Anti-ICE organizers shift focus to defend democracy from Trump assault

In this February picture, activists in Minnesota demand justice for Minneapolis and its immigrants, and for the departure of ICE. Photograph: NurPhoto/Getty Images View image in fullscreen In this February picture, activists in Minnesota demand justice for Minneapolis and its immigrants, and for the departure of ICE. Photograph: NurPhoto/Getty Images Anti-ICE organizers shift focus to defend democracy from Trump assault Citizens in Minnesota using lessons learned from migrant crackdown to protect elections from president’s threats W hen thousands of immigration agents flooded Minnesota earlier this year, a loose network of neighbors sprang into action. They fed each other. They got kids to and from school safely. They tracked the surge that tore through their communities. After organizing, block by block, to monitor Donald Trump’s extraordinary crackdown on their state, the same neighbors are shifting their focus to a different threat. What if the US president tries to steal an election? Defending democracy can feel abstract – almost theoretical – until it is required. But a controversial, aggressive and deadly deployment of federal agents felt like a distant prospect on the streets of Minnesota, too, until the president ordered Operation Metro Surge. With November’s midterm elections approaching, one of the groups that taught Minnesotans to document immigration enforcement has now launched democracy defense trainings, encouraging people to knock on every neighbor’s door to help them vote and, if need be, respond to attacks on the election. “There is a general, very visceral concern that this administration is planning to ensure that the elections go their way by any means necessary,” said Jess, who trained about 2,500 people on constitutional observation across dozens of lessons during the immigration crackdown. Jess, a former federal worker who was fired during Elon Musk’s so-called “department of government efficiency” drive last year, asked to use her first name only for fear of retaliation. ‘Basic stuff’ Dozens of neighbors poured into a stuffy Minnesota church basement on a steamy Tuesday evening in June, finding their seats on tables marked with the geographical area where they live. They had lived through an assault by the Trump administration on the state which killed two local residents and deported many hundreds more. They knew to take Trump’s threats seriously. They wanted to learn how they could protect elections. “We’ve got to make sure that everybody who wants to vote can vote, and everybody’s vote is counted, and those votes and the will of the majority is respected,” said David Brauer, who helped lead the training for Monarca, a project of social justice group Unidos MN. “Basic stuff, but so crucial right now. But that’s just the first step. Once they’re cast, we know we’ll have to defend them.” The training is designed to get citizens thinking about what Trump and his allies could do to undermine the voting process and election