Latest news with #UnitingforUkraine
Technical.ly
19-05-2025
- Business
- Technical.ly
Despite Trump's actions and rhetoric, Ukrainian tech workers are laying stakes in the US
With diplomatic tensions on high and a dedicated humanitarian parole program on pause, Ukrainian technologists and entrepreneurs who fled the war with Russia are navigating tremendous uncertainty. The war and its fallout forced founders and engineers to balance their and their colleagues' safety with building companies. Despite some positive developments, they are nervous and frustrated. As the war grinds on and negotiations stall, many of these tech workers must also plant roots in the US. For that, they get some help from longer-established members of the Ukrainian diaspora. As bombs exploded outside his home in Kharkiv, Ukraine, Alex had to make a colossal decision — whether or not to flee, and if so, where to go. The technologist and startup founder, who spoke on the condition of anonymity because of pending immigration status, landed in the US on May 24, 2023, after a 16-country tour with his wife and six-month-old son. A soccer injury to his ACL about 2 months prior to the war exonerated him from the draft that his home country applies to all men between the ages of 25 and 60. But the exemption didn't protect him or his family from the invasion Russia launched in February 2022. He's here thanks to the Uniting for Ukraine program, which brought in about 158,000 individuals from the war-plagued country, per government data. But the Trump administration paused the program, leaving Alex and thousands of others in the lurch. Through Uniting for Ukraine, established during the Biden administration, Ukrainians can work and access public benefits in the US for up to two years with the possibility of extension. His stay is almost up, and he's applied for Temporary Protected Status, but hasn't heard whether or not it's been approved. This ambiguity frustrates Alex. Ukrainians are a positive addition to the US economy, he asserted. Most immigrants like him speak English, are highly skilled and pay taxes, he said. 'I don't understand the logic behind this,' he told 'Why would you not extend this program for us, or just give [us] another status? It doesn't make sense.' I'm pretty confident about it. The new administration doesn't give a shit about Ukraine. Alex (pseudonymn) The tech industry in Ukraine, where IT forms a major part of the economy, claims at least 307,000 specialists, which is a slight increase compared to before the war began. 242,000, or about 80%, live and work in the country. Despite that growth, according to an analysis from the tech research and advocacy organization Lviv IT Cluster, more Ukrainian technologists are moving abroad than in previous years. Alex is one of those many tech workers who've laid stakes in the US since the war began, either through the refugee program or through work visas. Ukrainians have dealt with confusion and frustration over messaging and actions from the Trump administration, including mass deportations of other immigrant communities and an Oval Office meeting where US President Donald Trump antagonized his Ukrainian counterpart, Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Several Ukrainian business leaders and technologists spoke to about navigating this all-too-personal crisis while running companies, working in tech and doing what they can to help their community. Stress piles up because 'we don't know how the Trump administration behaves' Outside of the Uniting for Ukraine program pause, Alex takes issue with several other actions the Trump administration took since January. For example, Homeland Security sent out an email telling some program participants that their status was eliminated ' in error,' terrifying him and fellow refugees in the group chats he's a part of. He knows of Ukrainians who are looking for other countries to move to because of the constant uncertainty. Alex is also upset with the recent minerals deal Ukraine struck in exchange for US military assistance, and wants Ukraine to have access to more American weapons. 'I'm pretty confident about it,' Alex said. 