Afghanistan Peace CampaignAll of them have suffered persecution or fear persecution in their home countries. None has a criminal record, here or elsewhere. I have seen the photos of their torture scars, their burns. I have witnessed the impact on their mental health from what they endured in their home countries. My calls and emails went out to clients who are political dissidents from Russia and Egypt, survivors of the genocide in Darfur, labor organizers from China, L.G.B.T. people from Pakistan and Tunisia, peaceful protesters from Venezuela, families with children who survived brutal violence in Honduras.
And Afghans. Since the Taliban retook Afghanistan in 2021, I have represented dozens of Afghan asylum seekers: women’s rights activists, journalists, doctors, former United Nations workers, members of persecuted religious and ethnic minorities and those who worked alongside U.S. troops and U.S.-based nongovernmental organizations. All of these people risk their lives being shattered — again.
These clients face the prospect of not having their asylum cases heard, not being granted asylum, not having their green card applications approved or having their green cards rescinded. This is all happening because of the Trump administration’s reaction to the shooting last week of two National Guard members, one of whom has died. An Afghan asylum recipient has been charged with the crime.
This tragedy has produced another: a Trump administration effort to further reshape America’s immigration system, demonize Afghan and other immigrants and at least temporarily block deserving asylum seekers from receiving the protections they need. Inflicting collective punishment based on the heinous and isolated crimes of one person is not a rational, appropriate or moral policy response.
Afghan asylum seekers I work with, many of whom have been waiting for years for their applications to be processed, are gripped with terror. They express to me their deep uncertainty of what the future will hold for their asylum applications, for their lives, and for their ability to stay in this country going forward. Many Afghans with green cards and those awaiting naturalization are likewise deeply unsettled and fearful.
This week, one of my Afghan asylum-seeking clients was required to report to the federal immigration court building in Manhattan for a routine meeting with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. He complied, wanting to do everything right, despite knowing his nationality put him at risk for arrest. At the immigration building, I tried to stay by my client’s side, but officers insisted on separating us. He was detained, and at first, his family and I did not know where he had been taken. A day later, he called me from a detention center in New Jersey.
The administration’s collective punishment is not limited to Afghan nationals — thus the fear I heard from clients of many nationalities. On Thanksgiving Day, Citizenship and Immigration Services declared that people from Burundi, Chad, Republic of Congo, Cuba, Equatorial Guinea, Eritrea, Haiti, Iran, Laos, Libya, Myanmar, Sierra Leone, Somalia, Sudan, Togo, Turkmenistan, Venezuela and Yemen as well as Afghanistan would face even bigger hurdles in having their cases processed; the government had already aggressively limited or restricted entry of otherwise qualified applicants from these countries. The White House and Citizenship and Immigration Services have likewise announced that all green cards granted to people from these 19 countries will be re-examined. On Tuesday, the administration halted the processing of green cards and naturalization applications from these countries’ citizens.
People from these countries who have lawful status are anxious. Will they lose their work permits and their jobs? Will they lose their status and face arrest, detention or deportation? Will they need to leave their U.S. citizen children behind?
Over the long weekend, President Trump vowed to “permanently pause” migration from “all Third World Countries,” an outdated term that may include most of Africa, Asia and Latin America. The same day, Citizenship and Immigration Services announced an indefinite halt on all asylum applications; should this halt last, it would constitute a violation of U.S. obligations under the U.N. Refugee Convention and the Refugee Act of 1980. Western nations developed the Refugee Convention in the wake of the horrors of the Holocaust, promising to protect those who faced persecution on account of their race, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in certain groups. The United States enacted the Refugee Act in 1980 to incorporate these protections into domestic law and establish a legal framework for protecting refugees and asylum seekers.
The shooting of the two West Virginia National Guard members last week was heartbreaking. Sarah Beckstrom was only 20 years old when she died on Thanksgiving Day. Andrew Wolfe, only 24 years old, is struggling for his life. In a just world, they would have been home celebrating the holiday with their loved ones.
The man charged in the shootings is Rahmanullah Lakanwal, a 29-year-old from Afghanistan who was granted asylum this April. According to NPR, Mr. Lakanwal had been cited for mental health concerns by a resettlement agency volunteer. He was apparently suffering from trauma related to his work for a paramilitary force that worked with the C.I.A. in Afghanistan. Now his criminal case will make its way through the American legal system.
Seeking accountability against the perpetrator of a crime is how the legal system is supposed to work. Vetting asylum seekers and other immigrants is necessary for the safety of us all. But punishing law-abiding immigrants, children and adults alike, for the violent acts of one man is anathema to our justice system and betrays our nation’s highest ideals.
Elora Mukherjee is a clinical professor of law at Columbia and the director of the immigrants’ rights clinic there.
