Will Senate Democrats Vote to Fund Trump's Gestapo?

The Democratic establishment is not rising to the occasion—but regular people, in Minneapolis and across the country, absolutely are.

The contrast this week between ICE’s outrageous conduct and the Democratic establishment’s response to these abuses has been hard to reconcile.

On the one hand, we continue to see—in headlines, in videos, on our timelines, everywhere we look—ICE operating rabidly outside the bounds of what can be allowed to exist in a democratic society. ICE officers are kidnapping half-naked grandpas in the freezing cold; they’re denying legal counsel to detainees; they’re entering homes without warrants; they’re using chemical weapons against high school students; they’re sending babies to the hospital. They are violently occupying American cities, acting—and in some cases quite explicitly cosplaying—like the Gestapo that Trump wants them to be.

At the same time, as we speed towards one of Congressional Democrats’ last remaining points of leverage against this regime—the January 30th deadline to pass an appropriations bill to keep the government open—we’re reading headlines like “Congress clinches $1.2T funding deal for DHS…” and “Democrats support bill that would give ICE $10 billion.” We’re even seeing Democratic leaders propose more funding for ICE training and body cameras, just weeks after Jonathan Ross, a longtime ICE firearms instructor, literally filmed himself shooting Renee Good in the face.

This is simply untenable. No rational, functioning opposition party would actively step in to fund the primary enforcement mechanism of the authoritarian takeover they ostensibly oppose.

Voting to fund ICE in this moment is not only morally catastrophic—it is also politically absurd. Americans are seeing what ICE is doing, and they don’t like it. Polling shows that a majority of Americans view ICE unfavorably and support restrictions on the agency. And for nearly half of the country, these concerns are not theoretical, they’re personal: 46 percent of Americans report being somewhat or very concerned that ICE could mistreat someone they know. This is clearly the kind of playing field in which a fight—which will drive further attention towards ICE’s abuses—is politically advantageous.

Grassroots Democrats understand this, and over the last week they have been intensely ramping up pressure on their Congressional leaders. The good news is that this uproar is having some impact. Just this morning, House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries told his colleagues that he will be voting no on the bill to fund the Department of Homeland Security. But he’s not whipping the caucus to oppose the legislation—which is the job of a legislative leader—so this opposition is essentially performative.

That leaves the Senate, where—unlike in the House—Republicans will need Democratic support to reach the 60 votes necessary to pass their Gestapo funding bill.

Some Democratic senators have already made clear they’re on the right side of this fight. For example, Connecticut senator Chris Murphy announced:

The proposed Appropriations bill for the Department of Homeland Security released today puts no meaningful constraints on the growing lawlessness of ICE, and increases funding for detention over the last Appropriations bill passed in 2024. … Democrats have no obligation to support a bill that not only funds the dystopian scenes we are seeing in Minneapolis but will allow DHS to replicate that playbook of brutality in cities all over this country.

But other Democrats, like Washington senator Patty Murray, have been pushing for passage of the deal, and it seems highly unlikely that Democratic leadership (I’m looking at you, Chuck “folds every time” Schumer) will whip the caucus to stand in united opposition to this legislation.

It would be terribly dispiriting to see Senate Democrats cede what is likely their last concrete opportunity this year to block the appropriations that are funding ICE’s horrific abuses. And such a failure would strike a particularly stark contrast between those Democratic leaders who are not rising to the occasion, and the actual people of Minnesota, and all across the country, who absolutely are.

In the weeks since ICE began its assault on Minneapolis, the solidarity with which Minnesotans have responded has been extraordinary. We’ve seen thousands of regular people organizing—sometimes through established activist channels, but as often as not through churches, neighborhood group chats, and school Facebook groups—to stand up to Trump’s attacks on their neighbors. They’re following ICE officers across the city, honking horns, blowing whistles, recording abductions, and nonviolently disrupting these fascist operations however they can. Other community members are mobilizing to deliver groceries and offer rides to migrants who are afraid to leave their homes.

It’s among the most beautiful examples of real-life antifascism I have ever seen. And it’s why, as deeply horrifying as these last few weeks have been, I am actually, right now, feeling more optimistic about the survival of American democracy than I have in a long time. Over the last year we’ve seen practically every elite institution—corporations, law firms, universities, the Democratic establishment—bend the knee to Trump. But regular people all across the country—the people with the most to lose, who are the least insulated against the consequences of their resistance—have consistently refused to give in.

This is where we must look to for our salvation. It’s in our relationships with our communities, our love for our neighbors, and our hatred of bullies. There’s a suffocating amount of malice and evil out there right now. But there’s also a tremendous amount of good old-fashioned American moxie, compassion, and stubbornness. As fragile and corrupt as our elite institutions have revealed themselves to be, the American public—the regular people of this country—are proving themselves remarkably resilient to Trump’s authoritarianism. This record should not only inform our strategies of resistance moving forward—it should also provide us with a durable source of hope as we look down the barrel of three increasingly dark and dangerous years.