One Man’s Crime, A Community’s Fear: Afghan Diaspora on Edge After Trump Remarks

ADN 

The recent shooting of two U.S. National Guard soldiers near the White House has sent shockwaves across the Afghan diaspora – whether in North America or Europe. Although Afghans globally unanimously condemned the attack, the political fallout became far broader than the act itself. 

When U.S. President Donald Trump stated that all Afghans evacuated to the United States during the Biden administration would have their cases reexamined, Afghan families living in fragile legal circumstances suddenly saw their futures cast into doubt.

The Department of Homeland Security later identified the attacker as Rahmanullah Lakhanwal, an Afghan evacuee and former member of the CIA-backed Zero Units, specifically Kandahar’s Unit 03 – known locally as the “Gazhdum (scorpion)” force. These elite squads were trained, armed, and overseen by U.S. intelligence agencies for counterterrorism operations prior to the 2021 collapse of the Afghan government.

While the details of the case are still unfolding, one fact is clear: the Afghan diaspora is paying the price for the actions of one individual.

Diaspora Condemnation and Rising Anxiety

Across the United States, Canada, Germany, Austria, the UK, and Scandinavia, Afghan communities responded swiftly and forcefully: the attack was condemned as an individual criminal act, not reflective of a nation.

Afghan commentator Wreez Ahmadzai summarized the sentiment:

“Crime is an individual act. Afghans have been more victimized by violence than any other nation. Responsibility must be determined through legal procedures – not collective blame.”

This view was echoed at the international level. TheUN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in Afghanistan, Richard Bennett,wrote on X:

“I agree that the perpetrator should face accountability, but the entire Afghan community must not be punished due to the actions of one individual. That would be terribly unjust and complete nonsense. Cool heads must prevail.” 

But despite this unified condemnation, Trump’s comments triggered a wave of fear. Tens of thousands of evacuated Afghans who arrived through humanitarian parole or the Special Immigrant Visa (SIV) pipeline are still awaiting permanent status. Many have lived for four years in legal limbo, struggling with paperwork, slow case processing, and uncertainty. Now, the threat of a mass “reexamination” has created panic in households across the U.S.. 

Parents fear deportation; children fear losing school; families fear being uprooted once again.

Afghan diaspora networks in Europe expressed similar concerns. Afghan refugee communities in Germany, Austria, and France – many of whom have relatives in the U.S. – said Trump’s remarks revived painful memories of scrutiny, Islamophobia, and blanket suspicion that once overshadowed all Afghan immigrants after 9/11.

Afghan activist Omar Haidari in Germany, who closely followed the vetting process, emphasized that the vast majority of Afghan evacuees underwent some of the strictest screening in recent history:

“Thirty-five thousand Afghans were taken to Ramstein Air Base. They stayed for months and went through fingerprints, eye scans, background checks. Some were rejected and sent to Kosovo or back to Afghanistan. Blaming vetting is not the whole story.”

He argued that the U.S., after years of using Afghan special units as “proxy fighters,” cannot now disown responsibility:

“For short-term gains, the U.S. trained them, used them, then walked away. Now they turn their own former assets into scapegoats.”

Vulnerable Lives Between Trauma, Exile, and Politics

The incident also reignited debate about the psychological toll carried by former Afghan commandos – many of whom witnessed years of combat, lost colleagues, and were targeted by the Taliban after 2021. Exiled in unfamiliar environments, separated from family, and trapped between trauma and survival, their struggles often go unnoticed.

Wasil Faizi, an Afghan student at Vienna University, reflected on this injustice:

“The Zero Unit soldiers thought the U.S. would give them a peaceful life. Instead, they were brought and abandoned. They came from poor villages and fought for U.S. interests. Now they are trapped – they cannot return home nor bear exile.”

Faizi pointed out that another Afghan evacuee with severe mental health struggles was shot by police last year in Virginia – an example of how unaddressed trauma can lead to tragedy.

Still, diaspora members insist that such cases – however tragic – cannot justify collective suspicion.

At the same time, the incident revived long-standing grievances about U.S. policy. Some Afghans argue that Washington’s decades-long involvement – from Operation Cyclone in the 1980s to the 2020 Doha Agreement – helped create the instability that has shaped modern Afghanistan.

Activist Sanga Siddiqi voiced this frustration directly in a public letter addressed to Trump:

“Before calling Afghanistan ‘hell on earth,’ remember: the U.S. funded Afghan mujahideen in the 1980s, supported the groups that evolved into the Taliban, and created the Zero Units. If Afghanistan is hell today, America and Pakistan helped build it.”

Her critique also reflects a broader sentiment within the Afghan diaspora: that Pakistan’s decades-long role as the primary sanctuary and training ground for militant groups – from hosting Taliban leadership to enabling cross-border insurgent networks – has been central to Afghanistan’s destabilization. For many Afghans, any honest assessment of the current crisis must acknowledge Pakistan’s position as a regional hub for extremist organizations and a core driver of the violence that continues to shape Afghan lives.

Her message resonated across diaspora platforms, highlighting a recurring theme: Afghan refugees are suffering the consequences of geopolitical decisions they did not make.

A Lone Shooter, A Collective Burden

The tragedy in Washington was the act of a single man. But Trump’s remarks transformed it into a political crisis.

Afghan families in the West – already displaced, divided, and traumatized – now face renewed uncertainty. Parents fear losing their temporary protection. Students fear their pending asylum or parole cases may be jeopardized. Elderly evacuees fear returning to a country where they would be targeted by the Taliban.

The diaspora’s message is clear: hold the individual accountable, not an entire community.

Yet in a polarized political climate, where immigration is volatile and fear easily weaponized, their voices risk being overshadowed.

The coming months will determine whether Afghan evacuees are treated as partners who supported U.S. missions, or as political liabilities. What is certain now is that one man’s crime has cast a long shadow – one that Afghan families on both sides of the Atlantic are struggling to escape.