I was born and raised in Minnesota, shaped by a culture that taught me what it means to be a neighbor. Minnesotans are warm, welcoming, humble, and gracious people who understand that our diversity isn’t our weakness, but our greatest strength. For 35 years now, I’ve called Montana home, and I’ve found that same spirit alive in the Big Sky Country. Montanans, like Minnesotans, cherish community, embrace liberty, and stand firm on the belief that every person deserves dignity and respect.
Today, I write with a heavy heart about events unfolding on Minnesota’s streets—events that should shake the conscience of every American who loves this country and the principles upon which it stands.
The recent immigration enforcement actions in Minnesota have resulted in the loss of American lives and serious injuries to our fellow citizens. Let that sink in: Americans, going about their lives in their own communities, have been killed and wounded in broad daylight. This is not the America we know. This is not the America we built together.
Our Constitution guarantees us the right to dissent, to resist, to protest, and to disagree with our government. These are not privileges to be revoked at will. They are the very bedrock of our democracy. Law-abiding citizens should never fear execution on their own streets by masked federal officers acting against the expressed will of their community. When that line is crossed, we must all regardless of our politics, stand up and say: This is not who we are.
Let me be clear: Americans across the political spectrum want safe communities. We want secure borders. We want violent criminals arrested, prosecuted, and held accountable. These are not partisan desires, they are universal human needs.
But what we’re witnessing is not that. What we’re witnessing is the tragic consequence of decades of federal failure, a Congress that has refused to modernize our immigration system, choosing instead to wield it as a weapon to divide us. While our lawmakers have turned immigration into a political wedge, real human beings, both American citizens and those who dream of becoming citizens, pay the price.
There’s a painful irony in how we talk about immigration that reminds me of how we treat our veterans. We love “the troops” in the abstract. We honor their service, praise their sacrifice, wave flags in their honor. Yet when individual veterans return home, many find themselves homeless, battling untreated PTSD, struggling to access basic care. We fail them as individuals while celebrating them as a troop.
Immigration works in reverse. We demonize immigrants as a group, painting them with the broad brush of criminality and danger. Yet when you actually meet individual immigrants, when you work alongside them, worship with them, watch your children play with theirs, you discover what most of us already know in our hearts: the vast majority are kind, intelligent, hardworking people who strengthen our communities and enrich our lives.
Both distortions, the idealization of groups paired with the neglect of individuals, and the demonization of groups despite the humanity of individuals, reveal the same tragic flaw: our unwillingness to see each other fully, honestly, and with compassion.
Montana, Minnesota, and America, we are better than this moment. We have always been better than this.
Our nation’s greatest chapters have been written when we led the world not with fear, but with hope. Not with walls, but with welcome. Not with violence, but with the revolutionary belief that every human being possesses inherent dignity and worth.
This is our moment to choose. Will we allow fear to calcify our hearts, or will we lead with the courage of our deepest values?
I call on every Montanan, every Minnesotan, and every American, regardless of how you voted or what party you claim, to demand more from our leaders and from ourselves:
To our elected officials: Create immigration policy that actually works – legislation that honors both our security needs and our humanitarian principles. Stop using desperate human beings as political pawns. Do your job.
To our communities: Reject the fear. When you see your neighbor – whether they were born here or dreamed of coming here, see them as they are: a fellow human being trying to build a good life, just like you.
To ourselves: Remember who we are. We are the descendants of people who believed a better world was possible. We are the inheritors of a dream that said all people are created equal. We are capable of building communities where safety, compassion, security, and kindness, can coexist.
The foundations of our democracy are more delicate than we sometimes imagine. They require constant care, fierce protection, and the willingness of ordinary citizens to stand up when they see injustice. Even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it’s costly.
What’s happening on Minnesota’s streets is a test, not just of policy, but of character. Not just of law, but of love.
We can do better. We must do better. And it starts with each of us choosing to lead with our hearts, to reject the politics of division, and to work toward a more peaceful, just, and loving world.
Minnesota taught me that neighbors take care of neighbors. Montana has shown me that wide-open spaces can create wide-open hearts. Let’s honor both traditions by coming together now, across every divide, to demand that America lives up to its highest ideals.
The world is watching. Our children are watching. History is watching.
Let’s show them what Montana kindness and Minnesota grace look like when they stand together for justice.
Let’s show them the America we still believe in—the America we can still become.
Casey Malmquist lives in Whitefish.