THE AWFUL PRICE OF FREEDOM

We Minneapolitans—and residents of several other American cities Donald Trump has targeted with his vindictiveness—confront a question that just might reflect the challenge of our post-World-War-II lifetimes: What might I do if I find myself face to face with an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) goon squad abusing a neighbor or friend?

As a man who came of age at the height of the Vietnam War, I had to face a decision that tested my character: Do I get drafted? Enlist? Resist? Maybe find another way to serve? (I ended up enlisting and serving for six years in the U.S. Army Reserves.) And, informing that decision, another question: How would I act facing the enemy, and, God forbid, asked to make the ultimate sacrifice? 

PHOTO: Saline County Library

Once my years of draft eligibility passed, I never dreamed I’d have to confront those same life-and-death, mettle-testing questions again. But here we are. 

This time the threat, the enemy, is not some crazed pack of Viet Cong; it is my own government, whose barbarity defies not just our cherished Constitution, but simple decency. And it’s not happening 8,500 miles away; it’s right here in Minneapolis.

       Just pulling out my iPhone and tapping that red 
       circle could put me in the crosshairs of some dude 
       with the training of a night watchman and an urge 
       to kick some ass.

So, let’s say I’m at work—in an office building where some 80 percent of my fellow tenants are Somali-American. It seems quite possible that some of them, even those with legal status, will be targeted by ICE. If that happens, what will I do to stand up for the rights of my neighbors—most of them my fellow citizens—against some agents’ brutality?

PHOTO: Dave Decker - ZumaPress

The violence of federal agents toward even those simply bearing witness to their lawlessness is chilling. Just pulling out my iPhone and tapping that red circle could put me in the crosshairs of some dude with the training of a night watchman and an urge to kick some ass. I’m afraid, in the heat of the moment, incensed by the stark inhumanity of these bullies, I might do more than pull out my phone. 

Should I stop and weigh my options? Consider the prospect of injury, imprisonment…or worse? Calculate my odds of making the slightest difference? Or should I just go ahead and do what I’d hope someone might do for me if I were under attack by masked thugs? Exactly what Alex Pretti was doing. And died for.

Reasonable questions. Ones we Americans, sadly, must all be asking ourselves during this unprecedented attack on our Democracy. How sad, especially for one who’s been around the block a few times. Instead of growing old in peace in the country where I’ve worked and served for six decades, I must once again, right here in my home town, weigh the awful cost of freedom.