Work starts around sunrise for many of the federal officers carrying out the immigration crackdown in and around the Twin Cities, with hundreds of people in tactical gear emerging from a bland office building near the main airport.
Within minutes, hulking SUVs, pickup trucks and minivans begin leaving, forming the unmarked convoys that have quickly become feared and common sights in the streets of Minneapolis, St. Paul and their suburbs.
Protesters also arrive early, braving the cold to stand across the street from the fenced-in federal compound, which houses an immigration court and government offices. “Go home!” they shout as convoys roar past. “ICE out!”
Things often turn uglier after nightfall, when the convoys return and the protesters sometimes grow angrier, shaking fences and occasionally smacking passing cars. Eventually, the federal officers march toward them, firing tear gas and flash grenades before hauling away at least a few people.
“We’re not going anywhere!” a woman shouted on a recent morning. “We’re here until you leave.”
This is the daily rhythm of Operation Metro Surge, the Trump administration’s latest and biggest crackdown yet, with more than 2,000 officers taking part. The surge has pitted city and state officials against the federal government, sparked daily clashes between activists and immigration officers in the deeply liberal cities, and left a mother of three dead.
The crackdown is barely noticeable in some areas, particularly in whiter, wealthier neighborhoods and suburbs, where convoys and tear gas are rare. And even in neighborhoods where masked immigration officers are common, they often move with ghostlike quickness, making arrests and disappearing before protesters can gather in force.
Still, the surge can be felt across broad swaths of the Twin Cities area, which is home to more than 3 million people.
“We don’t use the word ‘invasion’ lightly,” Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey, a Democrat, told reporters this week, noting that his police force has just 600 officers. “What we are seeing is thousands — plural, thousands — of federal agents coming into our city.”
Those agents have an outsized presence in a small city.
It can take hours to drive across Los Angeles and Chicago, both targets of Trump administration crackdowns. It can take 15 minutes to cross Minneapolis.
So as worry ripples through the region, children are skipping school or learning remotely, families are avoiding religious services and many businesses, especially in immigrant neighborhoods, have closed temporarily.
Drive down Lake Street, an immigrant hub since the days when newcomers came to Minneapolis from Norway and Sweden, and the sidewalks now seem crowded only with activists standing watch, ready to blow warning whistles at the first sign of a convoy.
At La Michoacana Purepecha, where customers can order ice cream, chocolate covered bananas and pork rinds, the door is locked and staff let in people one at a time. Nearby, at Taqueria Los Ocampo, a sign in English and Spanish says the restaurant is temporarily closed because of “current conditions.”
A dozen blocks away at the Karmel Mall, where the city’s large Somali community goes for everything from food and coffee to tax preparation, signs on the doors warn, “No ICE enter without court order.”
It’s been nearly six years since George Floyd was murdered by a Minneapolis police officer, but the scars from that killing remain raw.
Floyd was killed just blocks from where an Immigration and Citizenship Enforcement officer shot and killed Renee Good, a 37-year-old American citizen, during a Jan. 7 confrontation after she stopped to help neighbors during an enforcement operation. Federal officials say the officer fired in self-defense after Good “weaponized” her vehicle. City and state officials dismiss those explanations and point to multiple bystander videos of the confrontation.
For Twin Cities residents, the crackdown can feel overwhelming.
“Enough is enough,” said Johan Baumeister, who came to the scene of Good’s death soon after the shooting to lay flowers.
He said he didn’t want to see the violent protests that shook Minneapolis after Floyd’s death, causing billions of dollars in damage. But this city has a long history of activism and protests, and he had no doubt there would be more.
“I think they’ll see Minneapolis show our rage again,” he predicted.
He was right.
In the days since, there have been repeated confrontations between activists and immigration officers. Most amounted to little more than shouted insults and taunting, with destruction mostly limited to broken windows, graffiti and some badly damaged federal vehicles.
But angry clashes now flare regularly across the Twin Cities. Some protesters clearly want to provoke the federal officers, throwing snowballs at them or screaming obscenities through bullhorns from just a couple feet away. The serious force, though, comes from immigration officers, who have broken car windows, pepper-sprayed protesters and warned observers not to follow them through the streets. Immigrants and citizens have been yanked from cars and homes and detained, sometimes for days. And most clashes end in tear gas.
Drivers in Minneapolis or St. Paul can now stumble across intersections blocked by men in body armor and gas masks, with helicopters clattering overhead and the air filled with the shriek of protesters’ whistles.
Western Wisconsin residents are following the protests and clashes with concern.
“It feels a bit like a pressure cooker over here,” Eau Claire City Council President Emily Berge said Friday in an interview with WPR’s “Wisconsin Today.”
In Wisconsin border communities including Hudson, many people make daily commutes to the Twin Cities for work, shopping or recreation. A Hudson resident who asked to remain anonymous over safety concerns told WPR she has been involved in organizing to support protesters in the area. She said people all across the metro area have been making sure protesters and organizers have rides, are fed and are safe.
But the psychological effects of the unrest have been widespread. She said some of the students at the elementary school where she teaches are afraid to come to class.