'The new administration doesn't give a shit about Ukraine.' At the same time, he knows that work opportunities in the US are abundant, particularly in tech. The DC region alone boasts more than 270,000 tech jobs, according to Lightcast data in Tech Economy Dashboard. Layla Atya, the CEO and founder of the company Zala Technology in Silver Spring, Maryland, immigrated to the US a decade ago. Since the refugee program's pause, the native of Lviv is struggling to bring Ukrainian workers to the United States. She wants to, but noted she's nervous to hire Ukrainians because of 'regulatory consequences,' she's been told by lawyers, but declined to elaborate. She's had prospective employees reach out to her asking for jobs in an effort for them to stay in the country through a work visa, she explained. '[Workers want] to be able to not just stay in the country because they have nowhere to go — their houses were destroyed,' Atya told 'but also continue with their professional growth.' The workers Atya hired when the initiative originally started under Biden have since left the company to work elsewhere, she said. Nina Sharaievska moved to Florida, near Orlando, one month after the war began — originally flying in to attend a conference for her employer, Softgeni. She eventually relocated to Arlington, Virginia, to lead US operations for the software company, which was founded in Kyiv. Communication between Zelenskyy and Trump has improved since the blowout Oval Office meeting in February, she believes. Aid is still flowing, and that's also a positive sign. While she feels secure because she has a work visa, Sharaievska acknowledged how strenuous relations have been in the past. 'It is [a] quite stressful time,' Sharaievska told 'because we don't know how the Trump administration behaves.' Through this tumult, some naturalized citizens have taken matters into their own hands by making the case for aid to Ukraine. Karina Mandell chairs the Baltimore-Odesa Sister City Committee, a cultural exchange organization for the two port cities, and has been visiting Capitol Hill to fight for more resources to where she was born. When she talks to lawmakers, Mandell, a business development professional who moved to Baltimore County from her home country when she was 7, frames allocating aid and allowing refugees to stay in the US as a national security prerogative. 'As a refugee, you would think that you would come here and finally feel like you could take a sigh and a breath of relief,' Mandell told 'But sadly, the Ukrainian community hasn't been able to do that.' Coding while bombs detonate Zala Technology's Atya still has offices and several engineers in Lviv, although some workers have been drafted. When the war began, she suddenly had to run her business and become an expert in humanitarian aid, she said — getting an MBA didn't prepare her for this. She's helped people move within the country and get access to the internet, for example. 'Suddenly we had to learn how to not just run a business, preserve revenue and clients, but also save our people,' Atya said. Engineers take calls from bathtubs during air raids, per Atya. While she's been told that the work is a helpful distraction, the war has resulted in the loss of some clients, which Atya understands. Other tech workers in Ukraine are finding ways out, often to Poland. Andrew, a startup founder who immigrated to the US from Lviv about 20 years ago, employs contract workers in Ukraine. He spoke on the condition of anonymity because of concerns about retaliation. One of Andrew's employees in Lviv received a notice he'd be drafted into the military. The worker said he needed a week off, and Andrew was immediately concerned, he said. With no word for four days, Andrew called his sister, who still lives in Ukraine, but the engineer was nowhere to be found. A week later, the worker signed onto Slack and said he was in Poland. Andrew has no idea how he crossed the border. 'I hear stories that people cross through rivers, the forest,' Andrew said. 'Because they, many of them, are said to die in this war.' Establishing roots in the US Several technologists and business leaders told they've established support networks and routines in the US. Softgeni's Sharaievska has a daughter in eighth grade who's made friends and loves their neighborhood in Arlington. Her hobbies are singing and fencing, and she helps her mom with the pronunciation of English words. One founder from Kyiv aims to help people with that, as well as prepare for interviews for the kinds of jobs that could help fellow Ukrainians stay in the US. Philadelphia resident Oleh Savchuk founded a tool for people to do mock interviews and get feedback. Before the war began, Savchuk had already planned to immigrate to the US through a work visa sponsored by his employer, EPAM Systems. The invasion delayed that move to August 2023, when he came over with his wife. In creating Prepin, Savchuk was partially inspired by his own struggles interviewing for his L-1 visa, which is how he's staying in the US. 'The United States is [a] completely different market, with completely different cultural fits, with [a] completely different community,' Savchuk told 'Definitely, you need to practice more.'
