Welcoming the Stranger in Eastern Chad

I’m writing from Abeche in Eastern Chad where I’m visiting programs of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS).  HIAS works in five refugee camps providing psychosocial trauma counseling, social services, recreation, material assistance and Sexual and Gender Based Violence programming.  I’ll be writing more and sharing pictures as I process the experience. 

It has truly been mind blowing.  First, just the physical space is so different than anything I have seen.  Expansive sand and scrub.  Goats, donkeys, lizards and camels wandering the roads and streets.  Dust and heat.  Traditional Arab and African dress.  And this is before getting to the refugee camps.

We spent the last two days visiting in the Gaga refugee camp — watching HIAS’ staff work with the over 20,000 Darfuri refugees who call the camp home.  The programs were inspiring, with our Rwandan-born, Belgian-resident, chief staff person organizing a wide variety of activities to help the Darfuris — some who have been in the camp for as many as five years — deal with trauma, persecution and death. 

For now I just want to recount what happened on our arrival.  We came into the HIAS compound where we saw a large group of children, probably more than 200, who were arranged by age.  I took part in the weekly ritual of greeting – walking around the square shaking each and every hand.  Some of the kids were unbelievably shy and withdrawn while others slapped my hand and almost gave “high 5s.”  Some were dressed in beautiful colorfull clothing while others were in rags. 

As I walked around the group, all I could think of was that this is literally what we mean when we say that we, as Jews, are commanded by the Torah to “welcome the stranger.”  While very few of the children could speak English –and I tried to get by with salam aleikum (peace be with you) and shukran (thank you) — it was clear that the arrival of the HIAS delegation from the United States was deeply meaningful.  We had come to them from from so far away and were there simply to be with them. 

HIAS’ chief in the camp, Dr. Patrick, performed this ritual, providing solidarity, but also using the greetings as a chance to assess the psychological state of the children in his care.  As he shook each hand he noted how the child responded.  Did their responses require follow up in an individual or group counseling session?  Should they be referred to a support group? Did they need additional visits or human contact? Or was there a medical problem that needed immediate attention.  I was with him when he found a child with a bad fever who had not received any medical attention.  As part of this program the little boy (who was probably two or three years old) was immediately turned over to the care of a HIAS Community Mobilizer (CM).  The CM, a Darfuri refugee himself, took the boy to the clinic and would later follow up with the family to counsel them on the need to watch more closely to protect the child’s health.   

What I took away from Gaga is that we absolutely need to make the effort to come to refugees, where they are, and make the connection of welcome.  But also, that with a professional humanitarian program in place, the welcome can literally be a life saver.

More to come.

Let’s Get Off Our High Horse About Illegal Immigration

Both in my work life at HIAS, and in my personal interactions in the Jewish community, I am amazed at the frequency of the statement “I love what you do, but not your support for illegal immigrants…why don’t they come legally like my relatives did.”  This statement is amazing in both its utter disregard for history and its failure to see the humanity in people who are displaced by economic, political, social and even environmental forces beyond their control.

First the required disclaimer.  Undocumented/Unauthorized/Illegal immigration is a bad thing.  It is bad for the immigrants who risk death on their journeys and face exploitation in the workforce with no one to turn to for protection.  It is bad for lower skilled legally authorized workers who must compete with a desperate shadow workforce largely unable to fight for better conditions.  It is bad for our country because we have lost control of our borders have created a massive haystack of illegality where real criminals can hide.  And it is bad for our culture and society because it winks at illegality and undermines the rule of law.

On the other hand, it is good for human traffickers, document forgers and bad actor employers who want to undercut competition by hiring workers at the lowest wages and with the least rights.

But how do we address this type of problem if we are convinced that it is about “them,” not “us.”  Our eyes are clouded by the righteous indignation we feel about people who appear to have taken “the easy path” instead of following the law like our ancestors did.  But did they really? And if they did, isn’t this apples and oranges from the standpoint of immigration law?

The claim that Jews, unlike today’s immigrants, came legally misses the crucial point that until the immigration acts of 1921 and 1924 there were no numerical caps on immigration. Also, only 1% of the 25 million immigrants from Europe arriving at Ellis Island were excluded between 1880 and World War I.   These essential statistics and analysis of the historical question of illegal vs. legal immigration can be found in a fascinating report from the Immigration Policy Center (IPC).

