Ramblings on slurs and slicing and dicing ...

Ethnic slurs are hurtful.  They are driven by the intense dislike of foreigners, their customs, their values, and their heritage.  They are typically hurled against new comers, although they linger on for years.  Unbeknownst to most, they contribute to resentments, and occasionally to the desire for getting even.

As a young immigrant myself, I discovered terms used to describe my nationality that I had not heard before in my native land.  People would call me dago, DP, wetback, guinea, Banana Boat, and wop.  I had no idea what the terms meant or what they were intended to communicate.  The only thing I knew was that those saying them would laugh and smirk when saying them.  I soon realized that slurs were common in a not-so-polically-correct America, not just for Italians, but for all ethnic or racial groups.  I also discovered that Italo-Americans had also adopted code slurs against other ethic groups: milinciana (eggplant), for example was used to describe Blacks in a pejorative way, related to their color.  I had never heard this term used in my native land.  I found it to be despicable.

As a teenager, I tried to understand their meaning or the history behind.  Some were more obvious than others.  For example DP stood for displaced person, a term applied to refugees.  Since I was not a refugee, I assumed the person did not know that both of my grandfathers had come to America 50 years earlier.  Wetback meant you swam your way across the Rio Grande to reach America, that is why your back was wet.  Since I am not Mexican, I thought that the speaker was ignorant and poorly educated, and that he did not know that Italy is not on the other side of the Rio Grande.  Dago and Guinea I could never get a consistent definition, so I assumed, in the latter case, that the person saw me as a laboratory animal.  Banana Boat was a slur for those sneaking in on board ships bringing bananas to the US from Central and South America.  Since Italy does not grow bananas, again I assumed that the person was an idiot, illiterate in geography. Wop was an interesting one.  It meant without papers, you know, people who used to jump ship or enter the country illegally.  Since I had papers, I felt that the person saying it was a total ignoramus. 

I must admit right here and now that I resented all these slurs.  I saw them as demeaning and intended to intimidate me, to make me feel inferior or defective for who I was or because of where I came from.  I used that resentment to motivate myself to out perform those idiots at all levels, academically, professionally, financially, etc.

Fast Forward ....

I find it curious that our Latino brothers and sisters prefer to be called WOPs rather than illegal, claiming no person is illegal.  I agree with their rationale.  But wait a minute, wop is our slur, not yours, you cannot willy-nilly take it from us.  What was a pejorative descriptor is now an in-word.  How times have changed!

The mania to dice and slice Americans is a divisive strategy, in my view.  I wonder if it is not a “civilized” way of setting people apart.  I wonder if it is not a way to dress up the slurs of yesteryear.  I do not wonder, I am convinced that it is a tactic to manipulate us, to set one group against the other, to divide us and conquer us. Be it disguised as market research, political analysis, or what have you.

The Melting Pot

When I came to this country, I was told that America is a melting pot, that I should learn English and become an American, that although my origins were elsewhere, I too could become American.   

I understand the scientific reasons for analyzing sub-groups, but I lament the negative consequences from such analysis. 

We are dissected in so many ways that the totality of our humanity gets often obscured.  We have age, gender, race, religion, locality, ethnicity, marital status, job level, clubs, income, health, home ownership, credit card holder, political affiliation, etc.   We have all become hyphenated Americans. 

I do not like some hyphenations!  I often refer to myself as an Italo-American or Siculo-American.  However, my DNA examination revealed that I do NOT have any Italian markers, and that my ancestors were primarily from the Iberian Peninsula and the Aegean region e.g., Asia Minor.  So what am I?  Like many others, a product of a potpourri of groups that invaded and settled in Sicily, my native land. 

How about you?  What do you wonder?

The Horrific Gaza Spectacle on TV ...

The daily updates on the war in Gaza between Hamas and the Israeli Defense Forces have shown the savagery of war, the cruelty of the human being, and the powerlessness of our world leaders to resolve the inherent issues driving this on-going conflict.  Is there a permanent solution in sight?  The skeptics, who are in the majority, say no; the optimists say maybe. 

A few data points …

There are 1.8 million Palestinians living in squalor in the Strip.  The population density is the highest in the world.  Sixty percent of the population is comprised of minors, who did not vote in the latest election, by the way.  Inhabitants of Gaza live in abject poverty, walled in, and separated from the rest of the world. Vital supplies cannot enter the territory because Israel and Egypt have pretty much closed the surrounding borders.  Desperate people will do desperate things to survive.  Gaza is the perfect breeding ground for radicalism!

