In March, the legacy of US civil rights and labour leader Cesar Chavez — who organised and campaigned for farmworkers’ rights throughout the 1960s and 1970s — was called into question when an investigation by The New York Times revealed allegations of sexual abuse. The report included a disclosure by Dolores Huerta, a co-founder and leader of the United Farm Workers, that she was among the victims.

As leaders across the political spectrum consider what to do, what to change, and how to move forward with memorials, official holidays, and annual remembrances, it is vital to examine the scope and influence Latin American workers had in shaping the US labour movement.

Today, I want to explore not only who Latin American workers are, but also how their stories help us understand the present—and future—of labour in the United States.

Welcome to the Quiet Argument.

When we talk about Latin American workers as a single group, we oversimplify the rich diversity of cultures. They include folks from Mexico, Central America, South America, and the Caribbean. Each community has its own distinct history but is united by a common theme: migration to the United States driven by labour demands during periods of economic growth for some and stagnation for others.

This narrative is not solely economic; it is also one of resistance—how discrimination from employers and, sometimes, even unions, along with US imperial relations with neighbours to the south and the Caribbean, have shaped their working-class identity. Despite facing hostility, Latin American workers have fought for better wages and conditions since the 19th century.

So, let us reflect on how this foundation was established by those who refused to be overlooked.

In the late 1800s, the American Southwest experienced rapid growth. Railways were built, mines opened, and agriculture expanded. Mexican labour became the primary workforce behind this development. Workers followed traditional migration routes, maintaining strong ties to family, culture, and homeland. US immigration policies at that time favoured employers, creating a “revolving door” for low-wage workers. The Mexican Revolution encouraged migration, but the true catalyst was the First World War, which caused labour shortages.

In the 1920s alone, half a million Mexican immigrants arrived in the US, with nearly 10 per cent relocating to the Midwest to work in meatpacking, steel mills, and the automotive industry.

Meanwhile, a different situation arose in the Caribbean. After the Spanish-American War in 1898, the US made Puerto Rico a colony. The plantation system declined, shifting towards commercial export farming and leaving many unemployed. To survive, Puerto Rican women took up needlework and tobacco, while others travelled across the Caribbean and even to Hawaii to find employment.

In 1917, the Jones–Shafroth Act granted Puerto Ricans US citizenship. Together with labour shortages during the First World War, this caused significant migration to the mainland. They worked on military bases, in Louisiana sugar plantations, and in Arizona cotton farms. By the end of the decade, many settled in New York City, with the population increasing from about 7,000 to nearly 45,000 over the following decade, working in commerce, services, and cigar manufacturing.

Now, we cannot forget Cuba. Following the growth of the cigar industry in Key West, Tampa, and New York, thousands of tabaqueros migrated to the US. By 1900, Ybor City housed over 16,000 Cubans. These workers brought revolutionary nationalism, socialism, and a tradition of labour organisation rooted in anarchism. They employed lectores who read literature and political theory to factory workers, using labour newspapers to challenge exploitation.

Established labour unions often overlooked these workers. In the 19th century, Latin American workers sought support from their own communities or revolutionary movements. Many joined the Knights of Labour, the first large organisation of the American working class, which made no distinctions based on nationality, gender, creed, or colour. Mexican union members established assemblies in Texas and New Mexico, led by figures such as Manuel López and Juan José Herrera. Cuban anarchist Carlos Baliño represented the Knights at their national convention in 1886

After the Haymarket Affair, the Knights declined, and the American Federation of Labour under Samuel Gompers replaced them. The AFL concentrated on protecting skilled, white, male craft unions. When it attempted to organise Latin American workers during the First World War, it often created separate locals for Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, and Cubans. It remained firm against Mexican immigration, viewing it as a threat to white wages. Excluded and discriminated against, Latin American workers formed their own organisations.

Activists like Luisa Capetillo led the campaign for better hours and wages for Puerto Rican women in the tobacco industry. Many Mexican workers brought radical experiences from their homeland and joined the Industrial Workers of the World. Between 1900 and 1920, the IWW recruited Mexican workers in the mining, railway, and agricultural sectors.

In 1917, Mexican copper miners in Arizona, organised by the IWW, went on strike against the Phelps Dodge Corporation, confronting both the company and criminal syndicalist laws.

The Great Depression weakened unions, and many workers returned home. Then came the New Deal. Under the Roosevelt administration, the National Labour Relations Act of 1935 guaranteed workers’ right to organise and expanded the role of Latino workers. Leaders like Bert Corona and women in the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union contributed to building the labour movement from within. Latinos joined the CIO, which admitted workers regardless of race.

The outbreak of the Second World War created an urgent demand for workers, and Latin American workers fulfilled that need, making progress in employment and wages. And while wages did improve, many jobs remained low-status and temporary.

During the post-war years, migration began to rise.

In 1947, the Puerto Rican government launched an economic development programme called Operation Bootstrap, aimed at transitioning the island’s economy from agriculture to industry by attracting US manufacturing. The displacement of agricultural workers and the lack of new jobs caused hundreds of thousands of Puerto Ricans to migrate to the US between the 1940s and 1960s.

The Bracero Program brought 4.2 million Mexican contract labourers to the US between 1942 and 1964, reinforcing the “revolving door” system, initially reducing immigration through legal channels but ultimately institutionalising networks that fueled future undocumented immigration—leaving a legacy of exploitation.

The Cold War era saw the enactment of the Taft-Hartley Act of 1947, which weakened labour protections and targeted progressive activists.

Nevertheless, Latin American workers did not retreat. In 1950, Mine Mill Local 890 in New Mexico launched a 15-month strike against the Empire Zinc mining company, known as the “Salt of the Earth” strike. Despite blacklisting and the presence of the National Guard, they remained resolute.

In 1966, the United Farm Workers formed through the merging of the Agricultural Workers Organising Committee, led by Larry Itliong and representing Filipino-American farmworkers, and the National Farm Worker Association, led by Dolores Huerta, Gilbert Padilla, and Cesar Chavez, representing Mexican-American farmworkers.

