Revoking Student Visas Tests the American Rule of Law
— The Lawsuit of a Chinese International Student Against the U.S. Government
Ma Siwei (马四维)
【Editor's Note: A wave of U.S. student visa revocations has alarmed universities and legal experts, particularly the case of Yang, a Chinese student at the University of South Carolina. His F-1 visa was voided without notice due to a minor past traffic infraction, prompting the university to bar him from classes. Yang, who maintains he did not violate his status, has sued the Department of Homeland Security, ICE, and the university, arguing violations of immigration law, the Administrative Procedure Act, and the Fifth Amendment. His case challenges the conflation of visa revocation with loss of legal status and highlights procedural lapses in SEVIS operations. With over a thousand students reportedly affected, the case could reshape immigration enforcement and university responsibilities. A ruling in Yang’s favor may impose stricter legal standards on agencies, promote due process, and protect the rights of international students—testing whether the U.S. still values justice and constitutional protections for all.】
Recently, a wave of visa cancellations has swept through America’s universities. According to media reports, more than a thousand international students have seen their visas voided or their legal status terminated in the past few weeks alone—often for minor infractions committed years ago, such as traffic violations. These students, receiving no advance warning, discover overnight that their lawful presence has evaporated; detention or even removal looms. The unprecedented severity of these measures has sown panic on campus and stirred unease among legal scholars.
One emblematic case involves a Chinese student, known publicly as Yang (杨同学), at the University of South Carolina (南卡罗来纳大学). On April 3, he was notified by the university’s International Student Services Office that his record in the Student and Exchange Visitor Information System (SEVIS — 学生与交流访问学者信息系统) had been terminated for “failure to maintain status.” An internal note linked the decision to a “criminal record hit or visa revocation.” The news blindsided Yang, a conscientious student who believed he had never violated the terms of his status. A hurried self‑audit revealed the culprit: years earlier, he had driven while his license was briefly suspended and paid a traffic fine. The matter had long since been closed, leaving no criminal record. Yet that trivial offense prompted immigration authorities, years later, to revoke his F‑1 visa without notice. The university at once barred him from classes—a move that, if uncorrected, would force him to withdraw and leave the country.
Yang sought clarification and relief from both the university and immigration agencies, but to no avail. Cornered, he turned to the courts. This month he filed suit in federal district court for the District of Columbia, naming the Department of Homeland Security, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), and the University of South Carolina as defendants, and demanding reinstatement of his visa and academic standing. The case has been docketed as 1:25‑cv‑01230 and now enters formal litigation.
Legal Foundations: Visa, Status, and Due Process
Yang’s action, while born of personal crisis, raises questions of wider importance. First comes the distinction between a visa and a status. Under U.S. immigration law, an F‑1 visa merely authorizes entry; the student’s lawful stay depends on maintaining F‑1 status while in the country. If a student obeys the rules, an expired—or even revoked—visa does not by itself extinguish that status. ICE’s own guidance confirms that visa cancellation is not, in itself, grounds for terminating a SEVIS record. In short, revoking a visa is not the same as extinguishing status. Yet Yang’s SEVIS record was ended, and both school and agency treated the halted visa as death warrant for his status—precisely the premise his suit contests.
In the complaint Yang’s attorneys advance three claims.
First, they allege the University violated the Immigration and Nationality Act. As the school’s Designated School Official (DSO), the university is bound to support students who remain lawfully enrolled; barring Yang from class without statutory basis, they argue, exceeds the DSO’s authority and deprives him of the right to complete his studies under 8 U.S.C. § 1101(a)(15)(F).
Second, they accuse the government of breaching the Administrative Procedure Act (APA). The APA requires agency action to rest on reasoned grounds and to honor procedural fairness. By terminating Yang’s SEVIS record without factual explanation or an opportunity to respond, DHS and ICE, the suit says, acted “arbitrarily, capriciously, [and] in abuse of discretion,” violating § 706 of the Act. The court, therefore, may set the action aside.
Third, they contend the government offended the Fifth Amendment’s Due Process Clause. The Constitution forbids the state from depriving any person—citizen or not—of life, liberty, or property without due process of law. Continuing one’s studies and preserving lawful status, Yang’s counsel argues, are protectable interests. To strip them away without prior notice or a hearing is to take property without process, flouting the Constitution.
Yang petitions the court for far‑reaching relief: a declaration that terminating a SEVIS record does not automatically void F‑1 status; assurance that the decision will not prejudice future visa or immigration benefits; rescission of DHS’s termination order; and a mandate compelling the university to restore his enrollment and employment eligibility (OPT/CPT). In essence, he asks the judiciary to clarify muddled legal concepts, rectify procedural missteps by government and school alike, and allow him to finish his degree.
