I am a farmer in Ventura County. I love this country, and I care deeply about this community, and I keep asking myself: “What is the endgame here?”
Many people may not realize that agriculture in California — and across the country — relies on a workforce that includes thousands of undocumented workers. These are the people who harvest our food, care for our crops, and keep local farming alive. They are essential to our farms and our food supply. They’ve been showing up every day for years, even through fires, drought, and a pandemic. And yet, despite their contributions, they are now being targeted in ways that are cruel, unjust, and deeply un-American.
As you may or may not know, growers, commodity groups, and agricultural organizations have spent decades advocating for legislative solutions that recognize the reality of our workforce. Yet despite honest, sustained efforts, our government has failed to provide a workable pathway. Meanwhile, it remains an open secret that many individuals working in our orchards, fields, and packinghouses do so without formal immigration status. Yet they continue to show up — day in and day out — because they are essential, not just to agriculture, but to the food systems that nourish this country.
The U.S. government imposes extensive labor, food safety, and regulatory requirements on American farmers — yet allows food imports from other countries without requiring the same standards. This creates a deeply unfair system. Many of us, who take pride in our country and believe in the rule of law, are left feeling conflicted and disillusioned. The uncomfortable truth is that, in order to remain financially viable, we are often forced to operate within a framework that turns a blind eye to the very realities our lawmakers refuse to address. Every single American benefits from the labor of undocumented workers, and then, to see the very workers who make this all possible being hunted down and criminalized is not only hypocritical — it is un-American.
While I originally supported efforts to remove individuals with serious criminal histories from our communities, it has become painfully clear that the scope of recent ICE activity extends far beyond that. The presence of ICE and Border Patrol at farms, packing facilities, and roadside checkpoints — often without warrants — appears to be less about public safety and more about intimidation. These actions are racially motivated and have created an atmosphere of fear and distrust.
As an educated white person, I am not concerned about being stopped by ICE. But as an employer, I now feel compelled to advise my staff — hardworking people I trust and depend on — to avoid certain roads, to stay out of sight, and to park their vehicles well behind the property line. That I must have these conversations at all speaks volumes about the systemic racial targeting we are witnessing.
The deployment of the National Guard and Marines, the use of masks by ICE agents to hide their identities, and the sheer scale of enforcement activity are disgraceful and deeply disturbing. These tactics don’t reflect the values of a just or democratic society. They’re meant to intimidate, to silence, and to divide.
And it is deeply disturbing that this campaign of fear is being waged against the same people who, just a few years ago, were deemed essential. Now, they’re being treated as expendable. This is not just a farmworker issue. It’s a human rights issue. It’s a civil liberties issue. And it’s an existential threat to our farming community and the values we claim to hold.
Moreover, the Latino community is not separate from our identity — it is part of it. The cultural legacy of Mexican Americans is embedded in every aspect of life in Ventura County: from our neighborhoods and ranches to our schools, institutions, and local landmarks. You see it in the names of our towns, the streets we walk, and even in the legal descriptions of our properties, still tied to the original Spanish Land Grants. Mexican culture is American culture. To diminish, intimidate, or target this community is not just unjust — it’s an attack on the very fabric of who we are.
Ventura County’s agricultural workforce is vital — not just to our farms, but to the food systems that nourish the nation. These workers are not statistics. They are families, neighbors, and indispensable members of our communities. When they are afraid, our farms falter, supply chains suffer, and trust in public institutions breaks down.
Let’s be clear: even if the ICE raids on farms were to stop tomorrow, targeting people at shopping centers, grocery stores, restaurants, and along public roads is just as damaging — if not worse. These aren’t criminals — they’re mothers buying diapers, grandfathers picking up medication, and essential workers grabbing dinner after a long shift. No one should live in fear of simply showing up to work or caring for their family. When fear drives people indoors, it doesn’t just slow the economy — it breaks the social contract that holds communities together.
This isn’t public safety. This is the systematic hunting and trapping of human beings. And it is wrong.
What is the endgame here?
And all for what? To terrorize the very people we just called “essential”?
Let’s be honest: This doesn’t make us safer. It makes us smaller. Less just. Less humane. And it pushes us further from the values we claim to stand for.
So again, I ask: What is the goal?
Because if it’s to collapse our food system, weaken our economy, and strip human beings of dignity, then we are already dangerously close.
Let’s make sure our values show up in our actions.
This article originally appeared on Ventura County Star: Guest column: From a farmer to our community
Reporting by Lisa Tate Soury / Ventura County Star
USA TODAY Network via Reuters Connect
