It was a Friday evening when smoke drifted through the streets of San Diego, when screams tore through the air and heavily armed men in tactical gear stormed into an Italian restaurant – just before dinner, just before the breaking of bread. What followed was not a raid against a cartel, not a hostage rescue. It was a routine operation by the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, ICE. In Donald Trump's America, routine has been redefined. San Diego Mayor Todd Gloria said he was “deeply shaken.” No surprise: the scenes in front of the popular restaurant Buona Forchetta looked like something out of a war film. And yet, it was only a snapshot – one of many. Because the country is in a state of normalized exception. A nation growing used, day by day, to the idea that masks no longer represent shame but self-protection. Not for the weak – but for those who wield power.
Todd Lyons, acting director of ICE, faced the press in Boston on Monday. He spoke of threats. Of hate mail. Of protection for his officers. “I won’t send anyone out there who doesn’t know if they’ll come home alive at night,” he said, visibly moved. And he added firmly, “I won’t apologize for the masks.” Nearly 1,500 people had been arrested in the northeastern U.S. alone as part of a month-long “surge operation.” As he turned to leave the podium, a reporter called out, “Is this really just about the masks?” Lyons paused, returned, and asked, “Or is it maybe about the fact that the families of our officers were labeled terrorists?” The comment was a reaction to a post by San Diego Councilman Sean Elo-Rivera. After the raid on Buona Forchetta, he had written, “This is not safety. This is state-sponsored terrorism.” The Department of Homeland Security responded with outrage – reposting Elo-Rivera’s message only to denounce it. But Elo-Rivera stood by his words. What some see as protection, others see as an assault on the social fabric.
Stephen Miller, mastermind of Trump’s immigration policy and architect of isolation, raised the bar even higher last week: 3,000 arrests per day – minimum. The problem? ICE is already overflowing. In May, an average of over 46,000 individuals were held in custody – far beyond what the agency is officially funded for. People crammed into detention centers that were never built for this level of emergency. But Miller says, “We can do more.” And so it’s not just restaurants in the crosshairs, but entire cities. “If sanctuary cities changed their policies, we wouldn’t need these operations,” Lyons said. What he didn’t say: the Department of Homeland Security had published a list of over 500 such jurisdictions – and later removed it due to major inaccuracies. Even conservative sheriffs had objected. Lyons spoke in Boston before a board with mug shots. No names. No context. A list of those arrested: not available. The specific allegations: unknown. Only one thing Lyons said with certainty: “They are dangerous criminals. They are terrorizing families, neighbors, entire communities.” 1.600 Festnahmen pro Tag durchführe – ein Anstieg um das Zweieinhalbfache im Vergleich zur Zeit vor dem 20. Januar. Und das ist offenbar nicht das Ende der Fahnenstange.
Stephen Miller, Vordenker von Trumps Einwanderungspolitik und Architekt der Abschottung, legte vergangene Woche die Latte noch höher: 3.000 Festnahmen pro Tag – Minimum. Das Problem? ICE ist längst überfüllt. Schon im Mai wurden durchschnittlich 46.000 Personen gleichzeitig festgehalten – weit über dem offiziell finanzierten Rahmen. Menschen, zusammengepfercht in Lagern, die nicht für diesen Ausnahmezustand gebaut wurden. Doch Miller sagt: „Wir können mehr.“ Und so geraten nicht nur Restaurants ins Visier, sondern ganze Städte. „Wenn Sanctuary Cities ihre Politik ändern würden, bräuchten wir diese Operationen nicht“, sagte Lyons. Was er verschwieg: Das Heimatschutzministerium hatte eine Liste mit über 500 solcher Städte veröffentlicht – und sie später wegen schwerer Fehler wieder offline genommen. Selbst konservative Sheriffs hatten widersprochen. Lyons sprach in Boston vor einer Tafel mit Fahndungsfotos. Ohne Namen. Ohne Kontexte. Eine Liste der Festgenommenen: nicht verfügbar. Die konkreten Vorwürfe: unbekannt. Nur eines sagte Lyons mit Sicherheit: „Es sind gefährliche Kriminelle. Sie terrorisieren Familien, Nachbarn, ganze Gemeinden.“
Then came the next headline on Saturday morning: 66 arrests in a raid on a nightclub in Charleston County, South Carolina – in the dead of night. Homeland Security spoke of a “cartel after-party.” What exactly the arrestees are accused of? No one said. What remains is an image: masked officers, children in tears, a restaurant that closes for two days because it cannot bear the shock. An ICE director who does not speak about the people being deported, but about the agents who come to get them. And a government that sells deportation as salvation. Perhaps it was just a Friday evening. Perhaps it was an isolated incident. But perhaps it was a glimpse into the new America – a country where the uniform speaks louder than the law. Where the word “safety” has become an empty shell. And where masks no longer mean shame – but a sign that those wearing them already know how much fear they spread.
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