Newsweek
08-05-2025
- Newsweek
ICE Threatened To Deport Texas Man To War Torn Country
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. A Ukrainian man legally residing in Texas has been detained by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for over three months—despite holding lawful status and having no criminal convictions. Pavlo Mykolayovych Zinkevych, 37, was arrested by Frisco Police around 2 a.m. on January 26, 2025, near the intersection of Preston Road and Eldorado Parkway—just three minutes from his home. According to his fiancée, Liubov Abdrazakova, Zinkevych had been out with friends and was driving home when police stopped him for a minor traffic violation and suspected DWI. During a field sobriety test, officers asked him to balance on one leg—a task he failed due to a titanium plate in his leg from a 2019 injury. A breathalyzer test was later administered at the station. The next morning, a judge set bond at $500 for a misdemeanor, which was promptly paid. But Zinkevych never came back home. Pavlo Zinkevych (R) alongside his fiancée Liubov Abdrazakova (L). Pavlo Zinkevych (R) alongside his fiancée Liubov Abdrazakova (L). Supplied Instead, ICE placed a hold on him. After a brief stop at the Dallas Field Office, he was transferred to the Bluebonnet Detention Facility in Anson, Texas, where he has remained since January 28, 2025. Zinkevych lawfully entered the United States in 2022 under the Uniting for Ukraine (U4U) program and currently holds a valid I-94, a Social Security number, and has a pending application for Temporary Protected Status (TPS). However, his parole has since been revoked, his fiancée said. Despite his legal status, his fiancée says ICE agents threatened to deport him to war-torn Ukraine, where his hometown lies just miles from the Russian border. "Pavlo was woken up by ICE agents asking, 'Do you want to stay and fight your case or do you want to be deported to Ukraine?'" Abdrazakova told Newsweek in an exclusive statement. "He believes ICE agents are financially incentivized to pursue deportations. They're trying to mentally break a person to get them to sign a deportation order," she claimed. Pavlo Zinkevych (R) alongside his fiancée Liubov Abdrazakova (L). Pavlo Zinkevych (R) alongside his fiancée Liubov Abdrazakova (L). Supplied Abdrazakova says his physical and mental health are deteriorating rapidly. Inside Bluebonnet, he suffers from severe leg pain due to the titanium plate and dental issues from decaying teeth. According to his fiancée, detention staff have refused to treat him despite his private dental insurance. She also alleges he's been subjected to inhumane treatment, including being referred to by a bed number instead of his name, and has endured racist comments from staff. The financial toll has also been significant. "His prolonged detention has caused severe financial hardship for both of us," Abdrazakova said. "He has numerous unpaid bills. His car is at risk of repossession, and we had to break our apartment lease. His credit score—something he worked hard to build—is now ruined." "I am broken, empty, devastated, and angry," she continued. "We had been house hunting before his arrest. We planned to get married in May and start a family. This detention has destroyed everything he worked so hard for." Newsweek has contacted Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for comment via email but has not yet received a response. The Bluebonnet Detention Facility previously made national headlines when Reuters published drone footage showing detainees in jumpsuits forming an SOS signal, waving to the camera, with one flashing a peace sign. Since his detention, Zinkevych—who works as a fiber network contractor—has attended three immigration court hearings. At his first hearing—a bond hearing on February 17, 2025—Immigration Judge Michael Pleters stated that he did not have jurisdiction to issue a bond, asserting that responsibility lies with the Department of Homeland Security (DHS). "They [DHS] make mistakes all the time by saying it is the immigration judge's decision," Judge Pleters remarked during the hearing. The second hearing, held on March 20, 2025, saw Zinkevych's attorney, Joseph Reina, argue that his client was being unlawfully detained and should be released. Immigration Judge Jessica Miles requested a follow-up hearing and asked Reina to submit a legal brief supporting that claim. During the third hearing on April 3, 2025, after reviewing the brief, Judge Miles stated she believes that Zinkevych should not be detained. However, she emphasized that she lacked jurisdiction to order his release. Despite Zinkevych having a pending application for Temporary Protected Status (TPS) and having established a prima facie case—meaning he is not currently deportable—DHS maintains that he is subject to removal. DHS also retains sole authority over his bond and release, yet has remained unresponsive to multiple legal requests, according to his attorney. Judge Miles asked DHS council to reach out to USCIS and expedite TPS but no actions were taken by DHS Zinkevych's next immigration hearing is scheduled for May 8, 2025.
