Inside the Unlikely Coalition Behind America’s Largest Recent Strike

Two U.S. citizens were shot and killed by federal immigration agents in Minneapolis within two and a half weeks—and video evidence contradicted official accounts of both incidents. Millions of Americans walked off their jobs, pulled their kids from school, and stopped spending money in what organizers called the largest coordinated protest action in modern American history.

The February 2026 general mobilization against enforcement wasn’t led by a single union or organization. It emerged from an unlikely coalition. Public school teachers whose contracts forbid them from striking joined with Catholic bishops, Muslim community leaders, Starbucks baristas, graduate students, and immigrant rights activists who’d never worked together before.

Operation Metro Surge and Two Fatal Shootings

The immediate trigger came from Operation Metro Surge, a federal enforcement operation that deployed roughly 3,000 ICE and Border Patrol agents to the Minneapolis-Saint Paul area starting in December 2025. The operation was part of what border czar Tom Homan described as the largest deportation campaign in U.S. history, funded by nearly $170 billion allocated over four years.

On January 7, 2026, ICE agent Jonathan Ross shot and killed Renée Nicole Good, a 37-year-old mother of three who’d stopped her car to observe agents conducting enforcement activity near a school. Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem claimed Good had tried to run over officers. But video showed something different: Ross fired three shots into Good’s departing vehicle at close range while holding his phone in one hand, with no evidence she’d attempted to strike anyone.

The January 7 shooting prompted the first major coordinated response on January 23. Minnesota shut down. More than 50,000 people demonstrated in subzero temperatures. Hundreds of businesses closed. Schools across the Twin Cities couldn’t open because too many teachers called in sick.

The second shooting happened January 24. Alex Pretti, a 37-year-old ICU nurse at the VA hospital, was recording federal agents with his phone when they confronted civilians near him. When agents knocked a woman to the ground, Pretti stepped between them to help. An agent pepper-sprayed him at close range. Agents tackled him and fired approximately ten shots into his body—some while he struggled, others while he lay motionless.

Video showed Pretti holding his phone and glasses. DHS claimed he’d brandished a firearm. ProPublica later identified the two Border Patrol agents who fired as Jesus Ochoa, 43, and Raymundo Gutierrez, 35.

The combination of two civilian deaths, video contradicting official accounts, and 3,000 detentions across the Twin Cities created conditions that organizers compared to the aftermath of George Floyd’s killing in the same city. But this time, the perpetrators were federal agents, not local police—and that changed how people thought about responding.

January 23: Building the Template

The St. Paul Federation of Educators and other unions faced a problem: their contracts included no-strike clauses that would get them in legal trouble if they formally called a strike. So they didn’t.

Instead, thousands of teachers individually decided to use their sick days, personal days, and mental health days on the same day. When enough teachers call in sick, districts have no choice but to close—there aren’t enough substitutes. St. Paul Public Schools shut down entirely. Minneapolis schools declared a “grading day” that let teachers work remotely, which the union interpreted as flexibility to participate.

More than 700 small businesses closed in solidarity—coffee shops, bookstores, restaurants. Major cultural institutions including the Walker Art Center, Minneapolis Institute of Art, and Science Museum of Minnesota shut their doors. The labor coalition filled the Target Center arena with nearly 20,000 people for a rally featuring the presidents of SEIU, the American Federation of Teachers, and the Communications Workers of America.

About 100 clergy members were arrested at Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport while protesting ICE operations and demanding airlines stop cooperating with deportations. The religious participation crossed different types of churches and faiths—Catholic bishops alongside Muslim imams, Protestant ministers with Jewish rabbis—united by opposition to what they characterized as state violence against civilians.

A DHS official responded by calling the response “beyond insane,” asking why “labor bosses” wouldn’t want “public safety threats” removed from their communities. That framing revealed the fundamental disagreement: protesters saw federal agents as the public safety threat, not the people being detained.

How the Coalition Formed

The coalition that mobilized in February represented institutions that don’t usually cooperate—and in some cases, have historically been adversaries.

Labor unions and immigrant rights groups have often been at odds, particularly in construction and hospitality where immigration status creates competition for jobs. Religious institutions typically maintain cautious approaches to civil disobedience, while grassroots organizers prioritize confrontational protests. Students and established unions sometimes clash over tactics, with younger activists pushing for confrontation that union leadership views as reckless.

What brought them together wasn’t shared values. It was the specificity of the crisis: two U.S. citizens shot by federal officers, video contradicting official accounts, and an enforcement operation large enough that nearly everyone in the Twin Cities knew someone who’d been detained or feared detention.

The No Kings Coalition emerged as the primary national organizing vehicle, with roots in Indivisible, the grassroots network that had mobilized resistance to Trump policies since 2016. But the coalition’s structure was intentionally decentralized with no single leader. Rather than unions calling strikes from the top down, community organizations initiated responses and unions supported them—a reversal of typical labor organizing where union leadership controls strategy.

