EpistemicTrespass

In today’s episode of the podcast The Rest is Politics: US, host Katty Kay laid out the devastating economic impact that mass deportation of undocumented immigrants would have on the U.S. economy. She noted that these workers make up 5% of the total workforce, 25% of the agricultural workforce, 15% of construction jobs, and contribute over $100 billion in taxes annually. Her conclusion? We should tone down the protest — and certainly the violence — and let President Trump confront the economic fallout of his policy choices.

Initially, when the protests unfolded over the weekend, I had the same thought. I sincerely hoped the protests would remain peaceful and calm and not hand Trump the imagery he thrives on: disorder, clashes, and chaos that he can point to as justification for a heavy-handed response. But sitting with that idea longer, I realized something unsettling: that line of thinking tacitly accepts the inhumanity of what’s unfolding.

We’re not talking about policy disagreement in the abstract. We’re talking about ICE agents in tactical gear patrolling courthouses, parking lots, and hardware stores, hunting for people who crossed a border decades ago — many of whom have lived here quietly, raised families, paid taxes, and become fixtures in their communities. These aren’t “illegals.” These are neighbors. Coworkers. Coaches at little league games.

Being undocumented is a civil offense, not a criminal one. Yet these individuals are being treated as though they’re active threats — arrested, detained, and deported with minimal legal recourse. The trauma and anxiety this causes in entire communities must be overwhelming.

So no, keeping a low profile doesn’t feel like a tenable or ethical option — at least not for those directly impacted. And while I stand firmly against any form of violence, I also understand how protest becomes necessary when silence feels like complicity. Yes, protests can attract agitators with ulterior motives, but that risk doesn’t erase the legitimacy of resistance.

This is a dilemma and as such, there are no clean answers – at least not for me at this time. But if we’re going to trespass onto epistemic grounds, then we have to be honest about what’s at stake: lives, dignity, and the soul of the country.

I keep thinking of that line attributed to Pastor Martin Niemöller, who lived through another moment when silence masqueraded as wisdom:

“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out, because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out, because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out, because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak for me.” Laying low may seem like a strategic move. But silence can be its own form of surrender.