After more than a decade of wars triggered by the attacks of September 11th, 2001, it is time for a new conversation—one that asks serious questions and welcomes a wide array of serious opinions—on how the United States formulates and executes its national security strategy. To address the implications of these and countless other issues, the Armed Forces Committee at the Harvard Kennedy School has established the Values and National Security Project. This is the third article in an ongoing series seeking to promote dialogue on the early 21st century security paradigm. Read the first, second, and third articles here.
Last week, a bi-partisan “Group of Eight” senators introduced a comprehensive immigration reform bill that includes a path to citizenship for the eleven million undocumented immigrants living and working in this country. The bill includes increased border security, a mandatory worker verification system for employers, and provisions for the flow of workers based on the needs of the economy, from the fields of South Carolina to the Silicon Valley.
American immigration laws have not been updated since 1996, and partisan bickering as well as harshly punitive state-level laws in Arizona and Alabama have been the center of the debate on the issue. But more recently the tide has shifted, in no small part due to the approaching change in U.S. demographics and the political realization that there is no path to the White House without Latino and Asian voters. The math of vote counting may seem crude, but underneath it is a far harder reality to face: our immigration policy to date has been driven by a politics of fear. Not by common sense, rational security concerns, or economic drivers—instead, by a deep anxiety about the changing face and accent of the country.
These fears are not altogether unreasonable. Some who oppose immigration reform see changes in their neighborhoods and churches that make their communities unrecognizable. Many experience increased economic anxiety. It is no longer clear that America’s standing in the world is unchallengeable, or that growth alone will keep our retirement savings from disappearing before we are old, or that our children’s future will be secure. These deep and real fears have kept us from knowing our neighbor and seeing that her desires and dreams are very much like our own; and only through openness to that knowledge can we create a policy that is compassionate, fair, and restores the rule of law.
My mother and father always believed this country was a place where their dreams could come true. My father, a Filipino pediatrician who served in rural Wisconsin for 30 years, spent decades fighting for citizenship in the maze we currently call our system–but he never stopped loving and believing in America. One of his favorite pictures is of himself standing outside the courthouse, citizenship documents in hand. Sometimes I believe my father believes in the American Dream more than I do. He and the millions like him deserve a chance to make it real.
Moreover, compassion in immigration reform makes the nation safer. From a security perspective, comprehensive immigration reform makes sense for two reasons. First, we would be far safer if the eleven million currently undocumented people in this country had legal documents to work, pay taxes, register their cars, and hold valid driver’s licenses. This would have the added benefit of allowing these individuals to live without fear of speaking with the police to report threats to the community. It would also allow them to fight for better wages and employment rights without fearing the type of exploitation that drives down wages and working conditions for all Americans. Legalization brings knowledge. It means knowing who lives and works in our communities and who is in our country, so that our first responders and intelligence personnel can better distinguish those who are here to work and serve from those who may be here to do us harm.
But on a deeper level, security comes from familiarity and shared values. In short, that means integration. Every wave of immigrants to this country has been the source of concerns, mostly unfounded, about security. From Irish plagues to Slavic anarchists, from “Pennsylvania Dutch” scares to Japanese internment camps, American history is rife with examples of immigrants being viewed as threats. But our history also tells us that our ideals and values are our strongest deterrent to attack from within. The promise of the Declaration of Independence, the rule of law encoded in the Constitution, the history of challenge and adaptation that is uniquely American—these are what draw so many to our shores, what needs to be taught to and internalized by every newcomer. They are what will keep us safe—and a true safety can only be accomplished by bringing immigrants out of the shadows and into the folds of American life.
The alternative is obvious. Our current immigration policy randomly deports low-wage workers lured here by jobs, separates families, and perpetuates the narrative that immigrants—especially those with brown skin—are welcome only to toil in our fields and behind kitchen counters. Oppression in the name of security only breeds resentment and radicalism. If future children of immigrants only have a memory of marginalization and exclusion, it will ensure a more dark and divisive future for our nation. As for me, I can confidently say, “Papa came here to work hard and make his dreams come true for us.” Because I can say this, as an American-born citizen, I commit myself to making sure our country—mine by birth, my father’s by adoption—remains strong and safe. That is real security.
Marissa Graciosa is a graduate student at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government. She is a community organizer from Chicago.