“It is just the saddest thing to see tiny children who are just starting school have this kind of fear and uncertainty,” she said.
That echoes the experience of others in immigrant communities.
“Everybody is terrified,” immigration attorney Marc Christopher told “Wisconsin Today.” “They see what’s been broadcast on TV. They see the indiscriminate arrest of people. … The level of fear and anxiety in our immigrant community is off the charts.”
And Berge, who is also a Democratic candidate for Congress, said people in the Hmong community worry they will be targeted for being members of a minority group, regardless of legal status.
“Even though they’re American citizens,” she said, “they have to bring their documents with them, their passports or ID with them when they leave the house — even to walk their dog or bring their kids to school.”
Unfounded rumors of ICE agents staging or planning large-scale operations in Wisconsin are spreading widely on social media. Officials in Baldwin, Wausau and Stevens Point all told WPR that social media chatter was false.
Still, officials in many communities have felt pressure to review policies and plans should federal immigration enforcements scale up.
The Hudson School District this week sent a message to parents reiterating its visitors policy and how district officials work with law enforcement.
In a state that prides itself on its decency, there’s something particularly Minnesotan about the protests.
Soon after Good was shot, Gov. Tim Walz, a Democrat and regular Trump target, repeatedly said he was angry but also urged people to find ways to help their communities.
“It might be shoveling your neighbor’s walk,” he said. “It might mean being at a food bank. It might be pausing to talk to someone you haven’t talked to before.”
He and other leaders have pleaded with protesters to remain peaceful, warning that the White House was looking for a chance to crack down harder.
And when protests do become clashes, residents will often spill from their homes, handing out bottled water so people can flush tear gas from their eyes.
Residents stand watch at schools to warn immigrant parents if convoys approach while they’re picking up their children. They take care packages to people too afraid to go out, and arrange rides for them to work and doctor’s visits.
On Thursday, in the basement of a Lutheran church in St. Paul, the group Open Market MN assembled food packs for more than a hundred families staying home. Colin Anderson, the group’s outreach director, said the group has seen a surge in requests.
Sometimes, people don’t even understand what has happened to them.
Like Christian Molina from suburban Coon Rapids, who was driving through a Minneapolis neighborhood on a recent day, taking his car to a mechanic, when immigration officers began following him. He wonders if it’s because he looks Hispanic.
They turned on their siren, but Molina kept driving, unsure who they were.
Eventually, the officers sped up, hit his rear bumper and both cars stopped. Two emerged and asked Molina for his papers. He refused, saying he’d wait for the police. Crowds began to gather, and a clash soon broke out, ending with tear gas.
So the officers left.
They left behind an angry, worried man who suddenly owned a sedan with a mangled rear fender.
Long after the officers were gone he had one final question.
“Who’s going to pay for my car?”
This post is a combination of stories from the Associated Press and WPR.
Trump’s Twin Cities immigration crackdown has made chaos and tension the new normal is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.
Rick Bieber reached into the soil, pulled out a handful and took a sniff.
Around him stretched fields of green — an unusual sight for late October in Wisconsin, when harvest is ending and farmers are preparing for winter. Oat and barley grasses, sunflowers, purple top turnip and radish plants blew under a gentle breeze. In the soil in his palm, an earthworm wriggled.
Bieber is the soil adviser for Fields of Sinsinawa, a project intended to help farmers understand what’s happening below the surface and why it matters for the health of people and the planet. The fields are owned by the Dominican Sisters of Sinsinawa, a congregation of Catholic sisters who have lived for more than 175 years in southwestern Wisconsin at Sinsinawa Mound, overlooking the Mississippi River.
Written into the sisters’ guiding principles is a commitment to share their land for ecological and educational programs to help preserve it for future generations.
As Bieber puts it, “We plant with a purpose.”
Their vision of caring for the Earth as they believe God instructs them is in step with a larger movement happening across the state — and the world — in which faith drives people’s concern for the environment.
Religion can be a powerful motivator for people to pursue environmental stewardship: In a Pew Research Center study from 2022, four in five religiously affiliated Americans completely or mostly agreed that God gave humans a duty to protect and care for the Earth.
The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, a partner of the Mississippi River Basin Ag & Water Desk, is profiling five people or groups in Wisconsin whose environmental actions are driven by their faith. They’re connected by a desire to do good for the Earth, following the writings in their religious texts or the teachings of their spiritual leaders. Importantly, the people drawn into this effort come from different sides of the political spectrum and from many different faiths. That suggests it could be an approach to environmental stewardship that bridges a complicated divide, something especially important as the U.S. government seeks to aggressively roll back environmental protections.
Take the soil, for instance, that Dominican Sister Julie Schwab and the others at Sinsinawa hold so precious.
“Soil is literally the common ground,” Schwab said.
Agriculture is a calling card of the Dominican Sisters of Sinsinawa. They once farmed the land themselves and are now hosting an organic farming collective and two father-son teams of dairy farmers who produce milk for Organic Valley.
The idea for Fields of Sinsinawa arose from an Ohio farmer named David Brandt, an influential figure in the regenerative farming movement, who was exploring the idea of creating a farmer-led learning center at Sinsinawa Mound. After his death in 2023, a group of like-minded people made it a reality.
