As I mentioned in a previous post, I recently finished reading the April/May edition of the Lapham's Quarterly, called Migration. As is generally the case, the edition expanded my perception of the migration concept, by presenting many articles and essays that did not address human migration, instead discussing animal, and even plant migrations.
Perhaps it is just another indication of the anthropocentric perspective that I have, that most of us have, in that I did not even consider that I would read so many essays detailing migration stories that did not involve humans. Maybe that in itself, the continued realization (or maybe it is better phrased, the remembering) of the fact that while the human species may be at the top of the food chain at this time in Earth's history, it has only been so for a minuscule percentage of the existence of Earth, should be our constant reminder. And that should we continue to act as if our survival is all that matters, that without some recognition of the need for harmony with nature, it may come about sooner rather than later that Mother Earth once again is occupied exclusively by plants and animals, not including humans.
Anyway, as is my recent pattern, I reviewed those posts which I titled Immigration, and have provided a link to the three most recent of them although the youngest is already pushing 5 years old. Here they are:
So, returning to the Lapham's edition, I left bookmarks in a number of places, in hopes of mentioning them either specifically, or in general comments on the magazine as a whole. Most are migration stories concerning a group of humans, one an excerpt from a book about the subject itself.
For instance, did you know that for the first century, America not only had no laws restricting immigration but openly courted people from around the world to come here for economic opportunity and social freedoms? That even during the late 19th, early 20th century when the rumblings of xenophobia began to generate political campaigns and nascent laws to label specific peoples as undesirable, the sheer numbers of those crossing the Atlantic, and their ability to establish some level of acceptance through family, kept the serious migration- phobes at bay, at least for those emigrating from countries with people whose race was close enough to those clamoring against the coloring of America, and the invasion of new cultures and traditions.
Or how about the fact that in 1939 the trans Atlantic liner St. Louis left Germany with roughly 930 Jews, all whom traveled with papers that stretched the truth of their real reason for their trip so that they could flee their homeland where they were deemed unwelcome? And that these people, half of whom were women and children, were repeatedly denied landing in Cuba, despite having official permits allowing them to land there, and the United States, even though most had papers declaring that to be their eventual end point? That they were forced to head back to Europe, despite the money they had paid for those Cuban and US permits, but that during that return trip, many countries witnessed anti-Jewish rallies and speeches, so, after 40 days and 40 nights on the water, various members of the group were grudgingly allowed to disembark in a few different countries where they were treated like all the other Jews of that particular country, depending on its willingness to embrace or fight Hitler's goal of eradicating the Jews.
Or finally, the story of the migration of black doctors to Europe in the decades before the Civil Rights movement in America? A time when even black veterans from WW2 found in difficult to use their GI Bill money to gain access to US medical schools, instead experiencing a more pleasant experience overseas.
It is this last story, that reminds us that when we endorse restrictive immigration policies, especially those that target specific peoples based on race or religion, we are as much the losers as those we deem unacceptable. Is it even possible to enumerate all the discoveries and innovations that had helped to propel America towards its current position of influence and power that exist due to the influx of immigrants in the 20th and 21st century? Will someday historians mark the beginning of America's decline as the time when we turned to nativism and the scapegoating of those that looked or loved or worshiped differently from us, thereby sending that needed dose of new blood, fresh ideas, and a selfless work ethic to other countries?
My wife and I had visitors this past weekend, and one of the topics was the work ethic of the immigrants, illegal and legal, that we have personally experienced or know of from discussions with other friends. What was especially interesting is the understanding that those initial immigrants, the first ones of each family to venture from their homeland for better opportunity, are often the ones with the least work skills, but the most work ethic. The ones who toil for long hours for low pay but who still manage to put enough money aside to send back to their country of origin, and/or, pay for more family to immigrate. The ones who often work for a few years, then start their own small businesses. The ones who make sure their children are better educated than themselves. The ones who live to see that first, and often second generation of Americans, their children and grandchildren, enjoy freedoms, opportunity and even acceptance. So many American success stories, just like those of our friends and my own family, whose ancestors took a chance on themselves and the ideal that if they worked hard, America would reward them.
It doesn't matter if the old country is Germany, Italy, Ireland, Mexico, Guatemala, or El Salvador, the pride of those who first emigrated passes down to that first and second generation who now claim America as their native land.
I wrote a story about 10 years ago called The Debate. It was futuristic, in that it depicted the controversy surrounding a proposal to legalize a certain type of marriage. In some ways it is a negative story that reflects the fact that prejudice and xenophobia may be with us far into the future. But it is also positive, in that it intimates that those tribal forces which compel us to circle the wagons and immediately fear social progress, evolve to include wider and wider swaths of people. As the fear of the clan on the other side of the mountain became the fear of those who spoke another language, evolved to the fear of those who worshiped a different god, or loved a different way, perhaps someday our prejudices will have a more planetary basis.
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