Mark Lamb decided to run for sheriff of Pinal County, Arizona, after his pest control business failed and a police officer friend gave him a ride-along. “I had this deep burning desire to run for sheriff. I knew it was the Lord speaking to me and telling me I had a path,” Lamb said, as recorded in The Highest Law in the Land: How the Unchecked Power of Sheriffs Threatens Democracy, a new book from investigative journalist and attorney Jessica Pishko. 

Surprisingly, many states don’t require candidates for sheriff to know anything about law enforcement or to have any particular training for a job that allows them to make arrests, oversee arsenals, and run jails. Though some dismiss America’s right-wing sheriffs as rogues (or nuts) with limited impact, extremists like Lamb locally and collectively wield increasing amounts of influence and power that threaten our country, writes Pishko. 

In her 500-page volume, out September 17, Pishko details how a group of mostly white male sheriffs, like Lamb, have created a far-right conservative movement that promotes sheriffs as chosen by God to carry out the power of posse comitatus—meaning the power to assemble armed militias of their fellow citizens through a process known as “hew and cry” for just about any mission they may choose, including tackling supposedly widespread voter fraud, a border invasion, or a kiddie porn ring, among other popular conspiracy theories. 

Instead of riding around on a horse to summon posses like old-school Western sheriffs, modern ultraconservative sheriffs like Lamb use streaming and social media to collect followers. Lamb runs Arizona’s third-largest sheriff’s department, with a $50 million budget, though it’s hard to see how he has time to do so: He simultaneously has starred in a series of reality TV shows and podcasts, peddled firearms, and founded a conservative sheriffs’ organization called Protect America Now. He’s one of many sheriffs Pishko describes in her book, the result of a multiyear nationwide investigation.

Sheriffs considered themselves “tamers of the frontier and enforcers of the ethnic divide.”

Though one sheriff’s authority doesn’t really extend much beyond the boundaries of their individual county, Pishko describes today’s American sheriff as an increasingly powerful elected figure who runs the nation’s massive infrastructure of local jails and is nearly always a well-funded incumbent with access to increasingly sophisticated weapons and little or no real political opposition. Nationwide, current and former ultraconservative lawmen like Lamb, who wears a white 10-gallon hat and often carries semi-automatic weapons, have quietly built alliances and collaborated via social media, obscure associations, and invitation-only gatherings. 

Pishko’s book deftly probes the curious history of America’s sheriffs and examines their expanding political role, particularly in suburban and rural strongholds where the federal government can be viewed as the enemy.

As she describes it, some of this movement’s leaders, including Lamb’s mentor Richard Mack, ex-sheriff of Arizona’s Graham County, believe sheriffs possess unchecked constitutional powers that they can use to deputize constituents, make arrests, or conduct seemingly endless investigations. Indeed, at least one New Mexico sheriff she describes deputized the entire congregation of a local church in order for them to obtain the legal right to continue to meet for church services for “law enforcement” purposes during the COVID-19 pandemic and lockdowns, bypassing any mask or meeting restrictions.

During his presidency, Donald Trump appeared to buy into the idea of sheriffs’ unchecked constitutional powers. He actively invited more sheriffs to the White House than any of his predecessors, Pishko writes. True the Vote, a nonprofit that has repeatedly challenged voter registration practices and pushed for voter purges in Texas and other states, is also actively courting sheriffs as allies.

Though Mack and other members of the Constitutional Sheriffs and Peace Officers Association (CSPOA), the group he founded in Arizona, have perhaps gotten the most attention, Pishko describes extremist sheriffs in many states including Virginia, Michigan, Louisiana, Oregon, and of course, Texas. 

Mack, raised a conservative Mormon in Utah, served two terms starting in the late ’80s as a rural county sheriff in Arizona. In 1994, he gained national fame by suing the federal government over the Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act. In 2011, he founded CSPOA, while simultaneously serving as an early board member of the Oath Keepers, another far-right group. That same year, Mack moved to the Hill Country town of Fredericksburg, and he’s networked and held meetings in Texas for years. On a multistate CSPOA tour from 2020 to 2021, dozens of Texas law enforcement officials earned credit through the Texas Commission on Law Enforcement for trainings organized by Mack’s group, according to Pishko. Rand Henderson, sheriff of Montgomery County in the Houston suburbs, hosted one event. Gary Heavin, the wealthy founder of the Curves gym chain, flew Mack around on a private plane, Pishko writes. 

