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JacobLuceroFirstPaper 3 - 28 Apr 2025 - Main.JacobLucero
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< | Price of Conformity
--By JacobLucero - Mar. 26, 2025 | >
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Weaponized Compliance: An Alliance Against Migrant Communities | | | | |
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< | As I sit in another lecture hall, surrounded by laptop screens and side conversations, I can’t shake the sense that something is off. Law school, for all its reputation as a crucible for sharp minds and principled advocates, often feels more like an assembly line—carefully calibrated to produce professionals who think, speak, and act a specific way. From day one, we’re trained to adopt a particular way of thinking—one that prioritizes efficiency, precedent, and deference to established norms. There’s little room to question why the system works the way it does or who it truly serves. | >
> | -- By JacobLucero 26 Mar. 2025 | | | | |
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< | For instance, in our Legal Writing Program (LPW), we are not taught to write. Instead, we are taught to use a formula, IRAC. We are told that IRAC is the best way to organize and convey our argument, without being presented any other alternatives to compare or experiment with. Relying on IRAC comes with a heavy price. Our creativity and individuality can get lost in the process, and before we know it, we find ourselves writing in a voice and style that is not ours. And it’s not just writing. The structure of our law school pushes us toward uniformity. The Socratic method, cold calls, casebooks create a culture of performance and competition, not curiosity. We’re encouraged to admire legal reasoning, not to interrogate its origins or consequences. | >
> | Introduction
The recent agreement between the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to share immigrants’ taxpayer information to help President Trump's mass deportation efforts is a blatant disregard for well-established constitutional safeguards. Under the guise of law enforcement cooperation, this agreement embodies a deeply unethical targeting of migrant communities. The IRS and ICE are weaponizing information freely given in good faith to punish those who have sought only to comply with the law. The very individuals who contribute economically and socially, often at great personal risk, are now rendered vulnerable by the very systems they trusted. The IRS-ICE agreement is a deep erosion of government legitimacy and individual rights. | | | | |
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< | There’s also the pressure of public perception. The image of the lawyer as composed, competent, and respectable is a powerful one. Deviating from that image script—questioning the law, challenging its foundations in the classroom—risks more than a bad grade or an awkward moment in class. It risks alienation and judgment among social networks., and, ultimately, a harder path forward. It becomes easier to keep your head down, to play the game, to believe that once you “make it,” you’ll circle back and start pushing for change. But the longer you play the game, the harder it becomes to remember why you wanted to change it in the first place. | >
> | Statutory Violations
The Internal Revenue Code has long maintained a strict wall around taxpayer information, notably through U.S. Code § 6103. This provision sets forth that taxation should be separate from other state functions, ensuring that individuals can comply with tax obligations without fear of political or punitive retaliation.
The IRS created ITINs (Individual Taxpayer Identification Number) in 1996 to help migrants legitimize their place in the United States. Since then, ITINs have been used by individuals with no social security number to pay taxes, get a driver’s license, open an interest-bearing savings account, and provide proof of residency. Individuals trying to adjust their immigration status would also use their ITIN number and record of paying taxes to show good moral character.
Naturally individuals without a legal status were concerned about giving their private information to the government, but they were told not to worry. The IRS promised that an ITIN would not be an immigration-enforcement tool. However, that has all changed.
The Trump administration is exploiting a narrow exception within the U.S. Code § 6103, designed for specific criminal investigations, to carry out its mass sharing of data regarding undocumented individuals. What was once an avenue for folks to adjust their immigration status and contribute to our society has become an avenue to their peril. | | | | |
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< | The economic reality of law school only makes matters worse. For many of us, staggering debt means trading in big dreams for big salaries, just to get by. Even students who enter with a deep desire to serve the public good often get funneled into private practice, simply because they have been made to feel that there is no financial alternative. The system ensures that even the most idealistic students accept roles that reinforce the hierarchies they went to law school to dismantle. | >
> | Expansion of the Surveillance State
The IRS was once seen as a neutral, nonpartisan agency focused purely on tax administration. Now, it has been pulled into the growing machinery of the security state. What starts as “cooperation” between agencies can easily become a permanent system of surveillance and punishment.
Migrant communities are particularly vulnerable because they often lack political power, financial resources, or legal protections. When these communities interact with the government—whether to work legally, file taxes, or apply for a driver's license, they are not just participating in society anymore. They are exposing themselves to tracking, monitoring, and removal. Once everyday life becomes dangerous for one group, the pattern extends to others. The expansion of the surveillance state starts at the margins, but it never stays there. | | | | |
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< | Most of us tell ourselves that conformity is temporary, that we’ll reclaim our voice once we have the degree, the title, the paycheck. But by the time we get there, the transformation may already be complete and it may be too difficult to break away. We’ve internalized the rules, the language, the values. And even when we see the flaws, we may find ourselves perpetuating them—teaching the same methods and validating the same system. | >
> | Privacy Implications
The privacy implications here go far beyond the migrant community. When people give information to the government, they expect it to be kept safe. They expect promises to mean something. | | | | |
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< | Conclusion
So, what then? How do we resist a system designed to absorb even its critics? For me, it starts with holding onto a different vision of what legal education can be. One where asking “why” is just as important as knowing “what.” One where creativity is not a liability, but a strength. One where the law is not just a tool of order but a means of liberation. | >
> | If the government can turn around and use information against migrants today, what stops it from doing the same to others tomorrow? Every time a basic promise of confidentiality is broken, trust in the government weakens. And without trust, even basic functions like paying taxes or applying for government services start to break down.