Those of us who trace our ancestry to the massive wave of Jewish immigration between 1880 and 1920 — 2 million newcomers — can be thankful that we faced a relatively clear path to America.

But what happened after 1921?  While I have not found an exhaustive study of illegal Jewish immigration to the United States, I frequently hear of people who mention that they have family who went to Canada and walked across the border, or jumped ship while offshore, or “somehow got here and then somehow got papers.”

A wonderful article by Marian Smith, Senior Historian at US Citizenship and Immigration Services, published in the Jewish Genealogical Society of Michigan’s Generations and posted on the HIAS website, offers a window into one chapter of the Jewish illegal immigration story.  This piece tells of Jewish immigration through Vera Cruz, Mexico, in the early 1920s and stresses that news of the impending immigration quota law sparked a rush for the U.S. with “immigrants deciding to move before Congress “changed the rules.”"

Smith chronicles the arrest of Jewish immigrants in New Mexico and Texas in 1921 and the use of smugglers to enter illegally.  She notes that from February to April of 1921 80% of those apprehended by immigration authorities in El Paso were Jewish.  Later in 1921 the number of Jews apprehended declined significantly but one inspector wrote, “It is impossible to say whether this decline in [the] number [of] Hebrews apprehended [is] due to [the] efforts of the Hebrew Societies or increased skill in evading officers.”

Jewish immigrants also took advantage of a loophole in the law that permitted them to wait in Mexico for one year before applying for admission as “Mexicans.”  This rule would later be changed to five years eliminating this as a viable option.

To understand how engaged Jewish organizations in the U.S. were at this time, Smith discusses the Loredo Lodge of B’nai B’rith.  She notes that they “wanted the Immigration Service to adopt a “middle ground” policy. While the aliens had admittedly entered illegally, the Laredo Lodge wanted them released on bond, and their prosecution for that crime (and deportation) to be delayed indefinitely.”

The law remained, and in the 1930s and 40s we witnessed desperate Jews trapped in Europe without the kind of free immigration safety net that earlier generations of Jews had used when persecution or poverty forced them to seek a better life in the United States.

While the racist elements of the quota act are gone, the strict limitations on numbers of legal immigrants in many categories remain.  And this brings us back to the question of why “they” don’t come legally.  Again the IPC has a very useful briefing paper on this topic.  We need to remember that individuals fleeing extreme poverty, environmental devastation, generalized violence and many other catastrophes don’t quality for refugee status; that family visa categories are capped and that our economic and immigration realities are out of sync (only 5,000 low or unskilled worker visas are available each year).

What I take away from all of this:

1. In 1911 an unskilled Jewish immigrant from Poland had a 99% chance of being admitted.  Today, he or she would have to compete with millions of others from around the world for one of those 5000 visas.
2. When Jews because of individual or communal necessity needed to seek admission to the United States, but no legal avenue was available, we tried to come anyway.
3. While the undocumented certainly have their bad actors who should be detained and deported, millions of individuals with personal and family stories no less worthy than many of our own are labeled as “illegals” who therefore deserve neither compassion nor assistance.  This is wrong.
4. The U.S. immigration system is broken and must be fixed.  But with a more honest understanding of where we come from, as well as the circumstances that today’s undocumented face, we  will have a firmer basis from which to seek to end illegal immigration than the self-congratulatory posture of one who simply knows his or her “roots are legal.”

 

Chanukah Lessons: Don’t Give Up the Fight

In my experience, the most important part of Judaism is the calendar.  Not the physical calendar but the metaphysical calendar where the living of life and the decisions we make are put into a totally different framework.  And in the cycle of the year we are constantly challenged to understand ourselves, our community and the world in a way that is rooted in the past but still vibrantly meaningful for the future.

Chanukah, a minor Jewish holiday that is part of the deification of consumerism of in the American ”Holiday Shopping Season,” offers an opportunity for religious reflection where the trivial can be enriched and made holy.  As part of my series of letters, posted on the website of the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS), I recently looked at Chanukah, and my work for refugees and immigrants, with fresh eyes to see The Challenge to be Today’s Macabees.

