In this episode of NPR's Book of the Day, journalists Evan Gershkovich and Mahmoud Khalil discuss their memoirs about political imprisonment. Gershkovich, detained in Russia on espionage charges, and Khalil, held in U.S. immigration detention for pro-Palestine activism, share how they adapted psychologically to confinement and the gaps between their public narratives and private experiences behind bars.
The conversation explores how state systems are weaponized to silence dissent, the fragility of home and legal status for marginalized communities, and the unexpected bonds formed between detainees. Both writers examine how imprisonment transforms one's sense of identity and belonging, and how their memoirs serve as acts of resistance against attempts to erase their voices. The episode provides insight into the psychological toll of detention and the broader implications of using legal systems as tools of political repression.

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Evan Gershkovich describes how detainees quickly adapt to survive imprisonment by accepting their reality rather than resisting it. He explains that he shifted his focus to observing details of his environment, like a reporter, to prevent rumination about his lost freedom. Throughout detention, Gershkovich suppressed his emotions by maintaining a reporter's perspective, watching himself as if he were another subject. This emotional distance enabled survival but created a delayed psychological impact—he first cried alone in a hotel room after release, triggered by the simple act of putting on slippers, a prison habit. His reintegration involved panic attacks, insomnia, and overwhelming emotions requiring therapy, along with the challenge of readjusting to normal time and routines.
Mahmoud Khalil describes how his public image as a symbol of injustice contrasted sharply with his private reality of worrying about family contact and mundane needs like finding mayonnaise. He felt reduced to a headline, his humanity flattened by the global narrative. Gershkovich echoes this experience, explaining how he watched news coverage of himself as if witnessing someone else's misfortune, creating a psychological detachment. Khalil highlights how media oversimplifies Palestinian and immigrant identities, casting them as either flawless victims or threats rather than complex human beings with universal aspirations.
Contemporary regimes increasingly weaponize state systems to silence dissent through detention and legal manipulation. Gershkovich was arrested in Russia on espionage charges for simply doing his job as a journalist. He recognized his detention as a politically motivated charade designed to convict him for use as a bargaining chip in prisoner swaps. Khalil, a permanent U.S. resident, describes how immigration law was used to suppress his pro-Palestine speech, showing how justice institutions can become tools of political repression. He points out the shocking institutional anti-Palestinian bias that drove federal collaboration with private actors to target non-citizen protesters, betraying expectations of legal safety and due process. Despite state efforts to erase their identities, both Gershkovich and Khalil resist through their work—Gershkovich asserting "I am a reporter and will remain so. You can't take that away from me," while Khalil continues writing and advocacy to confront attempts to silence him.
Gershkovich reflects on how confinement transforms small spaces into psychological homes over time. His prison cell became a kind of home by necessity, a coping mechanism that helped ward off mental anguish but ultimately highlighted what had been lost. Khalil's experience illustrates that legal status doesn't guarantee permanence for marginalized communities. Despite holding permanent U.S. residency, graduating from Columbia, and preparing to start a family, he was detained and realized he didn't truly have a secure place to stand. His family's pattern of generational displacement—from Palestine to Syria to Europe to the U.S.—shaped his understanding of home as fragile and temporary. A conversation with his mother, who fled Syria overnight after thirty years of building a house, captures the intergenerational trauma of rootlessness.
Despite isolation efforts, detainees form deep, compassionate bonds. Khalil recounts how, after receiving news of his son's birth, a Russian detainee brought him a makeshift cake made from mashed cookies and dried oranges—food saved over two weeks. This gesture symbolized shared humanity in a place where society had forgotten them. Khalil gradually recognized his relative privilege within detention, having legal representation and media attention while most detainees remained faceless to the system. He realized many felt he was sent there to bring awareness to their struggles. His memoir, No Land to Stand On, deliberately brings to light the lives of those around him. Khalil writes not only about himself but about the humanity of countless others whom society ignores, making his testimony a collective witness that ensures all detainees are recognized.
1-Page Summary
Evan Gershkovich describes how, almost immediately upon detention, he adapts to prison protocols and commands. He complies automatically with directives such as facing a wall or keeping his hands behind his back, without a second thought. Gershkovich observes that accepting the reality of imprisonment is necessary for survival; resisting or dwelling on lost freedom can lead to psychological decline. Faced with an unchangeable situation, he directs his focus, much like a reporter, toward details of his environment that might be interesting. This shift prevents rumination about his former life and freedom, which he believes would otherwise drive him to insanity.
Throughout his detention, Gershkovich suppresses his emotions, maintaining an emotional distance by adopting a reporter’s perspective. He describes watching himself as if he were just another subject, keeping himself removed from the trauma and horror of the experience. This coping mechanism enables him to function and survive the ordeal. However, this emotional suppression leads to a delayed psychological impact. When Gershkovich is finally released and able to hug his family, true emotion surfaces for the first time. The first moment he cries is alone in a hotel room, triggered unexpectedly by the act of putting on slippers—a habit from prison life. This mundane act brings the overwhelming realization of his lost freedom and the time spent in captivity, causing the emotions he had kept at bay to come crashing down.
