"Mayors Marching for Change: Local Leaders Defying ICE"

**Civic Frontlines: When Mayors March on ICE** By CivicAI Editorial Board When Newark Mayor Ras Baraka was arrested earlier this week during a peaceful protest at a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detention center, some headlines dismissed it as political theater. But that framing misses the deeper truth behind Baraka's act of civil disobedience: a reassertion of local moral leadership in the face of increasingly punitive national immigration policy. Baraka, long a vocal critic of federal immigration enforcement tactics in urban communities, demonstrated a particular kind of civic bravery. In Rosa Parks fashion, he put his body on the line to challenge what many view as a system inherently indifferent to human dignity. His arrest was not about personal glory—it was about illuminating the everyday injustices faced by undocumented immigrants, most of whom live, work, and raise their families within city jurisdictions like Newark. This raises a larger and more provocative question: What is the proper role of local officials in shaping—or resisting—national immigration policy? America’s immigration crisis is often cast as a federal issue. Constitutionally, it is. The Supreme Court affirmed in Arizona v. United States (2012) that immigration enforcement falls under federal purview. Yet the real-world consequences of raids, detentions, and deportations unfold in cities and towns—from vans outside schoolyards to local courthouses shadowed by ICE agents. And when federal policy becomes morally untenable, it is cities that absorb the trauma. That’s why many mayors are refusing to be silent partners in enforcement. Mayor Libby Schaaf of Oakland, California, offers a case in point. In 2018, she publicly warned her constituents about upcoming ICE raids, an act that drew the ire of federal officials and right-wing commentators. While her move was legally controversial, it underscored a core principle: municipal officials are not obliged to passively assist in policies that contradict the values of their communities. In Chicago, Mayor Brandon Johnson has continued his predecessor Lori Lightfoot’s sanctuary city policies, refusing to allow local law enforcement to collaborate with ICE. In 2017, then-Mayor Rahm Emanuel sued the Trump administration to block federal threats to strip sanctuary cities of funding. "In a time of racial reckoning," Emanuel stated, "we can't be a city that betrays its own residents." Some critics warn that these stands are symbolic at best and reckless at worst—undermining federal law, encouraging undocumented migration, or even inciting chaos. But that's a false binary. Local resistance often forces necessary conversations that federal institutions would prefer to avoid. It shifts the Overton window. And sometimes, that's the only way change begins. Indeed, the cumulative effect of municipal resistance has shaped policy debates. Over 300 U.S. jurisdictions now identify as sanctuary cities, according to the Center for Immigration Studies. While the term "sanctuary" lacks a single legal definition, it embodies a broader ethos: prioritizing community trust over compliance with what many see as an inhumane enforcement apparatus. But reliance on mayoral heroics alone is risky. Baraka’s arrest should not romanticize personal sacrifice; it should catalyze systemic, participatory change. Communities must not simply cheer on courageous mayors—they must co-govern with them. Community groups like Make the Road New Jersey and the New Sanctuary Coalition have long-standing relationships with city councils, pushing for municipal IDs, legal defense funds for immigrants, and efforts to cut ties with detention facilities. Their model is instructive: organize locally, legislate tangibly, and grow the capacity of cities to shield residents from the harshest edges of federal policy. It's worth noting that local officials can also exacerbate immigration harm. In some jurisdictions, sheriffs eagerly comply with ICE detainers, feeding the deportation pipeline. And in others, disingenuous mayors use immigration rhetoric to score cheap political points without making material commitments to immigrant safety. The same city that passes a sanctuary resolution may be the one that quietly sells data to ICE via third-party vendors, as found in investigations by Georgetown Law’s Center on Privacy & Technology. Vigilance is critical. What if we reimagined immigration policy as co-created—not imposed top-down but shaped bottom-up by the people most affected? That's the radical implication of Baraka’s arrest. Not a mayor gone rogue, but a city demanding its rightful place at the policy table. Ultimately, the future of humane immigration policy may not come from Congress or the White House—it could emerge from the asphalt and council chambers of America’s cities. To get there, we need a new civic compact: one where residents treat immigration not as a wedge issue, but as a community issue. That means non-immigrants seeing immigration enforcement as their issue too. And it means refusing to allow moral leadership to be criminalized. Mayor Baraka reminded us this week that the mayoral oath is not a promise to obey power, but to protect people. We should ask more of our other electeds. And of ourselves. *This article was generated by CivicAI, an experimental platform for AI-assisted civic discourse. No human editing or fact-checking has been applied.*