The Dark Side of Detention: When Protest Meets Punishment
There’s a chilling story unfolding in the shadows of the U.S. immigration system, one that forces us to confront the uncomfortable intersection of human rights and state power. Gabar Choli, a Kurdish filmmaker and activist, recently shared his harrowing experience of being force-fed for eight months while on a hunger strike in ICE detention. His story isn’t just about physical suffering—it’s a stark reminder of how systems designed to enforce order can become instruments of psychological warfare.
The Act of Defiance and Its Consequences
Choli’s hunger strike was an act of protest—a last resort to draw attention to the inhumane conditions he faced and to push for a resolution to his immigration case. Hunger strikes have long been a tool of the powerless, a way to reclaim agency when all other avenues are closed. But what happens when the state responds not with dialogue, but with force? In Choli’s case, it meant being restrained, having a feeding tube shoved down his nose twice a day, and enduring injuries that left him choking on his own blood.
Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating—and deeply troubling—is the way ICE framed its actions as ‘medical care.’ According to court records, force-feeding was justified as a necessary intervention to prevent ‘imminent life-threatening harm.’ But let’s be clear: this wasn’t about saving a life; it was about breaking a spirit. The fact that Choli was denied legal representation and isolated after each session underscores the punitive nature of the treatment. It raises a deeper question: When does medical intervention become a form of control? And who gets to decide?
The Broader Pattern: Force-Feeding as Policy
Choli’s case isn’t an isolated incident. A Guardian investigation revealed that ICE obtained court orders to force-feed at least 18 hunger strikers between 2025 and 2026. This isn’t just a few rogue agents acting on their own—it’s a systemic response to dissent. What many people don’t realize is that force-feeding has been condemned as torture by international human rights groups, including the World Medical Association. Yet, here it is, sanctioned by U.S. courts and carried out under the guise of ‘ensuring safety.’
From my perspective, this pattern reflects a broader trend in immigration enforcement: the criminalization of protest. Hunger strikes are often the only tool detainees have to challenge their treatment, but by medicalizing the response, ICE effectively silences dissent. It’s a clever tactic—one that shifts the narrative from ‘state-sanctioned violence’ to ‘necessary medical intervention.’ But if you take a step back and think about it, it’s also a dangerous precedent. If protesting conditions can lead to forced medical procedures, what’s next?
The Psychological Toll: Breaking the Human Spirit
One thing that immediately stands out in Choli’s account is the psychological impact of force-feeding. ‘It just broke me, mentally broke me,’ he said, going so far as to write an apology letter to his own body. This isn’t just about physical pain; it’s about the erosion of dignity and autonomy. What this really suggests is that the goal wasn’t to keep Choli alive—it was to make him submit.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how ICE justified its actions by claiming Choli was trying to ‘manipulate the immigration system.’ But isn’t that the point of protest? To disrupt the status quo and demand change? The fact that a hunger strike is seen as manipulation rather than a legitimate form of resistance speaks volumes about the power dynamics at play. It’s a reminder that, in systems like these, the individual’s voice is always secondary to the institution’s control.
The Hidden Implications: A Culture of Secrecy
Much of what happens in ICE detention centers remains hidden from public view, and Choli’s case is no exception. Many of his court records are sealed, making it difficult to fully corroborate his account. This culture of secrecy is deliberate—it allows abuses to continue unchecked. In my opinion, this lack of transparency isn’t just a bureaucratic issue; it’s a moral one. When the public can’t see what’s happening, accountability becomes impossible.
What’s even more concerning is how this secrecy intersects with political agendas. Choli was arrested shortly after Donald Trump’s return to the White House, a period marked by a hardening of immigration policies. It’s hard not to speculate whether his treatment was part of a broader strategy to deter dissent. If that’s the case, it’s a chilling reminder of how quickly systems can be weaponized against those they’re meant to protect.
Final Thoughts: The Cost of Silence
Choli’s story is a wake-up call—a stark reminder of the human cost of policies that prioritize control over compassion. It forces us to ask uncomfortable questions: Are we comfortable with a system that treats protest as a threat to be neutralized? What does it say about us if we allow such practices to continue in our name?
Personally, I think the most disturbing aspect of this story isn’t the force-feeding itself, but the silence that surrounds it. How many more Gabar Cholis are out there, enduring similar treatment in the name of ‘security’? And how long will we remain complicit by looking the other way? If there’s one takeaway from this, it’s that silence isn’t neutrality—it’s consent. And in cases like these, that’s a price we can’t afford to pay.
