Hasan Piker Just Gave His Millions Of Followers A Masterclass In What Not To Do When Detained By CBP
Progressive streamer Hasan Piker’s recent detention by CBP at the Chicago airport has generated widespread outrage — and rightfully so. No US citizen should be interrogated about their political beliefs when re-entering their own country. But while CBP’s behavior was egregious, Piker’s response was potentially even more dangerous: he chose to engage in a two-hour conversation with federal agents without a lawyer present, streaming about it afterward as if this were just more content for his millions of followers.
For many years, we’ve called out this kind of bullshit interrogation technique of citizens at the border (it didn’t start with Trump, though it’s almost certainly gotten worse with him in power).
Rather than following the basic rule of only showing his passport, answering the most basic travel-related questions and requesting a lawyer if they asked further questions, Piker chose to engage in an extended dialogue with CBP officials about his political views, beliefs about Hamas, and even past Twitch bans. He turned what should have just been a clear story of an unfortunately common constitutional violation into potential legal ammunition against himself. As Taylor Lorenz reported:
He was detained in Chicago and questioned for two hours about protected journalistic activities like who he’s interviewed and his political beliefs. He was asked whether or not he’d interviewed Hamas, Houthis, or Hezbollah members. He was questioned about his opinions on Trump and Israel and asked about his history of bans on Twitch. His phone and laptop were not confiscated.
“They straight up tried to get something out of me that I think they could use to basically detain me permanently,” Piker said on stream following the incident. “… [the agent] kept saying stuff like, do you like Hamas? Do you support Hamas? Do you think Hamas is a terror group or a resistance group?”
“I kept repeating the same statement over and over again,” Piker said. “I kept saying… I’m on the side of civilians. I want the endless bloodshed to end. I am a pacifist. I want wars to end… which is insane because up until this moment. If you were to say as an American citizen, you stand 10 toes down with Hamas, or you stand 10 toes down with the Houthis, they can’t deny you entry into the country for that shit.”
His post-detention stream reveals just how badly he misunderstands the danger he put himself in. Despite claiming he “kept repeating the same statement,” he eagerly recounts engaging in detailed discussions about his past statements on 9/11 and getting excited when a CBP official supposedly “agreed with the blowback sentiment.” This isn’t protecting your rights — it’s giving federal agents hours of statements that could be twisted, misquoted, or used to trap you in inconsistencies later. Even a single misremembered detail could become grounds for a false statements charge.
Throughout his stream, Piker frames this as a battle of wills — bragging about being a “stubborn piece of shit” who wouldn’t be intimidated. But he fundamentally misunderstands the game being played. While intimidation may be a useful side effect for CBP, their primary goal in these extended interviews isn’t to scare you — it’s to get you talking. The more you talk, the more likely you are to say something they can use. And here’s the crucial part that Piker missed: they don’t need you to admit to a crime. They just need you to say something — anything — that they can later claim was false. Just ask Martha Stewart, who went to prison not for insider trading, but for lying about a stock sale to investigators.
Piker’s response to viewers questioning his judgment reveals just how deeply his influencer mindset clouds his legal judgment:
I know that under normal circumstances, I’m supposed to say I want a lawyer. I don’t want to talk to you, but this… nothing I’m doing is illegal.
And I also wanted to see what would happen. Do you understand? I wanted to see what would happen. I wanted to actually see this experience, which is why instead of immediately fucking lawyering up, I was like, “No, I’m going to I’m going to entertain this. I’m going to see what they actually are trying to get out of this.”
And I’m glad I did this because the reality of the matter is one, I’m profoundly privileged. Okay, remember I’m a public person and also I have enough money to to be able to fight back against this sort of thing and they know who the fuck I am. So obviously the reason for why they’re doing that is I think to try to create an an environment of fear to try to get people like myself or at least like others that would be in my shoes that don’t have that same level of security to shut the fuck up. And for me, I’m going to use the privilege that I have in that moment to try and see what the fuck they’re doing. Okay?
