The need for comprehensive, pragmatic, and humane immigration reform continues to be one of the simmering, unspoken issues of the 2008 election season. The failure to engage in a civil and rational discussion about the benefits and costs of immigration, particularly at a time when the US economy is weakening, is the direct result of a polarizing and intransigent rhetoric around undocumented immigration. In turn, the dominance of this rhetoric in the public sphere is the product of the failure by Congress to pass what was a problematic, but hardly radical, immigration bill in June 2007.
The Bush administration and the moderate Republicans and Democrats who supported the measure could not articulate a compelling portrait of the crucial historical role immigration has played in the rise of America as global economic power. Without this overarching vision, the bill appeared as nothing more than a precarious patchwork of initiatives benefiting particular sectors of society (farmers, employers in the service sectors, unions, etc.). Moreover, supporters of the immigration reform bill could not articulate in simple terms how the growth of unauthorized immigration from the 1980s was partly caused by our own political and economic interests and activities, fighting revolutions in Central America, pushing Latin American nations to restructure their economies along neo-liberal lines, and implementing free-trade agreements like NAFTA and CAFTA, all of which have produced considerable dislocation among vulnerable populations in the hemisphere. Without recognizing our own responsibility in encouraging undocumented immigration, and without demonstrating how unauthorized immigrants have in effect subsidized the expansion of the American economy through their cheap labor, the provisions in the bill allowing for a path to legalization were hard to defend.
Into this vacuum come restrictionist voices that frame the issue in purely individualistic, ahistoric terms: hordes of immigrants are coming in, willfully breaking our laws, selfishly taking advantage of this country’s freedoms and resources. Here the word “illegal” becomes a rallying cry to mobilize opposition to any attempt to rethink immigration policy beyond increased militarization of the border and domestic enforcement. This simplistic but effective framing of the issue has come to define a myriad of ordinances through which states and localities have sought to deal with the problem of undocumented immigration without a full understanding of its historical and structural causes. While it is too early to assess the impact on these ordinances in reducing unauthorized immigration, one thing is clear: they have pushed what was an already vulnerable population further into the shadows. Because many families have mixed immigrant statuses (some members are undocumented, some legal residents, and some U.S.-born citizens), sole reliance on enforcement often ends up hurting fellow citizens, as when the parents or siblings of the estimated three million children of undocumented immigrants born in this country are deported.
There is, however, a deeper problem with the framing of the issue employing terms like “illegal.” The label “illegal” is factually correct, insofar as it accurately describes the actions of many immigrants who have violated US immigration laws, either by crossing the border unauthorized or overstaying their visas. Nonetheless, the word “illegal” has become so emotionally charged that it dehumanizes not only the unauthorized immigrant, who is objectified as nothing more than a faceless criminal, but those who use it uncritically. When we use the term unthinkingly, we lose the capacity to feel the moral dilemmas and the sometimes tragic predicaments behind much immigration. Further, the term “illegal” stymies all public debate, impeding the search for rational, pragmatic, and long-term solutions to our broken immigration system. Of course no one is in favor of breaking the law, right? America is, after all, a nation of laws. Thus, seeking long-term solutions to the complex problem of undocumented immigration beyond sheer enforcement is to be unpatriotic or, worse, to be complicit in the illegal act. The term illegal, therefore, sets an absolutist dichotomy that leaves no room for the give-and-take that is at the heart of deliberative democracy.
It is here that churches can contribute to the debate. As de Tocqueville observed, by generating spaces of social engagement and dissent, religious congregations have been central to the development of a robust civil society in the United States. This has been particularly the case for sectors of society that have been disempowered and shut out of public discourse. This accounts for the powerful role churches played for African Americans during the civil rights movement. Since the issue of immigration ultimately has to do with how inclusive America can and should be, churches must be a part of the conversation.
Moreover, one of the first things that immigrants do as they settle in the United States is to look for places where they can practice their religions collectively. Often they come to churches which serve primarily the native-born. As places of encounter, these churches can humanize the discourse on undocumented immigration. In their religious communities, Americans encounter not faceless law-breakers but immigrants in all their humanity, making it possible to explore the conditions under which they came to this country. US citizens may learn that, in many cases, the decision to migrate was not only heart-wrenching, but one of last resort; the only way in which the immigrants’ families could survive. They may also learn about the often devastating effects of immigration on families and communities in sending countries. This is a far cry from the vision of the immigrant as an unscrupulous freeloader.
In multicultural/multiethnic congregation, immigrants, for their part, can learn about US civic culture, about values such a religious pluralism and voluntary participation in community-building. In other words, religious congregations can serve as spaces of transcultural communication which help break the impasse on immigration. They can contextualize the dialogue of immigration, moving beyond unproductive stereotypes and introducing a language of compassion, mutual recognition, and interdependence, a language that is sorely missing in current debates about undocumented immigration.
In the last year or so, I have been working with a team of scholars to explore how congregations in Atlanta are responding to the rapid influx of Latino immigrants, many of whom are undocumented. In the future, I will be reporting from these zones of encounter, on the promises, conflicts, and obstacles that emerge. While our study is still in its early stages, we have found some congregations that are effectively “borderlands” where the question of who gets to belong to the “beloved community” is asked with increasing urgency.
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