Accept Reality
We would do well to remember Solomon’s words when we are tempted to embrace the distraction that is President Trump’s recent—admittedly dramatic—changes to American immigration policy. In many ways, the Trump administration is walking America down a familiar path when we consider the history of how our country has treated immigrants. By better understanding this history, we can get a clearer sense of the heart and mind of America over the years. With that clarity, we can then better compare our nation’s will to that of our Lord regarding how we are to treat foreigners in our midst.
While there is an unfortunate abundance of stories that mark America’s two-faced treatment of immigrants, I’ll choose to focus on two for the sake of brevity: Chinese immigrants in the 1800s, and Mexican immigrants during World War II.
In the 1840s, California became one of the most famous gold fields the world has ever known. Among profit-seekers from all over the world, Chinese migrants made up a substantial portion of those arriving in the United States. Less ensorceled by the glow of potential mining profits than their European and American counterparts, many of these immigrants established businesses to serve those seeking fortunes. In other words, they mined the miners, and became fixtures in the Californian community as a result.
The establishment of a Chinese immigrant labor force in California proved a massive boon for the United States in the decades to come. In the 1860s, America was attempting one of the greatest feats of engineering of the time: constructing a nearly two-thousand mile railroad across the breadth of North America. The Central Pacific Railroad was desperate for labor, after white workers the company hoped to higher turned out in woefully low numbers. The railroad then turned to its next most available option: Chinese immigrants. What began as a crew of about twenty workers eventually blossomed into at least 12,000, translating to approximately ninety percent of the overall workforce on the western leg of the railroad. General consensus among scholars holds that this project simply would not have been possible without the work of these immigrants.
The work, however, did not last forever. With the completion of the project in 1869, Chinese immigrants—once such a necessity to the United States—found themselves the ready targets of nativist hostilities. As the economy flagged sharply during the Panic of 1873, Americans looked for someone to blame, and found Chinese immigrants easy scapegoats. Much was made of their seeming incapability of adapting to American society[1]. Unions organized to oppose Chinese labor; violent mobs disrupted their communities. To cap all this, Congress—with bipartisan support—passed the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882, banning nearly all immigration from China for six decades. Even when this law was repealed in 1943, a strict quota was placed on Chinese immigration, allowing only 105 migrants annually. This only slightly lesser restriction lasted all the way until the 1960s.
The point to see from this lies in the duplicitous, exploitative manner in which our country first welcomed (perhaps too generous a term), then rejected these immigrants. Upon their arrival, America desperately needed Chinese labor, and continued to have that need for decades to come. However, once those immigrants outlived their usefulness, Americans quickly turned on them. When it became inconvenient to accommodate those we had once required, we simply cast them out. We exploited their labor, then kicked them to the curb.
Curiously, our reversal of this policy—which only came as a result of China being our ally during World War II—came just in time for America to repeat this behavior, albeit toward a different population. With the Bracero Program, Americans once again demonstrated our willingness to accept immigrants when the need was great, and exile them once prosperity returned.
This new wave of migrants came in response to one of the greatest needs for labor in American history: World War II. Different from its predecessor, the United States joined this global conflagration much earlier in the war. We put over twelve million personnel in uniform, which meant twelve million fewer workers on American fields and in American factories. Particularly in a time of war, our nation could not afford to go without this labor. While many roles were filled by American women, more was needed to keep up with wartime production. Once again, Americans turned to migrant workers when our own labor force proved insufficient.
This time, we looked not across the Pacific, but to our southern border. In the Bracero Program—derived from the Spanish phrase for manual laborer—the United States contracted millions of Mexican nationals to conduct desperately needed work. According to the terms of our treaty with Mexico, these workers were to be guaranteed certain conditions, including mandatory housing and pay. A collection of thousands of braceros’ stories shows—perhaps predictably—that even the scant requirements of the program were often unmet. Despite getting less than they were promised, these immigrants delivered what the United States needed: workers to keep our nation on its feet while we fought to defeat the forces of fascism.
When soldiers eventually came home they understandably expected to be able to return to their lives, including their jobs if they so desired. Naturally, this meant that migrant laborers would need to find other employment. This was certainly possible, as our postwar economy would have been more than capable of expanding to accommodate these workers on a more permanent basis. Further, the fact that the Bracero program operated for decades after war’s end meant immigrants had more than enough time to establish themselves—and their families—in the United States. Mexicans brought over through this program did much more than just work our fields; they became contributing members of our society.
That is, until we decided they were no longer welcome.
Beginning in the 1950s, Mexico’s desire for the return of its labor force—coupled with growing anti-Mexican sentiment in the United States—sparked the largest mass deportation in America’s history: Operation Wetback. Using military tactics, immigration officials rounded up as many as 1.3 million Mexicans, and roughly deposited them south of the border. Transported in harrowing conditions, deaths were not uncommon during this forced eviction.
To be clear, many of those violently tossed from our country had not legally entered via Bracero Program. Rather, many of them were encouraged to cross the border illegally, particularly into Texas. That state’s reputation for persecution of Mexicans meant it had been excluded from the official labor program for its first five years. Further, many employers were not interested in providing mandatory housing or wages, but still wished to take advantage of desperate Mexican laborers waiting for official work permits. These workers were ushered into the United States by disreputable employers, who then cast these migrants—and their descendants—into the desert once they were no longer profitable. As with Chinese immigrants before them, we exploited Mexican laborers until it was no longer necessary, then promptly showed those we had once depended on the door.
Both these instances show us a part of American history many would rather ignore. Stories like this make it difficult for us to imagine ourselves as a nation that supposedly invites the world to send “your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”. Instead, these periods show us to be a very human nation. We used people when we needed them, then cast them out when we realized we might have to share in our success. We were selfish, plain and simple.
Yet the reality of our nation’s history with immigrants should not inspire mere reflection. As with any other sin, those who wish to truly follow Jesus in America need to confess what we have done, and seek to repent. Rather than following the current administration’s lead in repeating much of this history, Christians have the chance to ask how we might show the heart of Jesus to the foreigners God brought to our shores. In the face of renewed waves of American selfishness, the people of God in this nation can—through daily, loving action within our communities—provide some glimpse of the Kingdom of God here on Earth.
Let’s start there.
National Immigrant Justice Center — How to Help
U.S. Committee for Refugees and Immigrants — Get Involved
For the Locals: Washington State Office of Refugee and Immigrant Assistance
Footnotes:
[1] - Frank Pixley, “Testimony to the Joint Committee of the two Houses of Congress on Chinese Immigration”, October 21, 1876. Retrieved from https://inquirygroup.org/history-lessons/chinese-immigration-and-exclusion.