The United Nations Committee Against Torture has issued a damning report alleging that Israel is operating a “de facto state policy of organized and widespread torture.” Testimonies from both Israeli and Palestinian rights groups described harrowing conditions in detention centers.
Thousands of Palestinians have reportedly been held under administrative detention or the Unlawful Combatants law, often without access to lawyers or family, amounting to what the UN calls “enforced disappearance.”
The committee’s findings detail grim abuses: deprivation of food and water, beatings, electrocution, waterboarding, sexual violence, and even cases where detainees were shackled permanently and denied toilets. These practices, the UN concluded, rise to the level of war crimes, crimes against humanity, and potentially genocide.
Israel has rejected the allegations, calling them “disinformation” and accusing the UN of bias. The UN, however, emphasized that torture is prohibited under international law under all circumstances, and violations by one side do not justify violations by the other.
Meanwhile, conditions in Gaza remain dire despite the ceasefire, with families living in tents through winter rains and aid agencies warning of insufficient supplies. Reports of summary executions in the West Bank further fuel international concern.
The UN’s findings and the silence of powerful states expose a brutal paradox: the world loudly condemns torture in principle yet tolerates it in practice when geopolitics dictate. Israel’s actions, if committed by another nation, would likely have triggered swift international intervention. That they have not is less a testament to justice than to the selective morality of those who claim to uphold it. In the end, the real crime is not only the torture itself, but the global complicity that allows it to continue unchecked.
I need to underscores that Israel got its victory by the end of November 2023. What followed is pure evil. You must agree that if any other ethnic group carried out such actions, the international community would have intervened militarily, but the lack of intervention here reveals who truly holds power in the global order.
And don’t forget that the crime isn’t just torture — It’s complicity as well.
In the theater of modern politics, denial has become the press’s most reliable instrument. When explosive allegations surface — whether about Epstein, foreign influence, or presidential compromise — the reflex is immediate: “no evidence.” This phrase, repeated with ritualistic certainty, does more than protect journalistic caution; it functions as a shield for power itself. By dismissing suspicion before investigation, the media transforms absence into assurance, turning silence into the loudest defense in the room.
Candace Owens, Epstein, and the Politics of Silence
Right-wing commentator Candace Owens has once again stirred controversy, this time by alleging that Israel is “blackmailing” President Donald Trump in connection with the recently released trove of Jeffrey Epstein documents. The files, published by lawmakers, contain repeated references to Trump, prompting Owens to declare on X: “They are blackmailing President Donald Trump in broad daylight. The slow release of the emails is intentional. Now he will give them whatever they want.”
She later clarified her accusation: “For those who struggle with context clues, THEY = Israel, who Jeffrey Epstein worked for. This is how our nation is run.”
Mainstream outlets were quick to dismiss her remarks, noting that no independent evidence currently supports her claim. Yet the swiftness of that dismissal raises its own questions.
Owens is voicing what many Americans quietly suspect: that Trump is entangled in webs of foreign leverage. But Trump is not the only politician. Biden, the Clintons, Obama — names that surface again and again in whispers of influence and compromise are also part of it. The suggestion is not that evidence is absent, but that evidence is designed to remain absent. After all, espionage has two cardinal rules: never get caught, and if caught, disappear to protect the mission. Epstein’s fate, viewed through this lens, looks less like coincidence and more like compliance.
The media’s role in this saga is equally troubling. Rather than investigate the plausibility of Owens’ claims, publishers rushed to the safety of denial. “No evidence,” they repeat, as though the absence of proof is proof of absence. But in matters of intelligence and blackmail, silence is the evidence. The slow drip of documents, the carefully timed leaks, the convenient deaths — these are the fingerprints of power operating in shadows.
Owens may be reckless in her phrasing, but her accusations strike at a nerve: the uneasy suspicion that American politics is less about governance and more about leverage. Whether or not Israel is the puppeteer, the strings are visible. And the silence of the press, far from neutral, becomes complicity.
Historical precedents in compromise and control
Cold war kompromat and modern echoes
The playbook Owens invokes — compromising material held in reserve and deployed selectively — has precedent. Soviet-era kompromat targeted officials and dissidents; the point was not courtroom-quality evidence but behavioral control. The lesson travels: power cares less about legal proof than dependable pressure.
Domestic intelligence and “plausible deniability”
From COINTELPRO to classified briefings that never see daylight, the American state has long balanced surveillance and politics under the banner of “plausible deniability.” The machine prefers insinuation over indictment because control is cleaner than conflict. In that context, “no evidence” is not exculpatory; it is operational.
