There is little left in Donald Trump’s second administration that genuinely shocks. Yet the killing of Renee Good earlier this month by an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officer, alongside the agency’s increasingly violent street operations, exposes how rapidly fundamental protections have eroded in parts of the United States. In cities where ICE has asserted its presence, the rule of law, freedom of movement, and even the right to protest without fear of state violence appear to be collapsing in real time. What is most alarming is not only the brutality itself, but the speed with which it has become normalised.
ICE did not suddenly transform into a heavily armed domestic force overnight. Nor can its evolution be explained by Donald Trump alone. The rise of such a powerful enforcement apparatus requires years of institutional drift, political conditioning, and cultural consent. Trump did not invent this machinery; he inherited it, expanded it, and removed its remaining restraints.
When Did Immigration Become a Matter of National Security?
The roots of ICE’s power lie in the post-9/11 reordering of the US state. Established under President George W Bush as part of the Department of Homeland Security, ICE was born from the fusion of immigration enforcement with counterterrorism. From the outset, it was granted sweeping investigative powers, a growing budget, and formal ties to the FBI’s Joint Terrorism Task Force. Immigration enforcement was no longer treated as a civil matter but as a frontline security mission, framed as essential to protecting the nation from existential threats.
That framing proved politically durable. Under Barack Obama, the scope of enforcement expanded beyond terrorism-related concerns to include undocumented border crossers, alleged gang members, and non-citizens convicted of minor offences. As the dragnet widened, due process weakened. Detention became more routine, oversight more opaque, and accountability increasingly elusive. By the time Trump returned to office, the infrastructure for mass enforcement was already firmly in place.
How Did Trump Radicalise an Already Powerful Agency?
Trump’s contribution was not institutional creation but radical empowerment. Under his leadership, ICE became the largest federal law enforcement agency in the United States, with a budget that rivals or exceeds that of many national militaries. More importantly, Trump reframed the agency’s mission as a civilisational battle. ICE officers were cast as guardians of the nation, authorised to act aggressively in defence of a threatened homeland.
This rhetorical shift mattered. It imbued the agency with a sense of impunity and exceptionalism, positioning it as an extension of presidential will rather than a body constrained by law. Enforcement actions increasingly resembled military operations: masked agents, heavy weaponry, coordinated raids, and public spectacles of force. The killing of Renee Good must be understood within this broader context of institutional militarisation, not as an isolated incident.
What Role Did Media and Racism Play in Enabling the Crackdown?
No authoritarian turn succeeds without public conditioning. Rightwing media ecosystems have spent years portraying immigration as an existential threat, saturating audiences with narratives of invasion, crime, and demographic replacement. These stories do more than misinform; they prime the public to accept extraordinary violence as necessary and justified.
This dynamic is inseparable from racism. Appeals to “public safety” often mask deeper anxieties about a United States that is becoming less white and less culturally homogenous. Immigration enforcement becomes a proxy for managing social change, channelling economic and political frustration toward racialised outsiders. In this environment, the expansion of ICE’s powers is not only tolerated but celebrated.
Why Does ICE Look Like an Army at Home?
The imagery of ICE raids increasingly mirrors US military operations abroad. Heavily armed officers entering neighbourhoods evoke scenes from Iraq or Afghanistan rather than civilian law enforcement. This resemblance is not accidental. The United States has long glorified military force as the ultimate expression of national virtue, and that mythology has bled into domestic policing.
Police departments across the country are now equipped with drones, armoured vehicles, military-grade weapons, and surveillance technology. Personnel routinely move between foreign deployments and domestic enforcement. The New York Times has reported that Jonathan Ross, the ICE officer who killed Renee Good, previously served in Iraq. This circulation of people, tactics, and mindsets collapses the distinction between war zones and city streets.
What Does Life Under Authoritarianism Actually Feel Like?
For those who have lived under repressive regimes, the most chilling aspect of ICE’s rise is not simply the violence, but the unpredictability. Authoritarianism is defined less by constant terror than by permanent uncertainty. Anyone can become a target at any moment: during a traffic stop, at a protest deemed unlawful, or through an online post interpreted as dissent.
This condition erodes civil life. Rights no longer exist as guarantees but as privileges contingent on the discretion of individual enforcers. The state becomes omnipresent yet arbitrary, capable of intervening anywhere, at any time, with little justification. That is the psychological transformation now visible in parts of the United States.
Are the Same Warning Signs Emerging in the UK?
The United States may already have crossed this threshold, but similar warning signs are visible elsewhere, including in the United Kingdom. Immigrants are increasingly portrayed as threats to social cohesion and public safety. Government ministers participate in immigration raids as media spectacles. Police powers have expanded to include vague and elastic concepts such as the “cumulative impact” of protests, effectively reclassifying dissent as disorder.
The empowerment of the UK Border Force, including the authority to seize mobile phones from individuals not under arrest, reflects the same logic of pre-emptive control. Protest is reframed as disruption, surveillance as necessity, and repression as governance. Add a charismatic demagogue and a compliant media environment, and the path toward authoritarian normalisation becomes alarmingly short.
Can Democratic Societies Still Pull Back?
What makes the current moment so dangerous is how ordinary it has become. The erosion of rights rarely announces itself as a rupture; it arrives through bureaucratic expansion, legal ambiguity, and cultural acclimatisation. ICE’s rise demonstrates how quickly a democracy can hollow itself out while maintaining the appearance of order.
The question is no longer whether this trajectory is authoritarian, but whether democratic institutions still possess the will to reverse it. Without meaningful accountability, legal restraint, and a rejection of fear-based politics, the veil once crossed becomes increasingly difficult to lift.