In urban areas, the struggle continued. In 1967, María Portalatín led a campaign for paraprofessionals to join the United Federation of Teachers in New York, securing pay increases.

By 1970, the New York City Central Labour Council recognised the Hispanic Labour Committee.

The 80s saw the Latin American population in the US double, and a new wave of labour activism began. Workers organised strikes across various industries—garment factories, breweries, canneries —gaining national attention despite resistance.

In 1990, the Justice for Janitors campaign in Los Angeles secured a contract for 6,000 Latin American janitors—the largest private-sector immigrant organising success since the UFW. And this momentum persisted.

So, where are we today? We stand on the shoulders of proud rank-and-file workers. From the lectores of Tampa to the janitors of Century City, the story of Latin American workers is one of resilience and community in the face of exclusion.

By 2050, Latin American workers will make up one in three working-age Americans. They are not just part of history—they are the key to the future.

Now, let’s consider this:

As we move forward, we must remember that the fight for dignity, fair wages, and safety is far from over. So why do we focus on the achievements of a few individuals, when the victories up to now were only made possible by the struggles and sacrifices of thousands of unknown workers?

In my opinion, all credit should go to them.

Thank you for listening to The Quiet Argument. If this gave you something to think about, I invite you to share it with me here. For more information and book recommendations on the topics we discussed, please check the show notes at the end of the post. Until next time. Stay curious.

—AHN

Further Reading (to start with):

• Juan González, Harvest of Empire: A History of Latinos in America

• Albert Camarillo, Chicanos in California: A History of Mexican Americans in California

• Ruth Milkman, Organising Immigrants: The Challenge for Unions in Contemporary California

• Rodolfo F. Acuna, Corridors of Migration: The Odyssey of Mexican Labourers, 100-1933

• Immanuel Ness, Immigrants Unions and the New US Labour Market.

• Milagros Pena, Latina Activists across Borders: Women’s Grassroots Organising in Mexico and Texas

• Mike Garcia and the Justice For Janitors Movement (Edited by Kent Wong, David Huerta, Victor Narro, Hugo Romero, and Marice Rafael Magaña)

• Laura-Anne Minkoff-Zern, The New American Farmer: Immigration, Race, and the Struggle for Sustainability

Now, If you’re wondering why I’m embarking on this audio journey, I have a somewhat simple answer for you: After a wonderful time hosting and producing the indiVISIBLE Hour — which I encourage all of you to take a listen to, if you haven’t already — I realised I missed having these types of conversations, and thought ‘what the hell’ why not try again with a shorter format — so please, sit back and enjoy.

Today, I’d like to talk about something that shapes every part of our lives, though we rarely speak about it: Power.

When we hear the word “power,” what comes to mind? For most of us, it’s something negative; we think of it as dominating, controlling, and oppressive. But here’s the thing: that’s only part of its definition.

Power, at its core, is simply the capacity and ability to produce or prevent change. That’s it. It’s everywhere—in politics, religion, our families, our communities. And honestly, that’s why talking about power makes us so uncomfortable.

We tend to see power as one-dimensional—as something inherently evil and unchanging. But if we keep framing it that way, we stop ourselves from really studying it and taking action to change things.

The truth is, power is dynamic. It’s multi-dimensional. It adapts to different situations. And here’s the key: it can dominate OR liberate. We have to understand and balance both.

Let’s start with two forms of power that most of us are already familiar with.

The first is called “Power Over.”

It’s the kind of power we most think about when we hear the word. It’s the ability to take, to control, and to limit others.

Think about your workplace. Or school. Or maybe around the family dinner table. You’ve felt it, right? The sense of not being in control?

Then there’s something quieter, something hidden: Invisible Power.

This power doesn’t shout. Instead, it shapes what we should perceive as normal, acceptable, or valuable. It influences and shapes the laws of society. It impacts how we see ourselves, our identity, and our worth.

Invisible power is subtle. It can make us doubt our place in the world—or make us feel small when we should feel confident.

If we want real change, we can’t only resist the visible forms of power. We must also examine the invisible. Question it. Practice alternative forms. Engage with it.

To analyse power more clearly, we can all use a simple visual: a cube. To be more specific, the Power Cube. The power cube is a framework for analysing the levels, spaces, and forms of power, and their interrelationships.

This framework began its development with Steven Lukes, who argued that power could be seen in three dimensions — from visible to invisible— and was expanded by the work of John Gaventa, who found power to be more complex, multi-dimensional, and intersectional.

Hence the cube: Because like power itself, it’s multi-dimensional. It can be visible. It can be hidden. It moves. It shifts.

We can map power using three lenses: Forms, Spaces, and Levels.

• Forms are how power manifests—how we experience it.

• Spaces are where power operates—where decisions are made, where influence exists.

• Levels are the layers at which decisions happen—local, national, global.

Think about spaces for a moment. They can be public, like our workplaces or schools. Private, like our families or friend groups. Or intimate, like our sense of self, confidence, and identity.

Recognising the space where power operates helps us find entry points. Places where we can act, places we can disrupt, or places we can create.

Power also intersects with ethics, morals, and integrity. These terms get thrown around like they’re interchangeable, but they’re not. And that difference matters.

• Morals are our personal beliefs that guide our behaviour and define our sense of right or wrong. They’re internal, personal.

• Ethics are guidelines created by a community. They tell us what the correct or incorrect behaviour is in any given context. They’re more practical than personal.

• Then there’s integrity—the quality of being honest and having a strong moral principle that you keep even when it’s difficult.

Here’s where it gets interesting. What happens when something is moral but unethical? Maybe you have a strong personal belief that conflicts with your community. Maybe you’re asked to do something that’s technically “ethical”, albeit legal, but it violates your personal moral code. Contradictions like these happen all the time in real life.

When we make decisions, power and ethics intersect. Some choices benefit a few at the expense of many. Others align with collective well-being.