Forbes
14-04-2025
- Politics
- Forbes
280,000 Ukrainian Refugees To Be Deported By Trump Soon
A woman with two children and carrying bags walk on a street to leave Ukraine after crossing the ... More border on February 25, 2022, following Russia's invasion of the Ukraine. (Photo by PETER LAZAR / AFP) (Photo by PETER LAZAR/AFP via Getty Images) The Trump campaign's reported consideration of deporting nearly 280,000 Ukrainian refugees who were legally admitted to the United States under the Uniting for Ukraine (U4U) program is not just a humanitarian concern—it's a potentially significant geopolitical error. These refugees, most of whom are women, children, the elderly, and persons with disabilities, fled an active war zone through a lawful program initiated by the U.S. government. Deporting them now would endanger lives, signal a wavering U.S. resolve to adversaries like Russia and China, and undermine America's credibility as a defender of democratic values and global stability. Unfortunately, this threat is not confined to Ukrainians. Haitians, Cubans, Venezuelans, Nicaraguans, and Afghans admitted through Temporary Protected Status (TPS) and humanitarian parole programs now find themselves in a similar state of limbo. The message to them all is chilling: even legal, orderly entry under humanitarian programs supported by presidential authority and congressional funding may no longer provide protection. The U4U initiative to assist Ukrainian refugees was not merely an act of charity; it was a strategic response by the United States to Russia's 2022 invasion of Ukraine. Deporting these refugees now would not only betray our legal and moral obligations but also convey a dangerous message to the world—that America no longer upholds the rule of law, even when it concerns its own. History offers sobering lessons when democracies appease aggression. In 1938, British and French leaders notably surrendered the Sudetenland to Hitler at Munich, hoping that territorial concessions would prevent war. The key lesson of Munich is that appeasing aggressive authoritarian regimes in the hope of preserving peace emboldens them to pursue even greater acts of expansion and violence. In 1938, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain and other Western leaders, aiming to avoid war, permitted Adolf Hitler to annex the Sudetenland region of Czechoslovakia through the Munich Agreement—without Czech consent. This short-term concession failed to prevent conflict; rather, it reinforced Hitler's belief that the Allies lacked the resolve to resist him, ultimately leading to the outbreak of World War II in 1939. The Munich lesson underscores the peril of sacrificing principles and allies for temporary peace, emphasizing the strategic cost of underestimating totalitarian ambition. Munich initiated Hitler's campaign of conquest that culminated in the deaths of more than 50 million people. That failure directly resulted in the creation of the postwar global order, the founding of NATO, and the United Nations—all institutions aimed at ensuring that tyrants could not redraw borders through force. Today, that same principle is under threat in Ukraine, and the U.S. risks repeating past mistakes. President Trump's frequent remarks about 'peace plans' involving the partitioning of Ukraine, along with efforts to terminate aid and deport war refugees, strongly resemble the logic of appeasement seen in Munich. Such proposals appeal to the likes of Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, Kim Jong Un, and the Iranian clerics. If the U.S. deports those fleeing tyranny while simultaneously engaging with the tyrants, it will undermine not just American moral authority but also its credibility as a deterrent. In 1994, Ukraine surrendered the world's third-largest nuclear arsenal to Russia in exchange for security assurances from the United States, the United Kingdom, and Russia under the Budapest Memorandum. That pledge—widely regarded as a foundational element of post-Cold War security—was based on a simple idea: if Ukraine relinquished its nuclear weapons, the West would defend its territorial integrity. What