Pishko digs deep in her efforts to explain the mythology behind the current conservative movement: the beliefs of adherents like Mack, she argues, are rooted in a mixture of rejected Church of the Latter Day Saints scriptures and a distortion of English history that glorifies the sheriff as a hero while ignoring that many sheriffs, including the fictional villain of Nottingham in the tales of Robin Hood, were mostly tax collectors.

Pishko argues that, historically, U.S. sheriffs considered themselves “tamers of the frontier and enforcers of the ethnic divide” and carried out the role of “mercenary-for-hire, jailor and frontier general.” Many of their goals were overtly racist: to help exterminate Indigenous Americans and to target African-American Southerners with Black Codes and convict labor. Today, she writes, sheriffs continue to arrest and jail many more Black and Hispanic individuals, to benefit from unpaid incarcerated labor, and to target immigrants from Mexico and other countries. 

The sheriff is a position that serves no legitimate purpose in modern America, and the United States should abolish it, Pishko concludes. 

To support her abolition arguments, Pishko, a journalist and Harvard University-trained attorney, spent years on research and interviews. Yet some of her most compelling material comes from attending obscure meetings (often invitation-only gatherings she crashed) in remote ranches, evangelical churches, and public parks, where she met people driving pickups with Oath Keepers and “Stop the Steal” bumper stickers and wearing t-shirts festooned with logos including the skull with dripping fangs, the signature of the Punisher.

The Highest Law in the Land: How the Unchecked Power of Sheriffs Threatens Democracy, Jessica Pishko, Dutton, September 2024

The Highest Law in the Land is a fascinating and often-alarming look at our nation’s sheriffs. But it’s unclear if this deep dive into many pockets of ultraright America itself could justify her call to abolish all sheriff’s offices, or what, if anything, would serve as a replacement. Certainly, some liberal sheriffs of color are attempting reforms, including those in Texas’ largest counties, Dallas and Harris. In many rural areas, sheriffs’ deputies are the only ones who respond when someone calls 911.

Pishko, who lived in Texas while researching her book (she now lives in North Carolina) has surprisingly little to say about Lone Star State extremists in particular, or about sheriff’s plans for the 2024 elections, though she likely will have more to say this year.

She did take note that former Edwards County Sheriff Pamela Elliott, one of the conservative movement’s few female leaders, was featured on the cover of one of Mack’s books as one of the biblical Davidic figures willing to take on the movement’s Goliath-sized enemies. In 2016, The Texas Observer reported on how Elliott, as sheriff, brought more chaos than law and order to her county and was accused of misusing her power to intimidate voters of color. Although Elliott stills describes herself as sheriff in a LinkedIn profile, she served just two terms before losing a reelection bid in 2020. 

The lingering question is: Where will she and other current and former lawmen described in this book end up in November 2024—or January 2025?

The arrest in France of Telegram founder and CEO Pavel Durov has brought into sharp focus one of the major conflicts of our age. On one hand, we want privacy in our digital lives, which is why we like the kind of end-to-end encryption Telegram promises. On the other, we want the government to be able to stamp out repugnant online activities — like child pornography or terrorist plotting. The reality is that we can’t have our cake and eat it, too.

In August, Durov was charged with complicity in crimes taking place on the app, including distributing child pornography, drug trafficking and selling hacking software, as well as with refusing to cooperate with French authorities’ investigations. In a public statement, Durov insisted he has aided investigators, that the app moderates content as best it can, and that if “we can’t agree with a country’s regulator on the right balance between privacy and security … we are ready to leave that country.”