The principles of soil health are simple to understand but can be challenging to achieve because our economic system places emphasis on big crop yields. Those at Fields of Sinsinawa believe that soil should be filled with diverse, living roots year-round, which prevents runoff that pollutes waterways and feeds microscopic organisms that can make the soil better suited to support plant life. They want to minimize practices like tilling, which disturb the soil, and encourage grazing livestock on pastures that have time to rest and regrow.
Demonstration fields at the mound are meant to be a “living classroom” that farmers can visit to learn how such regenerative practices work, and more important, why. They host visitors from the next town over and from across the globe, including at their annualSoul of the Soil conference. The on-site dairy farmers work closely with Bieber to try practices out at minimal risk to their business.
“What impresses me most is the deep, deep spirituality of these farmers. They know they’re working with something sacred,” said Sister Sheila Fitzgerald, part of Fields of Sinsinawa’s administrative support team. “It’s a gift, and it’s up to us to keep this gift for the next generation. We do that by learning about this whole sacred environment — the whole blessing of the life that’s in the soil.”
The sisters are also following teachings they see carefully laid out by the late Pope Francis in his 2015 encyclical letter, “Laudato Si’: On Care for Our Common Home.” Earth “cries out to us because of the harm we have inflicted on her by our irresponsible use,” Francis wrote. “We have forgotten that we ourselves are dust of the earth.”
Bieber puts it another way.
“We were formed from the soil, and we’ll go back to the soil,” he said. “Why would you beat it up if it’s going to be your resting place?”
The same year Francis released his letter, Muslim leaders from around the world published the Islamic Declaration on Global Climate Change, which calls for a rapid phase-out of fossil fuels and directs Muslims worldwide to tackle climate change and environmental degradation.
Huda Alkaff was already hard at work. Alkaff founded Wisconsin Green Muslims in 2005 to educate people about Islamic teachings of environmental justice and apply those teachings in real life.
The Earth is mentioned more than 450 times in the Quran, Alkaff said, instructing Muslims to maintain its balance and not upset the order of creation.
“The true practice of Islam really means living simply, treading lightly on Earth, caring for our neighbors and all creatures, standing up for justice, and collaborating with others to care for our shared home,” she said.
Now in its 20th year, Wisconsin Green Muslims has pushed for action on a wide range of environmental issues, including clean drinking water and air, renewable energy, waste reduction and healthy food, with a focus on helping marginalized communities that are disproportionately impacted by environmental problems. The group rotates through these issues monthly, Alkaff said, bringing new people into the fold based on their interests.
Since its beginning, the group has promoted Green Ramadan during the Islamic holy month, encouraging small daily actions to care for the environment such as switching to e-billing or biking to the mosque. Green Ramadan has spread to at least 20 states, Alkaff said.
Alkaff also leads two interfaith organizations: Wisconsin Faith and Solar, which aims to help faith congregations across the state to implement solar energy, and Faithful Rainwater Harvesting for sustainable water collection.
“We see sunlight and water as the commons — everyone should have access to them,” she said. “We need to appreciate them and welcome them responsibly into our homes, congregations and lives.”
Calvin DeWitt is a household name at the cross section of Christianity and the environment. He lists as friends Al Gore and environmentalist and author Bill McKibben, tells of having given a speech at the ranch of the late Robert Redford, a stalwart environmental advocate, and has been a leading voice for “greening up” the Christian right.
DeWitt’s story started in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where he cared for a pet turtle. For 25 years, he led the Au Sable Institute in Michigan, which offers environmental science courses to students from dozens of Christian colleges. He also taught environmental studies classes at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Now 90, he lives in the Waubesa Wetlands outside Madison, which he helped establish as a nature preserve.
He’s still publishing papers, running field trips and otherwise speaking loudly about caring for the Earth because, as he puts it, “I can’t think of anything more pleasurable to do.”
DeWitt has become a master at tailoring his message to make the most impact. Some of his most storied work is with evangelical Christians, fewer of whom believe climate change is a serious problem compared with other major religions, according to the2022 Pew study. He was a founding member of the Evangelical Environmental Network, which promotes evangelicals “rediscovering and reclaiming the biblical mandate to care for creation.”
“Someone’s twiddling with the thermostat” is a phrase he might say to enter into a conversation about the world heating up with someone who’d get turned off by the term global warming. In other scenarios, “if you come up with a religious point of view, you’re actually asking for trouble,” he said.
Most often, though, DeWitt tries to boil it down to the development of community, which he said is central to overcoming differences.
Several years ago, a neighbor turned to him while leaving a town hall and said, “Cal, this is just like going to church,” DeWitt recalled. A real community is about love, he said, which extends to love for the land.
“It’s contagious,” he said.
Dekila Chungyalpa once felt like she was living two different lives. By day, she worked as an environmental scientist in the U.S. By night, she was a practicing Tibetan Buddhist. She didn’t know how to bring the two together, and it hurt.
