The Brutal Price of Protest: A Kurdish Filmmaker’s Harrowing Tale of ICE Force-Feeding
There’s a chilling irony in the story of Gabar Choli, a Kurdish filmmaker and activist, whose ordeal in U.S. immigration detention under the Trump administration reads like a dystopian novel. But this isn’t fiction—it’s a stark reminder of the lengths to which systems will go to silence dissent, even when it means breaking a person’s body and spirit. Choli’s account of being force-fed for nearly eight months while on a hunger strike is not just a tale of personal suffering; it’s a mirror held up to a society that claims to value human rights while systematically violating them.
The Hunger Strike as a Last Resort
Choli’s hunger strike began as a desperate act of protest against the inhumane conditions in immigration detention and the stagnation of his asylum case. What’s striking here is the sheer desperation that drives someone to starve themselves as a form of resistance. Personally, I think this speaks volumes about the failure of the system. When a hunger strike becomes the only option left, it’s a damning indictment of the institutions meant to protect and serve. Choli’s strike wasn’t just about his own plight; it was a cry for justice for all detainees. Yet, instead of addressing his grievances, the system responded with brutality.
Force-Feeding: Torture by Another Name
The process of force-feeding Choli—involving guards wrestling him to the ground, shackling him, and inserting a tube through his nose—is nothing short of torture. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the U.S. government, which has historically condemned such practices in other countries, justifies it as a ‘medical intervention.’ In my opinion, this is a grotesque misuse of medical authority. The fact that doctors and nurses were complicit in this process raises deeper questions about the ethics of the medical profession when it colludes with state violence. One thing that immediately stands out is the dehumanization inherent in this practice. Choli wasn’t just being fed; he was being broken.
The Legal Charade
The legal proceedings surrounding Choli’s force-feeding are a masterclass in bureaucratic indifference. Federal judges routinely approved ICE’s requests without hearing from Choli or providing him with legal representation. This raises a deeper question: How can a system claim to uphold justice when it denies the very basics of due process? What many people don’t realize is that immigration detention is a civil matter, not a criminal one. Yet, the treatment of detainees like Choli often mirrors—or even surpasses—the brutality of criminal incarceration. The courts, instead of being a check on this abuse, became enablers.
The Broader Implications
Choli’s story isn’t an isolated incident. It’s part of a broader pattern of abuse within the U.S. immigration system, particularly under the Trump administration. The fact that ICE sought court orders to force-feed at least 18 hunger strikers between 2025 and 2026 suggests a systemic effort to suppress dissent. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a chilling reflection of how authoritarian tendencies can manifest in a democracy. The use of medical procedures as a tool of control is a tactic often associated with repressive regimes, yet here it is, happening in the United States.
The Human Cost
What this really suggests is that the cost of standing up for what’s right can be devastating. Choli’s physical and mental health were irreparably damaged. He lost his kidneys, gallbladder, and part of his intestines. His bladder is damaged, and he still struggles to eat. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Choli’s activism, which was driven by a desire for justice, ended up costing him his own well-being. It’s a tragic irony that someone fighting for humane treatment was subjected to such inhumanity.
The Role of Private Prisons
Another layer to this story is the involvement of private prison companies like Akima Global Services. The fact that guards employed by a for-profit entity were the ones physically restraining and abusing Choli highlights the perverse incentives of privatization. When detention centers are run for profit, there’s little incentive to treat detainees with dignity. This raises a broader question about the ethics of privatizing essential government functions, especially when human lives are at stake.
A System Designed to Break People
Choli’s experience is a stark reminder that the U.S. immigration system is designed to break people—physically, mentally, and emotionally. The force-feeding wasn’t just about keeping him alive; it was about crushing his spirit and deterring others from following in his footsteps. What this really suggests is that the system views detainees not as human beings with rights, but as problems to be managed or eliminated. This dehumanization is what allows such abuses to continue unchecked.
The Need for Accountability
One of the most frustrating aspects of Choli’s story is the lack of accountability. The Trump administration never officially acknowledged force-feeding, and the doctors and judges involved have faced no consequences. This impunity sends a dangerous message: that those in power can violate human rights with impunity. In my opinion, meaningful reform requires not just policy changes but a cultural shift in how we view immigrants and detainees. Until then, stories like Choli’s will keep repeating.
A Call to Action
Choli’s decision to speak out, despite the immense personal cost, is an act of courage. He hopes his story will help others in detention, and it should also serve as a wake-up call to the public. The question is: Will we listen? Will we demand accountability and systemic change, or will we turn a blind eye to the suffering happening in our own backyard? Personally, I think the choice is clear. Ignoring this isn’t just a failure of empathy; it’s a failure of our collective humanity.
Final Thoughts
Choli’s story is a haunting reminder of the fragility of human rights and the resilience of the human spirit. It’s a call to action, a demand for justice, and a testament to the power of resistance. But it’s also a warning: If we allow such abuses to continue, we’re not just failing the Gabar Cholis of the world—we’re failing ourselves. The price of silence is too high, and the time for change is now.