There’s a long history of governments using moments of crisis—or claiming emergencies—to roll back rights. Once certain groups are singled out, it becomes easier to justify further abuses against others. | | | | |
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< | It means refusing to accept that success is defined solely by prestige, salary, or title. It means finding—and protecting—spaces where deeper, more disruptive conversations can happen. It means seeing the cracks in the system not as dead ends, but as openings for something new, and being willing to question even the things we’ve been told are beyond question.
This path is harder, more isolating, and it requires risk.But it’s the only one that feels honest. As I make my way through law school, I try to remind myself of why I came here: not to replicate the status quo, but to confront it. Not to be shaped by the system, but to shape it in return. If I can hold onto that—if enough of us can—then maybe this place can become more than just a factory. | >
> | I know I have the privilege of not having to worry about my citizenship status. But that doesn’t mean I’m safe from the larger pattern I see unfolding. If protecting rights is now a matter of political convenience, no one’s rights are truly secure.Today, migrants are the targets. Tomorrow, it could be journalists. Activists. Or anyone who falls out of favor with those in power. I can’t help but wonder: how many more promises will be broken before we realize that trust, once lost, might not come back? How long before everyone, citizen and non-citizen alike, feels the consequences?
Conclusion
The agreement between the IRS and ICE is more than just a policy change—it is a warning. It shows how easily government promises can be broken, and how quickly trust can collapse when rights are treated as expendable. Migrants who followed the rules and gave their information in good faith are now paying the price for that trust.
By weaponizing taxpayer information, the government has not only targeted a vulnerable group but also set a dangerous precedent that puts everyone’s privacy and rights at risk.
If we accept a system where basic rights depend on who holds power, we lose the foundation of fairness and protection that democracy is supposed to guarantee. Protecting the rights of migrants is not just about immigration, it is about defending the integrity of our government and the rights of us all. In sacrificing the trust and freedoms of some, we ultimately imperil the rights of all. | | |
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JacobLuceroFirstPaper 2 - 27 Apr 2025 - Main.JacobLucero
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Price of Conformity | |
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> | --By JacobLucero - Mar. 26, 2025 | | | As I sit in another lecture hall, surrounded by laptop screens and side conversations, I can’t shake the sense that something is off. Law school, for all its reputation as a crucible for sharp minds and principled advocates, often feels more like an assembly line—carefully calibrated to produce professionals who think, speak, and act a specific way. From day one, we’re trained to adopt a particular way of thinking—one that prioritizes efficiency, precedent, and deference to established norms. There’s little room to question why the system works the way it does or who it truly serves. |
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JacobLuceroFirstPaper 1 - 26 Mar 2025 - Main.JacobLucero
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| META TOPICPARENT | name="FirstPaper" |
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Price of Conformity
As I sit in another lecture hall, surrounded by laptop screens and side conversations, I can’t shake the sense that something is off. Law school, for all its reputation as a crucible for sharp minds and principled advocates, often feels more like an assembly line—carefully calibrated to produce professionals who think, speak, and act a specific way. From day one, we’re trained to adopt a particular way of thinking—one that prioritizes efficiency, precedent, and deference to established norms. There’s little room to question why the system works the way it does or who it truly serves.
For instance, in our Legal Writing Program (LPW), we are not taught to write. Instead, we are taught to use a formula, IRAC. We are told that IRAC is the best way to organize and convey our argument, without being presented any other alternatives to compare or experiment with. Relying on IRAC comes with a heavy price. Our creativity and individuality can get lost in the process, and before we know it, we find ourselves writing in a voice and style that is not ours. And it’s not just writing. The structure of our law school pushes us toward uniformity. The Socratic method, cold calls, casebooks create a culture of performance and competition, not curiosity. We’re encouraged to admire legal reasoning, not to interrogate its origins or consequences.
There’s also the pressure of public perception. The image of the lawyer as composed, competent, and respectable is a powerful one. Deviating from that image script—questioning the law, challenging its foundations in the classroom—risks more than a bad grade or an awkward moment in class. It risks alienation and judgment among social networks., and, ultimately, a harder path forward. It becomes easier to keep your head down, to play the game, to believe that once you “make it,” you’ll circle back and start pushing for change. But the longer you play the game, the harder it becomes to remember why you wanted to change it in the first place.
The economic reality of law school only makes matters worse. For many of us, staggering debt means trading in big dreams for big salaries, just to get by. Even students who enter with a deep desire to serve the public good often get funneled into private practice, simply because they have been made to feel that there is no financial alternative. The system ensures that even the most idealistic students accept roles that reinforce the hierarchies they went to law school to dismantle.
Most of us tell ourselves that conformity is temporary, that we’ll reclaim our voice once we have the degree, the title, the paycheck. But by the time we get there, the transformation may already be complete and it may be too difficult to break away. We’ve internalized the rules, the language, the values. And even when we see the flaws, we may find ourselves perpetuating them—teaching the same methods and validating the same system.
Conclusion
So, what then? How do we resist a system designed to absorb even its critics? For me, it starts with holding onto a different vision of what legal education can be. One where asking “why” is just as important as knowing “what.” One where creativity is not a liability, but a strength. One where the law is not just a tool of order but a means of liberation.
It means refusing to accept that success is defined solely by prestige, salary, or title. It means finding—and protecting—spaces where deeper, more disruptive conversations can happen. It means seeing the cracks in the system not as dead ends, but as openings for something new, and being willing to question even the things we’ve been told are beyond question.
This path is harder, more isolating, and it requires risk.But it’s the only one that feels honest. As I make my way through law school, I try to remind myself of why I came here: not to replicate the status quo, but to confront it. Not to be shaped by the system, but to shape it in return. If I can hold onto that—if enough of us can—then maybe this place can become more than just a factory.
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