Yang’s counsel—immigration litigators Huang Xiaosheng (黄笑生) and Michael Chen—note the case is unprecedented in one respect: for the first time a university is sued alongside the federal government. Prior suits over visa revocations have targeted DHS alone; colleges usually appeared only as cooperating parties, not defendants. By dragging his alma mater into court, Yang spotlights the university’s role in managing international‑student status and invites systemic scrutiny.
A Test of Procedural Justice
Yang’s ordeal exposes the machinery of U.S. immigration enforcement and the role colleges play in it. After September 11 the United States erected a stringent monitoring regime; SEVIS is its linchpin, tracking each F‑1 student’s enrollment, grades, and potential infractions in real time. Conceived for security and compliance, the system now reveals grave procedural faults.
SEVIS terminations often catch students unaware. At the University of Pennsylvania, for instance, administrators learn of cancellations only by checking the database twice daily. Washington issues no prior notice to student or school; the deed is done silently in the backend. Yang’s April 3 notice was just such a cold, system‑generated blow. This absence of advance warning defies due process. Students penalized in this fashion often have no idea why they were chosen for the sweep.
Caught in the middle, universities occupy an awkward posture. As bridges between students and the state, international‑office staff must both report to authorities and protect their charges. Faced with a sudden termination, most institutions default to caution—or capitulation. The University of South Carolina, without verifying the facts, instantly barred Yang from class, tacitly accepting the dubious equation “visa revoked = no right to study.” Perhaps the school feared federal reprisal; yet from the standpoint of student rights, it acted precipitously. No wonder Yang chose to sue his own university: to prod campuses into examining their legal duties when assisting federal oversight.
American colleges trumpet diversity and support for international students, but when trouble strikes they often retreat into opacity. At Penn, administrators circulated an internal note after at least three visa revocations, then fell silent, offering no public update or further aid. Faculty have since chastised the administration for its lack of transparency and leadership.
Revoking a visa is meant for grave misconduct or security threats; yet here the triggers are trifling. Some students were punished for late homework, off‑campus work hours, or an old traffic citation. Severe penalties for minor faults raise doubts about the fairness of enforcement. With no chance to explain or remedy, students suffer disproportionate consequences. Is the system safeguarding the law—or wielding compliance as a cudgel?
Finally, the episode exposes the danger of unchecked administrative power. Before the judiciary could intervene, immigration officers terminated hundreds—or thousands—of records through SEVIS, an operation all but invisible to Congress and the public. In an age of electronic governance, agencies can swiftly enact sweeping measures without open debate. Policies of broad impact ordinarily require notice and comment; rebranding them as “internal enforcement” evades oversight and silences those affected.
The Potential Reach of the Yang Case
Yang’s suit could reverberate far beyond his own fate. A ruling in his favor would clarify gray areas and correct enforcement overreach. If the court declares that “ending a SEVIS record does not equal losing F‑1 status,” future revocations could no longer rely on that shortcut; agencies would need to follow formal status‑termination procedures, complete with notice and hearing.
Universities’ obligations would likewise sharpen. Should the court find the University of South Carolina misread the law, campuses nationwide may hesitate to treat a SEVIS alert as a summary expulsion order. They may allow grace periods or assist in clearing discrepancies rather than ejecting students on sight.
At a higher level, the case could tether immigration authorities to judicial restraint. A rebuke under the APA—branding ICE’s conduct “arbitrary and capricious”—would draw a bright line: mass visa cancellations demand solid statutory warrant and individualized review, not clandestine sweeps. Agencies, faced with the specter of litigation and defeat, might tread more carefully.
Policy ripple effects could follow. With more than a thousand students reportedly affected across 160 campuses, a Yang victory might compel DHS to issue clearer guidance, codify hearing rights, and coordinate better with universities. Congress could convene hearings or legislate due‑process safeguards—perhaps a formal visa‑status review mechanism that grants students a window to contest allegations before termination.
America’s moral and reputational stakes are real. A decision vindicating Yang would broadcast judicial independence and constitutional fidelity—reassuring the hundreds of thousands who study here and bolstering the United States’ image as a magnet for talent. A ruling the other way could deepen doubts about procedural fairness and campus safety. The Yang case, then, is a barometer of America’s trajectory: toward renewed justice or resigned backsliding.
“The glory of the law,” as legal sage Learned Hand once observed, “lies in protecting the weak.” This suit asks whether the United States remains that kind of nation—one that upholds the rights of all, or one willing, under pressure, to sacrifice the fairness owed to a vulnerable few. The answer may well be written in the court’s forthcoming opinion.