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April
8, 2008
Immigration
The Art of
Unpolicy
by Fred Reed
To grasp American immigration policy, to the
extent that it can be grasped, one need only
remember that the United States forbids smoking
while subsidizing tobacco growers.
We say to impoverished Mexicans, "See this
river? Don't cross it. If you do, we'll give you
good jobs, a drivers license, citizenship for your
kids born here and eventually for you, school for
said kids, public assistance, governmental
documents in Spanish for your convenience, and a
much better future. There is no penalty for getting
caught. Now, don't cross this river,
hear?"
How smart is that? We're baiting them. It's like
putting out a salt lick and then complaining when
deer come. As parents, the immigrants would be
irresponsible not to cross.
The problem of immigration, note, is entirely
self-inflicted. The US chose to let them in. It
didn't have to. They came to work. If Americans
hadn't hired them, they would have gone back.
We have immigration because we want immigration.
Liberals favor immigration because it makes them
feel warm and fuzzy and international and all, and
from a genuine streak of decency. Conservative
Republican businessman favor immigration,
frequently sotto voce, because they want cheap
labor that actually shows up and works.
It's a story I've heard many times -- from a
landscaper, a construction firm, a junkyard owner,
a group of plant nurserymen, and so on. "We need
Mexicans." You could yell "Migra!" in a lot of
restaurants in Washington, and the entire staff
would disappear out the back door. Do we expect
businessmen to vote themselves out of business?
That's why we don't take the obvious steps to
control immigration (a thousand-dollar-a-day fine
for hiring illegals, half to go anonymously to
whoever informed on the employer).
In Jalisco, Mexico, where I live, crossing
illegally is regarded as casually as pirating music
or smoking a joint, and the coyotes who smuggle
people across as a public utility, like light rail.
The smuggling is frequently done by bribing the
American border guards, who are notoriously
corrupt.
Why corrupt? Money. In the book De Los Maras
a Los Zetas, by a Mexican journalist, I find an
account of a transborder tunnel he knew of that
could put 150 illegals a day across the border. (I
can't confirm this.) The price is about $2000 a
person. That's $300,000 a day, tax-free. What does
a border guard make? (And where can I find a
shovel?) The author estimated that perhaps forty
tunnels were active at any give time. Certainly
some are. A woman I know says she came up in a
restaurant and just walked out the door. Let's hear
it for Homeland Security: All together
now
.
The amusing thing is the extent to which
American policy is not to have a policy. The open
floodgates to the south are changing -- have
changed, will continue to change -- the nature of
the country forever. You may think this a good
thing or a bad thing. It is certainly an important
thing -- the most important for us in at least a
century. Surely (one might think) it deserves
careful thought, national debate, prudence, things
like that.
But no. In the clownishness that we regard as
presidential campaigning, none of the contenders
has much to say on the matter. In a dance of
evasion that has become customary, the candidates
carefully ignore those matters of most import for
the nation, since considering hard questions might
be divisive. War, peace, race, immigration,
affirmative action, the militarization of the
economy, the desirability of empire -- these play
no part in the electoral discussion. We seem to
regard large issues as we might the weather:
interesting, but beyond control. It's linger,
loiter, dawdle and fumble and see what happens.
And so, while various conservative groups (not
including businessmen) rush out to guard the
borders, nice liberal professors in the Northeast
hurried learn Spanish to help local illegals settle
in. Many people, alienated from the United States
by policies and trends they find odious, no longer
care. There is no national consensus. The country
fractures into a congeries of warring
agglomerations and the resulting paralysis
manifests itself in drift.
The problem with muddling through is that one
may not like what lies on the other side of the
muddle. Some day we may look back on the question
of immigration and see that it all worked out well
in the end and wonder what the fuss was about. Or
we may not. No one will be able to charge us with
having thought things through.
There is much billingsgate about whether to
grant amnesty. The question strikes me as cosmetic.
We are not going to round up millions of people and
physically throw them across the border. Whether we
should doesn't matter. It's fantasy. Too many
people want them here, or don't care that they are
here, or don't want to uproot families who have
established new lives here. Ethnic cleansing is
ugly. Further, the legal Latino population votes.
It's just starting to vote. A bumper crop of
Mexican-American kids, possessed of citizenship,
are growing headlong toward voting age. These are
not throwable-out, even in principle.
People complain that Mexico doesn't seal the
borders. Huh? Mexico is a country, not a prison. It
has no obligation to enforce American laws that
America declines to enforce. Then there was the
uproar when some fast-food restaurant in the US
began accepting pesos. Why? Mexican border towns
accept dollars. Next came outrage against Mexico
because its consulates were issuing ID cards to
illegals, which they then used to get drivers
licenses. Why outrage? A country has every right to
issue ID to its citizens. America doesn't have to
accept them. If it does, whose problem is that?
If you want to see a reasonable immigration
policy, look to Mexico. You automatically get a
ninety-day tourist visa when you land. No border
Nazis. To get residency papers, you need two things
(apart from photographs, passport, etc.) First, a
valid tourist visa to show that you entered the
country legally. Mexico doesn't do illegal aliens.
Second, a demonstrable income of $1000 a month. You
are welcome to live in Mexico, but you are going to
pay your own way. Sounds reasonable to me.
You want a Mexican passport? Mexico allows dual
citizenship. You (usually) have to be a resident
for five years before applying. You also have to
speak Spanish. It's the national language. What
sense does it make to have citizens who can't talk
to anybody?
It looks to me as though America thoughtlessly
adopted an unwise policy, continued it until
reversal became approximately impossible, and now
doesn't like the results. It must be Mexico's
fault.
Reed
Archive
Copyright 2008 by Fred Reed and reproduced here by
permission of the author.
About
the Author (by the author):
Fred Reed is a Marine combat veteran, police
reporter, amateur biochemist, former long-haul
hitchhiker, and part-time sociopath living in
Mexico. Fred, a keyboard mercenary with a
disorganized past, has worked on staff for Army
Times, The Washingtonian, Soldier of Fortune,
Federal Computer Week, and The Washington
Times. He has been published in Playboy,
Soldier of Fortune, The Wall Street Journal, The
Washington Post, Harper's, National Review, Signal,
Air&Space, and suchlike. He has worked as a
police writer, technology editor, military
specialist, and authority on mercenary soldiers. He
is by all accounts as looney as a tune.
Visit the "Fred
on Everything" website to read his previous
columns and sign up for his regular e-mail
feature.
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The essays in A Brass Pole in
Bangkok, are sometimes wildly funny,
sometimes deadly serious, always merciless
in their unmasking of the pretenses and
charlatans of society. Fred, a former
Marine, subscribes to no ideology ("an
ideology is just a systematic way of
misunderstanding the world") but
exuberantly wreaks havoc on practically
everything, and delights in everything
else: the psychotherapy swindle, squalling
feminists, race racketeers, damn fool
wars, red-light districts in Asia, and
tequila fests in Mexico, where he
lives.
A
Brass Pole in Bangkok: A Thing I Aspire To
Be, by Fred Reed
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Buy Fred's new reprehensible book,
Nekkid In Austin! Another
collection of Fred's collected outrages,
irresponsible ravings, and curmudgeonry
from "Fred On Everything" and some
innocent magazines that, he says,
foolishly published him. Wildly funny,
sometimes wacky, always provocative essays
on the collapse of America.
Nekkid
in Austin: Drop Your Inner Child Down a
Well, by Fred Reed
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