IVN is joined by Nate Allen, founder and Executive Director of Utah Approves, to discuss Approval Voting and his perspective on changing the incentives of our elections.
Podcast: Seeking approval in Utah

IVN is joined by Nate Allen, founder and Executive Director of Utah Approves, to discuss Approval Voting and his perspective on changing the incentives of our elections.
In an era of rising polarization and performative politics, few institutions remain as consequential and as poorly understood by citizens as the Federal Reserve.
While headlines swirl around inflation, interest rates, and stock market reactions, the deeper story is often missed: the Fed’s independence is not just a technical matter of monetary policy. It’s a democratic safeguard.
That’s the premise behind the Sept. 25 episode of The Unity Forum, a cross-partisan webinar series hosted by Chris Malone to elevate civil dialogue and challenge assumptions on the most pressing issues of our time.
Chris is co-author of the award-winning book, The Human Brand, and a founder of Alumni For Freedom & Democracy, a network of individuals committed to preserving the essential freedoms that sustain an open society—freedom of thought, civil dialogue, democratic principles, and economic opportunity.
The guest speaker for the webinar is Dr. Pat Harker, whose career spans the highest levels of academia, government, and finance, including a decade as President of the Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia and current leadership roles at the Wharton School and Penn Washington.
Dr. Harker recently authored a provocative op-ed in The Wall Street Journal titled “Public Ignorance and Fed Independence,” arguing that cynicism about the Fed stems not from its actions but from widespread misunderstanding of its legal boundaries and economic role. He warns that political interference—whether through executive threats or legislative overreach—risks destabilizing the very mechanisms that protect long-term economic health.
The conversation will explore:
Dr. Harker’s insights are especially timely given recent attempts to dismiss Fed leadership, a move that echoes historical tensions but may signal a new level of partisan intrusion. As he puts it, “The Fed’s independence is not a luxury—it’s a necessity.”
For those interested in diving deeper into this critical issue, join the live webinar or receive a recording of The Unity Forum, featuring Dr. Harker.
The event will be held on Zoom on Thursday, Sept. 25, at 1:00 p.m. ET, with an audience Q&A near the end of the program. All registered participants will receive a link to the discussion recording, allowing them to listen at their convenience.
Webinar Registration: https://us06web.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_995jr6iBSYmwEIpb_Zhmxg
In an era when economic policy is often reduced to market performance and partisan soundbites, we need more spaces for reasoned discourse. That’s what The Unity Forum aims to provide.
David Nevins is publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
An oil drilling platform with a fracking rig extracts valuable resources from beneath the earth's surface.
Hakim Dermish moved to the small South Texas town of Catarina in 2002 in search of a rural lifestyle on a budget. The property where he lived with his wife didn’t have electricity or sewer lines at first, but that didn’t bother him.
“Even if we lived in a cardboard box, no one could kick us out,” Dermish said.
Back then, Catarina was a sleepy place. A decade later, oil and gas drilling picked up, and he welcomed the financial opportunities it brought. Dermish launched businesses to support the industry, offering everything from guards for drill sites to housing for oil field workers.
The growth also brought flares — flames burning off excess natural gas — that blazed day and night at wells in the surrounding countryside. Initially enamored of the industry’s potential, Dermish now worried that its pollution endangered the health of the town’s 75 residents. He began lodging complaints with the state in 2023, asking it to push companies to control emissions.
Inspectors with the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality investigated, finding only a handful of violations, some of which the companies addressed. But that did little to allay the concerns of Dermish and his neighbors, who continued to see flares light up the sky and to smell gas wafting over the community.
“Starting first thing in the morning, talk about the stench. Then you call the state and nothing happens,” Dermish said. “They do absolutely nothing.”
His neighbor Lupe Campos, who worked in the oil fields for more than three decades, lives three blocks from a flare. Toxic hydrogen sulfide escapes from nearby wells, giving the air the smell of “burnt rotten eggs,” Campos said. “It’s hard to bear.”