This put immigrant and non-union workers’ concerns first rather than positioning labor unions as the movement’s leaders. As one labor historian noted, this structural difference distinguished the 2026 mobilization from the 2006 “Day Without an Immigrant,” where momentum died partly because unions tried to control organizing rather than support community-led initiatives.

The religious participation came through organizing by faith leaders who’d formed coalitions like the Interfaith Committee for Minneapolis. Six hundred clergy attended in-person training sessions on January 23, with another 650 interested participants turned away due to space limits. One Seattle-based clergy member who traveled to Minneapolis described feeling “the power in the people coming together—not among the 600 leaders, but marching in the streets with 50,000 other people.”

Student organizers at the University of Minnesota played a coordinating role, with the Graduate Labor Union, Black Student Union, and student government bodies planning what became the January 30 National Shutdown. Their involvement brought youth energy and social media sophistication that older institutions lacked.

Scaling Nationwide: The Sick Day Strategy Goes Viral

The January 30 National Shutdown took the Minnesota template national. Organizers called for “no work, no school, no shopping” across the country. Unlike traditional protests requiring physical gathering at specific locations, this approach let people participate locally—important for rural areas with limited transportation, elderly participants with mobility constraints, and workers living paycheck to paycheck facing employer retaliation.

The coordination happened without one group calling all the shots. The National Shutdown website listed over 1,000 endorsing organizations, from major labor federations to local mutual aid collectives. This decentralized structure meant participation took varied forms: massive street marches in some cities, quiet boycotts and workplace absences in others.

The sick-day tactic spread across sectors. Hundreds of thousands of workers in hospitality, healthcare, and public employment called in sick or used personal days. At some Target store locations, roughly half the workers called out on January 30. Starbucks workers took six stores out on strikes over illegal employer actions and demanded ICE leave the state, connecting workplace grievances with the broader crisis.

No-strike clauses generally don’t restrict workers’ use of available paid leave or their individual decisions about reporting to work. By framing participation as personal choices rather than union-called strikes, workers and unions avoided contractual violations that employers could take legal action for.

Student walkouts created complications for administrators deciding whether to discipline students for politically-motivated absences. Some districts threatened harsh consequences, warning that absence marks might affect college admissions. Others adopted permissive approaches, quietly accepting participation.

The “no shopping” boycott worked through both campaigns and voluntary business closures. Roving groups of protesters appeared at major retailers, targeting Target and other corporations seen as helping ICE by letting them use parking lots for enforcement activity.

Celebrity advocacy provided amplification. Pedro Pascal, Olivia Rodrigo, and Jamie Lee Curtis used their platforms to encourage participation. Pascal wrote on Instagram: “Truth is a line of demarcation between a democratic government and authoritarian regime. Mr. Pretti and Rene Good are dead. The American people deserve to know what happened.” Such celebrity engagement reached audiences that might not encounter independent media coverage.

Measuring Impact

On February 12, 2026, border czar Tom Homan announced the Trump administration was ending Operation Metro Surge, withdrawing federal officers from Minnesota. The administration framed this as their own decision rather than giving in, emphasizing the operation had achieved its objectives and resources would be redeployed elsewhere.

Several factors complicate the analysis. The administration simultaneously announced plans for broader national operations, suggesting Minnesota resources were being moved to different places for strategic reasons rather than representing fundamental retreat. Minnesota Governor Tim Walz claimed credit for negotiating the operation’s conclusion through discussions with Trump officials, suggesting state-level political pressure may have been decisive. And organizers noted skeptically that the announced “end” permitted continued federal activity at reduced levels—previous promises about Operation Surge’s scope had proven unreliable.

Public opinion shifts provided clearer evidence of impact. A Marist Poll in early February found 65% of Americans believed ICE had gone too far, up from 54% in June 2025. Sixty-two percent said deploying federal officers into U.S. cities had gone too far, and 61% expressed concern about federal law enforcement at protests.

These opinion shifts occurred against a backdrop of extraordinary media coverage. CNN reported “massive crowds of protestors…marching across the nation.” National outlets provided extensive coverage of the January 30 shutdown, with particular emphasis on celebrity participation, historic scale, and local economic impacts from business closures.

The movement’s effectiveness in shifting political narratives became visible in rhetoric from both sides. Congressional Democrats, previously cautious about calling for ICE abolition, became increasingly vocal. A Congressional Hispanic Caucus letter to Trump condemned “escalating abuse of power” and demanded firing DHS Secretary Kristi Noem, suspending Minnesota operations, and investigating use-of-force incidents.

Some Republican officials expressed concern about federal tactics. Oklahoma Governor Kevin Stitt announced that federalizing the National Guard and sending them to states without gubernatorial consent was “inappropriate and dangerous,” suggesting possible cracks in Republican support for expansion.

