Cracking Down or Crossing the Line? Alabama’s New Front in Culture Wars
A late spring day in Montgomery, Governor Kay Ivey swept her pen across two bills that promise to reshape both how Alabama polices its immigrant communities and secures its ballot box. Senate Bill 63, now law, obligates law enforcement to collect fingerprints and DNA samples from undocumented immigrants in custody—a move hailed by some as common sense, blasted by others as government overreach. Its twin, Senate Bill 158, prohibits using foreign national driver licenses as voter ID. “We are taking no chances with election integrity,” Governor Ivey declared, echoing conservative frameworks familiar to anyone tracking the past decade’s wave of restrictive voting laws.
A closer look reveals the heart of the issue: are these tough-sounding measures genuinely about fairness and safety, or do they tilt Alabama toward deeper exclusion and mistrust? For many immigrant families and voting rights advocates, the answer is chillingly obvious. The state’s new laws, forged in a season of national polarization, raise urgent questions about the cost of protecting the so-called sanctity of the vote and the scope of public security.
The DNA Law: “Public Safety”—or Targeting the Vulnerable?
Under Senate Bill 63, detained undocumented immigrants cannot be released until both fingerprints and DNA samples are collected. The law expands requirements already in place for people convicted of felonies, casting a much wider net. Supporters, including Republican Senator Lance Bell, frame it as necessary for tracking repeat offenders and expediting investigations. State agencies—like the Alabama Department of Forensic Sciences—are tasked with storing the genetic data.
Yet, civil rights watchdogs view the policy differently. “This is a dangerous precedent,” warns Leah Nelson, Research Director for the Alabama Appleseed Center for Law & Justice. “We are creating two classes of people, with immigrants (even those not found guilty of any crime) being subjected to invasive surveillance the moment they encounter police.” Such collection amplifies longstanding fears immigrants have about interacting with law enforcement, ultimately decreasing the likelihood that victims or witnesses of crime will come forward.
The consequences ripple beyond individual privacy. Harvard Law professor Jeannie Suk Gersen points to a disproportionate risk: “DNA databases, though supposedly crime-fighting tools, have a history of being used in discriminatory ways, disproportionately surveilling communities of color and the poor.” The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) contends that DNA collection—especially from those merely detained, not convicted—raises serious Fourth Amendment concerns about unreasonable search and seizure.
But the Republican-majority legislature remained unmoved, bolstered by talking points of ‘public safety’ and ‘modern crime-fighting.’ Stop and ask yourself: Is this genuinely about safety—or is it about signaling toughness to a certain political base?
“The DNA law creates a chilling effect, sending an unmistakable message: no matter your innocence, being ‘the wrong kind’ of resident in Alabama can make you a permanent suspect.”
Some Democrats initially signaled support, but discomfort with expanding state surveillance led many to abstain or vote no as the measure advanced. The debate wasn’t purely partisan—a reminder that, even in Alabama, resistance to overbroad policing still finds some unlikely allies.
Blocking Foreign IDs at the Ballot Box: Solving a Problem That Didn’t Exist?
Senate Bill 158 forbids using foreign national driver licenses for voter identification. These IDs, issued by Alabama’s Law Enforcement Agency to noncitizens legally in the U.S., are already clearly marked “not valid for federal ID.” Critics say the practical impact, even acknowledged in committee hearings, is ‘closing a loophole’ that hadn’t actually facilitated fraud or noncitizen voting.
The conservative drumbeat trumpets the cause of election integrity, yet according to the Brennan Center for Justice, widespread voter fraud—especially involving noncitizen voting—is vanishingly rare. Federal law already bars noncitizens from voting, and Alabama’s elections have seen no significant cases of illegal ballots cast with foreign IDs. Professor Richard Hasen, an election law expert at UCLA, notes, “Such measures are largely symbolic, designed more to stoke mistrust than solve real-world problems.”
Beyond that, progressive lawmakers argue the law will only make it harder for some legal immigrants and elderly citizens—those without easy access to U.S.-issued documentation—to exercise their legitimate right to vote. It adds another bureaucratic hurdle in a state already notorious for restrictive voting access. “It’s another cog in the machine of voter suppression,” says LaTosha Brown, co-founder of Black Voters Matter.
The law’s supporters counter that the appearance of a gap—no matter how theoretical—demands closure. Senator Will Barfoot, the bill’s Republican sponsor, acknowledges the lack of evidence of fraud but claims the measure reassures the public. But does a solution in search of a problem do anything but further alienate communities whose demographics threaten entrenched majorities?
Historical Parallels and the Politics of Fear
History provides sobering context. From Alabama’s Jim Crow-era literacy tests to recent voter ID policies enacted in states from Georgia to North Carolina, the impulse to “secure” elections often morphs into an apparatus of exclusion. Social historian Carol Anderson, author of “One Person, No Vote,” reminds us: “Policies framed as protecting the sanctity of the ballot almost always come at the expense of marginalized communities.”
Why do such laws gain bipartisan traction, at least on paper? Sometimes, pragmatic centrists lend support as a compromise, hoping to sand down the sharpest edges. Yet, the residue of these laws—fear, suspicion, reduced civic engagement—remains long after the signing ceremonies fade.
According to a Pew Research Center survey, more than 60% of Americans worry that efforts to restrict voting access will disproportionately target minorities and immigrants. Even within Alabama, community advocates across the spectrum express concern the new laws will further depress voter turnout and cooperation with police.
As the legislative session closed, additional bills loomed, including one criminalizing the transport of undocumented immigrants—a reminder that this is not an isolated legislative push but part of a state (and national) strategy.
Alabama now stands at a crossroads. The state can double down on restrictions—a message to ‘others’ that their presence and their voices remain conditional. Or it could pivot, embracing the diverse makeup of 21st-century America and focusing on real reforms—ones that increase public safety without undermining constitutional rights or democratic participation.
For those who believe in equality, social justice, and the collective good, the imperative is clear: push back against laws rooted in suspicion and exclusion. Because no state, no matter how “secure,” thrives when fear of the other is encoded into its core.