While working to expand the nation’s oil and gas production, President Donald Trump’s administration has maintained that drilling in the U.S. is cleaner than in other countries due to tighter environmental oversight. To mark Earth Day, for example, the White House boasted in a statement that increased natural gas exports meant the U.S. would be “sharing cleaner energy with allies” and “reducing global emissions.”
But Texas, the heart of America’s oil and gas industry, tells a different story.
Texas regulators tout their efforts to curtail oil field emissions by requiring drillers to obtain permits to release or burn gas from their wells.
Yet a first-of-its-kind analysis of permit applications to the Railroad Commission of Texas, the state’s main oil and gas regulator, reveals a rubber-stamp system that allows drillers to emit vast amounts of natural gas into the atmosphere. Over 40 months — from May 2021 to September 2024 — oil companies applied for more than 12,000 flaring and venting permits, while the Railroad Commission rejected just 53 of them, a 99.6% approval rate, according to the data.
Natural gas is composed mostly of climate-warming methane but also contains other gases such as hydrogen sulfide, which is deadly at high concentrations. Gas escapes as wells are drilled and before infrastructure is in place to capture it. It also can be intentionally released if pressure in the system poses a safety risk or if capturing and transporting it to be sold is not profitable. Typically, drillers burn the gas they don’t capture, converting the methane to carbon dioxide, a less potent greenhouse gas, in a process called flaring. Sometimes, they release the gas without burning it, in a process called venting.
The permit applications showed oil companies requested to flare or vent more than 195 billion cubic feet of natural gas per year, enough to power more than 3 million homes and generate millions of dollars of tax revenue had the gas been captured. Those emissions would have a climate-warming impact roughly equivalent to 27 gas-fired power plants operating year-round, even if the flares burned every molecule of methane released from the wells.
“It’s a gargantuan amount of emissions,” said Jack McDonald, senior analyst of energy policy and science for the environmental group Oilfield Witness. “Because so much of this gas is methane and so much of it is either incompletely combusted or not combusted at all through the venting process, we see a huge climate impact.”
Oilfield Witness gathered and studied the Railroad Commission data on exemptions to the state’s flaring rules and shared it with ProPublica and Inside Climate News. The news organizations verified the data, including by soliciting input from professors at universities in Texas.
Railroad Commission spokesperson R.J. DeSilva said in a statement that Texas has made “significant progress” in addressing methane emissions. Companies must provide evidence that flaring is necessary, and, when approving permits, the agency follows all applicable rules, he said. “If an application lacks sufficient justification, it is returned with comments for clarification.”
“I am proud of the progress that has been made to reduce the waste of our natural resources,” Jim Wright, chair of the Railroad Commission, said in a statement, adding that “there is always room for further improvement.”
Between May 2021 and September 2024, state regulators approved 280 permits to burn or vent natural gas in Dimmit County, which is home to the small town of Catarina and its 75 residents. Credit:Christopher Lee for ProPublica
The analysis likely overstates emissions, since the near-guarantee that regulators will approve a permit gives companies an incentive to request authorization for amounts larger than they intend to emit to ensure they’re in compliance. For example, operators in four Texas counties flared about 70% of the volume of gas that their permits allowed, according to a recent effort to compare the state’s flaring data to information collected via satellite. And the Railroad Commission sometimes approves flaring smaller volumes than requested, which is not captured in the data.
“The Texas oil and natural gas industry is committed to ongoing progress in reducing flaring and methane emissions while continuing to meet the ever-growing demand for reliable oil and natural gas across the globe,” Todd Staples, president of the Texas Oil and Gas Association, a trade group, told ProPublica and Inside Climate News in a statement.
Residents of communities surrounded by flares and leaking wells, like Catarina, want the state and the industry to do more to control oil field emissions. The Railroad Commission approved eight flares within 5 miles of the town during the study period and 280 across surrounding Dimmit County, according to agency data.