Chungyalpa decided to return to the Himalayas, where she was born, to work with the 17th karmapa, head of the Karma Kagyu School of Tibetan Buddhism. In 2007, she watched him speak to thousands of Buddhists, citing a Buddhist prayer to alleviate the suffering of all beings in his call for those watching to become vegetarians. Livestock production makes up about 14.5% of human-driven greenhouse gas emissions, which contribute to climate change.
“That was my moment of awakening. My hand was rising along with all these people,” Chungyalpa said. “People were not doing it because of science or policy, but because a faith leader told them to live up to their faith value.”
The idea that religious leaders could shepherd people toward environmental stewardship sparked something in her. The spark was there when she helped found Khoryug, an association of Tibetan Buddhist monasteries and nunneries working on environmental protection and resilience to climate change. It also was there when she began the Loka Initiative inside UW-Madison’s Center for Healthy Minds.
Today, the Loka Initiative has two goals. One is working with faith and Indigenous leaders to bring home environmental solutions that feel authentic to them. The other is developing courses that teach contemplative practices, like meditation, somatic healing and even singing, to combat grief and anxiety over the effects of environmental degradation. One recent course, “Psychology of Deep Resilience,” was taken by more than 1,550 students in 70-plus countries, she said.
Chungyalpa sees the immense power in religiously affiliated people to take action for the good of the Earth.More than 75% of people around the world identify with a religion. And religious groups, as major owners of land and buildings, can do so much, from adopting soil health practices to adding solar panels.
“They reach parts of the population scientists never can,” she said.
The group of people who gathered at Congregation Emanu-El B’ne Jeshurun in River Hills Nov. 3 had many differences: different cities, different political persuasions and different faiths.
What unites the North Shore Interfaith Green Team is a belief that religious people have a duty to care for creation and a desire to make that happen. Reenie Kavalar, of Congregation Emanu-El B’ne Jeshurun, began the meeting with a reading from the Talmud, a foundational Jewish text.
“‘See My creations, how beautiful and exemplary they are. Everything I created, I created for you. Make certain that you do not ruin and destroy My world, as if you destroy it, there will be no one to mend it after you,'” Kavalar read.
She paused and reflected, “I’m thinking – if it’s not up to us, who’s it going to be up to?”
The Green Team’s members are from Conservative and Reform Jewish synagogues, Catholic parishes, and Episcopal, Methodist, Lutheran and Presbyterian churches.
Although the group is new, it is ambitious: In April they hosted an electronics recycling drive, which they said saved 20,000 pounds of electronics from the landfill, and they split the money they made among congregations to pursue other environmental projects. For example, Fox Point Lutheran is working on expanding its pollinator garden, said member Anne Noyes. It also spawned conversations about other types of potential efforts, such as clothes recycling and composting.
In 2026, the group will hold two more electronics recycling drives in April and will begin a partnership with Schlitz Audubon Nature Center involving volunteer conservation days. Members hope that by working together, they can come up with new ideas and tackle projects that might be impossible alone.
Susan Toman, of Christ Church Episcopal in Whitefish Bay, said she joined the Green Team in part because she sees it as a way to overcome polarization.
In many respects, her sentiment reflects the movement connecting faith and the environment, whether it’s on Milwaukee’s busy North Shore or across the state on the rural farm fields at Sinsinawa Mound.
“This is a model for how people who could be drawing a line in the sand about our differences instead are saying, ‘Let’s talk about the things that we all agree upon,'” Toman said, “something that comes from the depths of our hearts.”
This story is a product of the Mississippi River Basin Ag & Water Desk, an independent reporting network based at the University of Missouri in partnership with Report for America, with major funding from the Walton Family Foundation.
Wisconsin Watch is a member of the Ag & Water Desk network. Sign up for our newsletters to get our news straight to your inbox.
For these faithful, nurturing the Earth is rooted in spiritual beliefs is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.
A young woman asks AI companion ChatGPT for help this month in New York City. States are pushing to prevent the use of artificially intelligent chatbots in mental health to try to protect vulnerable users. (Photo by Shalina Chatlani/Stateline)
Editor’s note: If you or someone you know needs help, the national suicide and crisis lifeline in the U.S. is available by calling or texting 988. There is also an online chat at 988lifeline.org.
States are passing laws to prevent artificially intelligent chatbots, such as ChatGPT, from being able to offer mental health advice to young users, following a trend of people harming themselves after seeking therapy from the AI programs.
Chatbots might be able to offer resources, direct users to mental health practitioners or suggest coping strategies. But many mental health experts say that’s a fine line to walk, as vulnerable users in dire situations require care from a professional, someone who must adhere to laws and regulations around their practice.
“I have met some of the families who have really tragically lost their children following interactions that their kids had with chatbots that were designed, in some cases, to be extremely deceptive, if not manipulative, in encouraging kids to end their lives,” said Mitch Prinstein, senior science adviser at the American Psychological Association and an expert on technology and children’s mental health.
“So in such egregious situations, it’s clear that something’s not working right, and we need at least some guardrails to help in situations like that,” he said.