Foreign influence operations
Whether you cite the Cambridge Five in Britain, the Stasi’s patient cultivation in East Germany, or post–cold war oligarchic networks, the pattern holds: elite proximity breeds opportunity for leverage. Allegations involving Israel, Russia, China — or any intelligence-capable state — are less about national stereotypes and more about structural incentives: sensitive information plus high stakes equals temptation.
Epstein as a symbol: the utility of silence
Epstein has become the modern Rorschach of elite compromise: money, proximity to power, a trail of insinuations, and a grave that guarantees silence. The paradox is brutal. If evidence exists, its value increases by remaining hidden. If no evidence exists, silence performs the same function. Either way, the public experiences the same effect: partial disclosures, selective outrage, and timed releases that feel more curated than accidental.
Media dynamics: speed, certainty, and the vacuum they create
Incentive to dismiss: “No evidence” shields outlets from liability and backlash.
Asymmetric information: Intelligence-adjacent claims are the hardest to verify and the easiest to weaponize.
Narrative control: Slow releases schedule public attention. A leak is not just a fact; it is a calendar entry.
When coverage rewards fast certainty over slow rigor, the vacuum fills with suspicion. That suspicion may be wrong on particulars and right about the pattern: when power has incentives to hide, journalism’s speed collides with truth’s pace.
The mechanics of leverage: how control works without proof
Access beats accusation: Access to decision-making is more valuable than a scandal.
Ambiguity is a tool: Ambiguity keeps targets compliant because they do not know what could surface.
Timing is pressure: Timing of revelations moves votes, appointments, or diplomatic gestures.
Intermediaries matter: Cut-outs and proxies provide deniability and disperse risk.
The most effective form of pressure isn’t public — it’s anticipatory. People change decisions to avoid outcomes that never need to occur.
A disciplined standard: how serious scrutiny would proceed
Separate claim from context: Label Owens’s allegation as commentary and evaluate independently.
Follow the money: Map financial flows, shell entities, and legal settlements surrounding key actors.
Study the cadence: Analyze timing patterns in document releases against political events.
Interrogate gatekeepers: Identify custodians of archives and their institutional interests.
Cross-examine silence: Document who benefits from unresolved ambiguity versus disclosure.
None of this proves the charge. It tests the system that makes the charge plausible.
Denial as narrative management
Speed over scrutiny: Newsrooms operate on deadlines, not dossiers. The fastest way to neutralize a volatile claim is to declare it unsupported.
Authority signaling: By invoking “no evidence,” media outlets align themselves with officialdom, projecting credibility while avoiding investigative risk.
Agenda control: Denial sets the frame. Once the phrase is deployed, the burden shifts to the accuser to prove, rather than the institution to probe.
In this way, denial is not passive—it actively shapes the boundaries of discourse.
Historical echoes
Watergate (1972): Early coverage leaned on official denials until the evidence became overwhelming. The delay was not accidental; denial bought political breathing room.
Iran-Contra (1980s): “No evidence” was the refrain until congressional hearings forced acknowledgment.
Weapons of mass destruction (2003): Denial and certainty were wielded interchangeably, both serving to justify policy until reality intervened.
Each case shows denial as a tactical instrument: not to resolve truth, but to manage time and perception.
The mechanics of denial
Language as armor: Phrases like “no evidence” or “unsubstantiated” are deliberately vague. They do not mean false; they mean unproven.
Silence as complicity: By refusing to investigate, media outlets transform absence into protection.
Public psychology: Audiences often conflate “no evidence” with “no possibility,” which is precisely the point.
Denial is not about accuracy — it is about inoculation.
Why denial works
It is safe: Denial avoids libel, backlash, and reputational risk.
It is efficient: A single phrase can close a story before it opens.
It is contagious: Once one outlet deploys denial, others echo it, creating a chorus of certainty.
The result is a manufactured consensus: not that the claim is false, but that it is untouchable.
Owens’s allegation may be reckless, but the media’s reflex is equally revealing. Denial is not neutral—it is a political act disguised as caution. It protects power by delegitimizing suspicion, and it weaponizes silence by turning it into certainty. In this theater, the press does not merely report; it performs. And the performance of denial is one of the most effective instruments of control in modern politics.
In a world built on leverage, the truth is not what gets published; it’s what changes behavior before publication. And in that world, silence isn’t neutral — it’s the loudest instrument in the orchestra.
Texas lawmakers, in their infinite wisdom, decided that what public schools really need — above textbooks, funding, or teachers — is giant posters of the Ten Commandments. Because nothing says “modern education” like a mandatory religious wall decoration.
