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    I am a Palestinian political prisoner in Louisiana. I am being targeted for my activism | Mahmoud Khalil

    My name is Mahmoud Khalil and I am a political prisoner. I am writing to you from a detention facility in Louisiana where I wake to cold mornings and spend long days bearing witness to the quiet injustices under way against a great many people precluded from the protections of the law.Who has the right to have rights? It is certainly not the humans crowded into the cells here. It isn’t the Senegalese man I met who has been deprived of his liberty for a year, his legal situation in limbo and his family an ocean away. It isn’t the 21-year-old detainee I met who stepped foot in this country at age nine, only to be deported without so much as a hearing.Justice escapes the contours of this nation’s immigration facilities.On March 8, I was taken by DHS [the Department of Homeland Security] agents who refused to provide a warrant, and accosted my wife and me as we returned from dinner. By now, the footage of that night has been made public. Before I knew what was happening, agents handcuffed and forced me into an unmarked car. At that moment, my only concern was for Noor’s safety. I had no idea if she would be taken too, since the agents had threatened to arrest her for not leaving my side. DHS would not tell me anything for hours – I did not know the cause of my arrest or if I was facing immediate deportation. At 26 Federal Plaza, I slept on the cold floor. In the early morning hours, agents transported me to another facility in Elizabeth, New Jersey. There, I slept on the ground and was refused a blanket despite my request.My arrest was a direct consequence of exercising my right to free speech as I advocated for a free Palestine and an end to the genocide in Gaza, which resumed in full force Monday night. With January’s ceasefire now broken, parents in Gaza are once again cradling too-small shrouds, and families are forced to weigh starvation and displacement against bombs. It is our moral imperative to persist in the struggle for their complete freedom.I was born in a Palestinian refugee camp in Syria to a family which has been displaced from their land since the 1948 Nakba. I spent my youth in proximity to yet distant from my homeland. But being Palestinian is an experience that transcends borders. I see in my circumstances similarities to Israel’s use of administrative detention – imprisonment without trial or charge – to strip Palestinians of their rights. I think of our friend Omar Khatib, who was incarcerated without charge or trial by Israel as he returned home from travel. I think of Gaza hospital director and pediatrician Dr Hussam Abu Safiya, who was taken captive by the Israeli military on December 27 and remains in an Israeli torture camp today. For Palestinians, imprisonment without due process is commonplace.I have always believed that my duty is not only to liberate myself from the oppressor, but also to liberate my oppressors from their hatred and fear. My unjust detention is indicative of the anti-Palestinian racism that both the Biden and Trump administrations have demonstrated over the past 16 months as the US has continued to supply Israel with weapons to kill Palestinians and prevented international intervention. For decades, anti-Palestinian racism has driven efforts to expand US laws and practices that are used to violently repress Palestinians, Arab Americans, and other communities. That is precisely why I am being targeted.While I await legal decisions that hold the futures of my wife and child in the balance, those who enabled my targeting remain comfortably at Columbia University. Presidents [Minouche] Shafik, [Katrina] Armstrong, and Dean [Keren] Yarhi-Milo laid the groundwork for the US government to target me by arbitrarily disciplining pro-Palestinian students and allowing viral doxing campaigns – based on racism and disinformation – to go unchecked.Columbia targeted me for my activism, creating a new authoritarian disciplinary office to bypass due process and silence students criticizing Israel. Columbia surrendered to federal pressure by disclosing student records to Congress and yielding to the Trump administration’s latest threats. My arrest, the expulsion or suspension of at least 22 Columbia students – some stripped of their BA degrees just weeks before graduation – and the expulsion of SWC [Student Workers of Columbia] President Grant Miner on the eve of contract negotiations, are clear examples.If anything, my detention is a testament to the strength of the student movement in shifting public opinion toward Palestinian liberation. Students have long been at the forefront of change – leading the charge against the Vietnam war, standing on the frontlines of the civil rights movement, and driving the struggle against apartheid in South Africa. Today, too, even if the public has yet to fully grasp it, it is students who steer us toward truth and justice.The Trump administration is targeting me as part of a broader strategy to suppress dissent. Visa holders, green-card carriers, and citizens alike will all be targeted for their political beliefs. In the weeks ahead, students, advocates, and elected officials must unite to defend the right to protest for Palestine. At stake are not just our voices, but the fundamental civil liberties of all.Knowing fully that this moment transcends my individual circumstances, I hope nonetheless to be free to witness the birth of my first-born child.