The tradeoffs between privacy and safety are real. Recognizing that makes hard policy choices inevitable. But we haven’t made those choices yet — not the European Union, where Durov was arrested, nor the U.S. Until we do, arresting the CEOs is little more than a misguided, symbolic move. Criminal arrest should be reserved for people who have violated clearly established law, not entrepreneurs providing the public with products we aren’t exactly sure we want to allow.

A bit over a decade old, Telegram has almost a billion monthly users worldwide. It seems that probably many of them started using the app for the same reason: privacy that’s supposed to be superior to that offered by other messaging platforms.

Privacy can function as a form of subtle resistance to powerful forces, whether corporate or governmental. Saying you don’t want anyone listening in can be a way of asserting sovereignty over some corner of one’s life. (It’s likely not a coincidence that Durov and his co-founder brother are Russian exiles, members of a culture thoroughly accustomed to pervasive government surveillance.)

Privacy is also an aspect of human dignity. In nearly all cultures on earth, people choose to protect some parts of their bodies or some of their activities from others’ prying eyes. Cultures differ on what should be private, but that variation is secondary to the basic impulse that some aspects of the self aren’t for public consumption.

Such points often get quickly shoved aside when the conversation turns to safety — particularly when a crime is one we have deemed utterly reprehensible.

Online as in real life, the better the surveillance, the greater the safety. Conversely, the more privacy, the more risk of a crime going undetected. The only difference between the physical and digital spheres is that in the former, most societies have developed fairly stable beliefs about the right balance between privacy and safety, beliefs long enshrined in law. Online, we’re still figuring it out — and we want to have it both ways.

Related Articles

F.D. Flam: Elle Macpherson’s cancer battle is different from yours

David Brooks: How a cultural shift favors Harris

Other voices: America should debate its broken fiscal future

Skeet, Pelissero: How to avoid AI-enhanced attempts to manipulate the election

Farah Stockman: There’s a right way and a wrong way to wield sanctions

The real question about apps like Telegram, then, is pretty simple: Do we want there to be spaces where people can genuinely evade surveillance? Or do we think that the benefits aren’t worth the inevitable costs, which is that some people will take advantage of digital privacy to commit crimes we rightly abhor?

It’s an illusion to imagine that there is some solution that perfectly preserves both privacy and safety. Automated algorithmic surveillance is still surveillance. Relying on governments to seek warrants before breaking privacy, a feature of existing law in liberal democracies, only works if the communications aren’t truly encrypted but can be accessed through a backdoor. Relying on the platforms to review communication makes private companies into the powerful agents of even-more-powerful governmental forces.

We will eventually reach some sort of consensus about how and when to sacrifice privacy for safety, and vice versa — in the form of new laws, from civil penalties to (when necessary) criminal law.

But in a world where we haven’t yet made up our minds, it’s a cop-out to arrest a CEO like Durov. The arrest might make us feel good because it gives the impression that a government is using all means at its disposal to pursue crime. That feeling is illusory, however — because it masks our own ongoing ambivalence about true digital privacy.

It’s time we confronted the privacy-safety trade-off honestly. Until we have a clearer answer enshrined in law, arresting CEOs isn’t the solution.

Noah Feldman is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist. A professor of law at Harvard University, he is author, most recently, of “To Be a Jew Today: A New Guide to God, Israel, and the Jewish People.”

Related Articles

F.D. Flam: Elle Macpherson’s cancer battle is different from yours

David Brooks: How a cultural shift favors Harris

Other voices: America should debate its broken fiscal future

Skeet, Pelissero: How to avoid AI-enhanced attempts to manipulate the election

Farah Stockman: There’s a right way and a wrong way to wield sanctions

After 15 years of removing ash trees from the public right-of-way, St. Paul’s forestry department felled the last of some 30,000 of the trees from boulevards this year, all but capping the city’s efforts to get ahead of the dreaded emerald ash borer. That said, you’d be forgiven for not noticing.

That news was overshadowed by a flood that inundated Harriet Island, the ongoing spate of copper wire thefts that has shrouded key parks corridors in darkness, a heavy storm that impacted upwards of 2,000 trees citywide and the new Minnesota Yacht Club Festival, which brought 60,000 fans to a multi-day, big act concert series at Harriet Island this summer. Three new parks have opened at Highland Bridge, with a fourth on the way.