Taking Chanukah seriously, rather than defensively as something “just as good as Christmas,” we have the chance to question what, in the struggle for social justice, gives us the power to win.  As the prophet Zachariah declared, “Not by Might and Not by Power, but by My Spirit (4:6) — it matters what we fighting for, but also that we keep up the fight, even in the face of long odds.  Wrestling with the text of the Book of Maccabees, and the story of Chanukah, can give us answers and inspiration to continue the struggle.

Something to be Thankful for on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving  can be a difficult holiday for a person who sees addressing the oppression of Native Americans and celebrating the freedom and opportunity provided to immigrants and refugees as equally compelling social justice issues.  In fact, it has been argued that the Native Americans were victims of an open immigration policy that resulted in death, destruction and subjugation — a story that was converted into the feel good myth of Thanksgiving by the victors.  This reality exists notwithstanding the noble aspirations, courage and creativity of wave after wave of newcomers who came to the United States to find new homes and new hope.  And so this paradox remains.

But with a clear understanding of the human suffering that resulted from the immigration of newcomers to America, I still find Thanksgiving to be a time to appreciate what this country has meant as a beacon to immigrants across the generations.  I posted a longer piece looking at Thanksgiving, American identity, the Soviet Jewish refugee resettlement movement and our ongoing obligations to remain engaged in the immigration struggle on the the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS) site – part of a series of letters reflecting on aspect of our organization’s work as the American Jewish community’s international migration agency.

For me, the most powerful statement of America’s core identity came from President George Washington when he wrote to the leaders of the Tuoro Synagogue in 1790: “The Citizens of the United States of America have a right to applaud themselves for having given to mankind examples of an enlarged and liberal policy: a policy worthy of imitation. All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent national gifts. For happily the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.”

When looking around the world — with ethnic and religious violence, shadow societies of underemployed and alienated immigrants (and their children and grandchildren), and popular frustration at the seeming inability of newcomers to integrate into their new communities — I feel nothing but gratitude for the American identity that President Washington described.  It doesn’t matter where you came from, what religion you follow, who you are.  All are equal in rights and responsibilities.  In America citizens are free to be themselves, not simply to be tolerated, but in their freedom to be part of the essential meaning of the country.   All we need do is behave like good citizens, which is a political and civic identity not one based on blood or length of residence.

To me, this vision is something to be thankful for as a statement of “American Torah” — the core wisdom of this country — and it sustains me and allows me to face the paradoxes of my civic existence as an American on a quest to help repair the world.

Happy Thanksgiving.

No Community Is Immune, LI Hate Crime

For Jewish readers the tragic story of the murder of Ecuadorian immigrant Marcelo Lucero took a new a new and painful turn.  I’m certain that most have a sterotype of the teens accused of this hate crime, thinking that they come out of central casting for white supremacists, neo-Nazis and skin heads. 

While this picture may not be fair or accurate for any of them, this week’s New York Jewish Week discloses the news that one of the alleged members of the gang that killed Lucero, Jordan Dasch, turns out to be Jewish and the son of a Long Island Kosher butcher.  According to the article, “Dasch’s MySpace page featured a picture of a Jewish star with a Nazi swastika embedded in the middle, according to Long Island Wins, a pro-immigrant organization that downloaded the page before it was removed from the Web site. The group, based in Port Washington, claimed that Dasch referred to himself on the social networking site as a “Nazi Jew.””

Clearly each individual involved in this type of crime follows his or her own demons and prejudices — no community is exempt.  But this revelation reinforces the importance of Jews taking seriously the biblical call Tzedek, Tzedek, Tirdof (Justice, Justice, You Shall Pursue) to fight both hate crimes against immigrants and the creation of a climate of fear and hate surrounding immigrants and minority communities.  The Jewish Week story gives a excellent overview of how the local Jewish community is rising to this challenge.

Torah of Migration #1 — Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

Today I would like to share my first example of Torah relating to immigrants, refugees and migration.  When I use the term Torah, I do so in the broadest sense as an essential statement of Jewish wisdom.

