Saboor Sakhizada’s journey began in 2014 when he sought refuge from Afghanistan, finding a new home in Syracuse. Today, he works as a program manager at Syracuse University’s D’Aniello Institute for Veterans and Military Families, dedicated to supporting those who have served. While some of his family members have joined him in the United States, others remain in Afghanistan, a reminder of the ties that bind him to his birthplace.
As I sat in a bustling New York City restaurant, waiting for a dear friend, my mind wandered back 23 years. This city, once scarred by the shocking events of Sept. 11, 2001, now appeared calm and ordinary. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was alone in reflecting on that fateful day. The attacks had not only reshaped New York but also fundamentally altered the United States’ and its allies’ approach to global security.
The emergence of a new enemy — violent extremism — challenged old paradigms. Allies rallied, invoking Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty, standing shoulder to shoulder in the face of aggression. Yet, the fight against violent extremism required more than declarations; it demanded the rebirth of alliances in forgotten corners, where relationships had grown dusty and were fading.
Afghan allies — interpreters, cultural advisers and countless others who supported this battle — signed their own death warrants as they stepped onto the battlefield, blindfolded by the uncertainty of their fate. Their mission, in many ways, was a testament to their patriotism and rebellion against a governing system that was fundamentally un-Afghan and inhumane.
Forging alliances with interpreters and local actors — individuals who could navigate this complex mission against an elusive enemy — was key to success. Sadly, back then, the vision was clouded, and the mission doubted. Even now, the perception remains skewed, leaving these vital alliances unrenewed. I often reflect on the challenge of combating “thoughts” and “ideas,” and how this invisible enemy seemed to grow stronger the more we attempted to confront it.
Fast forward to 2024, and as I sat in that luxurious New York City restaurant, I was in deep thought; the battle rages on. Thousands of these allies have died, including members of my own family, and sadly, many more will pay the ultimate price. Afghan allies, once vital, are now often forgotten. Some have found refuge in the United States and Europe, while others hide in neighboring countries, facing daily struggles. The most heart-wrenching plight belongs to those still in Afghanistan, particularly women and girls, whose lives are overshadowed by misogyny, oppression and fear. As I sat surrounded by the city’s opulence, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of their silent suffering and the enduring struggle against an invisible enemy.
Traditionally, interpreters are expected to stay invisible; they are not meant to be seen, only heard. Their opinions have little to no value. They are present in shadows, seen yet unseen. They were there in form but absent in essence — indispensable but anonymous. They were the “other,” the person on the side, in the middle or in the back. The top job required interpreters to use the word “I” in an alien form. They operated as empty vessels, required to be void of ego, values and mind. This is reminiscent of what psychologist Erik Erikson said: “American Negro writers often emphasize themes of ‘inaudibility,’ ‘invisibility,’ ‘namelessness,’ and ‘facelessness’ — depicting a void of silent, faceless individuals excluded from history.” Perhaps a similar description can be applied to interpreters.
This situation also emphasizes a much larger and pressing issue. Three years after the U.S. withdrew from Afghanistan, as we reflect on the sacrifices of Afghan allies and the servicemen and women of this nation, we are reminded of the thousands of interpreters still waiting for their Special Immigrant Visa (SIV) applications to be approved. For them, approval represents a lifeline — a chance for a new life, renewed hope, and a fresh beginning — but a crucial test of promises made and promises delivered.
Syracuse is home to many of these brave individuals. They could be your neighbors; their children might be studying in the same class as your kids. Far from being empty vessels, they bring with them a wealth of experience and knowledge that is unparalleled. Ask any combat veteran, and they will tell you that these interpreters and advisers were the helping hand—indispensable resources for Americans deployed overseas.
Yet, despite their critical contributions, the path to safety and security in the United States is fraught with daunting obstacles. According to a Department of State report to Congress, the estimated total processing time for SIV applications is a staggering 609 days. This figure doesn’t even account for the additional days spent by individual applicants gathering documents and completing forms. Nor does it include the endless back-and-forth with the State Department if any document is deemed missing or incomplete.
This July 2, 2009, photo shows Josh Habib, far left, a 53-year-old translator for the U.S. Marines, speaking with Afghan villagers and two Marines in the Nawa district of Afghanistan's Helmand province. More than 200 Afghans were due to land Friday, July 30, 2021 in the United States in the first of several planned evacuation flights for former translators and others as the U.S. ends its nearly 20-year war in Afghanistan. (David Guttenfelder | AP)AP
Imagine living each of those 609 days — and more — in fear, uncertainty, and limbo. The sheer length and complexity of this process are not just bureaucratic inefficiencies; they are life-threatening delays. These individuals, who once stood by our side in the most perilous conditions, now find themselves entangled in a web of red tape and hopelessness, their futures hanging in the balance. It is not just a procedural oversight; it is a moral failing that demands our immediate attention and action.
This day also serves as an emotional reminder of another fateful event: Aug. 15, 2021. Just three years ago, we watched Afghanistan, a struggling republic at the heart of Asia, fall into the hands of violent extremists, bearing witness to the United States’ inability to protect her allies.
As we grapple with the ever-evolving realm of international relations, it’s crucial to ask why we often overlook allies who are vital to U.S. interests. The U.S. government risks a significant miscalculation by failing to support these often-silent diplomats. They could be the key to advancing American interests and strengthening our foreign policy.
This shift in perspective invites us to see American foreign policy through the eyes of the silent ones — those who are indispensable yet often overlooked. It is time for the U.S. Department of State to embark on a transformative journey, mending its frayed global reputation, rekindling trust, actively supporting allies, and fostering global peace.