    This statement was originally published here More

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    White House calls judge challenging Trump deportation order a ‘Democrat activist’

    The White House on Wednesday labeled the federal judge challenging the Trump administration on whether it defied his court order to halt flights deporting migrants without a hearing “a Democrat activist”.The press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, singled out by name at a White House press briefing federal judge James Boasberg, who weighed the legality of Donald Trump’s deportation of suspected Venezuelan gang members to El Salvador under the Alien Enemies Act, and is now evaluating the government’s compliance.Boasberg had attempted over the weekend to prevent planes carrying the migrants from leaving, and has since demanded from the government details of the aircrafts’ exact itineraries to determine if they complied with his order. That argument is continuing in court, with the administration saying all flights took off before Boasberg’s order, while that is disputed and the judge has demanded a detailed itinerary. On Wednesday he threatened consequences if his order was violated, while giving the administration more time to present evidence.Leavitt said: “The judge in this case is essentially trying to say that the president doesn’t have the executive authority to deport foreign terrorists from our American soil. That is an egregious abuse of the bench. This judge cannot, does not have that authority.”She added: “And it’s very, very clear that this is an activist judge who is trying to usurp the president’s authority under the Alien Enemies Act. The president has this power, and that’s why this deportation campaign has continued, and this judge, Judge Boasberg is a Democrat activist.”Republican president George W Bush appointed Boasberg to the district of Columbia’s superior court, then Democratic president Barack Obama elevated him to the federal court.Boasberg is considered a centrist Democrat and was a roommate of US supreme court justice Brett Kavanaugh, a Trump appointee, while both were studying at Yale University, the New York Times reported, as an aside.Meanwhile, Trump has repeated his declaration that he would not defy a court ruling, even as controversy swirls about whether his administration has already ignored several of them following a spate of negative judgments that threaten to block his governing agenda.Asked by Fox News on Tuesday night if he would ever defy a court ruling, Trump said he would not – but launched an attack on Boasberg, though without naming him.“I never did defy and I wouldn’t in the future, no. You can’t do that,” he said. “However, we have very bad judges, and these are judges that shouldn’t be allowed. I think at a certain point you have to start looking at what do you do when you have a rogue judge.“The judge that we’re talking about is you look at his other rulings … He’s a lunatic.”Trump renewed his assault in a later post on his Truth Social platform: “If a President doesn’t have the right to throw murderers, and other criminals, out of our country because a radical left lunatic judge wants to assume the role of president, then our country is in very big trouble, and destined to fail!”The comments followed a rare rebuke from John Roberts, the conservative-leaning chief justice of the US supreme court, who criticised demands by Trump and his supporters, including his wealthiest backer, Elon Musk, that Boasberg be impeached.Fears over the administration’s readiness to defy the courts – widely seen as the only obstacle to Trump’s rampant agenda in the absence of meaningful resistance from a Republican-ruled Congress – seemed likely to intensify after high-profile negative rulings on Tuesday.In one, a US district court judge, Theodore Chuang, ruled that Musk and his “department of government efficiency” (Doge) unit had violated the constitution in “multiple ways” in attempting to dismantle USAid.A separate ruling barred the Pentagon from enforcing Trump’s order banning transgender people from serving in the military, saying it was “soaked in animus”.Another order on Wednesday by Judge Jesse Furman rebuffed the administration’s effort to dismiss an attempt by Mahmoud Khalil, a Palestinian activist, to fight a deportation order and said the case must be heard in New Jersey, rather than Louisiana, where he is now detained.skip past newsletter promotionafter newsletter promotionIn yet another case, the government has been forced to rehire more than 7,000 workers at the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) who had not finished their probationary period after they were sent unsigned letters telling them they were being fired for poor work performances.The letters were sent despite an IRS lawyer warning officials that they contained “false statements” that amounted to “fraud”, ProPublica reported.Trump’s insistence that he would obey the courts is at odds with previous statements from the vice-president, JD Vance, who has suggested he should defy them.In a 2021 interview with Politico, Vance said Trump – if he were re-elected – should “fire every single midlevel bureaucrat, [and] every civil servant in the administrative state … and when the courts stop you, stand before the country like Andrew Jackson did and say: ‘The chief justice has made his ruling. Now let him enforce it.’”The statement attributed to Jackson, president from 1829 to 1837, is widely believed to be apocryphal.Vance reiterated the sentiment in a social media post in February of this year following an earlier injunction against Doge.“If a judge tried to tell a general how to conduct a military operation, that would be illegal,” he wrote. “If a judge tried to command the attorney general in how to use her discretion as a prosecutor, that’s also illegal. Judges aren’t allowed to control the executive’s legitimate power.”Legal commentators have warned that a president openly ignoring court orders could portend a slide into dictatorship.Michael Luttig, a former federal judge, told NBC that Trump had already “declared war on the rule of law”.“In the past few weeks, the president himself has led a full frontal assault on the constitutional rule of law, the federal judiciary, the American justice system and the nation’s legal profession,” Luttig said. “America is in a constitutional crisis.” More

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    Justice department removes disability guidelines for US businesses