And that’s where reflection comes in. We should ask ourselves:

Could this decision harm someone—or help others? Does it respect the rights of everyone involved? Which choice produces the most good?

These questions help us move beyond just following rules. They push us to think critically about power, justice, and our role in creating change.

So let’s consider this quiet argument: power is not simply something to accept, fear or resist.

It’s complex. It’s dynamic. And It’s everywhere.

If we aim to act ethically, we must try to see it clearly, understand it deeply, and navigate it responsibly.

How we wield power defines not just our integrity—but the communities we live in, and the world we choose to shape around us.

Thank you for listening to this first episode of The Quiet Argument.

If this gave you something to think about, I invite you to share it with me here. For more information and book recommendations about the topics we discussed, please take a look at the notes at the end of the post.

Until next time. Stay curious.

—AHN

Notes:

• https://www.powercube.net/analyse-power/what-is-the-powercube/

• Steven Lukes, Power: A Radical View

• John Gaventa, Power and Powerlessness: Quiescence and Rebellion in an Appalachian Valley

• Michael Foucault, Subject & Power

• Noam Chomsky, On Power and Ideology

• Clarissa Rile Hayward, De-Facing Power

• Lisa VeneKlasen with Valerie Miller, Power and Empowerment

Over the years, I have closely followed a few notable legal cases. This one, in particular, has me wondering why.

Perhaps it’s just in my nature — as it was when I was a news reporter — to at all times be a thorn in the side of those self-indulgent political elites, and by extension enjoy covering other news organisations fighting, or at least poking and prodding, the political status quo — even if I disagree in the slightest with their editorial strategies (a radical centrist to the end).

Either way, here we are at Trump v BBC, part three.

As expected this month, the BBC filed its motion to dismiss on 16 March.

Back in February, when the BBC’s motion to delay was denied, we looked at the possible motion to dismiss arguments that could be used:

• They (BBC) are not under Florida’s jurisdiction as all defendants are citizens of the United Kingdom, and the BBC’s headquarters are in London, England.

• Trump cannot show any ‘cognisable’ injury. Pursuing a media company means proving actual damages, including when the claim alleges defamation.

• Trump can’t prove actual damages since he won re-election on 5 November 2024, after the programme aired — he took Florida with a 13-point margin.

• Trump can’t prove actual malice behind the documentary, in particular because of the ‘extensive coverage of his supporters and balanced coverage of his path to re-election.’

So what arguments were included in the motion?

• ‘First, this Court lacks general and specific personal jurisdiction over Defendants,’

• ‘Second, Plaintiff fails to state a claim against the Studios Defendants, who are barely mentioned in the Complaint and had no role in creating or producing the Documentary, and did not broadcast it in the U.S.,’

• ‘Third, Plaintiff’s defamation claim fails to plausibly plead he was harmed by the Documentary or that Defendants published it with actual malice, and the Documentary contains protected expressions of opinion.’

• ‘Fourth, the FDUPTA claim fails because it is duplicative of the defamation claim, and because the documentary is not “trade or commerce” under FDUTPA.’1

The February preview was accurate.

There is one point raised in the brief I want to highlight. And it goes back to what I’ve mentioned before: ‘the chilling effect is clear’ when President Trump is ‘among the most powerful and high-profile individuals in the world, on whose activities the BBC (and other news organisations) reports every day.’

This is now more than just a bad edit — for which the BBC did apologise — portrayed by the president as a hatchet job.

This is about press freedom; we’ve seen the previous lawsuits, the growing restrictions on access and coverage, including the removal of journalists from the White House and Pentagon, as well as the arrests and detention of reporters covering immigration issues.

This is about free speech.

And above all, it’s about the right of all citizens to hold politicians accountable for their actions or inactions while in office. Just something to think about, if you haven’t already been.

‘We have said throughout we will robustly defend the case against us,’ said a BBC spokesperson.

‘Put simply — the documentary was never aired in Florida — or the US. It wasn’t available to watch in the US on iPlayer, online or any other streaming platforms, including BritBox and BBC Select.

‘We have therefore challenged the jurisdiction of the Florida court and filed a motion to dismiss the president’s claim.’

President Trump and his legal team have two weeks to respond to the motion to dismiss. If the motion is denied, it will proceed to trial in 2027.

Let’s see what happens in two weeks.

— AHN

Case: Trump v. British Broadcasting Corporation, 1:25-cv-25894, (S.D. Fla.)

Whether you are turning on the television or reading the paper, it’s all the same—nothing but doom and gloom.

On one end, working people face a harsh economic downturn caused by some world leaders’ trigger-happy tariff policies, leading to a nervous financial market. On the other hand, the U.S./Israel war in Iran, leaving many to feel this will undoubtedly drag us into another never-ending conflict in the Middle East.

Yet, hope springs eternal for baseball fans around the globe, as opening day is set for Thursday, 26 March 2026, between the New York Yankees and San Francisco Giants. And we should cherish this year of baseball; it may be the last one on time. The collective bargaining agreement between Major League Baseball (MLB) and the Major League Baseball Players Association (MLBPA) will come to a dramatic end on 1 Dec 2026 at 11:59 p.m. ET.

As players and the league prepare to gather around the negotiation table, there are serious hurdles both sides will have to clear, and many areas of disagreement that could lead to a strike/lockout (work stoppage) in 2027.

Now, there is always the possibility an agreement could be reached, but if we take a cue from the last contract negotiations — the 2021-2022 MLB lockout delaying spring training and opening day — we will likely see the league locking out players on 1 Dec 2026; shutting down free agency and trades (same as 2021) and setting an informal deadline, mid-March 2027, as the drop date for losing regular season games.

Adding to this potential mess is the current crisis affecting the MLBPA.