Then there’s the “Common Cent” 1% sales tax that city voters approved at the polls last November. A third of the sales tax money will support Parks and Rec projects, from parks and playgrounds like downtown Pedro Park to new rec center roofs and HVAC systems, of which 100 projects are scheduled or underway.

“We as a city department probably submitted the most amount of budget requests to the mayor this year — in the realm of about 19 different budget proposals,” said St. Paul Parks and Recreation Director Andy Rodriguez, addressing the St. Paul City Council during a recent budget hearing.

Director of St. Paul Parks and Recreation Andy Rodriguez . (John Autey / Pioneer Press)

Parks and Rec — which oversees what the Trust for Public Land has repeatedly dubbed one of the top three municipal park systems in the nation — had its hands especially full this year, though some of its most important work has been behind the scenes. The Como Zoo, for instance, hired its first full-time veterinarian after decades of contracting part-time and on-call help from the University of Minnesota.

The city budget

St. Paul Mayor Melvin Carter released his budget proposal in August, including an 8% property tax levy increase that could yet be trimmed by the St. Paul City Council before they finalize the budget in December. To do that, council members will have to make tough choices.

Given its wide variety of spending items, the Parks and Rec budget offers elected council members ample opportunity to promote their political wards with new services, activities and playing fields, or to make cuts. Parks and Rec plans to add the equivalent of 18 new full-time employees, about two-thirds of them related to the new $30 million North End Community Center, while shifting funding for other staffers from federal grants to the taxpayer-supported general fund.

With “Common Cent” sales tax funding trickling in, the department is playing catch-up on a heavy backlog of projects. Webster Park on Summit-University’s Laurel Avenue has new basketball and pickleball fields. Highwood Hills has new soccer fields. A full listing of 100 active “Common Cent” projects is online at StPaul.gov/ParksCommonCent.

Golf ‘very healthy,’ new facilities at North End Community Center

In addition, a partnership with Kaboom! has helped fund volunteer-driven playground construction at the Dunning Park, Hayden Heights and Linwood rec centers. There’s been a 50% uptick in park shelter permits issued for picnics, birthday parties and other everyday “passive recreation.” And there’s been a record number of golf rounds played at Highland National, bringing in added funding but also creating demand for more upkeep for things like paths and drainage.

“Golf continues to flourish post-pandemic,” said Rodriguez, noting golf spending has been able to pay for itself. “Those accounts are very healthy.”

A new North End Community Center on Rice Street is days away from debuting a new multi-purpose turf field, playground, oversized windows and other amenities. It will offer nearly double the operating hours and three times as much space as the old Rice Street Rec Center, which is owned by the St. Paul Public School district.

“It looks amazing already,” Rodriguez said.

The North End, which some have called overdue for a modern Rice Street facility, would receive $1 million toward new operating expenses for the facility under the parks budget proposal. That includes salaries for the equivalent of 11 full-time positions, among other operating expenses.

Tree, stump removal

After a recent storm damaged some 2,000 trees in the public right-of-way citywide, the forestry department removed dozens of trees from houses — including about 56 in a single day.

There’s more work ahead. With the structured removal of ash trees that began in 2009 finally over, the city is putting more effort into removing stumps, replanting trees and diversifying the tree species in its urban canopy. The goal is to create a more resilient and sustainable canopy.

Parks and Rec is requesting an added $500,000 toward that $7.8 million effort next year, for a projected total of $5.14 million from the general fund, $330,000 from the city’s Capital Improvement Budget, $2 million from the St. Paul Port Authority and $326,000 from a federal grant.

“Based on current funding, most residents will wait five years for a new tree … and in some cases, up to 15 years,” said Rodriguez, noting a partnership with the Port Authority runs out next year. “We’re at some decision points with trees and what we as a city are content with. We’re been largely focused on Emerald Ash Borer removals for the past decade-plus.”