    The Department of Justice removed 11 guidelines for US businesses on compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), including some that deal with Covid-19 and masking and accessibility.The ADA was signed into law in 1990 and is the key civil rights law that protects Americans with disabilities from discrimination.Updates have already been made to the ADA.gov website to reflect the removal of the guidances. Multiple pages were removed from the ADA’s archive website, including one page that explained how retail businesses are required to have accessible features and another on customer service practices for hotel and lodging guests with disabilities.In a webpage titled “Covid-19 and the Americans with Disabilities Act”, the justice department removed five out of seven questions that were listed on the page as recently as recently as early March.The removed guidances include questions about whether the justice department issues exemptions for mask requirements and resources to help explain an employee with a disability’s rights to an employer during the Covid-19 pandemic.In a press release, the justice department called the guidance “unnecessary and outdated”.“Avoiding confusion and reducing the time spent understanding compliance may allow businesses to deliver price relief to consumers,” the press release said.The justice department said it will highlight tax incentives that will help businesses cover the costs of making accessibility improvements for customers and employees.The department referred to a 20 January executive order as the reason why it was removing the ADA guidelines.In the executive order, Donald Trump pointed vaguely at government regulation as the reason behind inflation. The White House said the Biden administration “made necessary goods and services scarce through a crushing regulatory burden and radical policies designed to weaken American production”.“Unprecedented regulatory oppression from the Biden administration is estimated to have imposed almost $50,000 in costs on the average American household,” the White House claimed in the executive order.At the time, the order did not specify what regulations the Trump administration would remove but directed agencies to evaluate business regulations.“Putting money back into the pockets of business owners helps everyone by allowing those businesses to pass on cost savings to consumers and bolster the economy,” said the acting US assistant attorney general Mac Warner in a statement.This isn’t the first time Republicans have tried to curb the ADA for the sake of making it easier on businesses. In 2017, Republicans in Congress introduced a bill that would have made it harder for Americans with disabilities to bring lawsuits against businesses and employers. More

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    Musk under fire: inside the 21 March Guardian Weekly

    As the Trump administration continues its full-throttle attack on federal organisations and to shutter venerable American institutions at a dizzying rate, those opposed to how the White House intends to make America great again have found a clear focus for their anger in Elon Musk, the president’s chainsaw-wielder-in-chief.For our big story, Lauren Gambino examines how growing difficulties for Musk have given heart to Democrats as they see his recognition factor and billionaire status as an easy rallying point to rebuild their own battered political fortunes. Donald Trump, sensing the growing backlash against his major donor, joined Musk to showcase a Tesla car on the White House lawn but the iconic electric car is bearing the brunt of protest, as Dara Kerr and Nick Robins-Early report.The catalogue of attacks on Tesla vehicles and dealerships involving graffiti, eggs, faeces, slashed tyres and worse is continuing to rise in the US and Europe. But there is an alternative to violence as Gaby Hinsliff notes, wryly observing that choosing not to buy a brand won’t get anyone arrested but clearly riles Trump and Musk.Get the Guardian Weekly delivered to your home addressFive essential reads in this week’s editionView image in fullscreenSpotlight | On the frontline of the tariff wars Leyland Cecco takes the pulse of Hamilton, Ontario’s steel-making hub, after the Trump administration imposed a 25% levy on imports of Canadian steel and aluminiumEnvironment | Loess regainedThe Loess plateau was the most eroded place on Earth until China took action and reversed decades of damage from grazing and farming, finds Helen DavidsonFeature | A Syrian civil war survivor Ghaith Abdul-Ahad chronicles the life of Mustafa, determined to succeed in the new Syria even with his past as a forced soldier for the Assad regimeOpinion | Trump’s every misstep brings chaosThe honeymoon is over for a president who seems to personify the law of unintended consequences, says Simon TisdallCulture | A painter in her own writeCelia Paul tells Charlotte Higgins about her relationship with Lucian Freud and the struggles of being out of step with the art worldWhat else we’ve been readingThe piece that has stayed with me most over the past week is John Harris’s touching account of the struggles and joys of bringing up his autistic son, James, and the shared love of music that brought them together. I cried on the bus as I read the final paragraphs about the pair’s performance in a school talent show. Clare Horton, assistant editorWith the city of Goma besieged by M23 rebels and Rwandan troops, the government of the Democratic Republic of the Congo turned to foreign mercenaries to bolster their weakened armed forces. Instead of the promised experienced, battle-hardened soldiers, the resulting ‘circus’ saw a humiliation of ill-equipped supermarket guards, truck drivers and ‘very big mistakes’. Neil Willis, production editorOther highlights from the Guardian websiteView image in fullscreen Audio | Israel shatters Gaza ceasefire Video | Can the UK fix its broken prison system? Gallery | Did you catch that? On the boats with Cornish fishersGet in touchWe’d love to hear your thoughts on the magazine: for submissions to our letters page, please email weekly.letters@theguardian.com. For anything else, it’s editorial.feedback@theguardian.comFollow us Facebook InstagramGet the Guardian Weekly magazine delivered to your home address More