In the entire world there are 500 million people affected by violence; 200 million of which are minors living in poverty. The cost of violence has been estimated at $ 9.8 trillion per year – far more than the GNP of most countries.  47 countries possess shoulder-fired missiles capable of bringing down airplanes.  A real cauldron for suffering human beings!

About 2,000 Palestinians have died during this latest confrontation, mostly civilians including many children.  On the Israeli side, more than 60 soldiers and 3 civilians have also died defending their population from the indiscriminate firing of rockets by Hamas.  30% of the Gaza’s inhabitants have been displaced by the latest war. 

The roots of the problem …

The United Nations, to house Jewish refugees, victims of the WWII holocaust, in a territory they could control and call their home, created Israel after WWII.  Palestinians had lived in the territory for centuries.  As a result, they were uprooted and pushed out of their own homes, farms, and businesses.  They had no say in all this.  They were victims of a well intentioned, but myopic, international policy by the major powers.  The seeds of strife were planted by this policy.   Millions of Palestinians became refugees overnight … most, if not all, after 67 years, are still stuck in refugee camps in Lebanon, Jordan, and other Arab countries.  Their diaspora mirrors that of the Jews, following the destruction of the Jerusalem temple by the Romans almost 2,000 years ago.

The Arab nation rallied and tried to recover the lost territory, but not only they failed to do so, they also lost additional territory such as the West Bank and the Sinai Peninsula (ceded back to Egypt later).  Three wars and many incursions later have proved the military superiority of the Israelis, who with American assistance have created one of the best-equipped and trained defense forces in the world.  The US gives Israel, each year, military and economic assistance to the tune of about 15,000 dollars per Israeli.  Israel has annexed strategic territory after each victory.  The Palestinians in the West Bank now live under Israeli occupation.  Israel continues to build settlements in the West Bank as well as expanding its presence in East Jerusalem, a historical Muslim part of the celebrated city, to establish new “facts” on the ground, prior to an eventual political settlement. 

No justice, no peace …

There is no doubt in many people’s mind, including my own, that Palestinians have been wronged.  There is also no doubt in any people’s mind, including my own, that Jews need a land they can call they own.  So the challenge for both parties is to arrive at a solution that is just and lasting. 

How to do so?  Principally, Israelis must remove the settlements in the West Bank, free the West Bank, and allow free passage in and out of Gaza.  Principally, Palestinians must recognize Israel’s right to exist and to stop all terrorist attacks on the civilian population of Israel.  Gaza needs to be a demilitarized zone and must stop being a base for launching attacks on Israel.  Israel must return to the Palestinians their share of the water flowing through the regional rivers crossing their territories.  Israel must return to their legitimate owners property that has been confiscated or pay fair compensation.  Jerusalem must be a city open to the three main religions, a place where anyone can worship freely in peace.  I see no reasons why it should not be the capital of a free Palestinian state.

America must launch a Marshall Plan ear-marked for the economic and infrastructure development of the newly established Palestinian state.  Other rich Arab nations surely will jump in and land an economic hand as well.  Economic development will lift the standard of living of the Palestinians and offer opportunities to the young.

Christians have pretty much remained in the balcony, watching this odyssey evolve under their eyes.  John Meacham, a Time magazine reporter, when defining Christianity said: Central tenet as it has come down to us is that we are to reach out when our instinct is to pull inward, to give when we want to take, to love when we are inclined to hate, to include when we are temped to exclude. 

Invaluable message we want to share with our Israeli and Palestinian brothers and sisters, as they approach future negotiations for peace and tranquility in the Holy Land.  I have carried this message of hope from Meacham in my IPhone for the past two years, and I will keep it there for years to come so that I do not forget what it means to be a Christian.

In conclusion …

John Lennon in his hit song Imagine spoke of a world at peace. He sang that “… people think I am a dreamer, but I am not the only one …”  I too am a dreamer, and I believe I am not the only one as well.

I have lived and worked in the Middle East.  I have come to see the Arabs as my brothers and sisters.  I have enjoyed their hospitality, culture, generosity, and affection, for which I am grateful and give thanks.  I have witnessed, first hand, a proud people with rich traditions, strong bonds, and high aspirations.  I have come to love and respect them.