ARPA spending faces deadline

Another key funding source — federal pandemic relief from the American Rescue Plan — is running up against a federal deadline. Recipients like St. Paul and Ramsey County must determine how they’ll spend their funds by the end of December, and then spend them accordingly by Dec. 31, 2026. A full listing of St. Paul’s budgeted ARPA projects is online at stpaul.gov/american-rescue-plan.

Using federal ARPA money, Parks and Rec has hired staff and extended free sports programs to 4,100 youth ages 10 and up, eliminating a key barrier to enrollment, and participation in most rec center sports has almost doubled. To keep youth sports free, Parks and Rec is requesting an added $560,000 from the city’s taxpayer-supported general fund next year, which would also support the equivalent of 2.75 new full-time positions for staffing and coordination.

Other requested spending in the Parks and Rec budget:

• Utility expenses are projected to go up $417,000.

• Health insurance expenses are projected to go down $365,000, better reflecting actual spending in recent years.

• The “Awakenings” program for at-risk youth would receive a one-time cash infusion of $208,000.

• Parks and Rec plans to put an extra $145,000 into tree trimming and vegetation maintenance downtown.

• An effort to further promote and enhance public spaces downtown would cost another $165,000.

• Public art downtown would cost another $100,000.

• A visitor center attendant at the Como Park Zoo and Conservatory has, until now, been funded by the site’s special fund, which is highly dependent on donations to the free zoo. For a steadier funding source, Parks and Rec is requesting that some $60,000 come from the city general fund, instead.

Park Safety Steward, free swim lessons

Despite a $122,000 investment, the “Park Safety Steward” program has been less than successful, said Rodriguez, who is looking for ways to revamp the program, which sought to create a ladder into police work for security for downtown parks and other hotspots.

“We’ll get people in. They’ll resign within a couple weeks,” Rodriguez said. “People often leave for a more competitive wage or other law enforcement opportunities.”

On a brighter budget note, Parks and Rec initiated the Sunnies — it’s first-ever municipal swim team — as a pilot program last spring, and plans to relaunch the team of pre-teen swimmers at the Jimmy Lee Rec/Oxford Community Center this fall. Scheduling has required careful planning around senior swim times and other pool activities.

“We’re consistently at capacity for all pool space,” Rodriguez said.

The city issued 1,800 free swim lessons this year, prioritizing youth who have never had formal swim instruction, and launched “free swim Sundays” at Jimmy Lee’s Great River Water Park. The Parks and Rec budget proposal would continue to fund free swim lessons but not the free open swims, unless a grant comes in.

Parks and Rec plays a large role in administering the city’s Right Track youth internship program, which places St. Paul teens and young adults in summer positions in both the public and private sector. That program has been growing steadily, thanks to partnerships with Ramsey County, nonprofits and private industry, culminating in 900 youth placements this past summer.

“That’s the biggest number in the program’s history,” said Rodriguez, in remarks to the St. Paul City Council. “We’re at 800 last year, 900 this year. We’re going to try and get 1,000 next year.”

In January 2023, a Parks and Rec employee shot a 16-year-old boy in the head after a scuffle outside the Jimmy Lee Rec Center on Lexington Parkway, closing the rec center for weeks. Since then, Parks and Rec has taken a hard look at its staffing models and training, Rodriguez said, beefing up staffing at Jimmy Lee and other key sites with help from the city’s Office of Neighborhood Safety, the St. Paul Public Schools and other partners.

“Those additions have really exceeded our expectations,” Rodriguez said.

Other key parks projects on the horizon include major improvements planned for Victoria Park, Pedro Park and the future Wakan Tipi Center.

Related Articles

As St. Paul’s Office of Neighborhood Safety grows, city council asks how to keep funding it

St. Paul City Council gets earful on proposed cannabis rules

St. Paul teachers union urges ‘No’ vote against property tax-funded child care subsidies on St. Paul ballot

St. Paul City Council to host public budget hearing at El Rio Vista

Letters: To evaluate this St. Paul question, I need more information delivered in good faith