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    US Institute of Peace sues Trump administration to block Doge takeover

    The US Institute of Peace and many of its board members have sued the Trump administration, seeking to prevent their removal and stop Elon Musk’s so-called “department of government efficiency”, AKA Doge, from taking over and accessing the independent non-profit’s building and systems.The lawsuit filed late Tuesday in US district court in Washington describes the lengths that institute staff resorted to, including calling the police, in an effort to prevent Doge representatives and others working with the Republican administration from accessing the headquarters near the state department.An executive order last month from Donald Trump targeted the institute and three other agencies for large-scale reductions. The thinktank, which seeks to prevent and resolve conflicts, was created and funded by Congress in 1984. Board members are nominated by the president and must be confirmed by the Senate.Among the board members who filed suit is the former US ambassador to Russia John Sullivan, who was nominated to the ambassadorial role in Trump’s first term and continued to serve as ambassador under Joe Biden before being picked by Biden for the board.The lawsuit accuses the White House of illegal firings by email and said the remaining board members – the defense secretary, Pete Hegseth; the secretary of state, Marco Rubio; and the National Defense University president, Peter Garvin; – also ousted the institute’s president, George Moose.In his place, the three appointed Kenneth Jackson, an administrator with the US Agency for International Development, according to the lawsuit.In a response, government lawyers raised questions about who controlled the institute and whether the non-profit could sue the administration. It also referenced other recent court rulings about how much power the president has to remove the leaders of independent agencies.Doge staff tried multiple times to access the building Monday before successfully getting in, partly with police assistance.The institute’s staff had first called the police around 3pm Monday to report trespassing, according to the lawsuit. But the Metropolitan police department said in a statement that the institute’s acting president – seemingly a reference to Jackson – told them at around 4pm that he was being refused access to the building and there were “unauthorized individuals” inside.“Eventually, all the unauthorized individuals inside of the building complied with the acting USIP President’s request and left the building without further incident,” police said.The lawsuit says the institute’s lawyer told Doge representatives multiple times that the executive branch has no authority over the non-profit.A White House spokesperson, Anna Kelly, said: “Rogue bureaucrats will not be allowed to hold agencies hostage. The Trump administration will enforce the President’s executive authority and ensure his agencies remain accountable to the American people.”The legal action is the latest challenging the Trump administration’s efforts to dismantle US foreign assistance agencies, reduce the size of the federal government and exert control over entities created by Congress.skip past newsletter promotionafter newsletter promotionA federal judge ruled Tuesday that cuts to USAid likely violated the constitution, and blocked Doge staff from making further cuts.To the top Democrats on the foreign affairs committees in Congress – the New York representative Gregory Meeks and the New Hampshire senator Jeanne Shaheen – the “hostile takeover” of the institute was one more sign that Trump and Musk want “to recklessly dismantle historic US institutions piece by piece”.The leaders of two of the other agencies listed in Trump’s February executive order – the Inter-American Foundation, which invests in businesses in Latin America and the Caribbean, and the US African Development Foundation – also have sued the administration to undo or pause the removal of most of their staff and cancellation of most of their contracts.A federal judge ruled last week that it would be legal to remove most contracts and staff from the US-Africa agency, which invested millions of dollars in African small businesses.But the judge also ordered the government to prepare Doge staff to explain which steps they were taking to maintain the agency at “the minimum presence and function required by law”. More

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    Local food for schools helps farmers and kids. So why is Trump cutting funding?

