Trump Orders Sweeping Green Card Review for Migrants From ‘Countries of Concern’ After DC Shooting

An abrupt federal crackdown on green cards issued to migrants from “countries of concern” unsettles tens of thousands in New York, underscoring the persistent tension between national security and the city’s immigrant lifeblood.

On a sultry morning near the White House, gunfire left two National Guard members fighting for their lives and all of New York’s vast immigrant communities bracing for a political aftershock. Within hours, President Donald Trump’s administration announced an immediate, sweeping review of every green card issued to migrants from unspecified “countries of concern,” a list later revealed to encompass at least 19 mainly African, Middle Eastern, and Latin American nations. The trigger: an Afghan asylum-seeker, Rahmanullah Lakanwal, granted residency via Operation Allies Welcome in 2021, allegedly carried out the attack.

The new directive, delivered by Joseph Edlow, head of U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS), leaves little room for ambiguity. Each permanent resident from the implicated countries—Afghanistan, Iran, Somalia, Haiti, Eritrea, and others—now faces close examination of their status, with the agencies citing national security above all. The order follows a string of bans and suspensions over recent months, dovetailing with Trump’s campaign vow to subject immigration flows to “ruthless scrutiny.”

First-order consequences in New York City are already apparent. The city, home to over 3 million foreign-born residents, hosts some of the largest Afghan, Iranian, and Haitian diasporas outside their native countries. For many, the sudden announcement portends a wave of anxiety: green card holders worry about bureaucratic limbo or sudden revocations; service providers brace for a surge in legal and housing insecurity. Non-profits such as the New York Immigration Coalition warn of “deepening fear and confusion.”

Beyond personal anguish, the review’s impact ripples through vital city systems. Roughly 60,000 New Yorkers from the named countries work in healthcare, transit, and food services according to 2022 census estimates. Threats to residency status risk aggravating labour shortages just as post-pandemic recovery falters. City officials privately fret about heightened pressure on social services should families lose benefits, jobs, or the right to remain.

Second-order effects will not be confined to the broad immigrant base. Politically, the move sharpens fault lines between New York’s overwhelmingly Democratic leadership and federal authorities. Mayor Eric Adams, ever wary of looking soft on security, issued a bland statement affirming both “the city’s safety and its tradition as a beacon for newcomers.” State Attorney General Letitia James’s office hinted at possible legal action, invoking due process and discrimination concerns.

The city’s economy, famously dependent on migrant labour and entrepreneurship, could suffer collateral damage. Collectively, migrants founded over 48% of businesses in New York City, while their median household incomes approach $54,000, according to the Fiscal Policy Institute. Green card revocations or suspensions tend not only to deter newcomers but to chill spending among those who remain, further sapping tax revenue.

Socially, the measure risks fraying already brittle ties between authorities and immigrant communities. Faith leaders and advocacy groups recall with trepidation the consequences of President Trump’s earlier travel bans: a spike in mistrust of police, delayed medical care, and an uptick in hate crimes. Public schools, whose 180,000 English-language learners reflect the city’s diversity, may see higher absenteeism as parents pull back from public life. History suggests such chills are slow to thaw.

Security, sovereignty, and the New York paradox

Rhetorically, the rationale for the crackdown is clear enough. Trump blamed the attack on permissive, “reckless” asylum policies crafted under Joe Biden’s administration (never mind that Lakanwal, the alleged shooter, was a CIA partner evacuated amid Kabul’s collapse). In the blunt arithmetic of security politics, the cost of a single high-profile attack dwarfs the more diffuse benefits of open doors. By retroactively recasting green cards as provisional rather than permanent, the administration seeks to signal resolve at home and toughness abroad.

Nationally, the move places New York at odds with America’s shifting stance on migration. While European capitals agonise over integration and Germany debates new quotas, the United States—historically a magnet for “huddled masses”—tilts once again toward exclusion. Yet the federal definition of “country of concern” remains opaque, and whether such reviews improve security or merely create the illusion of control is doubtful. The Federal Bureau of Investigation, for its part, conceded that existing screening protocols, already exhaustive, did not flag Lakanwal as a threat.

For New York, the realpolitik of security rarely aligns with the city’s lived reality. Budgets rise and fall with migrant spending; hospitals and restaurants run on their diligence. The city’s embrace of the global—the very thing that has made it rich, lively, and unpredictable—perennially sits at odds with the nation’s more insular moods. These periodic spasms of suspicion, whether justified or not, prompt many to ask whether America is willing to pay for the safety it imagines.

We reckon the order bodes poorly for New York’s international cachet and social cohesion. Data rarely support blanket measures: both the Migration Policy Institute and the Department of Homeland Security have found foreign-born residents less likely than natives to commit violent crimes. Sweeping all green card holders from a score of countries into suspicion serves more to assuage anxieties in swing states than to calibrate real risk on city streets.

None of this is unfamiliar. As with Japanese internment orders during the 1940s, or Soviet-era loyalty tests, the city endures. But the cumulative effect—a chilling effect on trust, economic activity, and civic participation—can prove unexpectedly costly over time. Reputationally, New York has always thrived on its open invitation to strivers and dreamers; to close doors now invites a slow, avoidable decline.

To weigh security against openness is a perennial American dilemma, as ancient as the city’s skyline and as bitter as the commuter’s morning coffee. But if New York’s vitality owes anything, it is surely not to suspicion or caprice, but to the cumulative daring of those who came, stayed, and built. Heavy-handed reviews may score quick political points, yet their long-term dividend looks paltry indeed. ■