Historical Precedents

The February 2026 mobilization drew on decades of precedent, with mixed lessons about what mass strikes and protests can achieve.

The most direct parallel was the 2006 “Day Without an Immigrant,” which mobilized millions in response to legislation that would’ve made being in the country without permission a felony. Like 2026, the 2006 response called for work stoppages, abstention from classes, and consumer boycotts. It succeeded in its primary objective: the Senate rejected the bill.

But momentum didn’t sustain. Reform efforts failed in subsequent years, and conservative opposition to immigration gradually increased. One key difference: unlike 2006, the 2026 mobilization achieved coordination between established labor institutions and grassroots immigrant rights movements, with unions supporting community-initiated responses rather than controlling organizing through top-down leadership.

Earlier general strikes provided cautionary lessons. The 1919 Seattle General Strike involved over 60,000 workers in a four-day stoppage, demonstrating remarkable citywide mobilization. But it ended partly due to pressure from national AFL leadership and powerful people calling the strike a dangerous radical threat, weakening labor organizing capacity for years.

The 1946 Oakland General Strike brought over 100,000 workers into a two-day stoppage in solidarity with retail workers. Yet it collapsed when Teamster leader Dave Beck withdrew his union’s support and backed a moderate settlement that failed to address original demands. Post-1946 conservative reactions included the Taft-Hartley Act, which restricted workers striking in solidarity with other workers and enabled right-to-work laws.

Internal Tensions

Beneath the surface of coalition-building, significant tensions existed within the movement, reflecting different constituencies’ priorities and strategies.

Some elements framed opposition to enforcement as part of broader anti-authoritarian resistance, with the No Kings Coalition positioning ICE mobilization within larger opposition to Trump administration policies on transgender rights, environmental rollbacks, and judicial threats. This broad framing enabled coalition-building with varied primary interests but shared concern about executive power expansion.

But it also risked spreading attention too thin. Immigrant rights advocates prioritized preventing deportations. Environmental justice advocates prioritized stopping EPA rollbacks. LGBTQ+ advocates prioritized preserving transgender protections. When different groups cared most about different issues, keeping the coalition together became challenging.

Labor unions maintained complex relationships with radical elements. Some anarchist and independent activist groups participated but maintained independent organizing and sometimes challenged union leadership’s preference for orderly permitted demonstrations over confrontational direct response. Union leadership consistently emphasized nonviolent response and discouraged vandalism, recognizing that media coverage of property damage would undermine messaging and provide tools to discredit the broader effort.

Religious participation raised questions about the relationship between doing what’s morally right and being politically effective. Many faith leaders framed participation as spiritual practice stemming from religious teaching about human dignity. This enabled deep commitment across faith communities, but also created potential tensions if political effectiveness required tactics religious leaders saw as morally wrong.

Student participation, while energizing, created complications around discipline. Some districts threatened harsh penalties for walkouts, creating conflict between student activists’ desire to participate and parents’ concerns about educational consequences. The threat of discipline itself likely deterred some potential participants.

What Comes Next

The No Kings Coalition announced plans for a March 28, 2026 flagship mobilization in the Twin Cities, treating February as part of an ongoing campaign rather than a climactic single event.

The Trump administration’s announcement of Operation Metro Surge’s conclusion created ambiguous implications. If the withdrawal proved genuine and sustained, the movement could claim a win and potentially direct energy toward other issues or building stronger organizations. But if it proved temporary or cosmetic—with enforcement continuing at modified scale—the movement might face pressure either to escalate further or negotiate a deal with a stubborn federal government.

Organizers expressed skepticism about the announced operation conclusion. ACLU representatives warned “we know better than to take hollow words as truth” and emphasized continued litigation against DHS officials for constitutional violations.

The economic sustainability of the strike tactic presented another constraint. While initial participation using available sick and personal days avoided immediate economic catastrophe for individual participants, strikes that kept happening would gradually deplete available paid leave and force workers to choose between economic survival and political participation. The movement would need substantial strike support funds, mutual aid networks, and emergency economic assistance to enable ongoing participation without causing financial hardship for working-class participants.

The administration’s likely escalation in response to sustained mobilization created risks of intensified federal law enforcement activity, potentially including mass arrests, aggressive policing of demonstrations, and prosecutions of movement leaders. Trump administration rhetoric called movement participation rebellious and interfering with legitimate law enforcement, suggesting willingness to deploy criminal law against organizers and participants.

The February 2026 mobilization revealed both the remarkable capacity for grassroots Americans to organize large-scale coordinated response when motivated by immediate crisis and shared moral outrage, and the substantial structural constraints that limit movement effectiveness even when participation reaches millions. The convergence of labor solidarity, religious moral witness, immigrant rights advocacy, and student activism demonstrated that American political culture retained capacity for coalition-building despite deep polarization.

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