    “If you happened to smell hickory smoke in the city this week, we were probably to blame,” the North Little Rock school district’s child nutrition program shared in a 30 January Facebook post featuring a picture of the day’s lunch.The locally sourced menu included school-smoked chopped beef, pulled pork, fresh apples and coleslaw. This isn’t standard cafeteria fare, but funds from the US government helped kids in this Arkansas town get fresh, nourishing foods produced by farmers and ranchers in their own community.Menus like this might be a thing of the past come next school year. On 7 March, the US Department of Agriculture (USDA) notified states of the withdrawal of $1bn in taxpayer dollars that states used to contract with local producers, effectively ending these and other innovative programs. School districts like that of North Little Rock were counting on these funds to plan menus for the next school year. Now, with just five months to go, the funding has been abruptly rescinded.As someone who has spent my entire career working in school food and now serves as the senior director of programs and policy for the National Farm to School Network, I know the best way to ensure that American children receive a nourishing school lunch every day is to expand federal support for community-based food producers.I know first-hand the impact of investing in local food for schools. Living in Arkansas with my two little girls – who attend public school and participate in the school meal program – I see how vital these programs are for the health and wellbeing of our kids, economy and communities. Thanks to the growth of the farm-to-school movement, the North Little Rock lunch-tray experience is becoming more and more common across the country.While I faced empty shelves at my local Kroger early in the pandemic, supply-chain shortages affected school cafeterias in unimaginable ways. Meeting nutrition regulations became nearly impossible as basic staples like fresh produce and milk suddenly became unavailable, leaving school nutrition professionals scrambling to provide balanced meals. Food insecurity surged as communities relied more heavily on school meals, yet the systems in place to meet that need were breaking down. In response to these unprecedented challenges, schools across the country began to turn to local sources for food like never before – partnering directly with farmers to keep meals coming and meet community needs.The food supply chain has still not fully recovered from the disruptive effects of the pandemic, and growing challenges such as bird flu and labor uncertainties exacerbate the problem. Schools and the communities they serve want to serve good, locally grown and prepared food, but taking the programs from activities like an occasional taste-test of apples from a nearby orchard to a full transformation of menus away from ultra-processed foods and big food manufacturers is going to require more support. It’s going to require investments like the Local Food for Schools Program.In 2021, an incredibly effective solution arose to both feed schoolchildren well and support (mostly rural) American farmers: the Commodity Credit Corporation’s Local Food for Schools Program. That initial $200m investment went directly through states and into local farms across the country specifically for school meals. The next round of $660m was intended to expand to include early childcare programs.The program was successful, an investment of our tax dollars right back into our communities. US farmers typically earn 15.9 cents for every dollar spent on food. But when schools purchase directly from farmers, 100% of every dollar goes to farmers. And now a program that provided critical support has been canceled in the name of government efficiency.John Wahrmund, a friend of mine and third-generation beef farmer in rural Arkansas, benefited from the Local Food for Schools Program. Selling to schools became a new and vital market for his farm. To meet demand, Wahrmund invested tens of thousands of dollars in processing and refrigeration equipment to ensure his high-quality, grass-fed beef fit the strict regulations for selling to schools.View image in fullscreenNow those sales will end. Without the kickstart these funds provide, cash-strapped schools are forced to go back to the cheapest products because local farmers are easily undercut by multinational food companies. When I called Wahrmund to ask how he was holding up, he told me: “[The Local Food for Schools Program] is everything for my sales. Without this, it will literally shut me down. I have focused solely on schools.”He has been driving across Arkansas, not just the North Little Rock school district but from Fayetteville to Hope, to get his beef into school cafeterias. “It will be over – not just with me, but with all the farmers trying to serve the school lunch program. Not just beef [producers], rice, vegetables, all of it.”The National School Lunch Program has always been tied to the fate of farmers in our country. Of the National School Lunch Act of 1946, which created the program, then president Harry Truman said: “In the long view, no nation is any healthier than its children or more prosperous than its farmers; and in the National School Lunch Act, the Congress has contributed immeasurably both to the welfare of our farmers and the health of our children.”At a 23 January nomination hearing to Congress, Brooke Rollins, who is now the secretary of the Department of Agriculture, stated that she aimed to support rural communities, bolster domestic markets and ensure that nutrition programs are efficient. Just last week, she and the secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, Robert F Kennedy Jr, moved forward with “Make America healthy again” (Maha) commitments to “create and implement policies that promote healthy choices, healthy families and healthy outcomes”.The Local Food for Schools program was exactly that kind of policy. It was more than just fresh thinking. It was a proven, common-sense investment that gave farmers and school nutrition programs a vital boost.March is when farmers plan their next growing season, and when school food professionals set their menus. Now, without this funding, farmers like Wahrmund may go out of business, and school food programs – already operating on razor-thin margins of an average of $1.40 per tray – will struggle to provide nourishing meals to students who rely on them every day. Arkansas, the most food-insecure state in the nation, stood to receive over $8m of the funds. With working families already struggling with rising food costs, eliminating this support is not just shortsighted – it’s harmful.This funding wasn’t government inefficiency or a liberal scheme; it was an investment in our children’s health, our farmers’ livelihoods and the resilience of our communities. Rolling back this support isn’t just a mistake; it betrays every principle of public health and supporting farmers, America’s first entrepreneurs and essential workers. As Rollins said to Fox News this week: “If we are making mistakes, we will own those mistakes and we will reconfigure.” Rollins herself has identified “creat[ing] new opportunities to connect America’s farmers to nutrition assistance programs” in her vision for the agriculture department.The USDA continues to assess its programs and funding. It must correct course and reinstate this vital funding, but it must do so immediately. Speaking on behalf of 20,000-plus National Farm to School Network members from across the US, I ask Rollins to restore this robust local foods market program and transform school food so that meals like that North Little Rock lunch can become the norm. More

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    ‘I could be next’: international students at Columbia University feel ‘targeted’ after Mahmoud Khalil’s arrest

