Sanctuary predates humanity.

Providing or receiving safe harbor from danger or pain does not require common language, it does not need to be taught. The willingness to offer comfort and safety, or to seek it when in need, resides in the same neighborhood of our psyche as the drive to take in food and water when we’re hungry or thirsty, or to fall asleep when we are tired.

In the 1980’s, the United States witnessed a national sanctuary movement that challenged U.S. immigration policies and raised profound questions of morality, legality, and what citizen responsibility can and should look like when ideologically-driven cruelty is accepted as the status quo. The movement grew out of Reagan’s military interventionism in Central and South America, and was much more than a humanitarian response to refugees fleeing the abject violence the United States participated in creating. It was an array of ongoing acts of civil disobedience that directly challenged the federal government’s immigration policies.

Fueled by Cold War dynamics and the stated belief that stopping the spread of communism in Central America should come at any human cost, countries like El Salvador, Guatemala, and Nicaragua exploded into state-on-civilian violence with military aid, both public and secret, from the United States. In El Salvador, the U.S. propped up the government in its fight against Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front, a conglomeration of five leftist guerilla organizations. Like so many U.S.-supported far-right regimes, the Salvadorian government relied heavily on death squads—funded and armed, but not claimed, by the U.S. government. These death squads targeted clergy, civilians, and dissidents, resulting in an estimated 75,000 extra-judicial deaths in El Salvador between 1980 and 1992.

In Guatemala, arising out of two very turbulent and violent decades, the 1980’s offered the world a view of the laboratory of death that unfolds when the economic might of the United States joins with a puppet regime with no legal accountability. In the 1970’s, the Maya people, who make up over 40% of the population of Guatemala, began demanding equality and inclusion of their language and culture. The U.S.-backed government instituted “Operation Sophia,” which had multiple aims—all devastating to Indigenous peoples. Two hundred thousand people were killed or disappeared, and an additional 1.5 million were displaced, as the Guatemalan government attempted to squash leftist movements by decimating the Mayan population, who the government believed were supporting guerillas.

In Nicaragua, the U.S.-backed Contras fought against the Sandinista government, which had overthrown the cruel Somoza dictatorship. Because military aid and funding for the Contras was illegal under U.S. law, the CIA funded the operation by secretly selling weapons to Iran and diverting those funds to the Contras. The Contras, like so many other non-state actors in Central and South American military conflicts, allegedly used narco-trafficking to fund their campaigns of violence. The U.S. intervention in Nicaragua contributed to decades of instability and horror for those attempting to speak out against the cruelty of U.S.-supported regimes.

The result of this widespread violence was the mass exodus of persecuted citizens from countries where murder of the citizenry had become accepted practice. Despite the humanitarian crisis, the U.S. government was reluctant to grant asylum to Central American refugees. This reluctance stemmed from Cold War politics. Admitting large numbers of refugees from El Salvador and Guatemala would imply that U.S.-backed governments were responsible for human rights violations, contradicting the Reagan administration’s narrative that these governments were fighting communism and protecting democracy.

To make matters worse, the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) made a habit of systematically denying asylum claims from certain Central American refugees. Between 1983 and 1990, only about 2% of Salvadoran and Guatemalan asylum applications were approved. In contrast, asylum seekers from communist countries like Nicaragua (whose Sandinista government the U.S. opposed) were much more likely to receive protection. This double standard outraged human rights advocates and religious groups.

Many religious communities, particularly within some Protestant denominations, Catholic parishes, and Jewish congregations, felt a moral obligation to respond. Influenced by liberation theology and the Biblical concept of sanctuary, they believed offering refuge to persecuted people was a moral imperative, even if it conflicted with U.S. law. Churches, synagogues, and spiritual leaders began openly defying federal immigration laws by sheltering undocumented Central American refugees. They drew parallels between their actions and historical examples of moral resistance, such as the Underground Railroad and European efforts to hide Jews during the Holocaust.

Churches played a crucial role—not because of a simple humanitarian impulse, but because segments of the faith community had long been involved in social justice work—civil rights, anti-war activism, and labor solidarity. Organizations like the Catholic Worker Movement, Quaker groups (such as the American Friends Service Committee), and even some mainstream Protestant congregations viewed sanctuary as an extension of their commitment to social justice. They invoked Biblical principles of “welcoming the stranger,” while simultaneously critiquing U.S. imperialism.

The United States government responded to the mass movement of harboring refugees with increased surveillance, successful infiltration of sanctuary organizations, arrests, and prosecutions. In 1985, the federal government indicted 16 sanctuary workers, including clergy and laypeople, in Tucson, Arizona, on charges related to smuggling and harboring undocumented immigrants. The 10-month program which aimed to destroy the sanctuary movement, darkly named Operation Sojourner, neither asked for nor received any judicial search warrants. Instead, they flooded the movement at every level with undercover operatives. Operation Sojourner ultimately led to one of the more controversial cases of the mid 80’s, USA v. Aguilar. Although 8 “high level” defendants were found guilty of crimes connected to fighting hypocritical immigration policy and asylum practices, the case actually resulted in greater scrutiny of U.S. policies and greater support for the actions of those involved in providing sanctuary.

Currently, we’re witnessing an attempt by the Trump administration (particularly championed by Deputy Chief of Staff Stephen Miller) to use loopholes and wild legal interpretation of the Alien Enemies Act to suspend habeas corpus for undocumented citizens the government deems undesirable. Miller recently was quoted as saying, “The Constitution is clear, and that of course is the supreme law of the land, that the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus can be suspended in a time of invasion.”

While this sounds extreme, be reminded that the U.S. has suspended habeas corpus only four times throughout our short history. Once was during the Civil War; once during reconstruction in South Carolina when the KKK had attempted to re-subjugate the black population with terror and violence; during a 1905 insurrection in the Phillippines; and in Hawaii after the bombing of Pearl Harbor during WWII.

What is abundantly clear is the Trump administration will push the frontiers of illegality as far as humanly possible to advance its xenophobic, “America First” agenda. No longer does the administration feel a need to use dog whistles. If you are brown, speak out against their policies, or are unfortunate enough to have landed on their radar, there is a risk that you might end up in the dystopian maze that terminates in an El Salvadorian prison.

There have been many times in history when the responsibility of listening to one’s conscience becomes a moral obligation in the face of codified violence against a group of demonized humans. For example, the U.S. Constitution once counted enslaved people as 3/5 of a person. The Fugitive Slave Act further cemented the legality of chattel slavery by requiring and rewarding the return of escaped slaves. During this shameful chapter, many brave souls responded by creating, implementing, and supporting the decentralized Underground Railroad. As we bear witness to the Trump administration’s shredding of the foundations of our democracy, we must once again ask ourselves: When and how will we choose to resist the dark turn of authoritarianism? How will history judge our actions — or inactions?

What has been made clear by the lens of history is that organizing for others’ well-being does not happen passively. By its very nature, organizing is an activity rooted in action. Safely (as much as possible) engaging in activities that equate to organized resistance requires community support, skills training, and historical education. Becoming armed with the latest information of how to protect communications, what law enforcement can or cannot do when approaching you, or identifying your allies within your bio-region, are all great places to start. Asking organizations that serve undocumented community members how you might best support their efforts is also vitally important right now. Creating trusted alliances and networks takes time. As the thinly-veiled white supremacist actions against the immigrant communities only grow, the day to make a decision on where you’ll find yourself in the annals of history is nigh. We must support each others’ right to exist without persecution—including immigrants. Without the incredible contributions of work and culture from those born outside our borders, this country’s healthy future is in doubt.