The danger posed by the gas became impossible to ignore on March 27, as a 30-inch steel pipeline a half-mile from Catarina failed. The rupture blasted more than 23 million cubic feet of gas into the air, as much as is used in 365 homes in a year, according to data the company that owns the pipeline, Energy Transfer, reported to the Railroad Commission.
On March 27, a pipeline just outside Catarina failed, spewing a large volume of natural gas into the air. As his house shook, Hakim Dermish captured the aftermath on his cellphone. Credit:Courtesy of Hakim Dermish
Dermish recorded the chaos with his cellphone. “The house is shaking,” he says in the video as the escaping gas roars, its concussions jostling the camera.
Fearing for their safety, he and his wife evacuated, heading to a neighboring town for the day. After they returned home that evening, he called the sheriff to ask what had happened. During the conversation, Dermish could feel the gas causing him to slur his words. The next morning, Dermish noticed new gas flares, presumably lit to release pressure in the pipeline network by burning excess gas. A cellphone video he recorded shows a towering column of flame, taller than a nearby telephone pole, billowing and rippling.
“Have you ever seen ‘Lord of the Rings’? Do you remember the Fire of Mordor?” Dermish said in an interview. “That’s what we have here.”
An incident report submitted to the state by Energy Transfer attributed the pipeline failure to a technician’s errors. Without objection from the Railroad Commission, the pipeline was repaired and back in service three days later. The agency did not assess Energy Transfer with a violation or a fine.
Energy Transfer did not respond to a request for comment.
After more than two decades in Catarina, Dermish and his wife are planning to move away. “It’s just too dangerous,” he said.
Hakim Dermish has for years urged Texas oil and gas regulatory agencies to more closely monitor the flares near Catarina. Credit:Christopher Lee for ProPublica
While the Trump administration characterizes American oil and gas as cleaner than fossil fuels from other countries, it has rolled back rules regulating methane.
The Environmental Protection Agency has, under Trump, delayed implementing previously finalized rules that would’ve mandated that the industry monitor for methane leaks and address them. He and Republicans in Congress also repealed the country’s first-ever tax on methane. And in June, Trump revoked a Biden administration guidance document laying out how companies should comply with a law aimed at reducing methane leaks from pipelines.
The White House did not respond to a request for comment.
As the nation’s highest-producing oil and gas state, Texas is a key barometer of the U.S. regulatory environment and whether it has created a cleaner fossil fuel industry.
The Permian Basin — the country’s largest oil field, which straddles the Texas-New Mexico border — was estimated by a 2024 study to emit the second-most methane of any oil field in the world.
The industry disputes that finding, pointing to a June report from S&P Global Commodity Insights that found that the rate of methane emissions in the Permian Basin dropped 29% between 2023 and 2024. “Methane emissions management” is increasingly a part of the industry’s operations, Raoul LeBlanc, a vice president at S&P, said in a statement announcing the findings. However, S&P’s report acknowledged that satellite data showed a much more modest reduction of 4%, contradicting the company’s own data, which was collected by airplane.
“We can say confidently that there is no evidence that methane emissions from the Permian Basin are low,” said Steven Hamburg, who studies methane as the Environmental Defense Fund’s chief scientist.
Companies dispose of oil field waste in this growing dump in Catarina. Credit:Christopher Lee for ProPublica
In Texas, State Rule 32 prohibits flaring and venting gas at wells, except under a few specific conditions: while the well is being drilled, during the first 10 days after the well is completed and when necessary to ensure safety. Otherwise, drillers must seek an exception.
The Railroad Commission changed the application process for these exemptions in 2020 and issued new guidance in 2021. Operators would have to explain why they could not suspend drilling to avoid flaring and indicate that they had investigated all options for using the gas before flaring.
Oilfield Witness gathered all exemption requests since 2021, which showed the agency repeatedly approving permits that failed to comply with its guidelines. In many cases, oil companies asked to flare indefinitely or didn’t justify why they needed to flare, leaving blank the section of the application asking why the exemption was needed.