    It was 4am and a Columbia University master’s student two months away from graduation lay awake in bed. His heart thumped so hard, his chest began to hurt. His hands got colder and colder; he was unable to speak. This had become an agonizing nightly routine for the 24-year-old from India since 8 March, when immigration officials handcuffed the Columbia graduate Mahmoud Khalil and took him into detention in Louisiana.“What scares me the most is that I would be fast asleep at home and I would hear a bang on my door and I’d be taken away in the middle of the night by Ice and nobody will ever know what happened to me,” said the student, who attended multiple protests to support Palestine around New York City. “It feels as if people are getting targeted for just speaking up for their political views last year.”Khalil was an organizer at Columbia’s Gaza Solidarity Encampment, part of a diverse community that ate, danced, prayed and protested together, demanding the university divest from corporations linked to Israel as violence in Gaza escalated.The federal immigration officers who arrested Khalil gained entry into the Columbia-owned building where he lived and told him his green card, which grants him permanent residence in the US, had been revoked. The Department of Homeland Security accused him of leading “activities aligned to Hamas, a designated terrorist organization” and is attempting to deport him, but has not alleged he committed any crimes. His lawyers are challenging his detention and potential deportation, and said agents did not provide an arrest warrant. Khalil’s arrest came after Donald Trump vowed to deport student visa holders who participated in pro-Palestinian protests, a move legal experts have called a flagrant violation of free speech.Now, Columbia students who are not US citizens, some who have vocally supported Palestinian rights, told the Guardian they feel they must be careful who they speak to and censor what they say. They fear being questioned by Ice agents, having their visas revoked or being arrested and detained. Some feel like they are being watched while walking around Morningside Heights and on campus, while others are reluctant to visit family or friends overseas in case they are not permitted back in the country.View image in fullscreen“When I leave my apartment, when I go out, I’m just so much more aware and cautious of who’s around me,” said Seher Ahmed, a psychology master’s student from Pakistan. “I went for a run this morning, and I’ve never felt this way before, but I felt like everyone was, like, looking at me.”Another student who arrived at Columbia in August last year to study journalism had been inspired by student reporters’ coverage of campus protests. She photographed a vigil where journalism school students recited names of the more than 100 Palestinian and Lebanese journalists killed in Gaza. For a reporting class, the 21-year-old wrote about an anti-Trump rally on election night that called for an end to the Israel-Gaza war. She posted her work and discussed related issues on Instagram and X.But just days away from applying for a year-long work visa that would follow her expected graduation this May, she stopped posting her opinions and made her accounts private. She is reconsidering attending a friend’s wedding overseas in case she is not allowed back in the country. “I feel like I’m being paranoid, but I’m really scared,” she said.Ahmed, who attended women’s rights marches in Pakistan from the age of 15 with her mother, began an art piece after Khalil’s arrest: a meditation on the Urdu translation of the word freedom, with blue ink pen swept across white canvas. “I come from a Muslim country, so did he. I believe in the same things he does, freedom and basic human rights and just standing up for a place that needs our voice right now,” said Ahmed. Her paralyzing fear is rooted in the idea that the US government will misconstrue those values as “pro-Hamas” and revoke her student visa.“We’re not terrorists, or, like, supporting terrorists. We’re trying to prevent a genocide from happening,” said Ahmed.Imam, a graduate student, went to the encampment – once with his professor – to join protests, listen to speakers including journalist Motaz Azaiza and Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and attend Friday prayers. The 30-year-old has been attending classes over Zoom or skipping them altogether: he feels he “could be next” on Ice’s list, without having any knowledge of what he has done wrong. Two months away from graduation, he is conflicted about attending more protests, which have continued on and off campus in support of Khalil and Palestine. “I want to do something, I feel so hopeless,” he said. “But also everything I do is going to cost me a bigger risk.”On 11 March, three days after Ice arrested Khalil, Ranjani Srinivasan, a Columbia PhD student from India who participated in campus protests, “self-deported” after her student visa had been revoked, DHS said. On 13 March, DHS presented warrants and searched two students’ dorm rooms on campus. In Newark, immigration agents arrested Leqaa Kordia, a Palestinian from the West Bank, after saying her student visa had expired.That federal agents can target a student or recent graduate without charge is a chilling reminder of the oppressive environments that some international students left behind. For a 22-year-old master’s student from Russia who lives in university housing, Khalil’s arrest brought back memories of police knocking on doors to draft male citizens at the start of the Russia-Ukraine war. She said the spirit of the university had changed; now it feels like “the police state is coming after you”.“Your home should be your safe space. But ever since the arrest, anytime I hear footsteps at night in the Columbia housing – the walls are super thin so you hear everything – I’m always like, ‘Who is that? Who is that?’” she said.This week, Yale Law School professors warned international students about an impending Trump travel ban, saying they should avoid leaving the US or return immediately to the US if abroad. Brown issued a similar warning to its international students.“People look at the global north thinking they have things so much better. There are better laws to protect your rights,” said Thien Miru, a post-graduate student from Indonesia. Now there is overwhelming concern that if a green card holder can be detained, a student visa holder has little protection.The Trump administration is intent on bringing Columbia to heel: last week it sent a letter to the university demanding measures such as a mask ban, winding down the Middle Eastern, South Asian and African studies department and empowering campus law enforcement in exchange for any of the $400m federal funding it had clawed back after “inaction in the face of persistent harassment of Jewish students”, according to the administration.View image in fullscreenIn several emails to students and faculty, Columbia’s interim president, Katrina Armstrong, emphasized the need to “stand together”. “Our university is defined by the principles of academic freedom, open inquiry, and respect for all,” she wrote. One email linked to a public safety webpage outlining protocols for potential Ice campus visits. But some students interpreted this to mean they were responsible for dealing with immigration officials alone. Columbia did not respond to the Guardian’s request for comment.While studying for her two-year degree in social work, Miru, 35, learned about advocating for those who need help. She said the university needs to “go the extra mile” by mediating with those in power to protect its students’ rights.“I’ve heard a lot of people at Columbia say that this is our community, so what are you going to do if your community is experiencing something like this?” said Miru. “I am expecting something more than just sending us super-long emails. Prove to us that we are part of your community.”On 14 March, Khalil’s lawyers released a video of him being taken away from his wife, Noor Abdalla, a US citizen who is eight months pregnant, by plainclothes immigration officers. “As a woman I feel it’s so hard for her to think about raising your child without support from your partner,” said Miru, a mother of two girls. “If they deport her husband, family separation is not a good idea, so I’ve been thinking a lot about this little family. I’m speechless.”Miru made the difficult decision to leave her daughters with her parents in Indonesia to get her degree, after her father gave her books about the US and talked for years about the high quality of education while she was growing up. “I also got accepted to some universities in Australia, but since Columbia also accepted me, I thought let’s aim for the highest, let’s aim for the stars,” said Miru. Her hope was to bring her daughters to the US so they could also study there. Now, she’s questioning whether she should give up on her aspirations and move back home.

