What is happening in parts of the United States right now is often described as excessive policing, overreach, or political theater. Those descriptions underestimate what is actually unfolding. This is not about immigration enforcement. It is about fear as a governing tool, applied selectively, publicly, and deliberately.
Terror as Governance, American Edition
In my previous post, Terror as Governance in Iran, I argued that repression is often misread as chaos. Violence looks impulsive. Internet shutdowns look panicked. Arrests look random. From the outside, it appears as if a regime is losing control. The reality is usually the opposite. Repression that lasts is structured. It follows a playbook. It fragments society, isolates people from one another, and raises the cost of coordination until resistance becomes individually dangerous and collectively fragile. What makes that analysis uncomfortable is that it does not stop at authoritarian states we are used to labeling as such. A version of the same logic is now visible in the United States. Not everywhere. Not uniformly. But very deliberately where it matters most.
Why blue states
A basic question keeps coming up. If Immigration and Customs Enforcement is enforcing federal law, why are its most aggressive, militarized operations concentrated almost exclusively in Democratic led cities and states. The answer is not migration patterns. It is politics. Terror works best where it is seen, resisted, and politically exploitable. Blue states provide all three. In red states, immigration enforcement largely happens quietly, through cooperation with local authorities, inside jails and administrative systems. There is no spectacle. There is no confrontation. There is no footage. In blue states, sanctuary policies force federal agents into public space. Door to door raids. Workplace seizures. Armed patrols in neighborhoods, parking lots, even inside stores. This is not an operational inconvenience. It is the point. Visibility turns enforcement into performance. This does not mean similar tactics do not occur elsewhere, but their concentration and visibility in Democratic led states is what gives them political utility.
Enforcement as theater
What distinguishes recent ICE operations is not their legality, but their staging. Armed agents in military gear confronting unarmed civilians. Raids conducted in broad daylight. Filmed encounters circulated proudly on official social media accounts. Language that frames enforcement not as routine administration, but as domination. This is not how you quietly remove undocumented individuals. This is how you send a message. The message is not primarily directed at migrants. It is directed at everyone watching.
Do not interfere. Do not document. Do not resist.
Or you might be next.
The killing of Renee Good in Minneapolis made this explicit. The response from the administration was not restraint, investigation, or accountability. It was escalation and blame. Not on the shooter, but on the victim. Disrespect was treated as justification. Protest was treated as provocation. That is not law and order. That is hierarchy enforcement.
Repression needs opposition
Repression without opposition quickly becomes meaningless. If no one pushes back, there is nothing for the action to signal, no contradiction to exploit, no narrative to sustain. Democratic-led states provide resistance in many forms: governors publicly object, state attorneys general file lawsuits, communities organize, journalists document events, and courts intervene. That resistance is not incidental. It is the very thing that gives these operations visibility and political impact.
In this context, Immigration and Customs Enforcement ceases to function merely as a federal law-enforcement agency. Instead it becomes a platform, a stage, a symbol in a larger political conflict where what matters most is not the underlying policy outcome but the representation of authority itself. Actions that might otherwise remain administrative become spectacles that shape identity and narrative.
This is not rhetorical flourish. It is how the phenomenon is being described by analysts observing these patterns in real time.
Fear as social fragmentation
The objective is not mass deportation. The numbers do not support that claim. The objective is fragmentation. Neighborhoods that organize escort systems. Parents afraid to send children to school. Bystanders unsure whether filming is safe. Protesters unsure who might be arrested next. Fear does not need to be universal. It only needs to be plausible. As in other systems built on intimidation, enforcement becomes arbitrary by design. Rules are applied inconsistently. Violence appears disproportionate. Legal boundaries blur. That unpredictability forces people to self censor and self isolate. A population that cannot trust the rules cannot coordinate. A population that cannot coordinate cannot resist.
Who is allowed to resist
One of the most revealing aspects of the current moment is who is being targeted rhetorically. When white women began standing between ICE agents and their communities, the reaction from right wing media was immediate and hostile. They were mocked, sexualized, criminalized. Their resistance was framed as illegitimate, dangerous, even treasonous. This matters. Authoritarian systems depend on clear social hierarchies. When people who are supposed to be protected rather than punished resist openly, the system reacts with particular violence. It cannot tolerate ambiguity about who owes obedience. This is not about immigration. It is about authority.
External threat narratives
As in other systems of repression, external threats are instrumentalized. Protest becomes foreign agitation. Dissent becomes sabotage. Legal challenges become attacks on national security. This does not mean external criticism causes repression. It means repression feeds on external pressure to justify itself. The narrative writes itself. We are under attack. We must act decisively. Those who object are aiding the enemy. It is a familiar script. It works because it simplifies reality and rewards loyalty.
Fear is not submission
It is important to say this clearly. Fear does not mean compliance. Communities adapt. Networks form. Information moves quietly. Resistance becomes less visible, not less real. But visibility is dangerous. Silence becomes survival. This is why street protests appear to vanish. Not because opposition disappears, but because the cost of being seen rises too high.
Why this matters
If these events are discussed only as isolated abuses, nothing changes. Videos circulate. Outrage spikes. The system continues. Behind the headlines, routines persist. Raids scheduled. Warrants ignored. Trials delayed. Careers destroyed administratively. Fear normalized bureaucratically. Terror as governance does not rely on constant violence. It relies on repetition. On procedure. On the dull, grinding predictability of enforcement without accountability.
Understanding this does not mean equating the United States with Iran. It means recognizing a shared logic. Authoritarian techniques do not arrive fully formed. They appear selectively, where resistance still exists, and expand when normalized.
If we only recognize terror when it is total, we will always recognize it too late.