Capturing the gas requires an expensive system of pipelines, compressors and other infrastructure that can cost more than the gas is worth. In their permit applications, companies cite this reality, often listing financial considerations as the reason for seeking exemptions, Oilfield Witness found. These were nearly always approved, even though the agency wrote that finances were an insufficient explanation in a presentation on the permitting process.
“The Railroad Commission seems very interested in devolving decision-making processes to the companies themselves,” McDonald said.
The data also showed that nearly 90% of the approved permit applications were backdated, retroactively giving permission for flares that were already burning. Oil companies typically asked the Railroad Commission for permission to flare 10 days after they had already burned the gas.
A spokesperson said that when the commission revamped its guidelines in 2020, it allowed a longer period in which companies could file for a permit after they’d already started to flare. Even so, nearly 900 of the permits were applied for after the updated filing window and still accepted by the agency.
The Railroad Commission also approved more than 7,000 flares within areas where the gas reservoir being drilled was known to be high in hydrogen sulfide, increasing the likelihood that the toxic gas could escape into the air. Of those flares, 600 were within a mile of a residence, the agency’s data showed.
Minimizing flaring permits is “not a priority in any sense” for the Railroad Commission, said Gunnar Schade, an associate professor of atmospheric sciences at Texas A&M University. “The priority is oil produced, and that means revenue for the state. Oil and gas is a priority, so who cares about the flaring?”
The Railroad Commission and the state’s oil industry trumpet their work to reduce flaring. The agency points to state data showing flaring rates dropping dramatically, specifically since 2019. And the Texas Oil and Gas Association announced in early August that drillers in the Permian Basin “slashed methane emission intensity by more than half in just two years.”
But such claims are misleading, according to experts such as David DiCarlo, an associate professor in the University of Texas at Austin’s petroleum engineering school. Using 2019 as a starting point leaves a false impression that there’s been a sharp decline, he said, as methane emissions that year were staggeringly high due to booming production and inadequate pipeline capacity to gather the gas.
DeSilva, the Railroad Commission’s spokesperson, defended using 2019 as the baseline because “about five years ago we began taking proactive steps to reduce flaring in Texas.”
Taking a longer view shows that a median of 2.2% of gas at Texas oil wells was flared or vented over the past decade, according to a ProPublica and Inside Climate News review of state data. (Flaring at gas wells is rare because those sites have the necessary pipeline infrastructure in place to collect the gas.) That figure hovered just north of 2% in the most recently available data, representing a much smaller drop than the state and industry claim. The industry still hasn’t built sufficient pipeline networks to capture gas at oil wells, so, as production rises, so does flaring and venting.
“They can’t get it below 2% because they keep drilling,” DiCarlo said. Since emissions are highest when a well is being drilled, overall emissions will remain high as long as the industry is drilling new wells. “That’s just the nature of the beast.”
Among the largest beneficiaries of the state’s lax permitting system was an oil company called Endeavor Energy Resources. More than half the approved permanent flaring exemptions went to Endeavor, which merged with the $40 billion Diamondback Energy in September 2024. Endeavor also applied for the longest flaring permit — 6,300 days, or more than 17 years. The Railroad Commission approved the permit without shortening its duration.
Diamondback Energy did not respond to a request for comment.
The industry has simultaneously claimed that it is addressing methane while bristling at oversight.
Natural gas, as seen through a specialized camera that captures infrared energy, streams out of a Diamondback Energy facility near Midland, Texas, in 2023. Credit:Courtesy of Oilfield Witness
Steven Pruett is the president and CEO of Elevation Resources, a Permian Basin oil company, and the immediate past chair of the Independent Petroleum Association of America, one of the industry’s main trade groups. His company saw a 2,408% increase in flaring immediately following new wells being drilled and a 692% increase in flaring overall in 2023, according to emails unearthed by environmental watchdog organization Fieldnotes and shared with ProPublica and Inside Climate News. In the email exchange with University of Texas faculty who were preparing a grant application for a federal methane-reduction program, Pruett blamed the increases on inadequate infrastructure to capture the gas.