    Some names have been withheld for sources’ safety.
    Jazzmin Jiwa is an international journalist and documentary maker currently based in New York City. Reporting contributed by Duaa Shah, a student at Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. More

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    I’m the Canadian who was detained by Ice for two weeks. It felt like I had been kidnapped

    There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer.I grew up in Whitehorse, Yukon, a small town in the northernmost part of Canada. I always knew I wanted to do something bigger with my life. I left home early and moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, where I built a career spanning multiple industries – acting in film and television, owning bars and restaurants, flipping condos and managing Airbnbs.In my 30s, I found my true passion working in the health and wellness industry. I was given the opportunity to help launch an American brand of health tonics called Holy! Water – a job that would involve moving to the US.I was granted my trade Nafta work visa, which allows Canadian and Mexican citizens to work in the US in specific professional occupations, on my second attempt. It goes without saying, then, that I have no criminal record. I also love the US and consider myself to be a kind, hard-working person.I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues.After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply.I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand.I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it.Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.”I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal!She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me.“Come with me,” he said.There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process.They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces.“What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked.“You are being detained.”“I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?”“I don’t know.”That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.”They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me.“Take everything with me where?” I asked.A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account.I gave them her phone number.They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil.“What is this?”“Your blanket.”“I don’t understand.”I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me.View image in fullscreenFor two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long.On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact.They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless.I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave.No answer.Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center.View image in fullscreenI was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information.“How long will I be here?”“I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.”Months.I felt like I was going to throw up.I was taken to the nurse’s office for a medical check. She asked what had happened to me. She had never seen a Canadian there before. When I told her my story, she grabbed my hand and said: “Do you believe in God?”I told her I had only recently found God, but that I now believed in God more than anything.“I believe God brought you here for a reason,” she said. “I know it feels like your life is in a million pieces, but you will be OK. Through this, I think you are going to find a way to help others.”At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. She asked if she could pray for me. I held her hands and wept.I felt like I had been sent an angel.I was then placed in a real jail unit – two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet.The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort.For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink.Eventually, I forced myself to step out, meet the guards and learn the rules. One of them told me: “No fighting.”“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” I joked. He laughed.I asked if there had ever been a fight here.“In this unit? No,” he said. “No one in this unit has a criminal record.”That’s when I started meeting the other women.That’s when I started hearing their stories.View image in fullscreenAnd that’s when I made a decision: I would never allow myself to feel sorry for my situation again. No matter how hard this was, I had to be grateful. Because every woman I met was in an even more difficult position than mine.There were around 140 of us in our unit. Many women had lived and worked in the US legally for years but had overstayed their visas – often after reapplying and being denied. They had all been detained without warning.If someone is a criminal, I agree they should be taken off the streets. But not one of these women had a criminal record. These women acknowledged that they shouldn’t have overstayed and took responsibility for their actions. But their frustration wasn’t about being held accountable; it was about the endless, bureaucratic limbo they had been trapped in.The real issue was how long it took to get out of the system, with no clear answers, no timeline and no way to move forward. Once deported, many have no choice but to abandon everything they own because the cost of shipping their belongings back is too high.I met a woman who had been on a road trip with her husband. She said they had 10-year work visas. While driving near the San Diego border, they mistakenly got into a lane leading to Mexico. They stopped and told the agent they didn’t have their passports on them, expecting to be redirected. Instead, they were detained. They are both pastors.I met a family of three who had been living in the US for 11 years with work authorizations. They paid taxes and were waiting for their green cards. Every year, the mother had to undergo a background check, but this time, she was told to bring her whole family. When they arrived, they were taken into custody and told their status would now be processed from within the detention center.Another woman from Canada had been living in the US with her husband who was detained after a traffic stop. She admitted she had overstayed her visa