Supporters insist this is about “moral values,” while critics mutter something about the pesky First Amendment. Judges have already blocked enforcement in some districts, but hey, details.
Schools scrambled to print or accept donated posters, some teachers quit over the whole “religion in classrooms” thing, and the state even dictated font size and conspicuous placement — because apparently morality depends on Helvetica Bold at 16 inches tall.
One district tried to soften the blow by pairing the Commandments with the Bill of Rights, while another delayed compliance and now gets sued by the Attorney General.
Meanwhile, officials assure us these are just “really good guides for human behavior,” baffled that anyone could possibly object. After all, who wouldn’t want their civic principles dictated by stone tablets?
Conclusion
Looking at Ten Commandments posters while supporting Israel’s genocide in Palestine doesn’t exactly scream “moral values.” But pro‑Zionist politicians, of course, know better.
When lawmakers push for mandatory religious displays in public schools, it inevitably collides with constitutional questions about church–state separation. That’s why federal judges have already stepped in to block enforcement in some districts. Supporters frame it as “upholding moral values,” but critics argue it risks alienating non‑Christian students and undermining the First Amendment.
When religion becomes mandatory in public spaces like schools, it stops being about faith and starts being about power. Politicians often use religious symbols as a shortcut to claim moral authority, even while their policies contradict the very values they’re promoting. That’s why critics argue this isn’t about spirituality at all — it’s about leveraging religion as a political tool.
Historically, whenever governments have blurred the line between church and state, it’s led to exclusion, division, and sometimes outright oppression. The U.S. Constitution was designed to prevent exactly that, ensuring religion remains a private matter of conscience rather than a state‑mandated identity marker.
The irony is that true moral values don’t need posters, laws, or political grandstanding — they show up in actions. And when leaders preach commandments while ignoring human rights abroad, it exposes the hollowness of their “values” rhetoric.
The landscape of reactions to Texas’ Ten Commandments classroom law:
Federal judges have repeatedly blocked enforcement of Senate Bill 10, ruling it violates the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment. Judge Orlando Garcia ordered districts to remove displays by December 1, calling the law “explicitly religious” and unconstitutional.
Families in multiple districts, represented by the ACLU and other groups, argued the law forces unwanted religious messaging on children.
Legal experts highlight the direct conflict between state mandates and federal protections. They argue the law is designed to advance a religious agenda under the guise of “heritage”.
Organizations like the ACLU, Americans United for Separation of Church and State, and the Freedom From Religion Foundation have filed suits, stressing that public schools cannot endorse one faith tradition.
Fort Worth theater teacher Gigi Cervantes resigned rather than teach under the posters.
History teacher Dustin Parsons welcomed the posters as a way to highlight Christianity’s influence on U.S. history.
Administrators face lawsuits, compliance delays, and confusion over whether to follow state orders or federal injunctions.
Multifaith and nonreligious families have been central in lawsuits, arguing the displays alienate children who don’t identify as Christian.
Civil liberties groups frame the law as part of a broader push to infuse Christianity into public education, warning it erodes religious freedom.
In short: The law has become a flashpoint where constitutional law, religious freedom, and education policy collide. Judges are striking it down, teachers are resigning, activists are suing, and lawmakers are doubling down — making Texas classrooms ground zero for a national debate on religion in public schools.
The irony here is that same politicians who are insisting on moral posters while backing policies abroad that many view as deeply immoral — is exactly the kind of contradiction that pushed me to write this article. To me personally, it looks it’s less about the Ten Commandments themselves and more about the selective way “morality” gets invoked: strict when it’s symbolic, flexible when it’s politically expedient.
My Bosnian American friend Alen’s journey to American citizenship began in the shadows of Bosnian war for independence. After fleeing Bosnia and Herzegovina war nightmare and spending nearly six years in a refugee camp inside U.S. Military barracks in Germany, he arrived in the U.S. in 1997 with little understanding of the path to naturalization. After just three weeks and little bit of knowledge of English language he starts working and paying his taxes. And hoping to become U.S. citizen fallowing the rules and obeying the law eagerly awaiting five years mark to apply for the citizenship as a part of legal process to start belonging again.
Now after 28 years of his life that he spent in the U.S. being law abiding citizens, continuing playing by the rules, voting, attending jury duties, building his life and trying to do his best to be productive part of our society, Alen is fearing — like many naturalized citizens Alen is experiencing a chilling shift — from feeling protected to feeling vulnerable and betrayed by the country he give his Oath of Allegiance.