I have also been to Israel.  I have felt the unique energy of the blessed city we all call Jerusalem.  I have been at the Jewish sacred sites.  I have prayed there for peace and reconciliation.  I visited the Holocaust museum.  There I was impacted by a framed-letter written by a 14-year-old Polish Jew by the name of Thaddeusz, who was later killed by the Nazis in a concentration camp.  In it, Thaddeusz wrote about what he wanted to do when he grew up.  I broke down and cried after reading his letter.   What Thaddeusz wanted to do when he grew up was exactly what I dreamed of doing when I grew up.  I realized my dreams, and he did not.  Why? Simply, he did not because he was a Jew.  Thaddeusz has been my companion ever since.  I think of him often and imagine how his life would have turned out if he were not hated as a Jew.  

A good friend reminded me, after he saw this posting, that there are 400 Thaddeusz in the Gaza Strip as a result of the recent warfare.  

It is time to bring peace to the Holy Land! No more killings!

Memories that refuse to go away ...

Memories have a way to let us know that we are indeed getting old. You have heard how some seniors cannot recall what they ate for lunch, but they can vividly recall what they had for breakfast 50-60 years ago? Truth of the matter is that important memories tend to stick around for a much longer period than the lesser ones.

I want to share a snapshot of a distant memory that has remained with me for the past 54 years.  In doing so, I am aware that father time continues to tick and that I am entering the winter of my journey.

It Was 1960

I was a sophomore at San Jose State University. Although I had served in the US military, I had not bothered to become a US citizen. As a result, I did not pay much attention to politics or political campaigns. I had more pressing things on my mind like being a father, husband, finishing college, and starting a career.

In 1960, we were in the thick of the Presidential campaign. A young, energetic and good-looking guy from Massachusetts was running as a Democrat, and the sinister looking Richard Nixon for the Republicans. 

On the way to class one day I came across a huge crowd. I could no longer proceed, so I decided to park my scooter and take a look at what was attracting this mass of people. Soon a motorcade appeared with security people flanking it on both sides. Sitting on the open moving car’s back was John F. Kennedy, waiving to the crowd and shaking the hands of those who approached the car. All of the sudden, I too began to run behind the car and sprinted ahead so that I could shake his hand.  It was a magical moment. I then quietly proceeded to my classes, changed forever. 

His hand was soft and very warm, his face appeared tanned, and his voice an unmistakable trademark. Nice to see you, he said.  

That evening I shared the event with my young wife Cassandra, who was an avid Democrat. Soon I began to follow this young candidate’s journey to the White House.

I recall his inauguration call in January 1961 to: Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country. I was never more proud to have decided to remain in this country. Cassandra and I spent many hours discussing the idea of joining the Peace Corps. Many of our friends did. But, with a young child, the notion was unrealistic.  Yet the fervor generated by this young President’s leadership remains indelibly sculpted in my soul. 

JFK was larger than life. He was the beacon for the idealism of my generation.  His call to action was real and lasting.

It Was 1963

Inspired by this young President, I applied for American citizenship and became a naturalized citizen that year.  After the ceremony, the Daughters of the American Revolution greeted us with small American flags.  As I was leaving the hall, I saw two tables: one with the sign Democrat and the other with the sign Republican.  My late father-in-law took me to the Democrat table and asked me to register.  He said to me: We are Democrats.  I followed his counsel and registered. 

I remember vividly that fateful November day in 1963 when I walked into my office where I was working and heard from the senior person with whom I was sharing the office: the President has been shot in Dallas. I asked if he had survived the assassination, and I was told that he was being taken to the emergency room. Sadness overcame me. I felt lost and in a sort of daze.  How could this happen? I did not know what to make of the situation. It was not real, it was not happening, it must be a bad dream.  

Reality soon sat in when a senior executive stopped by our office and tried to get us to refocus on our jobs. A comment he made has remained with me also:  the chickens are coming home to roost.  What did he mean by that?  Why did he seem so cold hearted?  Why was he saying that? 

I joined the millions who watched the funeral procession on TV and cried.  I still remember little John, the President’s son, saluting his father's passing caisson and Jacqueline standing next to Robert and Caroline.  It was the end of a very short era.  My enthusiasm dimmed; my skepticism awake.

My disillusion was complete years later when Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King were assassinated.  From then on, I have ignored politics, pretty much.  The last time I voted was in June 1967 for Bobby.  Then I did not vote for 20 years. 

It is now 2014

Much has changed since that faithful year.  Not all the changes have been to my liking, but overall, I have had a good run. 

Many folks now seem to be asking: what can the country do for me rather than what can I do for the country. Political parties seem more interested in winning elections than doing what is best for the country. 

Maybe, these are the lamentations of an old man who is having problems evolving.  Maybe this old man is overwhelmed by nostalgia and suffers from incurable melancholia. Maybe.  Maybe. Maybe.