The Union and its former Executive Director, Tony Clark, find themselves at the centre of a federal investigation, launched in May 2025, into the MLBPA’s finances. And to top it all off, back in February, the MLBPA forced Clark’s resignation after an investigation by outside counsel uncovered evidence he engaged in an inappropriate relationship with his sister-in-law, who had been a union employee since 2023. This leaves newly promoted interim Executive Director Bruce Meyers with an in-house mess to clean up as he prepares to lead talks at the negotiation table.

So, what are the priority contract issues for either side? Economics.

This has been an issue for decades. And has forced its way back to the forefront by the erosion of regional sports network television (streaming comes for us all), which teams have pointed to as a loss of revenue, and the unrestricted spending of teams like the Los Angeles Dodgers and (sadly) the New York Mets. Anger has seeped throughout teams’ ownership, who say they are bleeding out revenues and can’t afford to keep up with those big spenders.

For reference, the NY Mets’ projected 2026 payroll is $364 million, compared to the Cleveland Guardians’ $82 million.

And while team owners debate and argue in favour of a salary cap, the truth is that it has nothing to do with levelling the playing fields — it is about control. Controlling team finances at the expense of players.

The MLBPA is standing strong against a salary cap, but indicated it would be open to the floor or minimum salary:

‘We’d be fine with a floor without a cap,’ said Bruce Meyer. ‘It’s somehow misunderstood that we’re against a floor in and of itself. The problem is that the league has made it very clear in bargaining and otherwise in public statements that they wouldn’t agree to a floor without a salary cap or something worse.’

The other economic issue the MLBPA won’t budge on —and for good reason—is salary arbitration. Allowing players to determine their salaries for the upcoming season is a cornerstone of their contract, and one that, despite league protests, will not be going away anytime soon.

What other issues could we see?

— The league will likely push for an international draft — they offered it as a proposal during the last contract negotiations1 — to replace the international free-agent scheme. However, Latino players, who make up about 28.6-30.7per cent of the majors, view it as a crucial bargaining tool. And the MLBPA, listening to its players, will most certainly say no to it.

— The other could be a new playoffs proposal. Taking the playoffs from 12 to 14 games opens up the possibility for more broadcasting revenue for the league.

With the sheer size of the union contract, 442 pages long, I’m sure we will see other minor issues pop up as negotiations officially kick into full gear.

For now, let the Opening Day countdown begin.

—AHN

The defamation lawsuit against the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) is tentatively scheduled for a two-week trial, beginning on 15 Feb 2027.

A quick case refresher: The foundation of the case rests on the BBC’s Panorama programme, which spliced, or rather cut down, comments Trump made to his supporters on 6 Jan 2021, before storming the U.S. Capitol. Trump’s attorneys argue the edits gave the impression that the President incited the violence that followed the ‘Save America Rally.’

Judge Roy K. Altman, a 2019 Trump Judicial Appointee — for the sake of transparency here — of the federal court for the Southern District of Florida, rejected the BBC’s motion to delay court proceedings.

The motion to stay (delay) discovery — the process in which all parties exchange documents and other information during the pre-trial period — filed last month by the BBC said it planned to file a motion to dismiss. And pending that motion, the discovery process could force the BBC to hand over documents and other materials related to coverage of Donald J. Trump from the last decade that could result in ‘likely discovery disputes.’

In denying the motion, Judge Altman said it was ‘premature’ because it was too early in the process for the BBC to request such a postponement: ‘We can’t “ take a preliminary peek at the merits” of the forthcoming motion to dismiss because it hasn’t even been filed—and thus hasn’t been fully briefed.’

Judge Altman continued: ‘We (the court) aren’t persuaded that the case-specific discovery problems the BBC Parties anticipate—including privilege issues and the need to comply with the UK’s data-privacy laws—are sufficiently burdensome to warrant a stay. For one thing, parties navigate privilege issues in almost every case—and (especially now that discovery is searched, sifted, and propounded electronically) foreign litigants routinely engage in cross-border discovery without too much hassle.’

A BBC spokesperson said: ‘As we have made clear previously, we will be defending this case,’ and in a statement added: ‘We are not going to make further comment on ongoing legal proceedings.’

The BBC said it will file its motion to dismiss by 17 Mar 2027. The BBC’s motion to stay, however, gave us a preview of the soon-to-be-filed motion to dismiss.

So, let’s take a look at some of the BBC’s possible dismissal arguments in brief:

• They (BBC) are not under Florida’s jurisdiction as all defendants are citizens of the United Kingdom, and the BBC’s headquarters are in London, England.

• Trump cannot show any ‘cognisable’ injury. Pursuing a media company means proving actual damages, including when the claim alleges defamation.

• Trump can’t prove actual damages since he won re-election on 5 November 2024, after the programme aired — he took Florida with a 13-point margin.

• Trump can’t prove actual malice behind the documentary, in particular because of the ‘extensive coverage of his supporters and balanced coverage of his path to re-election.’

Again, the question before us is: Can Trump win?

It’s a long shot, and I have doubts about how strong Trump’s case against the BBC is.

As I mentioned last time, this is all part of a strategy that could lead to an out-of-court settlement, just as we’ve seen in other recent Trump lawsuits against news organisations.

But let’s entertain the other possibility, if only for a moment.

Even if — and that’s a BIG what-if — he wins, English courts will only enforce payouts for proven reputation damages, which could end up being only a small fraction of the amount requested.

The real win for Trump would be the massive chilling effect that would seep through newsrooms globally when it comes to covering the gold-trimmed White House.

Now we wait and see what happens in March.

—AHN

I’m counting down for what I believe to be the most anticipated rematch 11 years in the making: Seattle Seahawks vs New England Patriots (Go Hawks!). And as I watch the clock tick closer to 11.30 GMT — here’s hoping I’m able to stay up for it — I’ve ended up thinking about the last time a winged creature took on the Patriots; it was 8 years ago, when I was working as a sports reporter covering SBLII —with a particular focus on the various protests and demonstrations taking place— in the pleasant subzero temperatures of Minneapolis, Mn.