Alen told me he is not fearing of being deported, but he’s fearing he will not have a chance to fight staying, to tell his story to those in charge who are now holding his future in their hands. He is fearing that everything he had build and acquired by now — by his hard work and dedication — it will be repossessed and Alan again without nothing exiled into unknown. He told me he rather dies by the firing-squad execution here in the U.S. than face new beginning.
Fear in the Age of Impersonation and Raids
The fear isn’t abstract. In California, a man impersonating an ICE agent pulled a teenager over at gunpoint, demanding proof of citizenship. Though the Department of Homeland Security confirmed he was not affiliated with ICE, the incident underscores a disturbing trend: private citizens weaponizing immigration rhetoric to intimidate others.
Meanwhile, official immigration enforcement has surged. As of September 2025, nearly 60,000 people were in ICE detention — over 70% of them with no criminal record. Despite administration claims of targeting “criminal aliens,” the reality paints a broader, more indiscriminate picture. Even U.S. citizens and green card holders are being swept into the chaos, often traumatized by raids or mistaken identity.
A Native American Nearly Deported
Leticia Jacobo, a 24-year-old Native American woman born in Phoenix, was nearly deported after being arrested for driving with a suspended license. Despite her tribal ID and birth certificate, an ICE detainer was issued — allegedly due to a clerical error. Her family believes racial profiling played a role. “Why would they make a mistake with someone that’s constantly coming in?” her aunt asked, pointing to Jacobo’s prior interactions with the same jail.
Her mother spent the night at the jail with her daughter’s documents in hand, determined to prevent a wrongful deportation. Jacobo was released the next morning, but the incident left deep scars — and lingering questions about systemic bias.
Denaturalization and the Erosion of Trust
Adding to the anxiety, the Justice Department has signaled increased efforts to denaturalize immigrants deemed security risks or found guilty of certain crimes. Even high-profile figures like Zohran Mamdani, New York City’s mayor-elect, have faced threats to their citizenship status.
For many, the message is clear: even naturalization may not be a permanent shield. State Senator Cindy Nava, once undocumented and now a citizen, says she’s never seen such widespread fear among naturalized Americans. “Now the folks that I know that were not afraid before, now they are uncertain of what their status holds.”
The Fragility of Belonging
The promise of citizenship once offered a sense of belonging, safety, and shared responsibility. But for many immigrants and naturalized citizens, like my friend Alen, that promise now feels conditional — subject to shifting policies, mistaken identities, and the whims of enforcement.
As me and many others continue to advocate for inclusion and justice, their stories remind us that citizenship is more than paperwork. It’s a covenant — one that must be honored not just in law, but in spirit.
Parallel Stories of Fear, Resilience, and Uncertainty
To complement my friend Alen’s experience and the broader narrative of immigrant anxiety, several recent surveys and reports reveal how widespread and deeply personal these fears have become in 2025.
Survey Insights: Fear Is Rising, But So Is Determination
A joint survey by the New York Times and the Kaiser Family Foundation found that immigrants are experiencing historic levels of fear, especially those in undocumented or mixed-status families. Yet, despite the anxiety, most immigrants say they would still choose to come to the U.S. again — and plan to stay.
Many reported negative impacts on their mental health, economic stability, and trust in institutions.
Immigrants are increasingly avoiding public services and healthcare out of fear of being targeted.
Even naturalized citizens are reconsidering their safety and status, echoing the uncertainty voiced by Senator Cindy Nava in your original post.
Mental Health Toll: Trauma Beyond Borders
According to the American Psychological Association, the psychological toll of immigration enforcement — including detentions, deportations, and impersonations — is compounding trauma for many immigrants.
Immigrants who have survived violence or exploitation are now facing chronic stress and fear of family separation.
Mental health professionals are calling for culturally responsive care to address this growing crisis.
Silence Among Survivors: Fear of Seeking Help
The Alliance for Immigrant Survivors released a report showing that immigrant survivors of abuse are increasingly afraid to seek help.
Abusers are exploiting the current climate, knowing victims may fear deportation or retaliation.
Advocates say this silence is creating dangerous conditions, especially for women and children in vulnerable situations.
Families on Edge: Preparing for the Worst
The Urban Institute’s Well-Being and Basic Needs Survey found that immigrant families are bracing for policy changes, even when they have legal status.
Mixed-status households — where some members are undocumented and others are citizens — are particularly affected.
Many families are preparing emergency plans, gathering documents, and avoiding any interaction with law enforcement.
These stories reinforce the emotional gravity and show that Alen’s shaken belief in citizenship is not an isolated case — it’s part of a broader, national reckoning.