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Values and National Security: On Immigration, Compassion is Security
April 22, 2013
After more than a decade of wars triggered by the attacks of September 11th, 2001, it is time for a new conversation—one that asks serious questions and welcomes a wide array of serious opinions—on how the United States formulates and executes its national security strategy. To address the implications of these and countless other issues, the Armed Forces Committee at the Harvard Kennedy School has established the Values and National Security Project. This is the third article in an ongoing series seeking to promote dialogue on the early 21st century security paradigm. Read the first, second, and third articles here.
Last week, a bi-partisan “Group of Eight” senators introduced a comprehensive immigration reform bill that includes a path to citizenship for the eleven million undocumented immigrants living and working in this country. The bill includes increased border security, a mandatory worker verification system for employers, and provisions for the flow of workers based on the needs of the economy, from the fields of South Carolina to the Silicon Valley.
American immigration laws have not been updated since 1996, and partisan bickering as well as harshly punitive state-level laws in Arizona and Alabama have been the center of the debate on the issue. But more recently the tide has shifted, in no small part due to the approaching change in U.S. demographics and the political realization that there is no path to the White House without Latino and Asian voters. The math of vote counting may seem crude, but underneath it is a far harder reality to face: our immigration policy to date has been driven by a politics of fear. Not by common sense, rational security concerns, or economic drivers—instead, by a deep anxiety about the changing face and accent of the country.
These fears are not altogether unreasonable. Some who oppose immigration reform see changes in their neighborhoods and churches that make their communities unrecognizable. Many experience increased economic anxiety. It is no longer clear that America’s standing in the world is unchallengeable, or that growth alone will keep our retirement savings from disappearing before we are old, or that our children’s future will be secure. These deep and real fears have kept us from knowing our neighbor and seeing that her desires and dreams are very much like our own; and only through openness to that knowledge can we create a policy that is compassionate, fair, and restores the rule of law.
My mother and father always believed this country was a place where their dreams could come true. My father, a Filipino pediatrician who served in rural Wisconsin for 30 years, spent decades fighting for citizenship in the maze we currently call our system–but he never stopped loving and believing in America. One of his favorite pictures is of himself standing outside the courthouse, citizenship documents in hand. Sometimes I believe my father believes in the American Dream more than I do. He and the millions like him deserve a chance to make it real.
Moreover, compassion in immigration reform makes the nation safer. From a security perspective, comprehensive immigration reform makes sense for two reasons. First, we would be far safer if the eleven million currently undocumented people in this country had legal documents to work, pay taxes, register their cars, and hold valid driver’s licenses. This would have the added benefit of allowing these individuals to live without fear of speaking with the police to report threats to the community. It would also allow them to fight for better wages and employment rights without fearing the type of exploitation that drives down wages and working conditions for all Americans. Legalization brings knowledge. It means knowing who lives and works in our communities and who is in our country, so that our first responders and intelligence personnel can better distinguish those who are here to work and serve from those who may be here to do us harm.
But on a deeper level, security comes from familiarity and shared values. In short, that means integration. Every wave of immigrants to this country has been the source of concerns, mostly unfounded, about security. From Irish plagues to Slavic anarchists, from “Pennsylvania Dutch” scares to Japanese internment camps, American history is rife with examples of immigrants being viewed as threats. But our history also tells us that our ideals and values are our strongest deterrent to attack from within. The promise of the Declaration of Independence, the rule of law encoded in the Constitution, the history of challenge and adaptation that is uniquely American—these are what draw so many to our shores, what needs to be taught to and internalized by every newcomer. They are what will keep us safe—and a true safety can only be accomplished by bringing immigrants out of the shadows and into the folds of American life.
The alternative is obvious. Our current immigration policy randomly deports low-wage workers lured here by jobs, separates families, and perpetuates the narrative that immigrants—especially those with brown skin—are welcome only to toil in our fields and behind kitchen counters. Oppression in the name of security only breeds resentment and radicalism. If future children of immigrants only have a memory of marginalization and exclusion, it will ensure a more dark and divisive future for our nation. As for me, I can confidently say, “Papa came here to work hard and make his dreams come true for us.” Because I can say this, as an American-born citizen, I commit myself to making sure our country—mine by birth, my father’s by adoption—remains strong and safe. That is real security.
Marissa Graciosa is a graduate student at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government. She is a community organizer from Chicago.