Here’s what I wrote

—AHN

MINNEAPOLIS — Super Bowl 52 was a historic night for the city of Philadelphia as the underdog Eagles flew over the New England Patriots 41-33 Sunday and brought home the Vince Lombardi trophy for the first time in franchise history.

In a shootout against NFL MVP Tom Brady, who fell victim to two Super Bowl Curses—no NFL MVP and quarterback leading the league in passing yards has won a championship in nearly two decades—it was backup quarterback Nick Foles throwing for 373 yards, three touchdown passes, and going as far as catching a touchdown pass, who triumphed over the designated champions.

Ah…but wait! As exciting and unpredictable as the game was, it was not the reason I travelled 12 hours to the Twin Cities. While all eyes, ears, and wallets were focused on the extravagance that was Super Bowl weekend in Minneapolis, the real MVPs were found out in the streets, marching in freezing temperatures, chanting, fighting corporate greed, and taking a knee against injustice.

You probably didn’t see them on television, though. They were blacked out by major media outlets, on purpose, to maintain the illusion of perfection during Super Bowl weekend, according to an unnamed source from the Minnesota Star-Tribune newspaper.

Saturday

6:00 a.m.

As the Super Bowl host committee began final preparations at the downtown Hilton hotel for the 2018 Super Bowl breakfast that would recognize Benjamin Watson, winner of the Baltimore Ravens 2018 Bart Starr Award, around a hundred low-wage workers and allies converged outside the main entrance to call out corporations who spent millions to become the NFL championship host city, while paying thousands of workers poverty wages.

“I’m out here in the freezing cold today because they [NFL corporate sponsors] have enough money to put this event on, pay for extra security, free hotel rooms, personal drivers, and shuttles, but still refuse to pay us workers a living wage and provide us with actual benefits,” said Alexis Collins, a Taco Bell employee and leader with $15 Now Minnesota, the local Fight for $15 campaign.

In the NFL’s Super Bowl wish list to Minneapolis, the phrase “at no cost to the NFL” showed up nearly 200 times.

So, what does that mean?

It means the host city had to provide the NFL with 35,000 free parking spaces, thousands of free hotel rooms, hundreds of free buses and limousines, free billboards, free security, free food, and an exemption on paying all sales taxes, among hundreds of other specifications. Many of those costs would be covered by the $53 million raised by the local host committee’s private fundraising campaign—many of those wealthy donors sat inside the Hilton, claiming they can’t pay workers a living wage.

As snow began to fall, workers could be heard chanting: “What do we want? $15! When do we want it? Now!” throughout the downtown corridor.

In a more just society where sporting and cultural events were a bit more economically accessible, minimum wage workers might have been able to afford tickets to the big game. With individual tickets averaging more than $5,000, however, it would take most of them hundreds of hours of their wages to buy just one.

As the rally came to a close at 8:45 a.m., workers outlined their demands for the Minnesota host committee:

• Create a $500K bond to be administered by the Minneapolis Department of Civil Rights to cover any unpaid wages for workers who work supporting the Super Bowl and whose employers commit wage theft and are unresponsive.

• Publicly and privately support a $15 minimum wage in St. Paul with no tip penalty or carve-outs and a robust enforcement budget and mechanism to ensure that workers receive the $15 minimum wage they’re fighting for.

• Publicly and privately support policy to create a long-term, robust enforcement budget and mechanism in Minneapolis to ensure workers receive the wages and rights they fought for and won.

12:30 p.m.

As Eagles and Patriots fans enjoyed the extravagance of Super Bowl Live—mobile ski ramps, live music, designated “fan zones” for shopping—several hundred local activists and Indigenous water protectors from Iowa, South Dakota, and Minnesota took over the sidewalk in front of U.S Bank headquarters, taking the crowd by surprise.

“Due to the broken promises by U.S. Bank and their funding of pipelines, such as the Dakota Access Pipeline, we are already witnessing spills and accidents that are putting the environment and people at risk,” said Joye Braun, a Cheyenne River Sioux and leader in the Indigenous Environmental Network. “We will not allow U.S. Bank, or any entity for that matter, to break their promise to the people.”

In April 2017, U.S. Bank announced their environmental responsibility policy, which said the bank “does not provide project financing for the construction of oil or natural gas pipelines.” Since then, the bank joined credit facilities with Energy Transfer Partners—the company behind the Dakota Access Pipeline—totaling $5 billion.

Energy Transfer Partners has been responsible for violating Indigenous sovereignty by destroying lands and enabling violence against water protector activists by hiring private security agents who provoked what was a non-violent demonstration in Standing Rock, N.D.

The afternoon demonstration came after the bank spent months driving a public relations campaign to win Super Bowl hosting rights for Minneapolis. The Minnesota Vikings play at U.S. Bank Stadium — just food for thought.

7:00 p.m.

Inside the St. Paul Labor Federation hall, several dozen union members, workers, and allies gathered to support the Franklin Street Bakery workers who have spent years fighting for union recognition and safer working conditions.

These bakers, members of the Bakery, Confectionery, Tobacco Workers and Grain Millers Union (BCTGM) Local 22, have faced intimidation, retaliation, physical assault, and, more recently, deadly levels of carbon monoxide on the job.

“After a few hours at work, I started feeling light-headed and then my heart began to race,” said Rosa Baires. “Then some of my coworkers began feeling sick too and had similar symptoms… I spoke to my husband, who told me to drink some water, and then the next thing I knew, I woke up outside by the dumpsters.”

Baires had lost consciousness while at work and was transported to the emergency room, where physicians informed her that she had suffered carbon monoxide poisoning.

“The doctor told me it was a miracle I was alive… I had a deadly amount of carbon monoxide,” she said.

Franklin Street Bakery has had three OSHA inspections in the last decade. Two of the inspections, in April 2011 and October 2006, found serious violations.

The bakery is co-owned by Wayne Kostroski, a prominent business figure in the area who hosts the “Taste of the NFL” celebratory fundraiser that encourages wealthy donors to “party with a purpose.” This year, the “purpose” was to “tackle hunger” by raising money for local food pantries—ignoring the fact that most of his bakery’s employees rely on the food shelves to survive courtesy of his poverty wage business practices.