Just weeks later, Pruett participated in a tour of the oil field alongside EPA staff, where he echoed the claim that the American oil and gas industry is cleaner than others and that drilling companies were complying with efforts to reduce emissions.
During his term at the helm of the national trade group, it spearheaded multiple lawsuits against the EPA over the government’s methane rules.
Pruett did not respond to a request for comment.
Those opposed to flaring face long odds in halting the practice, even in rare instances when the Railroad Commission hears objections.
Consider the experience of Tom Pohlman, then sheriff of Fisher County, who had a flare burning next to his home in the Texas Panhandle starting in October 2023. The driller responsible for it, Patton Exploration, solicited companies to extend a pipeline to the oil well to capture the gas and evaluated whether the gas could be used to mine bitcoin. But by July 2024, it still had no deal, so the company sought another permit to continue flaring up to 1 million cubic feet of gas per day for 18 months. “Patton is diligently pursuing every avenue possible to find a solution, but still needs more time,” the company wrote in its application.
When Pohlman learned that Patton Exploration had applied for a new permit, he and his neighbors urged the Railroad Commission to deny it.
“The sound that comes from the flame is a constant roar that we can hear throughout our property both day and night,” the neighbors wrote in their objection. “There is no peace and quiet since the day of its ignition.”
In September 2024, Pohlman became one of the few people to officially challenge a flaring permit in Texas, as he and Patton Exploration representatives went head-to-head in a hearing before a Railroad Commission administrative law judge.
“For approximately 20 of my residents in this area, it completely lights up their yard and everything else,” Pohlman said, telling the judge that the flare was 45 feet high. “I just need liveability for this neighborhood. We’ve had nothing but issues here.”
Patton Exploration’s lawyer, David Gross, acknowledged the neighbors’ frustrations but emphasized the importance of keeping the well pumping.
“You can’t produce the oil without producing the gas,” he told the judge. “It’s the public policy of Texas that the recoverable oil and gas in the state’s reservoirs be recovered because it is in the public interest.”
In January, the three elected members of the Railroad Commission voted unanimously to approve the permit and allow flaring for another 12 months.
A flare lights up the night sky in Catarina. Credit:Christopher Lee for ProPublica
Martha Pskowski covers climate change and the environment in Texas from her base in El Paso.
Mark Olalde covers the environment, natural resources, and public health around the Southwest.
Trump Says America’s Oil Industry Is Cleaner Than Other Countries’. New Data Shows Massive Emissions From Texas Wells. was originally published by ProPublica and is republished with permission.
No one can denounce the New York Yankee fan for boasting that her favorite ballclub has won more World Series championships than any other. At 27 titles, the Bronx Bombers claim more than twice their closest competitor.
No one can question admirers of the late, great Chick Corea, or the equally astonishing Alison Krauss, for their virtually unrivaled Grammy victories. At 27 gold statues, only Beyoncé and Quincy Jones have more in the popular categories.
No one can doubt the sincerity of the stargazer who honors the length of the moon’s orbit around the Earth. At roughly 27 days, the lunar cycle can be an emotional sedative or an emotional amphetamine.
But lest we think the number 27 has some magical quality, we should all holler at the agonizing rarity of amending the United States Constitution. After 238 years, we’ve altered the text only 27 times. That’s simply not enough.
It’s difficult to amend the Constitution. Really difficult. In fact, Donald Lutz, the late political scientist at the University of Houston, has conclusively shown that the United States Constitution is the most unamendable charter in the entire world. The eminent political historian, Jill Lepore, recently echoed Lutz’s findings.
James Madison wanted it that way. In Federalist 49, he wrote: frequent appeal to the people [for amendments] would carry an implication of some defect in the government and deprive the government of the veneration which time bestows on everything…”. Stability, he insisted, requires that the Constitution remain mostly untouched.
As a result, Article V—the amendment article—was inserted into the Constitution. Article V has two avenues for new amendments. First, and most commonly, the Constitution can be amended with two-thirds majorities in both Houses of Congress, followed by approval from three-quarters of the states. Secondly, two-thirds of the state legislatures can request that Congress call a constitutional convention. Whatever is produced by such a convention would still need endorsement by three-quarters of the states.
