When Americans Chose Humanity Over Politics

3,000 federal agents descended on Minnesota. Two observers died. Yet something unexpected happened that forced the Trump administration to retreat—and it wasn't what the border czar expected.

When the Mission Failed

Last week, Tom Homan, Trump's border czar, announced the end of the federal immigration surge in Minnesota. He tried to frame it as mission accomplished, but his words betrayed a different reality. "I don't want to see any more bloodshed," Homan said, acknowledging that whether you were "an officer or a neighbor, a citizen or an undocumented immigrant," he didn't "want to see anybody harmed."

The deaths of Renee Good and Alex Pretti—two observers killed during ICE operations—had triggered something the administration couldn't spin away. Despite attempts to label local defenders as "domestic terrorists," Americans saw a different story unfold. The New York Times interviewed Trump voters after the deaths, hearing responses like "This is inhumane" and one woman saying it made her want to "protest and be with my fellow humanity."

The numbers tell the story: nearly two-thirds of Americans now oppose ICE's behavior in Minnesota. This wasn't about partisan politics—it was about something deeper.

The Philosophy of Self-Evident Truths

Omri Boehm, a philosopher at The New School, calls this phenomenon "radical universalism" in his new book. He argues that despite our post-truth age, moments like Minneapolis reveal that some truths remain self-evident—the same phrase that anchored the Declaration of Independence250 years ago.

These aren't the warm-and-fuzzy universalisms of Coca-Cola commercials. Boehm's version is radical because it's impossibly hard to live by. It demands recognizing the absolute dignity of every human being, regardless of borders, laws, or tribal affiliations. As Immanuel Kant argued in the 18th century, humans have dignity precisely because they're capable of moral choice—they can never have a price, never be treated as mere means to an end.

This universalist impulse drove abolitionists who couldn't stomach slavery in a freedom-obsessed nation. It motivated Lincoln at Gettysburg and Martin Luther King Jr. a century later. It might also explain why Americans watching events in Minneapolis overrode their political identities to think of shared humanity.

Beyond Liberal Compromise

But Boehm goes further than criticizing obvious tribal politics. He takes aim at 400 years of Western liberalism itself, calling it "false universalism." The problem isn't just MAGA versus critical race theory—it's the entire Enlightenment tradition that replaced moral obviousness with "consensus, interest, and opinion."

Liberal democracy, Boehm argues, depends on who holds power and how wide they draw the circle of who matters. "We the People" was always a limiting phrase, excluding Black people, women, and immigrants for generations. Constitutional amendments became mechanisms for widening or narrowing that circle, but the framework remained fundamentally exclusionary.

The marketplace of ideas, for all its merits, can mask injustice through endless debate and compromise. Sometimes moral truths don't need discussion—they need recognition and action.

The Radical Demand

What would politics based on absolute dignity actually look like? Boehm points to King's decision to oppose the Vietnam War in the mid-1960s. The war was popular, civil rights progress was happening under Lyndon Johnson, and even the NAACP called King's stance a "serious tactical mistake." The Washington Post editorialized that King had "diminished his usefulness to his cause, his country and his people."

But King didn't see himself working for any single group's interests. "Aren't you hurting the cause of your people?" critics asked. King responded: "When I hear them, though I often understand the source of their concern, I am nevertheless greatly saddened, for such questions mean that the inquirers have not really known me, my commitment or my calling."

This is why radical universalism is so difficult—it often demands going against immediate interests and earthly laws. "Following absolute duty is not the origin of obedience but of disobedience," Boehm writes.

The Practical Paradox

The philosophy creates genuine dilemmas. Taken to its conclusion, absolute dignity might demand open borders—but what about the dignity of people who lose jobs or resources as a result? Boehm applies his thinking to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, concluding that only a one-state "binational utopia" respects everyone's dignity equally. Yet history suggests these antagonists struggle to coexist peacefully in the same polity.

You might need "the eyesight of a prophet" to truly think in radical universalist terms, which is why figures like Lincoln and King occupy almost supernatural places in our collective memory.

The Minneapolis Moment

But perhaps this instinct isn't so rare. The people of Minneapolis risked their lives to protect strangers—not to secure their own rights, but out of duty to others. They activated what might be called a moral antibody when confronted with something that violated their gut sense of human dignity.

These self-evident truths can manifest in smaller ways too: recognizing that people shouldn't be treated as objects, that childhood innocence should be inviolable, that personal experience matters but shouldn't override shared humanity. These principles could help build sane healthcare systems, keep phones out of schools, or create immigration policies that don't treat refugees as garbage.