The workers’ two-year campaign has highlighted workplace abuses, including low wages, arbitrary treatment, and managers who bully, yell, and curse. Workers also allege that managers have inappropriately touched female employees.

“Shame on Roger Goodell for allowing the NFL to stand for something less than fair, shame on Ziggy Wilf, owner of the Minnesota Vikings, because they wanted to stand for something less than fair for the people who actually do the work,” said DeMaurice Smith, executive director of the National Football League Players Association. “At the end of the day, I want you to know that wherever injustice is found, NFL players are with you, our union is with you and will always support you in your fight for justice.”

Marching and chanting from the labor hall to the “Taste of the NFL” event, workers let Kostroski know that their fight would continue until they win union recognition, a living wage, and a safe workplace.

“No Justice! No Bread!”

Super Bowl Sunday

3:00 p.m.

With the coldest Super Bowl ever about to take place—temperatures hovered around zero degrees, with wind chill it felt closer to minus 20—several hundred activists gathered and took over the streets near Peavy Park.

As Black Lives Matter flags fluttered in the wind, activists marched over a mile to U.S. Bank Stadium, chanting: “When Black lives are under attack, what do we do? Stand up, fight back,” and, in a jab at Trump’s anti-immigrant policies, “Together we stand, together we fall, together we say: No ban! No wall!”

Inspired by the NFL players who took a knee to protest police brutality, racism, and white supremacy—Colin Kaepernick, Michael Bennett, Marshawn Lynch, and athletes from across the NFL and all the way down to local high schools—activists continued to highlight these injustices, determined to keep the conversation in the public eye.

“Kneel, Stand, Fight!”

Around 40 activists took over the Metro Transit Green Line train tracks near the University of Minnesota. Locking arms—some locking themselves to the station railing—demonstrators blocked the train for 90 minutes, delaying fans and calling attention to the fight against police brutality.

Police forcibly removed activists, and 17 were arrested and cited for unlawful interference with transit, according to a Metro spokesperson.

5:30 p.m.

Just as Pink began to sing the national anthem, a group of activists managed to reach the stadium’s main gate and took a knee for all the Black lives stolen by police.

“From Jamar Clark and Justine Damond to Philando Castile and Phil Quinn, justice has been denied for these and many other lives stolen by Minneapolis and St. Paul cops. Our communities will dish out millions to these same police departments to provide ‘security’ for the Super Bowl, while nothing has been done to address police violence,” said one activist.

While no players took a knee Sunday night— a fact I’m sure Trump and his allies will brag about — it is safe to say that the 2017 regular season “take a knee protest” was a success.

Just ask those who were a part of making history outside Super Bowl 52

At the base of the courthouse steps, suits of varying shades of blue and grey crossed paths with hand-painted protest signs demanding that then-U.S. Attorney General Jeff Sessions leave the city. And in that moment, I walked up those stairs—in a suit departing from my usual go-to beat reporter digs —and took my assigned seat in the press pool, impatiently waiting for the Attorney General to make his remarks on Law and Order:

‘We must enforce our laws and remove dangerous criminals from the street. We must fight the scourge of drug abuse. And we must support the brave men and women of law enforcement, as they work day and night to protect us.’

So why am I thinking about this in 2026?

To start, the idea of being the candidate/president of law and order has been a central talking point for President Trump in his first and second election campaigns and administrations.

Now, if law and order are the true and accurate goals, then it must follow the rule of law. And, the fundamental principle of that rule is that everyone, including those in government, is bound by the law. No exceptions.

What we are witnessing now, whether we choose to believe observable facts or deny based on questionable political narratives, is quite the opposite. The litany of lawless behaviour is extensive:

• Detainment and arrest of U.S. Citizens

• Unlawful searches and seizures

• Warrantless entries by law enforcement

• Targeting independent agencies and oversight

• Abuse of executive power, i.e., retaliation against political opponents, freezing congressionally approved funding, etc.

While focus is on—and should be—the events unfolding in Minneapolis, Mn, at the hands of Immigration and Customs Enforcement Officers, actions which are atrocious, inexcusable, and unlawful—murder is a criminal offence—it is just one of the many parts of the immigration system turning its back on justice.

Whether in immigration or criminal court, if a person is caught breaking the law and is arrested, within 24-48 hours, they will find themselves before a judge in a bond hearing. The hearing will determine if the person is A) viewed as a flight risk or danger to society, or B) neither of those, and the court believes they will return to court at a later date and time. It could go either way, but if option B is selected, that individual will pay the bond amount and be released from custody. Simple as that.

Yet, despite this simple, long-standing precedent, the Trump Administration has adopted a different interpretation, that it is lawful to deny bond hearings in immigration cases and to deny due process of law.

As expected, a class action lawsuit, Guerrero Orellana v. Moniz (1:25-cv-12664), was filed by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) and on 19 Dec. 2025, a federal court ruled that the Trump Administration was unlawfully deying bon hearings to potentially thousands of people across New England who were arrested and detained by ICE and denied the oppurtunity to challenge their ongoing detention — a similar case filed in the District Court of California, Nov. 2025, also found the denial of bond hearings to be unlawful. Lazaro Maldonado Bautista et al v. Ernesto Santacruz Jr et al (5:25-cv-01873)

Despite the pair of rulings, Chief Immigration Judge Teresa Riley reaffirmed the position that federal court rulings did not bind immigration judges. And if not for the ACLU filing on 16 Jan. 2026, this may not have come to light.

The reasoning?

In November 2025, the Board of Immigration Appeals (BIA), part of the Department of Justice (DOJ), adopted the Administration’s legal interpretation.

And, with no injunctions issued in either case, the BIA’s interpretation remains binding precedent for agency adjudicators.

Why did Judge Riley refer to immigration judges as agency adjudicators?

