Irina Tsukerman on Trump’s South Africa Asylum Policy and Elon Musk’s Starlink Role in Ukraine

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): A Further Inquiry

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/08/08

Part 1 of 4

Irina Tsukerman is a human rights and national security attorney based in New York and Connecticut. She earned her Bachelor of Arts in National and Intercultural Studies and Middle East Studies from Fordham University in 2006, followed by a Juris Doctor from Fordham University School of Law in 2009. She operates a boutique national security law practice. She serves as President of Scarab Rising, Inc., a media and security strategic advisory firm. Additionally, she is the Editor-in-Chief of The Washington Outsider, which focuses on foreign policy, geopolitics, security, and human rights. She is actively involved in several professional organizations, including the American Bar Association’s Energy, Environment, and Science and Technology Sections, where she serves as Program Vice Chair in the Oil and GasCommittee. She is also a member of the New York City Bar Association. She serves on the Middle East and North Africa Affairs Committee and affiliates with the Foreign and Comparative Law Committee. 

In this wide-ranging conversation, Scott Douglas Jacobsen and Irina Tsukerman dissect Trump-era refugee policies favoring white South Africans as racially selective and legally dubious. She also argued that Elon Musk’s restriction of Starlink services in Ukraine, especially during key military advances, effectively supported Russian interests and undermined Ukrainian sovereignty. Tsukerman highlighted the dangers of U.S. reliance on private actors for national security infrastructure and called for stricter contractual controls to prevent unilateral interference in geopolitically sensitive conflicts.

Interview conducted July 25.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Once again, we’re here with the ‘Washington Outsider’ for the Everywhere Insiders—the wonderful Irina Tsukerman. Thank you for joining me again today.

Irina Tsukerman: Always a pleasure.

Jacobsen: Today, we’re broadcasting all sources from Reuters. I’m calling in from Charles Degaulle Airport in France, late in the evening on Friday, July 25—just passing the time while getting everything set up. So, first, diplomats have reportedly asked whether the Trump-era refugee policy for South Africans was intended to include only white applicants, or if nonwhite South Africans could also qualify.

According to a 2018 email obtained during litigation, a Trump official stated the refugee program was being explicitly considered for white South Africans, particularly Afrikaners, who were allegedly facing discrimination. However, the State Department publicly maintained that U.S. asylum law does not discriminate by race, and that eligibility is based on credible fear of persecution regardless of racial background. This apparent contradiction has caused confusion and concern, especially in light of the administration’s broader track record on immigration. What are your thoughts on this?

Tsukerman: I’m not sure this is simply a case of confusion. It seems more like an attempt to clean up what could be interpreted as a racially selective or discriminatory asylum policy. One that would reflect poorly on the administration.

Let’s look at the facts. The justification given by some officials for prioritizing white South Africans—particularly Afrikaners—was that they faced increasing threats, land seizures, and discrimination under post-apartheid government policies. Then-President Trump tweeted in 2018 that he had asked the Secretary of State to look into land expropriations and “large-scale killing of farmers,” echoing rhetoric often associated with far-right narratives.

Now, the claim of a “white genocide” in South Africa has been widely debunked by both local and international experts. While farm attacks and murders do occur and some Afrikaners feel targeted, there is no evidence of a coordinated campaign or genocide. That said, South Africa’s land reform policies and affirmative action programs have been controversial and, in some cases, have affected white farmers economically.

So, while there may be cases of legitimate asylum claims from individuals of any race in South Africa, the idea of prioritizing only white South Africans for refugee status is highly suspect, especially when the U.S. was, at the same time, limiting asylum access for Black and brown migrants from Central America, the Middle East, and elsewhere.

And here’s the legal dilemma: if a nonwhite Afrikaner—or, for that matter, any nonwhite South African—experienced the same discrimination and threats as a white counterpart, would they be considered eligible under this supposed policy?

That question exposes a core tension. On one hand, the administration claims to be assisting those who have been “discriminated against.” On the other hand, if language or culture (like speaking Afrikaans) is being used as a proxy for race, it raises red flags. Restricting eligibility in practice to white applicants, regardless of their actual circumstances, would violate U.S. asylum law.

Also telling is the lack of actual uptake: very few South Africans, white or otherwise, sought asylum in the U.S. in response to this policy shift. That suggests the issue may have been overstated for political effect—perhaps more about signalling than substance.

All in all, this policy appears legally flimsy, morally questionable, and politically awkward. And the administration’s clumsy messaging only deepens the controversy.

If people are truly in such dire straits—facing what they describe as genocide, discrimination, or mass violence—why wouldn’t they take the opportunity to seek refuge in a haven where they wouldn’t be at risk? That’s why I question whether this issue has been politicized beyond recognition.

There’s no clear evidence of genocide, or even mass violence, in South Africa that would make this refugee policy more relevant than, say, Haiti, where a U.S. court only recently extended Temporary Protected Status until February, despite the administration’s efforts to deport thousands. Or take Turkey, where we’ve seen large-scale violence and state-sponsored crackdowns, or other countries dealing with war-like conditions.

Yes, South Africa has racial tensions. But do those tensions rise to a level that warrants special refugee protections for one specific group?