While chatbots have been around for decades, AI technology has become so sophisticated that users may feel like they’re talking to a human. The chatbots don’t have the capacity to offer true empathy or mental health advice like a licensed psychologist would, and they are by design agreeable — a potentially dangerous model for someone with suicidal ideations. Several young people have died by suicide following interactions with chatbots.
States have enacted a variety of laws to regulate the types of interactions chatbots can have with users. Illinois and Nevada have completely banned the use of AI for behavioral health. New York and Utah passed laws requiring chatbots to explicitly tell users that they are not human. New York’s law also directs chatbots to detect instances of potential self-harm and refer the user to crisis hotlines and other interventions.
More laws may be coming. California and Pennsylvania are among the states that might consider legislation to regulate AI therapy.
President Donald Trump has criticized state-by-state regulation of AI, saying it stymies innovation. In December, he signed an executive order that aims to support the United States’ “global AI dominance” by overriding state artificial intelligence laws and establishing a national framework.
Still, states are moving ahead. Before Trump’s executive order, Florida Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis last month proposed a “Citizen Bill of Rights For Artificial Intelligence” that, among many other things, would prohibit AI from being used for “licensed” therapy or mental health counseling and provide parental controls for minors who may be exposed to it.
“The rise of AI is the most significant economic and cultural shift occurring at the moment; denying the people the ability to channel these technologies in a productive way via self-government constitutes federal government overreach and lets technology companies run wild,” DeSantis wrote on social media platform X in November.
At a U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee hearing last September, some parents shared their stories about their children’s deaths after ongoing interactions with an artificially intelligent chatbot.
Sewell Setzer III was 14 years old when he died by suicide in 2024 after becoming obsessed with a chatbot.
“Instead of preparing for high school milestones, Sewell spent his last months being manipulated and sexually groomed by chatbots designed by an AI company to seem human, to gain trust, and to keep children like him endlessly engaged by supplanting the actual human relationships in his life,” his mother, Megan Garcia, said during the hearing.
Another parent, Matthew Raine, testified about his son Adam, who died by suicide at age16 after talking for months with ChatGPT, a program owned by the company OpenAI.
“We’re convinced that Adam’s death was avoidable, and because we believe thousands of other teens who are using OpenAI could be in similar danger right now,” Raine said.
Prinstein, of the American Psychological Association, said that kids are especially vulnerable when it comes to AI chatbots.
“By agreeing with everything that kids say, it develops a false sense of intimacy and trust. That’s really concerning, because kids in particular are developing their brains. That approach is going to be unfairly attractive to kids in a way that may make them unable to use reason, judgment and restraints in the way that adults would likely use when interacting with a chatbot.”
The Federal Trade Commission in September launched an inquiry into seven companies making these AI-powered chatbots, questioning what efforts are in place to protect children.
“AI chatbots can effectively mimic human characteristics, emotions, and intentions, and generally are designed to communicate like a friend or confidant, which may prompt some users, especially children and teens, to trust and form relationships with chatbots,” the FTC said in its order.
Companies such as OpenAI have responded by saying that they are working with mental health experts to make their products safer and to limit chances of self-harm among its users.
“Working with mental health experts who have real-world clinical experience, we’ve taught the model to better recognize distress, de-escalate conversations, and guide people toward professional care when appropriate,” the company wrote in a statement last October.
With action at the federal level in limbo, efforts to regulate AI chatbots at the state level have had limited success.
Dr. John “Nick” Shumate, a psychiatrist at the Harvard University Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, and his colleagues reviewed legislation to regulate mental health-related artificial intelligence systems across all states between January 2022 and May 2025.
The review found 143 bills directly or indirectly related to AI and mental health regulation. As of May 2025, 11 states had enacted 20 laws that researchers found were meaningful, direct and explicit in the ways they attempted to regulate mental health interactions.
They concluded that legislative efforts tended to fall into four different buckets: professional oversight, harm prevention, patient autonomy and data governance.
“You saw safety laws for chatbots and companion AIs, especially around self-harm and suicide response,” Shumate said in an interview.
New York enacted one such law last year that requires AI chatbots to remind users every three hours that it is not a human. The law also requires the chatbot to detect the potential of self-harm.
“There’s no denying that in this country, we’re in a mental health crisis,” New York Democratic state Sen. Kristen Gonzalez, the law’s sponsor, said in an interview. “But the solution shouldn’t be to replace human support from licensed professionals with untrained AI chatbots that can leak sensitive information and can lead to broad outcomes.”
In Virginia, Democratic Del. Michelle Maldonado is preparing legislation for this year’s session that would put limits on what chatbots can communicate to users in a therapeutic setting.
“The federal level has been slow to pass things, slow to even create legislative language around things. So we have had no choice but to fill in that gap,” said Maldonado, a former technology lawyer.
She noted that states have passed privacy laws and restrictions on nonconsensual intimate images, licensing requirements and disclosure agreements.
New York Democratic state Sen. Andrew Gounardes, who sponsored a law regulating AI transparency, said he’s seen the growing influence of AI companies at the state level.
And that is concerning to him, he said, as states try to take on AI companies for issues ranging from mental health to misinformation and beyond.
