When Federal Agents Kill Citizens, Democracy Dies

47% of Americans now believe January 6th was either patriotic demonstration or no big deal. That statistic explains everything about how Renee Good and Alex Pretti died on the streets of Minneapolis—and why their deaths mark a point of no return for American democracy.

The killings by ICE and Border Patrol agents have drawn comparisons to George Floyd's murder, but there's a crucial difference. In 2020, America was in turmoil but still functioned as a state of law. Floyd's death led to investigation, trial, and verdict—to justice. The Minneapolis Police Department was held accountable and forced to reform.

No one should expect justice for Good and Pretti.

The End of Legal Remedies

Today, nothing stands in the way of brutal federal tactics. While President Trump has reassigned a top commander in what appears to be damage control, he hasn't withdrawn federal agents from the state or allowed local authorities to investigate, let alone prosecute, them for their actions.

The administration's automatic lies about the killings and slander of the victims aren't really a cover-up—they're a display of utter contempt for facts themselves. Trump, Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem, FBI Director Kash Patel, and other officials seem to invite incredulity as a way to flex power: We say black is white. Agree or you're a criminal.

When Stephen Miller recently claimed that geopolitics is ruled by the "iron laws" of "strength" and "force," he was expressing the administration's approach to domestic governance as well. Those iron laws now govern American streets.

The prelude to this violence didn't come with Floyd's death in 2020, but with the January 6th insurrection in 2021. Trump and his supporters were prevented from stealing an election by democratic institutions—Congress, courts, police, media, and public opinion. But the insurrection never ended. By the time Trump returned to power and pardoned the insurrectionists, nearly half the country had been convinced that January 6th was patriotic resistance.

From Protest to Resistance

If rogue federal agents can shoot American citizens dead with total impunity, then it doesn't matter whether state and local authorities, courts, media, or mobilized public object. "ICE > MN," Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth wrote on social media—an assertion of raw force, not constitutional authority.

A lawless regime is an illegitimate one. This is why the country seems to have reached a breaking point in Minneapolis. And yet Minneapolis also offers a compelling answer to the question democracy-loving Americans have asked for the past year: What can I do?

The federal government has never before declared itself immune to law and Constitution while explicitly denying protection to peaceful opponents. Many Americans who thought they lived under rule of law feel paralyzed. The vague exhortation to "do something while you still can" creates urgency but provides no plan.

Without constructive answers, the danger is that Americans finding themselves without legal remedies will turn to illegal and violent ones. That would be catastrophic, both strategically and morally.

The Minneapolis Model

Networks of Minneapolitans that formed after Floyd's murder to protect neighborhoods from both out-of-control police and rioters have been revived to protect immigrant neighbors from federal agents. Residents undergo training in nonviolent resistance—a discipline requiring courage, wisdom, and restraint.

They bring food to those hiding at home, escort children to school, and stand watch outside. They blow whistles and send alerts on encrypted chats to signal ICE vehicle presence, then follow them. They try to de-escalate confrontations, provide medical aid to the injured, and shame masked agents in military gear who seem poorly trained compared to the civilians they face.

Given the rage on the streets, the conduct of these local networks has been remarkable. One older suburban woman told reporters she doesn't even consider her involvement political. Her preferred term is "humanist"—a byword for the whole opposition to a cruel and predatory regime.

Minneapolis is setting an example: a nameless, leaderless, self-organized movement. Self-organization requires high levels of motivation and trust—qualities that exist in South Minneapolis neighborhoods where civic spirit and personal connections run deep.

Beyond Local Action

But replicating this on a wider scale raises obvious problems. The movement's energy might depend on conspicuous federal oppression arriving in other blue cities and states (which Trump has promised). It would need to remain decentralized while creating nationwide coordination capacity. It could fall apart from lack of discipline, coherence, trust, and leadership—or conversely, from leadership that devolves into factionalism.

The civil rights movement confronted all these problems and overcame them.

Organizations like No Kings—which draws on patriotic imagery and historic American aversion to tyranny—could consider organizing and training people nationwide to join the civic action on display in Minneapolis. Beyond neighbor-to-neighbor support lies a wide range of means to withhold cooperation from an illegitimate government.

Theorist Gene Sharp laid out these methods in books like "From Dictatorship to Democracy" and "Waging Nonviolent Struggle"—essential guides for democracy activists under dictatorial regimes in Serbia, Burma, and Iran. Americans should absorb these lessons.

Sharp analyzed various "methods of noncooperation"—political, economic, and social—that stop short of aggressive disruption. They include boycotts and strikes (like the general strike observed in Minneapolis), refusal to participate in administration-supported organizations, "quasi-legal evasions and delays," reluctant compliance with government edicts, and finally, nonviolent civil disobedience.