I’m not convinced. And to be clear, there is no genocide in South Africa. I think, quite simply, the administration wants to stick to the kind of red-meat policies that appeal to their base—for better or worse—but they’re also aware of the legal and diplomatic fallout. How this looks to the international community, to legal experts, to everyone outside the hardcore MAGA base—it’s not good. Frankly, the optics are terrible.

Jacobsen: Musk reportedly ordered the shutdown of Starlink satellite service once Ukraine retook territory from Russia.

To be clear for the transcript: Russia annexed Ukrainian land illegally. Ukraine has since retaken portions of that land. Musk then disabled Starlink service, at least in those newly liberated areas, if not entirely, depending on which report youbelieve. 

What’s your take on this? What do you think is the reasonable inference behind Musk’s rationale? Is this consistent with his behaviour since 2022?

Tsukerman: To be perfectly honest, this only reinforces my personal view that Musk wants Russia to win the war, or at the very least, he doesn’t want Ukraine to win and reclaim its full sovereignty.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen something like this. Musk previously restricted Ukraine’s use of Starlink for offensive military operations. The terminals were limited to defensive communications only until the U.S. government negotiated a separate contract that allowed for broader military use.

You could argue Musk was motivated by profit or risk aversion, but he never seemed to place any moral or strategic pressure on Russia. He treated both sides as equally complicit in the conflict, as if Ukraine hadn’t been invaded and wasn’t fighting for its survival. That kind of moral equivalence is deeply flawed.

You cannot defend your population if you’re not able to go on the offensive against invading forces. That’s the basic logic of self-defence. Denying Ukraine the communication tools it needs to conduct offensive operations directly undermines its ability to win the war and protect its people.

Jacobsen: It’s being reported that Russia may have gained access to Starlink technology as well.

Tsukerman: Yes. There were reports that Russian forces somehow gained access to Starlink terminals, or at least to Starlink connectivity. It hasn’t been fully explained how that happened, but the optics are damaging. There’s a strong implication that Musk or his companies were, at best, careless, or at worst, complicit in letting those systems fall into Russian hands.

What’s most striking is the timing, the moment Ukraine started making real gains by retaking occupied land and launching legitimate military operations against Russian military and logistical targets, Musk abruptly shut down access to Starlink. Not because civilians were harmed. Not because Ukraine violated some humanitarian principle. But it seems that Ukraine dared to push forward.

He claimed the move was to prevent escalation or offensive use. He never placed any similar restrictions on Russia’s offensive actions. He didn’t block Russian communications when they were bombing civilians, torturing prisoners, or trying to wipe out Ukrainian infrastructure. His ‘neutrality’ wasn’t neutral. It consistently advantaged Russia.

The only reasonable conclusion is that Musk didn’t want Ukraine to succeed beyond the point where it could simply survive. He seemed to want Ukraine to endure for the U.S. and other parties to keep paying for his services without allowing a decisive Ukrainian victory.

If Ukraine were to lose entirely, Starlink would no longer be of strategic value to the U.S. government. That would undercut his contracts and his influence. It’s not about doing good in the world. It’s about profit, power, and control.

Otherwise, Musk would have provided the Starlink services for free and without restrictions, which was not the case. What this tells us is that the U.S. government is dangerously reliant on a private individual for a critical tool of geopolitics. While other countries and private entities are now developing similar satellite communication systems, the fact that the U.S. government didn’t invest early in acquiring this technology independently is a major strategic miscalculation.

Today, it’s Ukraine. Tomorrow, it could be Taiwan and China. We also know that Musk reportedly refused to provide Starlink coverage for U.S. military operations in the Taiwan Strait. That’s another layer of concern.

But beyond that, I don’t understand why—after the previous incidents involving Musk’s interference in Ukraine’s use of Starlink—the U.S. government didn’t include an exclusivity clause in its contracts. Something that would guarantee government control over strategic use and limit Musk’s ability to impose his conditions.

Sure, pay Musk fairly for the service—but in return, he shouldn’t be allowed to unilaterally decide when or how the network can be used during conflicts. If he does, there should be substantial penalties or breach-of-contract consequences. There are many ways to leverage someone like Musk. He needs government business, and there’s still significant prestige in working with the U.S. government—prestige he may not get elsewhere.

Now, Europe is developing its satellite systems. Taiwan is too. Musk’s monopoly in this private satellite sector is narrowing. The U.S. should have recognized that the window of opportunity was closing and acted accordingly.

The only reason I suspect they didn’t is because Trump’s policy—at least during his administration—was aligned mainly with Musk in this area. Either Trump wanted Russia to win, or, if that wasn’t possible, he didn’t want Ukraine to win outright. So, he let Musk play this dangerous game.

The administration could have applied enormous pressure on Musk through contract threats, legal tools, even regulatory and tax scrutiny—to ensure continued service. But they didn’t. Unfortunately, this seems to reflect how extensive Russia’s influence over U.S. policy may still be.

Many continue to claim Russian influence is a hoax. But the fact that a private citizen is allowed to dictate the military communications policy of a U.S. ally tells a different story. Russia never stopped meddling in U.S. affairs—and the U.S. government has, in many ways, allowed it.

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