Why corporate America is mostly staying quiet as federal immigration agents show up at its doors

When U.S. Border Patrol agents entered a Target store in Richfield, Minnesota, in early January and arrested two employees, it marked a new chapter in the relationship between corporate America and the federal government.

In the Twin Cities, federal immigration enforcement operations have turned businesses into places of confrontation — with officers in store parking lots rounding up day laborers, armed raids on restaurants and work permit inspections conducted in tactical gear.

Some retailers are reporting a 50% to 80% drop in sales as customers stay home out of fear. Along Lake Street and in East St. Paul, areas within the Twin Cities, an estimated 80% of businesses have closed at some point since operations began.

Then came the murders of American citizens Renee Good and Alex Pretti, the latter a day after widespread protests and a one-day business outage involving more than 700 establishments.

Corporate America’s response to these murders was instructive – both in what was said and what was left unsaid. After Pretti’s murder, more than 60 CEOs of Minnesota’s largest companies — Target, 3M, UnitedHealth Group, US Bancorp, General Mills, Best Buy and others — signed a public letter organized by the Minnesota Chamber of Commerce. The letter called for “peace,” “targeted cooperation” among local, state, and federal officials, and a “swift and lasting solution” so families, workers, and businesses could return to normal.

What it didn’t do was mention Pretti, mention federal immigration enforcement or criticize any specific policy or official. It seemed less like moral leadership and more like corporate risk management.

As a researcher who studies corporate political involvement, I think the Minnesota CEO’s letter is a window into a broader shift. For years, companies could take progressive positions with limited risk; activists punished them if they remained silent on an issue, but conservatives rarely retaliated when they spoke out. That asymmetry has collapsed. Minneapolis shows what corporate activism looks like when the risks cut both ways: hidden language, no names mentioned and calls for calm.

A shifting pattern

In 2022, after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, corporate America was noticeably quiet compared to its outspoken positions on LGBTQ+ rights or the war in Ukraine.

The explanation: Companies tend to hedge against issues that are contentious and polarizing. In my research with colleagues on companies taking positions on LGBTQ+ rights in the United States, I have found that companies formulate their positions narrowly when issues are unresolved — focusing on workplace concerns and internal constituencies such as employees rather than broader advocacy. Only after issues have been resolved legally or socially do some companies shift to clearer activism, adopting the language of social movements: injustice, moral obligations, calls to action.

By that logic, the cautiousness of Minnesota CEOs makes sense. The Trump administration’s federal immigration enforcement policies are under serious question. There is no clear legal or social settlement in sight.

But something else has changed since 2022 – something that goes beyond any specific problem.

For years, corporate activism operated under a favorable asymmetry that allowed them to take public positions on controversial issues without many negative consequences.

That is, activists and workers pressured companies to speak out on progressive issues, and silence came with real costs. Meanwhile, conservatives largely subscribe to free-market economist Milton Friedman’s view that the only social responsibility of business is to increase profits. They generally did not demand corporate positions on their issues, and they did not organize long-term punishment for progressive corporate speech.

That asymmetry has collapsed

During the Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, companies rushed to announce their commitment to racial justice, diversity and social responsibility. Many of those same companies have since quietly dismantled diversity, equity and inclusion programs, retracted public commitments and remained silent on issues they once called moral imperatives. It seems that their supposedly deeply held values ​​were dependent on a favorable political environment. As risks shifted, values ​​evaporated.

The turning point may have been Disney’s resistance to Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” law in 2022. The company faced criticism from employees and activists for not doing enough — and then fierce retaliation from the Florida government, which stripped Disney of the self-governing privileges it had enjoyed for 55 years.

In other high-profile examples, Delta lost tax breaks in Georgia after discounts for National Rifle Association members ended following the Parkland shooting. And Bud Light lost billions in market value after a single social media promotion featuring Dylan Mulvaney, a transgender influencer.

Conservatives learned to play the game that progressive activists invented. And unlike consumer boycotts, government retaliation carries a different kind of weight.

Minneapolis unveils the new calculus

What sets Minneapolis apart is that the federal government is not a distant policy player debating legislation in Washington. It is a physical presence in the daily activities of companies. When federal agents can show up at your store, arrest your employees, raid your parking lot, and audit your employee records, the calculus about whether to criticize federal policy looks very different than when the worst-case scenario is an angry tweet from a politician.

Research shows that politicians are less willing to engage with CEOs who take controversial positions – even in private meetings – regardless of local economic conditions or politicians’ own views on business. The chilling effect is real. As one observer noted, Minnesota companies specifically communicated through trade associations “to avoid direct exposure to potential retaliation.”

So “de-escalation” has become the business community’s favorite buzzword because, as a news report in The Wall Street Journal noted, “it sounds humane while remaining politically noncommittal.” It points to a process goal – reducing conflict, restoring order – rather than a contested diagnosis of responsibility.

This is the triple bind facing businesses in Minneapolis: pressure from the federal government on one side, pressure from activists and workers on the other, and the economic devastation from enforcement itself — in some areas comparable to the COVID-19 pandemic — crushing them in the middle. It’s a situation that rewards silence and punishes principle, and most companies make the predictable choice.

And yet the situation within companies is also fraught with internal tensions, whether they are companies headquartered in Minnesota or not. At tech company Palantir, which contracts with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, employees said via internal Slack channels after Pretti’s death that they felt “not proud” to work for a company with ties to what they described as “the bad guys.” Similar sentiments were seen elsewhere, where rank-and-file workers expressed far more outrage than their bosses.

What comes next

The Minnesota CEO’s letter is what corporate political engagement looks like when the risks are all over the place: no injustice framework, no attribution of blame, no names mentioned – just calling for stability and cooperation.

As a local Minneapolis writer put it in an op-ed: “Stand up, or sit down… because the Minnesotans who stand up? We don’t recognize you.”

It’s not exactly cowardice. It’s what the research predicts when an issue is disputed and the cost of speaking in both directions is reduced.

But it does mean that Americans should not expect corporations to lead when government power is directly at stake. The conditions that made corporate activism on LGBTQ+ rights possible – an asymmetry where speaking out carried relatively low risk – do not exist here.

Until the political landscape changes, the hedged statement and the cautious coalition letter are the new normal. It turns out that corporate activism has always been more about positioning than principles.