signal is the U.S. sending to the world if, three decades later, it not only fails to stop Ukraine's dismemberment by Russia but also deports those fleeing its consequences? The answer is that American assurances are worthless. When autocrats violate sovereignty, America's response is to aid the autocrats by deporting their victims rather than sanctioning the aggressors overseas. The implications extend far beyond Ukraine. If America is perceived as retreating from its commitments—first regarding aid, then concerning protection—it undermines America's standing in every strategic theater: from Taiwan to the Baltics, from the South China Sea to the Persian Gulf. In 2022, over 12 million Ukrainians were displaced due to Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, with 6 million seeking refuge abroad—mainly in Europe. The U.S., despite being the wealthiest nation on earth, admitted fewer than 300,000, while Canada, with one-tenth of the U.S. population, accepted more. If Russia consolidates its hold on Ukraine today, projections suggest that up to 20 million additional refugees could be forced to flee. This would not only overwhelm neighboring European states, but also potentially destabilize the European Union itself, empower far-right populism, and fracture NATO. The resulting second-order refugee crisis—in a displaced Europe—could send waves of further refugees along with serious economic and political instability westward, ultimately reaching America's doorstep. This is not an abstract risk. In 2015, the Syrian refugee crisis contributed to the destabilization of European politics, fueling Brexit and a rise in illiberal governance. If the U.S. now avoids responsibility in the Ukrainian crisis, it will again force Europe to bear the burden—and risk the same chaotic consequences, this time with even greater strategic stakes. According to the Kiel Institute of the World Economy, the U.S. has committed $101 billion in total aid to Ukraine. The EU, by comparison, has committed $195 billion. These are significant sums, but they are modest next to the trillions in costs of a prolonged war in Europe, a fractured NATO, and a broken refugee system. Deporting refugees—especially those who contribute economically, socially, and culturally to the U.S.—does not reduce costs. Instead, it creates new ones: legal battles, community dislocations, diplomatic fallout, and economic disruption. Most Ukrainian parolees are employed, often in high-demand sectors. Their removal would harm local economies and cause ripple effects that extend far beyond their host communities. Meanwhile, if Russia succeeds in its invasion, it will gain not only territory but also Ukraine's industrial base, military production capacity, and access to the Black Sea. This would pose a direct threat to NATO allies in Poland, Romania, and the Baltics, triggering new U.S. military commitments under Article 5. Against this backdrop, starting a Ukrainian deportation policy now would not only be inhumane but also shortsighted and self-defeating. The United States has long been characterized by its willingness to provide refuge to those escaping tyranny. This principle is not only morally admirable—it is also strategically sound. Immigration has enriched American life, strengthened its labor force, and bolstered its alliances. Humanitarian parole and refugee programs have been utilized for decades to protect those at risk and advance U.S. interests abroad, from Cold War defectors to post-9/11 interpreters and allies. Ukrainian parolees are part of that legacy. They arrived legally, under strict vetting, with sponsors and community networks in place. To uproot them now is to violate not just individual rights but collective trust—in the rule of law, in humanitarian principles, and in the promises of democratic government. We must not permit immigration policy to become a tool for political posturing, particularly when it risks dismantling decades of strategic investment and moral leadership. Deporting Ukrainian refugees will not 'fix' a broken system; instead, it will betray the very values that have defined America at its best.