Well, immigration judges are employees of the DOJ, which is part of the executive branch. They are appointed by and work under the direction of the U.S. Attorney General. This is where I find it to be problematic.

A key safeguard against a tyrannical government or violations of individual rights and civil liberties is judicial independence. Courts of law should at all times be free from improper or undue influence of the executive and legislative branches of government—even more so when dealing with issues of human rights, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, in whatever manner that may be.

Yet, how are we to trust the legal decisions of judges when their legal analysis and decision-making will be wholly dependent on the dominant political power in office? Enough with the partisan, legal ping-pong game. It might be time to unwind the agency ties and allow for non-partisan judicial decision-making on issues impacting the most vulnerable members of our society.

—AHN

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If your role as a news organisation is to hold those in power accountable — as is the case with most news outlets — make sure you’ve done thorough due diligence.

There’s nothing worse than gifting political players any material they can turn around and use to question a news outlet’s integrity vis-à-vis’ fake news’.

In this case, though, the BBC should have known better.

But, it is what it is. The Panorama documentary on Donald J. Trump went out; the spliced footage was vetted, and scrutinised, and concerns were raised about its accuracy, yet the editorial decision was made to move forward with it.

I won’t dwell on the past, though.

The political fallout happened. Two BBC executives resigned, and the BBC issued a formal apology. It should have ended there, but it didn’t. And deep down, we knew it wouldn’t.

The Trump administration has not hidden its disdain for the media elite, and President Trump holds nothing back — litigation-wise — when feeling aggrieved by the media’s harsh criticism of him, his administration, and his personal brand.

This week President. Trump filed a defamation lawsuit against the BBC, seeking $10 billion in damages.

The foundation of the case rests on the BBC’s Panorama programme, which spliced, or rather cut down, comments Trump made to his supporters on 6 Jan. 2021, before storming the U.S. Capitol. The edit links two parts of his over two-hour-long speech; his call for rally-goers to walk up to the Capitol, and, 55 minutes later: ‘And we fight, we fight like hell, and if you don’t fight like hell, you don’t have a country anymore.’

Trump’s attorneys argue the edited presentation gave viewers the impression that the President incited the violence that followed the ‘Save America Rally.’

What viewers thought, we don’t know.

Still, we do know that many defendants in the 6 Jan. 2021 attack on Congress say they believed Trump had explicitly urged them to block the certification of President-Elect Joe Biden’s win.

The lawsuit goes on to allege the documentary was ‘a false, defamatory, deceptive, disparaging, inflammatory, and malicious depiction of President Trump... was fabricated and aired by the defendants (BBC) on the week before the 2024 presidential election in a brazen attempt to interfere in and influence the election’s outcome to President Trump’s detriment.’

It’s quite a mouthful, a bit exaggerated for me, and, in this new age of political mud-slinging, defamatory, disparaging, and malicious statements cut both ways.

But to say the BBC (UK government) engaged in an operation to destabilise and influence the election results is a stretch (there’s a special friendship after all).

And yet, it made me think: the U.S. has a history of intervention (Latin America, the Middle East, Latin America again), and perhaps this was highlighted because it somewhat resembles the historic Washington D.C. playbook.

Something to think about.

Now, about the lawsuit being filed in Florida. President Trump is a resident, and the lawsuit alleges that the documentary was intended to discourage Florida voters from voting for him.

To be clear, Trump won Florida in 2024 with a 13-point lead (56.1 per cent to 43 per cent for Harris). So, that’s a moot point.

The other legal hurdle is proving the documentary reached a broad audience. The BBC does have distribution deals with U.S. broadcasters (PBS and NPR), but this programme was restricted to UK viewers. Sure, you could use a VPN to overcome those geographic barriers, or pay extra for a BritBox subscription, but, again, proving its reach and impact would be difficult, if not impossible.

And then, there’s the First Amendment protecting freedom of the press.

It would need to be one hell of an argument for any federal district court even to consider overturning, in part or in full, the legal precedent established in New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254 (1964), which limits the ability of public officials to sue for defamation.

Justice William J. Brennan, Jr., writing the U.S. Supreme Court’s unanimous opinion, ruled that when a statement concerns a public figure, it is not enough to show that it is false for the press to be liable for libel; instead the target of the statement must show it was made with knowledge of or reckless disregard for its falsity (‘actual malice’).

‘Raising as it does the possibility that a good faith critic of government will be penalised for his criticism, the proposition relied on by the Alabama courts strikes at the very centre of the constitutionally protected area of free expression,’ wrote Justice Brennan.

And as limits on free speech have made recent headlines, it seems odd that the Trump administration would go to court to limit a freedom — do as I say, not as I do — they champion globally.

So how will this play out?

The likely outcome will be a settlement of sorts, since there’s now a precedent, or rather a chilling effect; ABC News and CBS News paid cash to settle cases filed by Trump.

The BBC said it will fight the lawsuit, and part of me hopes this case will play out in front of a jury, in the most dramatic way possible.

For now, we’ll wait and see.

—AHN

‘What’s the deal with free speech in the U.K.?’ ‘Does it even exist over there?’

Two questions I’ve been asked — repeatedly— over the past few weeks, and a discussion I’ve seen play out in all the worst ways across social media.

And, depending on the newspaper you’re reading, one side will claim the death of free speech is nigh, the other that not enough is being done to curtail hate speech disguised as free speech.

Here’s the kicker, though: both sides are right and wrong — it does your head in... I know....

Now, the obvious thing to mention is that the U.K. doesn’t have a First Amendment guaranteeing free speech. We could go even further and say that the U.K. doesn’t have a written constitution, meaning no single document exists to codify constitutional principles, making it easier to change/update (debating the merits of a written versus an unwritten constitution, I’ll save for another day).

So, to be clear, there is no United States-esque First Amendment.

But, to say ‘they (the U.K.) don’t have a right to free speech enshrined in anything,’ as a Fox News opinion piece did, is wrong.