This response perfectly encapsulates the dangerous intersection of influencer culture and law enforcement encounters. Piker treats this like content creation — an opportunity to “see what would happen” and generate an interesting story. But federal agents aren’t content collaborators. They’re trained investigators who excel at getting people to inadvertently incriminate themselves through casual conversation. His “privilege” of being a public figure with money doesn’t protect him — it makes him a more valuable target.
He totally misunderstands the shit he’s in here. Yes, part of this is intimidation and trying to get him to shut up when talking publicly, but while they have detained him they want him to talk away because that’s how he fucks himself. You are bound to say something at some point that can be used against you. Even if you’re positive you haven’t.
If you think this sounds paranoid, just watch this essential lecture by law professor James Duane explaining why you should never talk to law enforcement without a lawyer present. The lecture is followed by 20 minutes of a police officer basically confirming everything Duane says and emphasizing that you should never, ever talk to law enforcement without a lawyer, and explaining how he (and other cops) are great at convincing you to talk against your best interest:
There’s a lot in there, but he explains why you should never talk to law enforcement without a lawyer even if you’re innocent, you only tell the truth, don’t reveal anything incriminating, and the entire interview is taped. Because even then what you say can be used against you in ways you don’t expect. And, as he notes, what you say can never be used in your favor in such circumstances.
Or, to put it in shorter, more direct terms, listen to the late great pioneering civil rights lawyer Bill Goodman and his longtime law partner Denise Heberle in the PSA they put together four or five years ago for the National Lawyers Guild telling people to shut up when talking to law enforcement.
Also, if you’re re-entering the country, make sure you know what your actual rights are.
Piker and his supporters have offered up multiple defenses of his decision to talk, each more dangerous than the last:
First, they insist it “worked” because CBP eventually let him go. This fundamentally misunderstands how these encounters work. They were always going to let him in — he’s a US citizen. Requesting a lawyer would have “worked” too. He would still have been let in. The risk isn’t in the moment, it’s in how those two hours of statements might be used against him later. He might have told a little white lie that will come back to haunt him. He may have made a slight exaggeration. He might have said something that could be twisted and misrepresented in court. There are many reasons that he has put himself in totally unnecessary risk.
Second, they argue he got more attention for the incident by engaging. But he could have generated the same outrage by simply describing CBP’s unconstitutional detention and questioning after asserting his rights. The story isn’t improved by putting himself at legal risk.
Third, his supporters argue that since “CBP doesn’t care about due process anyway,” asserting your rights is pointless. This is exactly backwards. When facing authorities who might violate your rights, you don’t voluntarily surrender them — you assert them clearly and create a record of doing so. Voluntarily waiving your rights because they “might not respect them anyway” is handing them the win for no goddam reason.
Finally, there’s the “journalist generating content” defense — perhaps the most dangerous rationalization of all. This perfectly captures how influencer-brain can lead people to catastrophically misread serious situations. When being questioned by federal agents, you’re not a journalist gathering material. You’re not creating content. You’re potential prey, facing trained predators whose entire job is getting you to say something — anything — they can use against you later.
Perhaps most disturbing is watching his supporters argue that he’s “experienced at this” because he handles hostile Twitch chat trolls daily. This dangerous false equivalence perfectly illustrates how influencer culture can lead people to fatally misunderstand encounters with state power. Managing online trolls requires an entirely different skillset from protecting your rights during law enforcement questioning. One is about engagement; the other is about knowing when to stay silent.
This matters far beyond Piker’s individual case. With his massive platform, he’s teaching millions of followers exactly the wrong lesson about dealing with law enforcement — that if you’re clever enough, privileged enough, or “experienced” enough at handling conflict, you can somehow talk your way through it. This is exactly the kind of thinking that leads people to waive their rights and incriminate themselves.
Yes, CBP’s treatment of Piker was shameful and unconstitutional. It deserves fierce condemnation. But by turning a serious civil rights violation into influencer content, Piker didn’t just put himself at risk — he helped normalize the very kind of police overreach he claims to oppose.