WIRED
13-04-2025
- Politics
- WIRED
Homeland Security Email Tells a US Citizen to 'Immediately' Self-Deport
Apr 12, 2025 9:35 PM An email sent by the Department of Homeland Security instructs people in the US on a temporary legal status to leave the country. But who the email actually applies to—and who actually received it—is far from clear. The front entrance to the US Customs and Border Protection headquarters. Photograph: United States Department of Homeland Security sent an email this week informing people living in the US on a temporary legal status that their "parole" has been revoked and instructed them to leave the country "immediately." However, the email was also addressed to at least one US citizen, an immigration attorney from Massachusetts. And it remains unclear who must abide by the email's instructions—or why the apparent revocation of legal immigration status was delivered via email at all. The email informs the recipient that 'DHS is now exercising its discretion to terminate your parole,' which it says will go into effect '7 days from the date of this notice.' The email appears to be similar, if not identical, to messages received by users of CBP One, an app developed during the Biden administration that allows non-citizens from certain countries to schedule appointments at US points of entry in an effort to seek asylum. A spokesperson for US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) tells WIRED, however, that the email was sent more broadly. 'CBP has issued notices terminating parole for individuals who do not have lawful status to remain,' says CBP assistant commissioner for public affairs Hilton Beckham. 'This process is not limited to CBP One users and does not currently apply to those paroled under programs such as U4U and OAW.' U4U refers to Uniting for Ukraine, a program launched under the Biden administration to allow for expedited immigration to the US for Ukrainians fleeing Russia's war against its neighboring country. Former President Joe Biden began OAW, or Operation Allies Welcome, in 2021 following the US military's exit from Afghanistan to allow for the safe resettling of 'vulnerable Afghans, including those who worked alongside us in Afghanistan for the past two decades,' according to DHS. The email itself does not identify these or any other exemptions, nor does it make clear to whom it applies beyond the recipient. Beckham also confirmed that the email was sent to whatever email address the agency had associated with the intended target, leading to confusion for at least one immigration attorney. 'Some personal news: the Department of Homeland Security has given me, an immigration lawyer born in Newton, Massachusetts, seven days to leave the US,' wrote Nicole Micheroni, a partner at Cameron Micheroni & Silvia LLC, in a post on Bluesky on Friday night. 'Does anyone know if you can get Italian citizenship through great-grandparents?' Micheroni tells WIRED that she first thought the email was intended for one of her clients, but she quickly noticed that it was only addressed to her. 'I don't feel like I'm actually going to be deported in seven days, but it's concerning that this is the level of care they're using to send these out,' Micheroni says. She adds that it's possible that the DHS email was 'intended for one of my clients or somebody else,' as it's not uncommon for immigrants in the US to list their attorneys as the point of contact The Trump administration has sought to revoke the parole of some 532,000 Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans, and Venezuelans who entered the US under a Biden-era humanitarian parole program. While it moved to subject them to expedited deportation effective April 24, on Thursday a federal judge in Boston said she would issue a protective order blocking that attempt. The order may complicate the instructions in the email, which stipulates that it does not apply to people who 'have otherwise obtained a lawful basis to remain' in the US. CBP's Beckham did not immediately respond to WIRED's questions about whether the court order would impact any recipients of the email. Attorney Lauren Regan, founder and executive director of the nonprofit Civil Liberties Defense Center, tells WIRED that the lack of clarity about whether the revocation of temporary parole applies to the recipient of the email is likely causing fear and confusion among many immigrants, especially those without access to adequate legal guidance. 'So many people don't have a lawyer, or their lawyer has 6,000 clients,' Regan says, which 'completely overloads' the attorneys who often provide pro bono legal services to immigrants. 'A lot of people that are here on parole status don't know the nuances of immigration law, so they get this email and they don't know if it applies to them,' Micheroni says. 'And most of them assume that it does because everything is really scary for people right now.' It's also unclear whether the email is related to recent efforts by Elon Musk's so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). In an April 10 post on X, DOGE claimed that 'CBP identified a subset of 6.3k individuals paroled into the United States since 2023 on the FBI's Terrorist Screening Center watchlist or with criminal records. These paroles have since been terminated with immediate effect.' Beckham did not immediately respond to questions about whether the email was intended for these 6,300 individuals, nor did she answer WIRED's questions about how many people received the email. Then there's the matter of the email being an email at all, Regan says, adding that 'it is absolutely not common' for a change in legal immigration status to arrive via email, which typically happens in person or via certified mail. 'People would think it's a phishing email or something not legitimate,' Regan says. Also, the fact that the email does not appear to have been first posted on a government website added to questions about its authenticity. 'Normally if the government is going to change a practice, they would first do it on their websites,' Regan says, adding, 'but the fact that this was not on the website first and then sent out as a direct communication is very, very unusual.' Regan also notes that many immigrants do not have email addresses, and therefore couldn't receive the communication in the first place. Even for Micheroni, a US citizen and immigration attorney, the Trump administration's aggressive immigration enforcement practices have made life less stable. The email only made matters worse. 'I have gotten some serious inquiries from my parents or other family members or friends being like, 'what do I do if you stop answering me or if you disappear? Like, who do you want me to call?'' she says. 'And if people in my life are feeling this way, and this is what I do, I know a lot about it,' Micheroni adds. 'I can't imagine what it's like for people that don't fully understand immigration law.'