Psychological Adaptation and Coping Mechanisms During Detention
Mahmoud Khalil describes how, during his detention, he observes headlines and protests featuring his name and image. Despite becoming a symbol of injustice to the world, his daily concerns remain grounded in immediate, personal needs—hoping for contact with his family, wondering whether he will be released for his child's birth, searching for mayonnaise to put on his sandwich, or looking for a better bunk bed. Khalil notes the stark contrast between his public image and private reality. He feels reduced to a headline, his individuality and humanity flattened by the global narrative that sees him only as a symbol or case study rather than as a person with ordinary needs and desires.
Evan Gershkovich echoes this experience, describing a psychological detachment as he watches news coverage of himself. Gershkovich says he sees “Evan” on television as if witnessing someone else's misfortune rather than his own. This surreal transformation, as international scrutiny turns detainees into public spectacles, creates a sense of alienation and psychological fracture, separating lived experience from the image por ...
Gap Between Public Narrative and Personal Experience
Contemporary global regimes increasingly silence dissent and control narratives by weaponizing state systems, using detention and legal institutions to target journalists and activists. The stories of Evan Gershkovich and Mahmoud Khalil illustrate how governments manipulate legal frameworks to suppress speech, enforce compliance, and attempt to erase or redefine political and professional identities.
Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich was arrested in Russia on espionage charges for simply doing his job as a journalist. Gershkovich immediately recognized that his detention was politically motivated, describing it as a charade performed by the Russian legal system to convict him and use him as a political bargaining chip for future prisoner exchanges. Gershkovich notes that Russian authorities are transparent about convicting detainees only to swap them, highlighting the performative aspect of such state actions. He compares his treatment, which involved less brutality due to his value as a bargaining chip, to the fate of Victoria Roshan, a Ukrainian journalist captured at the same time, who was killed in prison under unclear and gruesome circumstances. This stark difference underscores the instrumental nature of these detentions.
Mahmoud Khalil, a permanent U.S. resident, describes how immigration law was wielded against him to suppress his speech in support of Palestine. He explains that his case did not arise solely from immigration or First Amendment issues; rather, it was a targeted act against his political advocacy. The use of immigration enforcement in this context prioritized silencing political expression over addressing genuine security concerns, showing an intentional exploitation of state systems to control dissenting narratives.
Khalil’s experience demonstrates how justice institutions, rather than providing legal security, can be weaponized for political repression against non-citizens. He describes feeling betrayed by the government’s willingness to use detention as a means to target non-citizen protesters, revealing the reach of state violence beyond criminal prosecution to the realm of immigration enforcement.
Khalil points out his shock at discovering that institutional anti-Palestinian bias was not only present but actively driving federal government collaborations with private actors to ...
Political Persecution and Weaponization of State Systems
The conversations reveal how experiences of confinement, migration, and generational displacement challenge the concept of home, highlighting its fragility, impermanence, and psychological weight.
Evan Gershkovich describes how prison life quickly compels adaptation, with the tiny cell shared with another man becoming a kind of psychological home. He notes that almost immediately upon arrival, he found himself complying with commands and adopting habits to navigate the dehumanizing conditions. Gershkovich recounts a moment of realization in a hotel room after prison, instinctively reaching for slippers before entering the bathroom—a routine that had become second nature in confinement to maintain cleanliness. The act triggers unexpected emotion, as he recognizes that his cell, by necessity, had assumed the role of home. He observes that this transformation serves as a coping mechanism; focusing on the cell as home helps ward off the mental burden of contemplating lost freedom and actual home. Gershkovich reflects on how normalizing the abnormal can momentarily protect mental health, but ultimately brings home the crushing reality of what has been lost.
Mahmoud Khalil’s journey illustrates that legal status does not guarantee permanence or safety for marginalized communities, especially those whose political positions might be at odds with the state. Khalil, born and raised in a Palestinian refugee camp in Syria, recounts securing U.S. permanent residency, graduating from Columbia University, finding employment, and preparing to start a family—finally feeling a sense of lasting home and stability. However, this sense is shattered in March 2025 when masked, plainclothes immigration agents detain him in New York City and send him to rural Louisiana. Khalil realizes that despite holding permanent residency in "one of the safest places on earth," he does not truly have a secure place to stand. The protection he hoped for is revocable, underscori ...
The Concept of Home, Displacement, and Permanence
In the isolating environment of detention, detainees often forge deep, compassionate connections with one another. Mahmoud Khalil recounts how, after quietly using the phone booth to receive news of his son's birth, his fellow detainees noticed and chose to celebrate despite having very little themselves. A Russian detainee brought him a makeshift cake, created from mashed cookies and dried oranges—food carefully saved over two weeks. Khalil describes this gesture as one of the most beautiful moments of his time in detention, a testament to their mutual care: "Because there you feel that you're forgotten." This act symbolizes the emergence of shared humanity in a place where society has largely abandoned and forgotten those inside.
Although Khalil initially saw his experience as uniquely isolating and unjust, he gradually recognized his own relative privilege within the detention center. He had legal representation, media attention, an American wife, and the safety that came with his family's status. Most detainees around him were faceless in the eyes of the system—without lawyers, attention, or anyone to document their experiences. Khalil realized many felt he was sent there to bring awareness to their struggles. Centering the stories of these other detainees became a way to acknowledge their existence and ensure that their experiences, not just those with external support, received recognition and respect.
Khalil’s memoir, ...
Human Solidarity and Connection Within Detention Systems
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