rulings. It was announced by Mr Trump only on October 4th, leaving little time for officials to prepare. The president decreed that people who apply for permanent residence—those seeking green cards in this way are mostly immigrants living with family members who are American citizens or permanent legal residents—must prove they can pay for private health insurance, or have the resources to pay directly for foreseeable medical costs, within 30 days of arrival. If not, they can be denied entry.

In effect, as with the public-charge measure, this would mean turning back more of the poor. MPI also assessed the likely impact of this rule. It calculated that 65% of those who apply for green cards, or some 375,000 people a year, could be refused entry. That is based on an estimate that 34% of recent immigrants have no health insurance at all, while 31% depend on Medicaid or subsidised health insurance (under the Affordable Care Act).

It is likely that the imposition of this will be postponed as legal challenges are launched, and as officials scramble to see how the policy could be implemented. Some sceptics of family-based immigration welcome the new policy. The Center for Immigration Studies, also in Washington, for example makes a case for immigrants paying for their own health insurance. It estimates an individual migrant would have to spend $4,600 on it each year.

On October 10th, the think-tank, which favours lower immigration rates overall, published reports on the links between health-care costs and immigration. One of the authors, Jason Richwine, called Mr Trump’s proposal on private health insurance a “step in the right direction”, mostly because it would skew policy to let mostly higher-skilled and higher-income immigrants get green cards. But even Mr Richwine is unsure about the details of Mr Trump’s plan.

Uncertainty in immigration policy will therefore persist. It may be that this is just what Mr Trump wants. His main concern is to reassure his base that he remains hostile towards refugees and immigrants, while keeping immigration as a hot topic for debate in the election next year. And having failed in his promise to build a wall on the southern border, he can at least point to tough-sounding policies and regulations. They would be law, he can say, were it not for pesky judges getting in the way.