“They are hiring former staffers to become public affairs officers. They are hiring lobbyists who know legislators to kind of get in with them. They’re hosting events, you know, by the Capitol, at political conferences, to try to build goodwill,” Gounardes said.
“These are the wealthiest, richest, biggest companies in the world,” he said. “And so we have to really not let up our guard for a moment against that type of concentrated power, money and influence.”
Stateline reporter Shalina Chatlani can be reached at schatlani@stateline.org.
This story was originally produced by Stateline, which is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network which includes Wisconsin Examiner, and is supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity.
A trial over Missouri’s abortion regulations began Monday at the Jackson County Courthouse in Kansas City, Mo. Experts are watching the case, which could impact abortion access across the Midwest and South. (Photo by Kevin Hardy/Stateline)
KANSAS CITY, Mo. — The outcome of a trial over Missouri’s abortion regulations could ripple far beyond the state, potentially creating new availability for women in the Midwest and South who can’t access abortion close to home.
As a judge weighs the constitutionality of a litany of state restrictions on abortion, the stakes are clear for Missouri women: The decision could hamper access for nearly everyone in the state — or greatly broaden it in ways not seen in decades. That would allow women in a dozen nearby states with abortion bans to travel a shorter distance to access the procedure.
“Opening and reestablishing rights in the state of Missouri would help to alleviate some of the pressure that other states have since so many Southern states have banned abortion,” said Julie Burkhart, the co-owner of Hope Clinic in Granite City, Illinois. “It just seems logical that we would see a shift in migration patterns of patients in the country.”
At her clinic, about a 15-minute drive from downtown St. Louis, Missourians account for about half of all patients, Burkhart said. Though Missouri voters in 2024 enshrined a right to abortion in the state constitution, access has remained highly limited because of restrictive state laws. Only procedural abortions are available on a limited basis across three Planned Parenthood clinics in the state.
Many of those state laws face legal scrutiny this week as a Missouri judge weighs the constitutionality of regulations targeting abortion providers. Those include a 72-hour waiting period between initial appointments and procedures, mandatory pelvic exams for medication abortions and a ban on telemedicine appointments for medication abortions.
It just seems logical that we would see a shift in migration patterns of patients in the country.
– Julie Burkhart, co-owner of Hope Clinic in Granite City, Ill., which provides abortion service to many out-of-state patients
Planned Parenthood affiliates in Missouri argue state restrictions are unconstitutional under 2024’s voter-approved constitutional amendment. Over decades, state restrictions have gutted Missouri’s provider networks, limited appointment availability and ultimately forced abortions to a halt in 2022, before a limited number resumed after the 2024 vote.
Experts and advocates are closely monitoring the Missouri case, which is expected to be appealed regardless of the outcome, because of its practical implications on access in the region. While many women now rely on abortion medication, procedural abortion is still crucial for those seeking later-term abortions or who prefer an in-clinic procedure.
But the two-week bench trial in downtown Kansas City also tests lawmakers’ ability to put in place rules so restrictive that they effectively ban abortion — a practice used by anti-abortion lawmakers in other states looking to limit access to the procedure.
“Judges do not operate in a vacuum,” Burkhart said, “ … and we know for a fact that judges look outside the borders of their state for information and for guidance. I do see this as having national importance.”
That’s especially true in other states also litigating abortion access, including Arizona, Michigan and Ohio, said Rebecca Reingold, an associate director at Georgetown University’s O’Neill Institute for National and Global Health Law.
While state judges are not bound by the decisions of judges in other states, their deliberations can be informed by court rulings, particularly involving novel legal questions or areas of the law that are evolving.
“There is little doubt that advocates and decision-makers in other states navigating similar legal challenges are closely monitoring the litigation over Missouri’s abortion regulations,” Reingold said.
In the first days of the trial, Planned Parenthood leaders argued that ever-changing state laws and agency regulations have drastically limited access, caused needless red tape and posed privacy risk for their patients.
Dr. Margaret Baum, chief medical officer with St. Louis-based Planned Parenthood Great Rivers, said the Missouri requirements specifically target abortion rather than all other kinds of medical care.
“I provide vasectomies routinely. … And I am not required to have a complication plan, contact a primary care physician, even ask the patient how many miles they live from the health center.”
Opening day of Missouri abortion-rights trial focuses on decades of state restrictions
Baum said state-mandated reporting rules unique to abortion require clinicians to ask the race, education level, marital status and specific location of each patient — none of which is relevant to their care.
Planned Parenthood Great Rivers would like to offer abortion services in Springfield, Baum testified. Access in that region would provide an option for rural Missourians, and also could help serve residents in nearby Arkansas, Oklahoma and Texas, where abortion is almost universally banned.
But the organization’s facilities there do not meet state abortion regulations for physical attributes, including hallway size, doorway size and the number of recliners in recovery rooms, Baum testified.
Lawyers for the state defended Missouri’s restrictions as commonsense safeguards aimed at protecting vulnerable women. The attorney general’s office argued that complication risks of abortion justify additional state regulation — despite professional medical associations saying it’s generally safe. The AG’s office also maintained that Planned Parenthood faced a conflict of interest because of its financial motivations.
