On the afternoon of August 25, 2021, in the final chaotic days of the Western withdrawal from Afghanistan, a group of Afghan interpreters and their families stood beneath the metal canopy of a gas station near the perimeter of Hamid Karzai International Airport. The instruction was simple and deliberate: wear red so that Canadian soldiers could identify them in the crowd and bring them to safety. Some of the men had spent years interpreting for Canadian troops in Kandahar and elsewhere, walking into the same danger as the soldiers they supported. They held folders of documents showing they had already been approved under Canada’s Special Immigration Measures, the program specifically created for Afghans who had a significant and enduring relationship with Canada. Their wives and children stood with them in the dust and heat, and Canadian special forces were—according to multiple accounts from the time— no more than about one hundred metres away inside the airport wire. Hours passed while interpreters waited, but no Canadian soldiers came out to collect them— and eventually they were told to leave and return to safe houses in the city.
A short distance away at Abbey Gate, internal military emails from that same day show the Canadian effort was focused on an entirely different group—one repeatedly referred to as the “Vulnerable Group (Sikhs).” A Canadian officer from the Strategic Joint Staff made face-to-face contact with members of the group and stayed on the phone throughout the encounter; he reported that an Indian Air Force C-17 was already on the ground with these passengers manifested. The same officer then moved toward the gate by vehicle while staying in communication. Force-protection concerns were discussed and higher up the chain, officials were paying close attention: one email noted that the Deputy Minister was “curious” and wanted to be kept informed, and there are indications the matter was being elevated toward the Chief of the Defence Staff. This was not casual information-sharing. This was active, real-time operational tracking of a specific group on one of the last days Canada was still flying people out of Kabul.
The attention did not end when the airlift concluded. On September 16, 2021, a follow-up email from the same file sent the names and dates of birth of the group’s remaining members to Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada.
The contrast between these two scenes sits at the centre of a contradiction that has never been properly examined. Then-Defence Minister Harjit Sajjan has repeatedly insisted that Canada’s priority was Canadian citizens, permanent residents, and Afghans who had worked with Canadian forces. He has stated that he did not order a rescue of Afghan Sikhs, did not prioritize them over Canadians or interpreters, and merely passed information from a non-governmental organization to the military chain of command. When The Globe and Mail reported that his intervention diverted scarce resources in the final hours, Sajjan dismissed the story as “utter BS.”
But Access to Information records released since then make those denials difficult to reconcile with the operational reality on the ground. On August 25, the Canadian military was tracking the Sikh group by name, making physical contact, moving an officer by vehicle toward their location, noting the presence of an Indian military aircraft, and reporting upward to senior civilians who had registered their interest. Sajjan has himself acknowledged that he provided direction through the chain of command to assist this group and that he personally relayed location information from the Manmeet Singh Bhullar Foundation. In the final hours of a collapsing evacuation—when aircraft seats, time, and attention were severely limited—the decision to devote officers and senior focus to this group while interpreters stood waiting in the place they had been told to wait constitutes prioritization, regardless of the language later used to describe it.
The political context deepens the concern because in the same days the events were unfolding, directors of the Manmeet Singh Bhullar Foundation—the organization supplying Sajjan with information about the Sikh group—made personal donations to his Vancouver South Liberal riding association. Tarjinder Bhullar donated $510 on August 19. Baljinder Bhullar and Apharnarayan Bhullar each donated $1,000 on August 22. On August 27, the day after Canada’s final flights left Kabul, Namrita Rattan donated the maximum individual contribution then allowed, $1,650. The foundation has said the donations related to the federal election, and not the evacuation, so the political contributions fall outside the Conflict of Interest Act. But the timing, however, is precise: the same individuals pressing the minister for action on the Sikh group were financially supporting his campaign while he directed military attention toward that group.
According to internal emails, the specific Sikh group contacted at Abbey Gate did not board Canadian aircraft because they refused to separate from their larger party. Yet the broader pattern of outcomes remains revealing—out of approximately 350 Afghan Sikhs who fled to India after the Taliban takeover, reports indicate that between 230 and 340 later resettled in Canada through private sponsorship, by the same non-governmental organization that flooded Minister Harjit Sajjan’s donation purse right before the election.
The SIMs program was later capped at roughly 18,000 spaces and closed to new applications, and years later, veteran-led organizations continue to identify hundreds of verified principal applicants—representing more than three thousand people including family members—with documented service to Canada who were never referred and still lack a dedicated pathway. Official statements at the time also acknowledged that more than a thousand Canadian citizens, permanent residents, and their immediate families remained in Afghanistan when flights stopped.
A parallel pattern appears with Afghan women athletes. Australia carried out the largest successful evacuation of members of the women’s national soccer team and related athletes (approximately 75–86 people) around August 24. Canadian facilitation letters were nevertheless distributed to some athletes through FIFA channels, creating expectations of Canadian authorization. In several cases, those letters later proved ineffective, leaving groups stranded in third countries, and internal Canadian correspondence shows soccer- and athlete-related cases were being tracked in the same period as the Sikh group—while vulnerable groups with strong advocates received focused attention—Canadians and allies were left on the ground to fend for themselves.
The evidence leaves a clear gap between the minister’s public assurances and the documented actions of those final days. Harjit Sajjan channelled information and direction that produced focused military attention on a group of Afghan Sikhs. At the same moment, Canadian citizens and interpreters who had served with Canadian forces—and who had followed instructions to make themselves visible—were left waiting and then abandoned. Directors of the foundation supplying the information about the Sikh group donated to Sajjan’s campaign during those same days and in the years since; a large share of the Sikh cohort that reached India has resettled in Canada through sponsorship pathways linked to that foundation—while hundreds of verified former Canadian local staff remain without a dedicated route to safety.
Sajjan has relied on careful phrasing and the chaos of the moment to deflect accountability, but the chaos was real, and the documents show where attention went and where it did not. They show who has since found safety in Canada and who is still waiting for the promise made to them to be kept. The interpreters who stood in red did what Canada asked. The record of those final days shows that Canada, under Sajjan’s direction, did not do the same for them.