and accepted that she would be deported. But she had been stuck in the system for almost six weeks because she hadn’t had her passport. Who runs casual errands with their passport?One woman had a 10-year visa. When it expired, she moved back to her home country, Venezuela. She admitted she had overstayed by one month before leaving. Later, she returned for a vacation and entered the US without issue. But when she took a domestic flight from Miami to Los Angeles, she was picked up by Ice and detained. She couldn’t be deported because Venezuela wasn’t accepting deportees. She didn’t know when she was getting out.There was a girl from India who had overstayed her student visa for three days before heading back home. She then came back to the US on a new, valid visa to finish her master’s degree and was handed over to Ice due to the three days she had overstayed on her previous visa.There were women who had been picked up off the street, from outside their workplaces, from their homes. All of these women told me that they had been detained for time spans ranging from a few weeks to 10 months. One woman’s daughter was outside the detention center protesting for her release.That night, the pastor invited me to a service she was holding. A girl who spoke English translated for me as the women took turns sharing their prayers – prayers for their sick parents, for the children they hadn’t seen in weeks, for the loved ones they had been torn away from.Then, unexpectedly, they asked if they could pray for me. I was new here, and they wanted to welcome me. They formed a circle around me, took my hands and prayed. I had never felt so much love, energy and compassion from a group of strangers in my life. Everyone was crying.At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell.“Pack your bag. You’re leaving.”I jolted upright. “I get to go home?”The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.”Of course. No one ever knew anything.I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”.For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching.I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best.Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle.When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting.We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks.The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget.We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating.The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.”There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons.I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you.Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7.Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out.I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it.He responded.Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media.She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call.We were all in this together.With nothing to do in my cell but talk, I made new friends – women who had risked everything for the chance at a better life for themselves and their families.Through them, I learned the harsh reality of seeking asylum. Showing me their physical scars, they explained how they had paid smugglers anywhere from $20,000 to $60,000 to reach the US border, enduring brutal jungles and horrendous conditions.One woman had been offered asylum in Mexico within two weeks but had been encouraged to keep going to the US. Now, she was stuck, living in a nightmare, separated from her young children for months. She sobbed, telling me how she felt like the worst mother in the world.Many of these women were highly educated and spoke multiple languages. Yet, they had been advised to pretend they didn’t speak English because it would supposedly increase their chances of asylum.Some believed they were being used as examples, as warnings to others not to try to come.Women were starting to panic in this new facility, and knowing I was most likely the first person to get out, they wrote letters and messages for me to send to their families.It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity.We were from different countries, spoke different languages and practiced different religions. Yet, in this place, none of that mattered. Everyone took care of each other. Everyone shared food. Everyone held each other when someone broke down. Everyone fought to keep each other’s hope alive.I got a message from Britt. My story had started to blow up in the media.Almost immediately after, I was told I was being released.My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home.From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case.To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks.Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there.A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2 am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains.To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks.I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on.“Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.”“Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.”I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.”When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion.It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out.The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit.Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts.The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense.This is not just my story. It is the story of thousands and thousands of people still trapped in a system that profits from their suffering. I am writing in the hope that someone out there – someone with the power to change any of this – can help do something.The strength I witnessed in those women, the love they gave despite their suffering, is what gives me faith. Faith that no matter how flawed the system, how cruel the circumstances, humanity will always shine through.Even in the darkest places, within the most broken systems, humanity persists. Sometimes, it reveals itself in the smallest, most unexpected acts of kindness: a shared meal, a whispered prayer, a hand reaching out in the dark. We are defined by the love we extend, the courage we summon and the truths we are willing to tell. More