On October 18, 2025, as tens of thousands prepare to gather in San Luis Obispo County and across the nation for the second wave of No Kings rallies, the debate over the use of masked and anonymous federal agents by the Trump administration has reached a fever pitch. The protests, which will unfold in downtown San Luis Obispo and Cambria, are expected to draw record crowds—organizers anticipate up to 10,000 participants locally, doubling the turnout from June’s initial No Kings event, according to The San Luis Obispo Tribune.
At the heart of the demonstrations is a deep unease over what organizers and civil rights advocates describe as the “anonymous, unaccountable, violent actions” of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents. These officers, often masked and operating in unmarked vehicles, have become a symbol for many of what they see as a growing culture of impunity and intimidation under the Trump administration. The controversy has only intensified in the wake of recent ICE raids in cities like Chicago and Portland, where reports of violence—including the fatal shooting of a civilian in Chicago—have sent shockwaves through immigrant and activist communities.
“We want peaceful pushback against these cruel, heartbreaking decisions and policies that are being implemented illegally, in many cases, across our country,” said Tina Wener, an organizer with Indivisible, as quoted by The Tribune. The rallies, held in coordination with at least 2,000 similar events nationwide, are designed not only to protest federal immigration enforcement tactics but also to promote California’s Proposition 50—a ballot measure that would redraw congressional boundaries to create five new Democratic-leaning seats, a direct response to what organizers call Republican gerrymandering in Texas.
But the focus on ICE’s tactics has roots that stretch deep into American history. As Milwaukee Independent reported on October 10, 2025, the use of masks and concealed identities by law enforcement has a long and troubling lineage. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Ku Klux Klan operated with the tacit approval of many state and federal authorities, using their iconic white hoods to terrorize minority communities and evade accountability. The article draws a direct parallel between the Klan’s masked violence and the current practices of ICE, arguing that both groups leveraged anonymity and quasi-legal authority to target vulnerable populations while shielding individual perpetrators from justice.
“ICE operates today with a level of anonymity, impunity, and intimidation that closely parallels the Ku Klux Klan’s tactics as masked, semi-official enforcers,” wrote Milwaukee Independent. The piece details how, historically, states like New York, Indiana, Alabama, and California passed laws to ban masked law enforcement, specifically to combat the abuses of the Klan. California’s original 1872 ordinance outlawed “mask, false whiskers, or any personal disguise (whether complete or partial)” when used to evade identification during the commission of a crime.
Fast forward to 2025, and California’s legislature has once again acted to curb masked policing by passing the No Secret Police Act (SB627). State Senator Scott Weiner, the bill’s author, stated, “As this authoritarian regime seeks to demolish our constitutional rights and engages in a straight up terror campaign, California is meeting the Trump Administration’s secret police tactics with strength and defiance.” Despite the law’s passage, Governor Gavin Newsom has so far declined to enforce it, leaving ICE agents free to continue operations while masked—a decision that has drawn criticism from both activists and some lawmakers.
The issue is not confined to California. In Chicago, the tension between local and federal authorities has been especially pronounced. According to Daily Kos and the Chicago Sun-Times, federal agents have been observed conducting raids in unmarked vehicles, many of which lacked proper license plates in violation of Illinois law. Mayor Brandon Johnson responded by issuing an executive order barring law enforcement officers from wearing masks and mandating the display of ID badges and activation of body cameras during arrests. However, as Johnson himself acknowledged, his authority does not extend to federal agents, who have largely ignored these directives.
Department of Homeland Security spokesperson Tricia McLaughlin defended the agents’ use of masks, citing safety concerns, but declined to specify which federal regulations permitted such practices. “Our vehicles meet federal regulations for law enforcement,” she said, refusing to elaborate further. The lack of transparency has fueled public distrust and raised fears of impersonation—CNN, as cited by Daily Kos, found two dozen cases in 2025 of individuals posing as ICE agents, more than in the previous four presidential terms combined.
Adding to the opacity, major tech companies have removed popular ICE-tracking apps from their platforms. Apple, for instance, deleted ICEblock, Eyes Up, and DeICER from its App Store, citing concerns that these tools could be used to endanger officers. The developer of DeICER was told that the app violated Apple’s ban on “defamatory, discriminatory, or mean-spirited content” directed at protected groups, including law enforcement. Critics argue that these removals further shield ICE operations from public scrutiny, leaving communities in the dark about where agents are operating and what actions they are taking.
Against this backdrop, the No Kings rallies have taken on new urgency. Organizers have gone to great lengths to ensure the safety and accessibility of the events. According to The Tribune, the city of San Luis Obispo will close several downtown blocks, set up a stage with a jumbotron, provide portable bathrooms, a first-aid tent, and an ADA-accessible area, and deploy 100 volunteers trained in deescalation techniques. “The main goal is to put on the biggest protest that SLO County has ever seen,” said Jesse Hudson of 50501, another organizing group.
While the rallies are explicitly peaceful, the rhetoric is anything but subdued. SLO County Democratic Chair Tom Fulks described the situation as “our own president declaring war on the American people.” He framed Proposition 50 as “the most democratic, peaceful way to fight back against this autocracy,” adding, “Prop. 50 is unique in that it’s a gerrymander, for darn sure, but it’s a gerrymander that is seeking permission from the voters of California. This is in direct response to Trump trying to rig the midterm elections.”
Not everyone agrees with the strategy behind Proposition 50. Critics have labeled the measure a “Democratic gerrymander” that undermines California’s independent Citizens Redistricting Commission and returns power to politicians. Yet, as Fulks put it, “desperate times call for desperate measures.” For many rally-goers, the stakes are nothing less than the future of American democracy and the rule of law.
As the nation braces for the November 4 midterm elections, the convergence of masked federal enforcement, legislative battles over redistricting, and mass public protest signals a pivotal moment. Whether the public’s demand for transparency and accountability will be met remains uncertain, but the voices raised in San Luis Obispo and beyond are determined not to let history repeat itself unchecked.
