By Philip C. Parrish, Candidate for Governor of Minnesota 2026
Minnesotans, whether you’re a hardworking farmer in St. Cloud, a factory worker in Duluth, or a small business owner in Minneapolis, you’ve seen your tax dollars pour into refugee programs—$6.7 million in federal grants alone in 2023. You’ve welcomed communities like the Somali and Hmong, who’ve built lives here, contributing millions to our economy. But something doesn’t add up. You’re told it’s all for the greater good, yet division festers, communities struggle, and resentment grows.
As a Navy Intelligence Lieutenant Commander and executive administrator at Divine Mercy Catholic Churches and Schools, I’ve seen the truth up close: the real culprits aren’t the refugees or the taxpayers. They’re the bureaucrats, NGOs, and media who perpetuate a broken, morally bankrupt system for their own profit and praise, throwing fairy dust bombs of empty promises while leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.
Let’s cut through the fog. Minnesota’s Somali and Hmong communities didn’t just show up here by chance. Many fled wars and persecution tied to U.S. covert operations—secret deals most of us never hear about. Take the Hmong: in the 1960s, the CIA recruited them to fight in Laos’ Secret War, promising safety and support. When we pulled out in 1975, they faced retaliation, and 27,000 landed in Minnesota by 1980, often with little more than trauma and broken promises.
Somalis, too, escaped a civil war in the 1990s, fueled partly by U.S.-backed interventions that destabilized their homeland. By 2019, 36,000 Somalis called Minnesota home, chasing a promised better life. But here’s the kicker: 60% of Somali refugees lived below the poverty line in 2018, despite assurances of opportunity. Meanwhile, Minnesota taxpayers—you—footed the bill, with no say in how those dollars were spent or why these crises happened in the first place.
Who’s really to blame? Not the refugees rebuilding lives against the odds, nor the hardworking Minnesotans who fund these programs. It’s the shadowy players—nefarious actors—who exploit this cycle. Nonprofits and LLCs, often cloaked in humanitarian rhetoric, siphon off millions. A 2019 audit found $1.3 million in questionable spending by Minnesota’s refugee program contractors—vague invoices, bloated overheads, and insider deals. In 2022, a Rochester nonprofit pocketed nearly 30% of a $1.5 million grant meant for Somali housing. These aren’t accidents; they’re a feature of a system designed to keep the money flowing to the connected, not the communities.
Legislators I’ve spoken to, some I call friends, either ignore these red flags or, worse, profit from the status quo. They know it’s broken but keep it quiet, hiding behind the guise of the greater good.
The media doesn’t help. Instead of exposing how U.S. policies abroad—like covert ops in Somalia—or lax oversight here fuel this mess, they spin feel-good stories or stoke fear. When the Star Tribune hails the $200 million Somali businesses added to our economy in 2018, they don’t mention it’s often recycled taxpayer money from grants and contracts. When a 2015 Washington Times piece tied Somalis to terrorism, it ignored how U.S. actions helped create the chaos they fled. This selective storytelling pits Minnesotans against refugees, fueling false narratives of cultural or racial conflict. In a 2019 survey, 22% of Minnesotans admitted negative views of Somalis, fed by these half-truths. Meanwhile, refugees face stigma, feeling like scapegoats in a land that promised freedom.
This isn’t humanitarianism—it’s exploitation dressed up as charity. Bureaucrats and NGOs toss fairy dust bombs—hollow promises of freedom or prosperity—then walk away richer, leaving Minnesotans and refugees to deal with the fallout. Taxpayers, like the family earning $50,000 a year, see their dollars vanish into opaque programs. Refugees, like the Hmong American Partnership scraping by on $500,000 in 2022 while bigger NGOs rake in millions, get shortchanged. Both sides are trapped in a cycle of servitude to a system that thrives on division and distrust.
Enough is enough. Minnesotans, you deserve transparency—where your money goes, why these communities are here, and who’s profiting. Refugees, you deserve real support, not empty promises from those who use your struggles for clout. As your candidate for Governor in 2026, I’ll demand audits of every dollar, shine a light on covert policies driving displacement, and empower communities directly—Hmong, Somali, and hardworking taxpayers alike. The true enemy isn’t each other; it’s the nefarious actors who’ve hijacked our generosity and our trust. Let’s hold them accountable and build a Minnesota where promises mean something.
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