Here, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the (British) Commonwealth, asks the question why should we not hate the stranger? 

“Why should you not hate the stranger? asks the Torah. Because you once stood where he stands now.  You know the heart of the stranger because you were once a stranger in the land of Egypt…I [G-d] made you into the world’s archetypal strangers so that you would fight for the rights of strangers – for your own and those others, wherever they are, whatever the colour of their skin or the nature of their culture, because, though they are not in your image – says G-d – they are nonetheless in Mine. There is only one reply strong enough to answer the question: Why should I not hate the stranger? Because the stranger is me.”

 

Hate, Death and the Immigration Debate

One of the most alarming aspects of the recent debate over undocumented immigration is way that this serious national issue is being demagogued and turned into an engine for hate speech, hate crimes and recruitment by organizations like the KKK.  Groups like the ADL and the Southern Poverty Law Center have done really fantastic work documenting this trend and showing dramatic increases in these crimes as well as the way that extremist rhetoric and ideas have infected the mainstream political and media discourse about immigration – we keep hearing about immigrants “swarming” over our border like vermin.

Locally here in the NY/NJ area we have the tragic story of the murder of Marcello Lucero that I saw a few days ago on CNN.  According to the authorities the seven teens who allegedly killed Lucero proclaimed ”Let’s go find some Mexicans to f— up.”  Racists again show themselves for what they are killing an Ecuadorian man because of their hatred of Mexicans.

The CNN story also connects this crime to the coarsening of the immigration debate on Long Island and the activities of anti-Immigrant activist and Suffolk Country Executive Steve Levy.  I am frequently asked about Levy because he is incorrectly assumed to be Jewish.  Notwithstanding his not actually being Jewish, his fixation on illegal immigration and scapegoating of the undocumented certainly feels out of step with my understanding of Jewish values and interests when it comes to immigration.  As the New York Times wrote in November 2007, “He has attacked the symptoms of a broken federal immigration system — men crowding into illegally subdivided houses, looking for day jobs on sidewalks and in parking lots — with a zeal that strays into grandstanding. But his strategy is all about crackdowns, not actual solutions. “

So in light of the hate and the hate-mongering, let our thought and prayers be with Marcello Lucero and his family and friends here in the United States and in Ecuador, and let us fight against attempts to blame immigrants for the spectrum of problems that face our country.  Comprehensive Immigration Reform is the cure for this disease.  Finally, kudos to the American Jewish Committee Long Island Chapter for their statement and activism on this terrible case.

My Inspiration: the Statue of Liberty

MY INSPIRATION

To actually see the Statue of Liberty up close is an amazing experience.  The size is awe inspiring.  And the message of the statue is extremely powerful as a physical representation of this country’s finest values — freedom, and later opportunity for immigrants in a pluralistic America.  The drama of a visit hits home for adults, but also for kids as my four year old daughter took in the grandeur and excitement of the experience and ran around the island with her arm raised high in her Statue of Liberty pose.

The statue also has special resonance for me because I am the President of HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society.  Our organization’s roots go back to the Hebrew Emigrant Aid Society and 1881.  I feel a direct connection to the statue because an early volunteer for our organization has a special connection to the Statue of Liberty and its identity as an icon of American immigration.  This young American poet of Sephardic Jewish heritage — Emma Lazarus — worked for HEAS in 1883 helping to care for the early wave of Jewish immigrants from Russia and Eastern Europe who had begun to arrive in New York.

As described in Esther Schor’s wonderful biography of Emma Lazarus, Emma’s work with the Jewish immigrants was the experience that broke her out of her fully assimilated life and helped her to link her life to Jewish causes and concerns.  And yet her poem, The New Colossus which was written to raise money to build the Statue of Liberty’s pedestal, stands as one of the most moving statements of America’s welcome to all immigrants of all backgrounds, and really to the meaning of America itself.  I see Emma Lazarus’ merging of her Jewish and American values and concerns as an inspiring example of how I, and other American Jews who cherish our community’s passion for the United States as a nation of immigrants, should experience our country.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles.  From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command 

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she

With silent lips.  "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

by Emma Lazarus, New York City, 1883