The right to free speech was codified in Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) in 1950. And it was incorporated into the U.K. in 1998 as part of the Human Rights Act (the ‘Act’): ‘Everyone has the right to freedom of expression. This right shall include freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart information and ideas without interference by public authority and regardless of frontiers...’

The The Public Order Act (1986, updated 2023), intends to breakdown the applications of the right to free speech, and areas where it may be restricted: ‘threatening or abusive words or behaviour, or disorderly behaviour, or displays any writing, sign or other visible representation which is threatening or abusive within the hearing or sight of a person likely to be caused harassment, alarm or distress’

These restrictions are no different from the exclusions and limitations on free speech as determined by the U.S. Supreme Court.

Thrown into the mix are also the Online Safety Act (2023), which balances freedom of expression whilst creating online safety measures, and the Higher Education (Freedom of Speech) Act (2025), which protects freedom of speech in colleges and universities.

All that to say, freedom of speech in the U.K. is protected (in medieval times…not so much).

And yet, the interpretation and application of these laws get tricky in the court of public opinion: censorship vs transparency vs political correctness, and the chilling effect they may have on our daily conversations.

The interpretations of ‘grossly offensive or of an indecent, obscene, or menacing character’ are pure subjective legalese. While one person may find some political commentary acceptable, another may not. And that’s the gist of it.

In a recent YouGov poll asking ‘When it comes to online behaviour in the form of comments and social media posts, which is more important: 1. That people are safe from abuse and threats, or 2. That people can speak their minds freely, 61 per cent of all adults said safety was more important, whilst 28 per cent said speaking freely was.

Please keep in mind the differences in cultural norms and histories between the U.K. and the U.S. when prioritising these issues, as I’m sure these statistics would change if asked in the U.S.

Where it starts to shift —no surprise — is based on political affiliation:

This debate is a never-ending cycle, as it well should be.

The challenges we make to the boundaries of our civil rights and liberties ensure their survival within our ever-changing social and democratic norms.

My take is this: we have the right to free speech, but along with that right comes a responsibility to uphold and preserve it based on the intent and impact of our speech.

We can say what we want, but we must also live with the consequences of what we say.

In terms of electoral politics, neither side may claim moral superiority if the first response to direct criticism or an election loss is retaliation, intending to strip away those same rights and freedoms for the sake of political party loyalty.

—AHN

It was a grey, raw morning in the "countercultural" city of Northampton, Massachusetts, when I sat down to chat with Sylvia R., an "undocumented" farmworker from El Salvador.

Standing under five feet tall, with dark eyes, and light brown hair, she carried herself with dignity. Her callous hands and broad shoulders were evidence of her confident disposition.

Etched between the lines on her forehead were visible fragments of the years spent caring for her children while harvesting and hanging tobacco leaves across New England's farmlands.

Over cups of piping hot coffee (in Spanish), we spoke of her experiences back home, the fear during El Salvador's Civil War years (1979-1992), and the cycles of gang violence that ensued over the next several years.

"It was no way to live," she said. "Waking up was a gift because you never knew if you'd see another day; so many lost loved ones," she said.

And with the birth of her son, Sylvia decided to make a change, to risk it all on the dangerous migrant road to the U.S. border. "I wasn't going to allow my son to grow up without opportunities for a better future."

"My husband left first," she said. "The plan was for him to cross over first, get settled somewhere there was work, and start sending money back so we could pay for the 'coyote' (smuggler) to take us to the border."

"As expected, he was arrested and detained for seven days at the border before being released into the U.S. After three months, it was time for us to join him," she continued. "Leaving El Salvador and traveling up through Central America was easy; it changed once we crossed into Mexico towards Sonora and the Sonoran Desert."

Along the desert, the sweltering heat belonged to the day. At night, darkness and frigid air took hold.

The "what-ifs" crossed her mind with each step taken along that lonely stretch of rock and sand. "What if we don't make it?" "What if the coyote leaves us behind because we're walking too slowly?" "What if they murder me and kidnap my son?"

The heat and weight of such a tremendous risk felt unbearable, and there were no guarantees of success. "We took only a few breaks to sip water and fought over the little shade beneath the cholla cactus clusters."

"As we kept walking, I could only pray that we would make it over safely. I kept telling myself that no matter what happened, at least my son would be too young to remember how we got to the U.S.; I was fine holding on to those memories, so he didn't have to."

She carried on with three others who were making their way into the loving arms and homes of family members already settled, and as they described it, "thriving and working hard to achieve their own 'American Dream.'" 

At sunset, the journey's unraveling began with a tiny cough. As time ticked, it became a whooping chest cough—Nogales, AZ., was only 50 miles (16 hours) away. 

"It devastated me," said Sylvia. "It was one of the worst things that could've happened, and I didn't know what to do; do I turn around or keep going? If I keep going, will my son die before we get across?" 

Short on time and limited options, she made the difficult choice: "We were going to get across the border, and I would throw myself at the mercy of U.S. Border Patrol for medical help." 

And it happened. Once Sylvia crossed the border, she surrendered herself, and her son got treatment. Living a quiet life, working hard, and contributing to their local community are the only concerns now. 

Sylvia's story is just one of thousands found nationwide, but not all have a happy ending. 

And in those unhappy endings, the quiet innocents always suffer the most from our broken immigration system and stopgap measures. 

• A 9-year-old boy died from medical complications after crossing into the U.S. along the Arizona border on June 17, 2023. COD: Excessive heat (likely)

• Ángel Eduardo Maradiaga Espinoza, a 17-year-old from Honduras, died May 10, 2023, while in U.S. Custody in Safety Harbour, Florida. COD: Undetermined. 

• Anadith Tanay Reyes Álvarez, an 8-year-old from Honduras, died May 17, 2023. COD: Flu during a prolonged stay in U.S. Custody. 

A final thought: As we kick off the 2024 race to the White House, let's remember to put back some semblance of humanity as we highlight our policy priorities. Migration is an essential pillar of human civilisation, and it's about time we approached it that way.

—AHN