Injustice knows no borders. It manifests in different corners of the world, sometimes under different names and guises, but its essence remains unchanged – a blatant disregard for human rights and the use of the legal system as a weapon against dissent.
The recent arrest of Mahmoud Khalil, a 29-year-old Palestinian activist and Columbia University graduate, at the hands of US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents on March 9, 2025, is an alarming testament to this reality. A legal US resident with a green card, Khalil was detained in his university-owned apartment in New York City under the pretext of national security concerns, accused of affiliations with Hamas, a designated terrorist organisation. The Department of Homeland Security justified his arrest with vague allegations, setting into motion a chain of events that immediately mobilised activists, students, and legal experts. A federal judge has since intervened to block his immediate deportation, allowing legal proceedings to unfold. His attorneys argue that ICE has trampled on his constitutional rights, fighting not only for his return to New York but also for his dignity – especially given that his wife is in the advanced stages of pregnancy.
Reading this from India, I am struck by an eerie sense of déjà vu. Mahmoud Khalil’s ordeal mirrors that of Umar Khalid, an Indian activist and scholar, languishing in judicial custody since 2020. The Delhi Police, under the aegis of a government determined to stamp out dissent, accused Khalid of masterminding riots in the capital, alleging that he delivered provocative speeches and coordinated protests against the Citizenship (Amendment) Act (CAA), a piece of legislation widely criticised for its discriminatory nature. Despite multiple bail applications, his continued incarceration underscores a deeper malaise: the weaponisation of anti-terror laws to silence voices of reason. With the case stuck in procedural quagmires and trial yet to commence, Khalid remains trapped in a Kafkaesque limbo, emblematic of India’s decaying judicial process.
The parallels between these two young men extend beyond their quandary and religion. Both Khalil and Khalid are intellectuals – men of thought and action, whose activism stems not from personal gain but from a deep-seated commitment to justice. Both possess an incisive understanding of the systemic failures that plague their nations. Both have dared to speak truth to power, challenging governments that increasingly lean towards authoritarianism. And both, for their defiance, have been caught in the crosshairs of state machinery that conflates dissent with sedition, resistance with terrorism.
But here lies the stark contrast: In the United States, Khalil’s detention prompted immediate and forceful pushback. Students took to the streets. Legal experts dissected the case on prime-time television. Even some right-wing commentators, albeit begrudgingly, acknowledged that his arrest posed grave First Amendment concerns. The judiciary, cognisant of the stakes, intervened swiftly to prevent an egregious miscarriage of justice.
In India, we have grown desensitised. The public outrage that should have erupted over Umar Khalid’s continued incarceration has been reduced to murmurs among activists. The judiciary, which should act as the final safeguard against state excess, has instead allowed procedural delays to snowball into an outright denial of justice.
While courts in the US prioritise expediency when civil liberties are at risk, in India, trials of political dissidents meander through endless adjournments, each hearing a cruel reminder of the state’s power to indefinitely suspend one’s freedom without proving guilt.
This contrast is not accidental. It is the product of a decade-long, insidious effort to normalise repression in India. Since 2014, the Indian government has fostered a climate of fear, wherein dissenting voices are systematically targeted while right-wing extremists operate with impunity. Trump’s America has Musk, Bezos, and Zuckerberg as its oligarchic overlords; Modi’s India has Adani and Ambani, crony capitalists who profit from a symbiotic relationship with the state. This global alignment of right-wing regimes—imperialist in essence, capitalist in economic orientation, and majoritarian in ideology—ensures that justice remains an expendable commodity, traded away for power and control.
A government that repeatedly fails its people will eventually be failed by the system itself. Regimes built on the suppression of civil liberties do not endure; they collapse under the weight of their own contradictions. The moment a single citizen – whether it be Umar Khalid in India or Mahmoud Khalil in the US – is denied justice, the very foundation of democracy is shaken. It is up to the citizens, then, to rise. To reclaim their voices. To remind those in power that their mandate is not absolute, but contingent on the will of the people. The collapse of democracy does not happen overnight – it begins in moments like these, when we choose silence over action, complacency over outrage.
A healthy democracy thrives on three fundamental pillars: cultural vibrancy, social inclusivity, and political accountability. India’s decline on all three fronts is evident. The communal and casteist narratives promoted by the ruling upper caste and class elite have eroded the country’s secular fabric, once a bedrock of our national identity. The consequence? Stagnant economic growth, and an erosion of our credibility as a democratic nation. The dominant electorate in India, by perpetuating the status quo, must recognize that their very choices are accelerating the erosion of their own future and jeopardising the aspirations of generations to come. India’s promise of superpower status, once projected for 2020 in 2008, has since 2014 been covertly postponed to 2047 – a deadline that, under the current trajectory, seems destined for perpetual extension.
Himanshu Sharma is a doctor at one of India’s premier medical institutions.