“Abortion is a business,” Deputy Solicitor General Peter Donohue said during a procedural argument on Monday. “Your Honor, the plaintiffs are asking to deregulate their profession in order to make more money.”
The state was expected to call as witnesses anti-abortion doctors and activists later in the trial.
Since the U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling that overturned federal constitutional protections for abortion in June 2022, the number of abortions has increased slightly across the country, according to the health research nonprofit KFF.
The group points to expanded telehealth, which can offer medication abortion more affordably through virtual appointments.
Since the 2022 ruling and subsequent state abortion bans, patients have experienced higher travel costs for abortions and delays in care, according to research published in the American Journal of Public Health in July.
Researchers from the University of California, San Francisco found that travel time to access abortion increased from 2.8 hours to 11.3 hours for residents in states with abortion bans. Travel costs increased from $179 to $372. And more than half of survey respondents said their abortion care required an overnight hotel stay, compared with 5% before an abortion ban.
In 2024, an estimated 7,880 Missourians traveled to Illinois and 3,960 traveled to Kansas to access abortion, according to the Guttmacher Institute, a research and policy organization focused on advancing reproductive rights.
Those Missourians were among the approximate 155,000 people who crossed state lines to access abortion care that year, representing 15% of all abortions provided in states without total bans.
Regardless of its outcome, the Missouri case is expected to be appealed. Even if the plaintiffs are ultimately successful, it may take a long time to restore care networks across the state, said Isaac Maddow-Zimet, a data scientist at the Guttmacher Institute.
“And that’s particularly the case when there are states that have a lot of legal uncertainty or restrictions coming into effect and then coming out of effect,” he said. “It’s not quick to open up a clinic. It’s not quick to even necessarily expand the kinds of services, or the kinds of the number of people that a clinic can see.”
Kimya Forouzan, the organization’s principal state policy adviser, said Missouri’s landscape is evidence that lawmakers can drastically curb abortion access without total bans. And despite an overwhelming vote to amend the constitution, legal battles can follow.
Even if the state’s laws are found unconstitutional, Forouzan said, lawmakers will likely still push anti-abortion measures. She noted that several bills have already been introduced in this year’s just-convened legislative session, and that Republican lawmakers are pushing a ballot measure to repeal 2024’s reproductive rights amendment.
“There’s very much a push to pass as many restrictions as possible and kind of see what happens later and how things shape up later. … Time will tell, but we do know that they’re still pushing forth restrictions,” she said.
Stateline reporter Kevin Hardy can be reached at khardy@stateline.org. Missouri Independent reporter Anna Spoerre can be reached at aspoerre@missouriindependent.com.
This story was originally produced by Stateline, which is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network which includes Wisconsin Examiner, and is supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity.
Volkswagen isn’t sitting still when it comes to electric cars, even if most of its lineup in the US has struggled to gain traction this year. The ID.4, one of only two VW models whose American sales actually increased in 2025, is getting more than a light polish.
Instead, it’s heading into a major refresh that reshapes it into what some within the company are already calling the “electric Tiguan.”
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Our first spy shots show a crossover that’s recognizably an ID.4, but one that’s been carefully sharpened. The front end is squarer, clearly aligned with the upcoming ID Cross look.
As you can see in our spy shots, the doors are new with proper pull handles, and the rear end has been subtly reworked with a concave rather than convex tailgate panel, plus a re-profiled D pillar.
It’s not a ground-up redesign, because there’s only so much you can change with a facelift. The underlying structure appears mostly identical, which makes sense for a mid cycle update.
However, the surfacing and proportions have been tweaked just enough to bring the ID.4 visually into sync with the new Tiguan and VW’s upcoming electric ID.Cross, which was unveiled in concept form last September, and goes on sale in Europe later in 2026.
Buttons Are Back
Inside is where the biggest changes may be felt day to day. Physical buttons and switches will feature prominently, including a real volume knob, alongside a new dashboard, better materials, and a revised user interface. We got our first glimpse of this direction in the official photos of the new ID. Polo’s interior (pictured above) earlier this month.
The software gets an upgrade too, with an improved AI-powered voice assistant, and the currently undersized digital gauge cluster will grow in size.
Powertrains and Batteries
Under the skin sits a revised MEB plus platform that should feature LFP battery chemistry for better efficiency and potentially more range, though it’ll still be stuck with 400-volt electrics.
Powertrains are expected to receive light updates rather than dramatic changes. But VW did, after all, only relatively recently dramatically improve the output of the base single-motor ID.4, which since 2024 produces 282 hp (210 kW / 286 PS). That represents an increase of 80 hp (60 kW / 82 PS) over the previous version.
This facelifted ID.4 is expected to arrive near the end of 2026, helping carry the model through to 2028. That’s when a fully new version is due, this time based on a true 800-volt platform. That is nearly sure to be badged ID.Tiguan, if VW hasn’t decided that this year’s facelift is extensive enough to justify that name change for the 2027 model year.
The Mercedes EQ lineup has been an unmitigated disaster and a lack of demand forced the company to temporarily pause production to reduce swelling inventories. While assembly of the EQE, EQE SUV, EQS, and EQS SUV recently resumed, the automaker is already looking forward to a less blob-like future.
