DeSantis Declares War on ‘Terror Links’: CAIR Ban Shakes Tallahassee

Paul Riverbank, 12/10/2025Gov. DeSantis’ move to label CAIR and the Muslim Brotherhood as “terrorist organizations” ignites a heated legal and political battle, spotlighting questions of state power, federal authority, and the boundaries of free speech in America.

On a breezy afternoon in Tampa, Hiba Rahim faced reporters with a composure that belied the moment’s tension. Rahim, a leading voice at CAIR Florida, called out the order as “an attack rooted in conspiracy theories”—saying it wasn’t about security, but about sending a message to those speaking up for Palestinians or, perhaps more pointedly, anyone who causes “discomfort” for Israel’s supporters in America. Echoes of history—Jewish, Irish, Italian groups wrongly targeted in earlier eras—filtered into her remarks. “We’re proud to defend the principles that make this country different. Free speech. Democracy,” Rahim said, her frustration carefully wrapped in calm. “We’re here to stay, and we’re ready for the courtroom.”

Indeed, that seems to be where this is headed next. Florida’s order throws up a barricade: state funding, employment, or contracts are now out of reach for CAIR, the Muslim Brotherhood, and anyone who “aids or affiliates” with them. DeSantis shrugged off the threat of a lawsuit, framing the move as “a long time coming”—and, perhaps ominously, only “the beginning.” The Florida legislature, he hinted, would be asked to write these policies deeper into state law next session.

Inside the legal trenches, a key detail looms: only the federal government, specifically the State Department, possesses the power to formally designate a group as a “foreign terrorist organization.” Florida’s order, however headline-grabbing, lacks such teeth. Still, it sends a signal—a risky one, critics argue—raising questions about power and process. At a hastily organized event, Miranda Margolis, a Tampa attorney, denounced DeSantis’ action as both “factually baseless” and “an escalation of anti-Muslim rhetoric.” Her words echoed across social platforms and through Florida’s tight interfaith networks that evening.

The courtroom battles aren’t isolated to Florida. CAIR’s Texas branch faces a similar order from Governor Greg Abbott, now mired in a federal court fight. Their challenge, running parallel to Florida’s, claims the state overstepped—tramping across the federal government’s territory and threatening rights protected not only by the U.S. Constitution, but by Texas law as well. Muslim civil rights advocates, joined by faith leaders from diverse backgrounds, have closed ranks: “Don’t conflate protest with peril,” one Houston pastor said after Sunday service, a sentiment repeated in community halls from Orlando to Austin.

This all adds up to an uncomfortable question: who truly gets to decide which political groups cross the line in America? Should governors wield that power, or must such decisions remain strictly in federal hands? For now, Florida’s state policy blocks public money for CAIR, the Muslim Brotherhood, and their assumed affiliates. But the backlash—legal, moral, and political—is building. The next legislative session in Tallahassee promises to be contentious, as Democrats, Republicans, and everyone in between weigh in on where the state’s power begins and ends.

As this saga unfolds, it touches on core American tensions: security and liberty, prejudice and free speech, local control and federal oversight. The legal fight is just one front; the broader clash will play out in headlines, on talk shows, and, most importantly, in the lived experiences of Muslim Floridians and their neighbors. Much more than an executive order hangs in the balance.

TALLAHASSEE — When Governor Ron DeSantis strode to the podium on Tuesday, he wasted no time plunging the Council on American-Islamic Relations—CAIR—back into Florida’s political crosshairs. His move? A blunt order tagging both CAIR and the Muslim Brotherhood as “foreign terrorist organizations.” The announcement, delivered with characteristic DeSantis certainty, sent a ripple through the state’s tight-knit web of activists and lawmakers. Uncertainty, and more than a bit of outrage, followed swiftly.On a breezy afternoon in Tampa, Hiba Rahim faced reporters with a composure that belied the moment’s tension. Rahim, a leading voice at CAIR Florida, called out the order as “an attack rooted in conspiracy theories”—saying it wasn’t about security, but about sending a message to those speaking up for Palestinians or, perhaps more pointedly, anyone who causes “discomfort” for Israel’s supporters in America. Echoes of history—Jewish, Irish, Italian groups wrongly targeted in earlier eras—filtered into her remarks. “We’re proud to defend the principles that make this country different. Free speech. Democracy,” Rahim said, her frustration carefully wrapped in calm. “We’re here to stay, and we’re ready for the courtroom.”Indeed, that seems to be where this is headed next. Florida’s order throws up a barricade: state funding, employment, or contracts are now out of reach for CAIR, the Muslim Brotherhood, and anyone who “aids or affiliates” with them. DeSantis shrugged off the threat of a lawsuit, framing the move as “a long time coming”—and, perhaps ominously, only “the beginning.” The Florida legislature, he hinted, would be asked to write these policies deeper into state law next session.Inside the legal trenches, a key detail looms: only the federal government, specifically the State Department, possesses the power to formally designate a group as a “foreign terrorist organization.” Florida’s order, however headline-grabbing, lacks such teeth. Still, it sends a signal—a risky one, critics argue—raising questions about power and process. At a hastily organized event, Miranda Margolis, a Tampa attorney, denounced DeSantis’ action as both “factually baseless” and “an escalation of anti-Muslim rhetoric.” Her words echoed across social platforms and through Florida’s tight interfaith networks that evening.The courtroom battles aren’t isolated to Florida. CAIR’s Texas branch faces a similar order from Governor Greg Abbott, now mired in a federal court fight. Their challenge, running parallel to Florida’s, claims the state overstepped—tramping across the federal government’s territory and threatening rights protected not only by the U.S. Constitution, but by Texas law as well. Muslim civil rights advocates, joined by faith leaders from diverse backgrounds, have closed ranks: “Don’t conflate protest with peril,” one Houston pastor said after Sunday service, a sentiment repeated in community halls from Orlando to Austin.This all adds up to an uncomfortable question: who truly gets to decide which political groups cross the line in America? Should governors wield that power, or must such decisions remain strictly in federal hands? For now, Florida’s state policy blocks public money for CAIR, the Muslim Brotherhood, and their assumed affiliates. But the backlash—legal, moral, and political—is building. The next legislative session in Tallahassee promises to be contentious, as Democrats, Republicans, and everyone in between weigh in on where the state’s power begins and ends.As this saga unfolds, it touches on core American tensions: security and liberty, prejudice and free speech, local control and federal oversight. The legal fight is just one front; the broader clash will play out in headlines, on talk shows, and, most importantly, in the lived experiences of Muslim Floridians and their neighbors. Much more than an executive order hangs in the balance.