The question is: has the Madisonian method served us well? Increasingly, pundits, scholars, and commentators view Article V as a constitutional vice, a defect of the original design. Indeed, America’s inability to amend its governing charter has contributed to the feeling that the Constitution is increasingly outdated.
And that is why each generation, if given the chance, would dramatically alter the constitutional amendment process. All would lower the bar to make it simpler to align the Constitution with the ever-changing world.
The most interesting proposal to improve Article V comes from the “Silent Generation.” That senior generation favors a conventional first step: two-thirds majorities in both Houses of Congress can propose a constitutional amendment. But then it gets interesting. The “Silent Generation” calls for a “public deliberation period” of at least one full year to consider the implications of the constitutional reform. Citizens would then vote in a national referendum. A super majority of two-thirds support would be required for any proposed amendment that alters the Bill of Rights or other fundamental freedoms. A simple majority is required for any suggested change to the government’s structure.
The emphasis on deliberative democracy carries over to the Baby Boomers. Any proposed constitutional amendment, insists Boomers, must be vetted through expansive public hearings, expert analysis, and a “national dialogue” on the generational and political implications of the change. Input must come from all segments of the citizenry.
The second stage of the Baby Boomer proposal would focus on states. Here, state ratifying conventions would examine the floated amendment. Three-quarters of the states must approve of the change, a high threshold meant to ensure widespread consensus. Similarly, a regional balance among large and small states, urban and rural populations, and economically affluent and less prosperous states is necessary to ensure a high degree of consensus. The final step toward ratification would be a simple majority vote in a national referendum.
Unsurprisingly, younger generations favor more populist and less governmental approaches to constitutional reform. Both Gen X and Gen Z prefer grassroots amendments. Gen Xers embrace the “citizen-initiated amendment,” whereby a petition signed by 2% of the voting population—about 3.5 million eligible voters—can trigger a constitutional amendment. Gen Zers are comfortable with 1%.
A key feature of the Gen Z amendment process is the involvement of a “Youth Council,” a group of 16-to 25-year-olds who are empowered to propose and evaluate potential constitutional amendments. Both generational constitutions then require super-majorities to endorse the proposed change.
Across all these constitutions, one thing is clear: every generation wants the amendment process to be more democratic, more accountable to the populace. We need to lower the threshold for constitutional revision. The double supermajority—a vote of two-thirds of both houses of Congress, followed by certification by three-quarters of the states—is frankly too formidable. It is no wonder that more than ten thousand amendments have been proposed, but only 27—and none since 1992 (a holdover from Madison's original 1789 list, no less)—have been ratified. It is time to improve the way we improve our Constitution.
The New Testament of the Bible contains 27 books. The human hand contains 27 bones. Most alphabets, including the Greek alphabet, contain 27 letters. The number 27 is a perfect cube.
Interesting facts, all. And not disconcerting. What is disconcerting is that we are celebrating the 238th anniversary of the “miracle in Philadelphia”—September 17, 2025—and we have only attended to 27 of the text’s many flaws. The number 27 symbolizes the nation’s struggle to update its fundamental law, a struggle that has kept us from achieving “a more perfect union.” That struggle must end.
Beau Breslin is the Joseph C. Palamountain Jr. Chair in Government at Skidmore College.
Prairie Gunnels just successfully and with honors completed her first year at Skidmore.
Trump’s mass deportations promise security but deliver economic pain, family separation, and chaos. Here’s why this policy is failing America.
As summer 2025 winds down, the Trump administration’s deportation machine is operating at full throttle—removing over one million people in six months and fulfilling a campaign promise to launch the “largest deportation operation in American history.” For supporters, this is a victory lap for law and order. For the rest of the lot, it’s a costly illusion—one that trades complexity for spectacle and security for chaos.