More: Mercedes’ New E-Class EQ Is Coming To Right The EQE’s Wrongs
That’s clear today as spy photographers have snapped the upcoming E-Class with EQ Technology. Terrible name aside, the EQE successor will fix the sins of the past with an all-new design that more closely resembles the ICE-powered model. As a result, it looks more like a sedan and less like a bar of Dove soap.
Caught undergoing testing in snowy conditions, the E-Class EQ is heavily disguised but will likely feature the brand’s new ‘iconic grille.’ The chrome-clad behemoth recently debuted on the GLC EV and will also be found on the upcoming C-Class EV. If its size didn’t draw enough attention, there’s an illuminated variant with 942 lights as well as a shining star.
The headlights and taillights are temporary units, but they’ll eventually be replaced by starry production components. We can also see an upward sweeping beltline and a greenhouse that echoes the one found on the C-Class EV. However, the E-Class is notable for having traditional door handles and mirrors that are mounted at the base of the A-pillar.
Spy photographers haven’t gotten a good look inside, but the C-Class EQ follows in the footsteps of the CLA and appears to adopt a 10.25-inch digital instrument cluster, a 14-inch infotainment system, and a 14-inch front passenger display. However, the more upscale E-Class EQ could take a page from the GLC and sport a massive 39.1-inch screen.
Read: Mercedes-AMG Forced To Kill Some Of Its Loudest Cars Under New EU Rules
The model will ride on the MB.EA platform and have a lot in common with the GLC EV. This means we can expect a two-speed transmission, a roughly 94 kWh battery pack, and a dual-motor all-wheel drive system producing a combined output of 483 hp (360 kW / 489 PS) and 590 lb-ft (800 Nm) of torque.
This setup enables the GLC 400 4MATIC to accelerate from 0-62 mph (0-100 km/h) in 4.3 seconds, before hitting a top speed of 130 mph (210 km/h). The crossover also has a WLTP range of up to 444 miles (715 km).
Also: Mercedes Wants Baby G-Wagen To Win Buyers The Big One Never Could
When the battery is low, drivers will be thankful for the 800-volt electrical architecture and the 330 kW DC fast charging capability. It will enable the GLC to get up to 188 miles (303 km) of range in as little as 10 minutes.
Western brands have been struggling in China, but GM is the rare exception as the company and its joint ventures delivered nearly 1.9 million vehicles last year. That was up 2.3 percent compared to 2024 and this was largely driven by sales of New Energy Vehicles such as the Wuling Hong Guang MINI EV, which found over 435,000 takers.
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GM is looking for continued success with the new Wuling Xingguang 560, which is a mid-size crossover that will be offered with gas, plug-in hybrid, and electric powertrains. The company said surprisingly little about the model, but it features a slender grille that is flanked by sweptback headlights with X-shaped daytime running lights.
They’re joined by a powertrain-specific front end, which is enclosed on electrified models and open on the ICE-powered variant.
Moving further back, we can see plastic body cladding and an available contrasting roof. Other highlights include stylish wheels, a liftgate-mounted spoiler, and X-like taillights. The model also has a rear pillar and window treatment that closely recalls the Subaru Forester.
How Big Is It?
In terms of size, the Xingguang 560 measures 186.8 inches (4,745 mm) long, 72.8 inches (1,850 mm) wide, and 69.1 inches (1,755 mm) tall with a wheelbase that spans 110.6 inches (2,810 mm). To put those numbers into perspective, the model is 3.6 inches (91 mm) longer than the Chevrolet Equinox and has an extra 3.1 inches (79 mm) between the wheels.
The interior has a minimalist design with a digital instrument cluster and an infotainment system that reportedly measures 12.8 inches. They’re accompanied by a two-spoke steering wheel, distinctive air vents, and a center console that appears to have a dual wireless smartphone charger.
Wuling was coy on specifics, but said the crossover offers up to 68.7 cubic feet (1,945 liters) of cargo room when the second-row is folded flat. They added the model has more than 25 storage compartments, including one hidden beneath the rear seats.
Powertrain Options
On the performance front, the Xingguang 560 will be offered with a turbocharged 1.5-liter engine that produces 174 hp (130 kW / 177 PS) and 214 lb-ft (290 Nm) of torque. It can be paired to either a six-speed manual or a continuously variable transmission.
Customers can also opt for a plug-in hybrid, which offers a WLTC combined range of up to 684 miles (1,100 km). Wuling didn’t elaborate, but an earlier report from CarNewsChina said this variant has a 1.5-liter engine and an electric-only range of 78 miles (125 km).
Last but not least, there’s a fully electric variant that has a CLTC range of up to 311 miles (500 km). It’s said to have a 60 kWh battery pack as well as an electric motor developing 134 hp (100 kW / 136 PS).
How Much Does It Cost?
To help promote the model’s launch, Wuling is offering introductory pricing that ranges from $8,581 (¥59,800) to $13,746 (¥95,800). After this offer expires, pricing will apparently climb to $9,155 – $14,751 (¥63,800 – ¥102,800).
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