Back in the 1980s-90s, the working-class neighborhoods of L.A.’s northeast San Fernando Valley taught every kid a lesson: fail to “co-operate” with police, and you could pay dearly. I never forgot it. Yet even that upbringing didn’t prepare me for what unfolded last week.
At a Los Angeles press event, I identified myself — loudly — as a United States senator. It didn’t matter. Officers slammed me to the floor, zip-tied my wrists and marched me away after Homeland Security chief Kristi Noem vowed to “liberate” the city from its duly elected mayor and governor. On the ground, a single thought looped through my mind: If they’ll do this to me on camera, what are they doing to ordinary residents when nobody’s watching?
Days later, New York City comptroller and mayoral hopeful Brad Lander was cuffed for the “crime” of asking federal agents to produce a warrant before seizing an asylum seeker. Two officials, coast-to-coast, manhandled for daring to question executive power. These aren’t isolated scuffles; they’re signals.
In 1994 California, hateful TV spots pushed Proposition 187, branding immigrants as scapegoats. I’d just finished M.I.T. and planned an engineering career — until those ads dragged me into politics. The movement we built then turned California into the world’s fourth-largest economy because of, not despite, immigration.
Facing blowback over Medicaid cuts, failing tariff wars and a public split with a billionaire ally, President Trump reached for a familiar playbook: stoke anger at immigrants. Raids surged, rhetoric hardened and a spectacle of federal muscle filled the news cycle.
Administration spokespeople talk tough about “dangerous criminals,” yet government data show fewer than 10 percent of recent detainees have serious convictions. Most are cooks, roofers, farmhands — many hailed as “essential workers” during the pandemic.
When Angelenos objected, federal officials labeled them “insurrectionists,” turning peaceful dissent into a pretext for crackdown. If troops can occupy L.A. over local objections today, they can roll into any town tomorrow. This is a direct threat to the rule of law.
So far, my Republican colleagues have watched a fellow senator get handcuffed and said nothing. Silence won’t save democracy; only collective action will. Millions marched last weekend. That’s the energy we need — organized, persistent, nationwide.
Democracy rarely dies in a single blow; it withers through a thousand quiet cuts. Each unlawful raid, each silenced critic, shaves away our freedoms. But America isn’t doomed. Real liberation comes from ballots, not batons; from local organizing, not federal intimidation.
If one senator with a question rattled the administration this much, imagine what tens of millions of determined citizens can do. No savior is coming. It’s on us — all of us — to push back, speak up and keep America free.
Leave a Comments