Making Sense of the Illegal Immigration Debate ...

The national debate is forceful and confusing.  Both parties advance flawed solutions and talking points pandering to their faithful.   One side paints the other as heartless; the other attacks in turn suggesting that political benefits are behind the talking points.  One side emphasizes humane treatment while the other emphasizes  border security.

Rome is burning and the politicians are playing the fiddle …

The illegal immigration is not just an American problem.  The same is playing out in the European Union as thousands of people are flooding in from North Africa in rickety and overcrowded boats.  Many die in transit due to inclement weather, leaky boats, and unscrupulous traffickers.  So far, about 90,000 have reached the Southern borders.  Many more are ready to come from Syria, Libya, Tunisia and other parts of the Maghreb.  Most come from sub-Sahara Africa, the Middle and Far East.  They are escaping flash points, dire straits, and inhuman situations.  Some are born during the crossing, while others come as toddlers.  A few are young unaccompanied men and women.  They are exploited, like their distant cousins crossing the Rio Grande.

They are our brothers and sisters. 

They come in search of a safer and better life.  Yet they are easily demonized and unwelcome by many. 

It has been estimated that 45% of the world’s population lives on two dollars a day.  A $ 100 donation, for example, feeds one meal to 250 people in impoverished parts of India.  Philanthropic initiatives abound, but they are not making much of a dent on world poverty.   Billions in government grants are sent to poor countries, but they do not seem to reach the poor.  Somehow most find their way to the bank accounts of despots and unscrupulous government officials.

There are, I am told, over 200 million people all over the world in transit, in search of a better life, displaced by famines, wars, and despotic regimes. 

What drives this illegal immigration to the European Union? The same one that what drives illegal immigration to the U.S.: the lure of more opportunity, more freedom, and more safety.

Our Response to the Crisis?

The administration has sent a request to Congress for $ 3.7 billion to finance the influx’s handling until September 2014.  There is a backlog of 400,000 immigrants waiting their day in court already.  Most will wait 2-3 years before their case comes up for judicial review.  The backlog is increasing on a daily basis.  According to current law, unaccompanied minors have to be released to HHS for placement after 72 hours.  Most wind up joining family members, who might also be undocumented, dispersed throughout the country; most will never show up for their judicial review. 

There are 225 judges at the border handling this enormous surge.  How much of the $ 3.7 billion request is set aside for increasing judicial capacity?  Just enough money is ear marked for about 40 additional judges.  You do the math.  Almost half a million cases for 260 judges already.   Ludicrous!!!

Long Term Versus Short Term

In the short term, we need to address the humanitarian crisis.  There are two suggestions on the table: (1) make sure people are processed humanely and in keeping with our values, and (2) beef up enforcement by updating the 2008 law that gives authorities the option of repatriating folks more quickly, but in a humane way.   

Both merit our support.

In the long term, the USA must help improve the economic situation of our neighbors to the South.  Not, in the way we have done it in the past with dismal results, but in ways that get to the root cause of the problem.   

But first, existing immigration laws need to be changed.  Quotas for family reunification must be more realistic. Temporary and seasonal workers must be allowed to come in as needed.  The number of HB-1 visas must be aligned with the business needs of the country.  Current law-abiding undocumented immigrants, who have been in the country for more than 10 years, should be allowed to stay but pay penalties for having violated US laws.   A national identification system must be devised.  We are the only country in the world that I know of that does not have one.  Employers must be given the tools to verify legal residence.

Archaic procedures must be replaced with modern ones.  Key components of the revised law must look forward to the country’s needs of say 25-50 years from now, rather than just fix “leaks” in the existing law.  Undocumented immigrants entering the country should be quickly processed, say, in less than 72 hours.  The number of judges must be increased sufficiently to whittle down the enormous backlog.

The US cannot afford to periodically grant amnesty to those who violate its borders.  This makes a mockery of the law.   Any loopholes will be exploited to gain access to the country.

Borders need to be more secure.  Although they are not going to stop all those intent on trespassing, they eliminate the perceptual problem that we are defenseless.

Observation on Globalization

We talk about globalization and its benefits.  The truth is that only 35% of the world’s economy is globalized, the rest is pretty much local or regional. 

Who has benefitted the most from globalization?  I believe that it is the developed countries.  They can buy things at a much lower price, and in a faster turn around cycle.  It is the developing countries that set prices on the commodities from under developed countries. And, they obviously set them as low as possible.  

So the jury is still out!  Some question whether it will deliver the promised benefits.  I am one of those skeptics!