Yahoo
11-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Alaska Sen. Murkowski calls on Trump administration to protect Ukrainians who fled war
Sen. Lisa Murkowski, R-Alaska, speaks at a fisheries forum on Oct. 4, 2022. (Photo by Yereth Rosen/Alaska Beacon) U.S. Sen. Lisa Murkowski, R-Alaska, is calling on the U.S. Department of Homeland Security to allow Ukrainians with temporary protected status to remain in the country, following reports people had received an email that their status was revoked and they had seven days to leave the U.S. The agency has said the April 3 notice was issued by mistake, and the Ukrainians' designation under what's known as 'humanitarian parole status' has not been terminated. They had been granted the status under the 'Uniting for Ukraine' program. But Murkowski penned a strongly worded letter on Sunday, with U.S. Sen. Jeanne Shaheen, D-New Hampshire, ranking Democrat on the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, to Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem condemning the move, even if it was 'apparently an error.' 'Even if this message was sent in error, threatening the abrupt termination of humanitarian parole for Ukrainians is alarming and adverse to the U.S. national interest,' they wrote. Humanitarian parole is a temporary immigration status granted to those fleeing humanitarian crises, and can be revoked at any time. There were 651,000 Ukrainians granted humanitarian parole in the United States last year. An estimated 6.9 million Ukrainians have been displaced since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022. 'Ukrainians who have participated in the Uniting for Ukraine program have entered the U.S. lawfully, passed rigorous screening and vetting requirements,' the senators wrote. 'These are individuals, including children, who have fled a war zone and followed a lawful process. Many are working in our states, paying taxes and contributing to local communities.' Murkowski and Shaheen also requested a briefing on any future plans regarding the Ukrainians' status. 'We urge the agency to provide immediate clarification to Ukrainians in the United States that their humanitarian parole has not been terminated, and that there are no plans to terminate the program while Ukraine is still under active attack by Russia,' they said. The agency's notice to those with humanitarian parole began: 'It is time for you to leave the United States,' and the recipient's parole would be terminated in seven days. 'If you do not depart the United States immediately you will be subject to potential law enforcement actions that will result in your removal from the United States — unless you have otherwise obtained a lawful basis to remain here.' Ukrainians have been the largest group of refugees arriving in Alaska over the last three years, according to Issa Spatrisano, the Alaska state refugee coordinator with Catholic Relief Services, a resettlement agency. Spatrisano said she has received several reports of people in Alaska receiving the DHS termination notice, and the news spread secondhand very quickly. She said the effect was chilling. 'The email was very scary for Ukrainians living in Alaska and across the country,' she said. 'Because they really are at the whims of at any point an announcement coming from DHS, and when that announcement is made, they'll have to respond accordingly to what the announcement is.' An estimated 1,500 Ukrainians have arrived since 2022, about 500 people per year, Spatrisano said. Many joined family members, communities, and the workforce, 'really much needed jobs throughout the state,' she said. But the uncertainty takes a toll. 'A mental health toll,' she said. 'It takes a serious toll on people's well being, and that impacts on our state. There are Ukrainian families who are in the process of buying homes here in Alaska, you know, in the process of laying down roots, in the process of getting job training programs to advance in jobs that the state frankly needs really badly. And those are all investments in time and in energy and in resources that families are now wondering if they should do.' Murkowski and Shaheen have asked for 'an immediate explanation as to how these emails were sent in error' and 'that there are no plans to terminate the program while Ukraine is still under active attack by Russia.' SUBSCRIBE: GET THE MORNING HEADLINES DELIVERED TO YOUR INBOX