Why are we really witnessing forcible deportations and street kidnappings by ICE?
Deportation is nothing new. Biden deported 4 million immigrants — Obama did too. It exists in every country for undocumented individuals who are often viewed as security threats or who have unresolved legal issues preventing them from becoming lawful citizens.
But in today’s America, things have spiraled out of control. Immigration policing is being weaponized as a tool to “purify” the nation, indiscriminately deporting immigrants regardless of their legal status. Even naturalized U.S. citizens with no criminal history are being taken into custody, their assets seized and deported without due process.
The U.S. “system” became alarmed when it witnessed solidarity among people of different races and ethnicities during movements like Black Lives Matter and the Anti-Genocide / Pro-Palestine protests. Now, it’s actively working to dismantle that unity. At this moment, the system is targeting Latino newcomers — labeling them as “criminals.” Simultaneously, under the guise of a “terrorism threat,” it’s moving to purge Muslims.
Once Latinos and Muslims are removed, Black Americans will be next. After that, the system will turn on the LGBTQ+ community, followed by non-submissive women. This is the plan I’ve come to understand through my deep infiltration into the MAGA and Christian Nationalist movements. I know what I’m talking about. This marks the end of the America we once knew — and the beginning of the “Fourth Reich,” a so-called “purification of the American nation.”
Only white people with deep ancestral roots in America — pure Anglo-Saxon and Germanic, or the “Old Stock” as they call themselves — are deemed worthy of governing and accumulating wealth.
The system chose Trump as its frontman precisely because his narcissistic personality entertains the masses, distracts the public, and numbs Americans to reality by eroding their moral compass.
The system is winning.
What Can We Do to Make Things Right?
Mobilize Politically
Vote in every election — local, state, and federal. These are the levers of power.
Support candidates who stand for justice, inclusion, and human rights.
Run for office or help others who represent your values do so.
Raise Awareness
Share stories — like this — with clarity and courage. Personal narratives shift public opinion.
Use social media strategically to amplify marginalized voices and expose abuses.
Engage with journalists and creators who can help bring these issues to light.
Build Coalitions
Unite across movements — racial justice, immigrant rights, LGBTQ+ advocacy, and more.
Join or support grassroots organizations doing the work on the ground.
Create community spaces for dialogue, healing, and organizing.
Educate and Equip
Host teach-ins, workshops, and forums to inform others.
Push for curriculum reform in schools to include honest history and civic education.
Train in nonviolent resistance, legal rights, and digital security.
Support Economically
Donate to legal defense funds and mutual aid networks.
Boycott companies that fund or enable oppressive systems.
Invest in community-owned businesses and media.
Protect the Vulnerable
Offer sanctuary — literally or figuratively — to those under threat.
Know your rights and help others know theirs.
Document abuses safely and legally.
There are millions of people across the country who feel the fear to be deported from the U.S. where they have built their life, contributed, followed the law, and embraced this country as their own. And now they feel like a target in the place they call home, they feel alienation, they feel betrayal. This is not just heartbreaking — it’s unjust. But there are also millions of people who are fighting for justice, for dignity, and for the rights of people to live in peace and safety.
For those who are in the fear to be deported here are a few things they can do right now to feel a little more grounded and supported:
Know Your Rights
Even as a naturalized citizen and legal immigrant, it’s important to know your legal rights in encounters with immigration or law enforcement. You have the right to:
Remain silent
Refuse to let ICE enter your home without a warrant signed by a judge
Speak to a lawyer before answering questions
Organizations like the ACLU and NILC have resources and hotlines for legal support.
Connect with Local Advocacy Groups
There are immigrant rights groups in Michigan and nationwide that offer legal aid, community support, and advocacy. Some to look into:
Michigan Immigrant Rights Center (MIRC)
National Immigration Law Center (NILC)
United We Dream
They can help you understand your legal standing and connect you with others in similar situations.
Document Everything
Keep your citizenship documents, passport, and any legal paperwork in a safe, accessible place. Consider making digital copies and sharing them with a trusted friend or family member.
Build a Safety Network
Let trusted people know about your concerns. Create a plan in case of emergency — who to call, where to go, how to access legal help. You don’t have to face this alone.
What I found most disturbing is the fact that U.S. naturalized citizens who have followed all rules and regulations and lived here for decades believing that they have earned their place, that they are Americans, now are forced to feel otherwise.
Their existence here is not a mistake — it’s a testament to their strength and resilience, and their love of America. They didn’t come to U.S. because they hate U.S. or America’s way of life, they come here to be part of it.
