These individuals believed they were the elite, highly skilled engineers crucial to President Trump’s vision of revitalizing American manufacturing.
Take Park Sun-kyu, who boasts a resume of constructing electric car battery factories across Indonesia, Michigan, and Ohio. Or Kim Min-su, with similar experience from Poland, Ohio, and Tennessee. Then there’s Nate Cho, an HVAC expert, instrumental in building a nuclear power plant in the UAE and a Samsung semiconductor facility in Texas.
All three, South Korean nationals, had returned to the U.S. this year. They were among hundreds of fellow Koreans involved in constructing a massive 2,900-acre Hyundai complex in southeastern Georgia, dedicated to electric car production. Their specific task was completing a battery factory, a project lauded by the state governor for creating thousands of new jobs for local residents.
On the morning of September 4th, Park Sun-kyu was in his office, guiding a colleague through a complex manufacturing system, when an armed U.S. agent suddenly burst in, yelling, “Everyone outside!”
Kim Min-su, overseeing operations in a “dry room” meticulously controlled for temperature and humidity to produce sample batteries, heard a sudden commotion. A security manager called, reporting an armed raid. Outside, agents moved with startling speed, sweeping across the entire facility.
Nate Cho, focused on his team’s balance sheets in his office, glanced up to see helicopters circling overhead and armored vehicles descending upon the grounds.
Soon, all three found themselves caught in what U.S. officials termed the largest Homeland Security enforcement operation ever at a single site. They were held in shackles, detained for a week in what they described as deplorable conditions, and have since accused U.S. authorities of serious human rights abuses.
This raid represented a stark clash between Mr. Trump’s immigration and trade agendas. It sent shockwaves through South Korea, a vital U.S. ally. South Korean diplomats engaged in intense negotiations with Washington for a week, ultimately securing the workers’ return home.
Days after returning to South Korea, six of these repatriated workers, interviewed by The New York Times, confessed they were still reeling from the traumatic experience. Mr. Park, for instance, is now seeing a doctor due to severe sleep disturbances.
“My primary conclusion is that America is simply not a safe place for me to work,” Mr. Park stated. “I have no intention of returning there for employment.”
A Troubling Disconnect in U.S. Policy
The United States and South Korea share a profound relationship, cemented by a military alliance spanning decades. This established bond only intensified the shock and dismay felt by many Koreans regarding the raid.
According to the repatriated workers, their dire situation was a direct result of a fundamental inconsistency between America’s stated aspirations and its actual practices.
For many years, South Korean giants like Hyundai have been establishing and running factories across the United States. More recently, Washington pressured South Korea into committing hundreds of billions of dollars for new factory construction, leveraging the threat of increased tariffs on South Korean exports.
However, industry experts argue that the U.S. lacks sufficient skilled labor to build these factories at a cost effective for companies. Furthermore, Washington has not issued nearly enough work visas for foreign specialists. Just last week, Mr. Trump exacerbated the problem by levying substantial fees on new H-1B visa applicants.
To navigate this discrepancy, many South Korean firms, including those contracted by Hyundai and LG for the battery factory, employ a system of rotating workers in and out of U.S. construction sites. These workers often enter the country on short-term business or tourist visas, occasionally operating in a legal “gray zone.”
Neither U.S. nor South Korean officials have released specific visa information for all 317 Koreans arrested on September 4th. However, five of the six engineers interviewed by The Times confirmed they were on six-month B-1 visas, typically for business consultations. The sixth individual used the 90-day visa-waiver program, ESTA, for business or tourism. All asserted they were on business trips, funded by their South Korean employers.
“We understood we were operating in a legal gray area,” admitted Mr. Park, who meticulously avoided hands-on work with tools to adhere to his B-1 visa’s restrictions. “Our strategy involved completing our assignments within two to three months, returning home, and then making another trip to the U.S. after a similar break.”
The Raid Unfolds
That Thursday, over 400 U.S. agents swarmed the Ellabell complex.
The agents first separated U.S. citizens from the crowd. Non-citizens, specifically those on ESTA, B-1, and B-2 tourist visas, were then instructed to complete detailed worksheets in English and Spanish, inquiring about personal information and their legal entry status. Workers reported that no Korean translators were provided, forcing English-speaking colleagues to assist.
One individual, as previously reported by The Times, was reportedly forced to leave the country despite possessing legal status.
Kim, 34, initially felt no alarm, even when instructed to place his belongings into mesh bags. He recalled one agent even reassuring him, “I will let you go home.”
However, the atmosphere quickly changed. Individuals on ESTA, B-1, and B-2 visas were suddenly served with arrest warrants, handcuffed, chained, and transported in buses to an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detention facility in Folkston, Georgia.
Korean workers remain baffled, questioning why they were arrested solely based on their visa status and never informed of any specific laws they allegedly violated.
They also questioned why they, who were actively contributing to the local economy by creating jobs, were being detained.
“We were not there to settle down as permanent workers,” affirmed Mr. Cho, 55.
Mr. Kim elaborated that the primary objective for subcontractors like himself was swift completion of their work. “Missing the target date means increased costs for us, as we aren’t compensated for any extended work beyond the agreed-upon period,” he explained.
Allegations of Abuse and Mistreatment
Inside the detention center, workers described being segregated into five “pods,” each housing up to 80 individuals. Meals consisted of an apple, ham-and-cheese sandwiches, or meat gruel with rice or baked beans. Drinking water came from fountains or communal containers. Along one wall, shower stalls, urinals, and toilets were openly arranged, with only a minimal partition separating them from the general communal space.
Since their return, dozens of workers have formed a chat group to share their experiences and solidify claims of human rights abuses. They assert that authorities never informed them of their rights or the reasons for their arrests. Their cellphones were confiscated, preventing them from contacting family, employers, or legal representation. Even when permitted to use detention center phones, international calls were blocked.
Their complaints include foul-smelling drinking water, mold-ridden mattresses, dusty blankets, frigid air conditioning, and a consistently slow response from officials to medical requests.
One chilling account from the chat group describes guards making racist gestures by pulling their eyes sideways. “The racial discrimination and blatant sneering, along with the perception of us by the United States, will forever remain etched in my memory,” the worker expressed.
South Korea’s foreign ministry has pledged to investigate these allegations of human rights abuses. The U.S. Embassy in Seoul has not yet responded to requests for comment.
Workers recounted that during individual interviews at the detention center, U.S. officials presented them with a stark choice: voluntarily depart the United States for violating admission terms, or remain and challenge their cases in court.
Mr. Kim stated an American officer warned him that legal battles could extend for months, a sentiment echoed by the South Korean government. Consequently, all but one of the Korean detainees opted for voluntary departure.
Right up to the very end, a contentious point remained: U.S. officials insisted on handcuffing the workers for their four-hour bus journey to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport for their flight home. South Korean officials vehemently opposed this. However, the workers themselves, utterly exhausted and desperate to leave the detention center, conveyed to visiting diplomats that they simply wanted to go home as soon as possible, regardless of whether they were handcuffed.
Ultimately, the South Korean government’s persistence paid off, and the workers were not handcuffed. Furthermore, Seoul stated that Washington assured them the workers would not face disadvantages if they sought to re-enter the United States after resolving their visa issues.
Yet, not all workers expressed a desire to return.
However, Mr. Cho asserted that, given the chance, he would have returned directly to the factory site from the detention center.
“My personal pride takes a backseat to the importance of completing the work I initiated,” he remarked.
Originally slated for completion by year-end and projected to generate 400 new jobs, the battery factory’s opening is now delayed by at least several months.