Let’s dispense with the fantasy first. The administration insists that mass deportations will save billions, reduce crime, and protect American jobs. But like most political magic tricks, the numbers vanish under scrutiny. The Economic Policy Institute warns that this policy could destroy millions of jobs—not just for immigrants but for U.S.-born workers in sectors like construction, elder care, and child care. That’s not just a fiscal cliff—it is fewer teachers, fewer caregivers, and fewer homes built. It is inflation with a human face. In fact, child care alone could shrink by over 15%, leaving working parents stranded and employers scrambling.
Meanwhile, the Peterson Institute projects a drop in GDP and employment, while the Penn Wharton School’s Budget Model estimates that deporting unauthorized workers over a decade would slash Social Security revenue and inflate deficits by nearly $900 billion. That’s not a typo. It’s a fiscal cliff dressed up as border security.
And then there’s food. Deporting farmworkers doesn’t just leave fields fallow—it drives up prices. Analysts predict a 10% spike in food costs, compounding inflation and squeezing families already living paycheck to paycheck. In California, where immigrant renters are disproportionately affected, eviction rates are climbing. The Urban Institute warns that deportations are deepening the housing crisis by gutting the construction workforce. So much for protecting American livelihoods.
But the real cost isn’t measured in dollars. It’s measured in broken families, empty classrooms, and quiet despair. The administration has deployed 10,000 armed service members to the border and ramped up “self-deportation” tactics—policies so harsh they force people to leave voluntarily. The result: Children skipping meals because their parents fear applying for food assistance; Cancer patients deported mid-treatment; and LGBTQ+ youth losing access to mental health care. The Human Rights Watch calls it a “crueler world for immigrants.” That’s putting it mildly.
This isn’t targeted enforcement. It’s a dragnet. Green card holders, long-term residents, and asylum seekers are swept up alongside undocumented workers. Viral videos show ICE raids at schools, hospitals, and churches. Lawsuits are piling up. And the chilling effect is real: immigrant communities are retreating from public life, afraid to report crimes or seek help. That’s not safety. That’s silence. Legal scholars warn that the administration’s tactics—raids at schools, churches, and hospitals—may violate Fourth Amendment protections and due process norms.
Even the administration’s security claims are shaky. Yes, border crossings are down—by about 60%, thanks to policies like “Remain in Mexico.” But deportation numbers haven’t met the promised scale. The Migration Policy Institute notes that monthly averages hover around 14,500, far below the millions touted. And the root causes of undocumented immigration—like visa overstays, which account for 60% of cases—remain untouched.
Crime reduction? Also murky. FBI data shows declines in some areas, but experts attribute this more to economic trends than immigration enforcement. In fact, fear in immigrant communities may be making things worse. When people won’t talk to the police, crimes go unreported. That’s not justice. That’s dysfunction.
Public opinion is catching up. In February, 59% of Americans supported mass deportations. By July, that number had cratered. Gallup reports a 25-point drop in favor of immigration cuts. The Pew Research Center finds that 75% of Democrats—and a growing number of independents—think the policy goes too far. Even Trump-friendly voices like Joe Rogan are balking, calling raids on “construction workers and gardeners” a betrayal of common sense.
On social media, the backlash is swift. Users on X (formerly Twitter) call the policy “ineffective,” “manipulative,” and “theater.” And they’re not wrong. This isn’t about solving immigration. It’s about staging a show—one where fear plays the villain and facts are the understudy.
The White House insists this is what voters wanted. But a narrow electoral win isn’t a blank check for policies that harm the economy and fray the social fabric. Alternatives exist: Targeted enforcement focused on violent offenders; visa reform to address overstays; and legal pathways to fill labor gaps. These aren’t radical ideas—they’re pragmatic ones. And they don’t require tearing families apart to work.
Trump’s deportation blitz is a mirage. It promises safety but delivers instability. It claims to protect jobs but undermines the very sectors that keep the country running. It speaks the language of law and order but acts with the recklessness of a demolition crew. Alternatives exist—and they work. Cities that focus on community policing and legal pathways report higher public safety and stronger economies. Reform doesn’t require cruelty. It requires courage.