Boots Without Bootstraps

I took a Pastoral Theology class last year in which we were tasked to learn and utilize an assessment process called Appreciative Inquiry (AI).  I hated the exercise.  In contrast to simple problem solving, where deficiencies are identified and actions taken to correct problems, Appreciative Inquiry starts with what’s going right, in an effort to help the organization focus on shared values and beliefs and discover new ways of embodying them.  As someone who likes to cut to the chase and get to the point, I failed to appreciate Appreciative Inquiry.  I thought it was a roundabout and tedious way of problem solving.  Unfortunately, it’s the first thing that came to mind after reading Robert Wuthnow’s insightful look at American cultural myths, American Mythos.

It wasn’t his book as a whole that made me think of AI.  In fact, I found his analysis fair and on point regarding the ambivalence of our nation’s promises and hopes.  But after reading his chapter on the interaction between immigration and the perception of our privilege as a nation, and after reading an article in this week’s Newsweek about violence, drug trafficking and immigration issues on the border between Juarez, Mexico and El Paso, Texas, and after critiquing the myths of our nation for 10 weeks now, I couldn’t help but feel the need for a little Appreciative Inquiry.

Wuthnow speaks of the ambivalence of the immigration process in America.  Our immigrants come for the promise of freedom and a better future than what their home countries offer; This story of the idealism of immigration has prevailed.  Yet such promise comes at a great cost, and the stories of sacrifice and loss have become hidden by the glare of the shiny American Dream.  These stories, Wuthnow argues, must become a part of our identity too, because they point to strengths and values that we need in order to truly become the better nation we long to be – values of the home, family, community and deep and nurturing roots.  America has a lot to offer the more than 600,000 immigrants who legally became citizens last year, but we have much to learn from the cultures they have left behind.

It is easy to criticize the way in which our beacon of light has dimmed in recent decades.  It is easy to look our broken systems of education, health care and public safety and doubt that we have anything to promise immigrants at all.  We’ve certainly got our share of problems, and it’s no secret that our immigrants receive some of the worst treatment of any of our citizens.  We’ve given them all boots without bootstraps and cheerfully shouted, “PULL!”

But then, we can look at the border between Juarez, Mexico and El Paso, Texas, where each day 200,000 people cross between the two cities.  Factory executives who live in El Paso head south, while citizens of Juarez head north to shop for sneakers and stereos.  They spend about $2.2 billion a year.  And until recently, Americans fueled a vibrant tourist economy in Juarez.  Yet now, violence plagues the Mexican city that is home to 1.5 million people.  It is ruled by drug lords and the death toll this year is 1,300 and counting (as opposed to the 15 murders in El Paso).  The situation is so bad it’s difficult to describe: “[It] looks a lot like a failed state, with no government entity capable of imposing order and a profusion of powerful organizations that kill and plunder at will” (Newsweek, December 8, 2008, 51).  Hospitals, even in El Paso, are guarded by SWAT teams and bulletproof glass because the drug lords have come north to finish off their surviving victims while they were being operated on.  Beheadings, burnings, dismemberments and mutilations have become routine, and corruption within the Mexican police force prevents any foothold on the problem.  Such anarchy stirs not only fear in the residents of both cities, but a deep desire in the people of Juarez who have been affected by the violence to find peace north of the border.

Immigration isn’t what it used to be.  The journey, for the most part, isn’t as long or treacherous, and the pay-off, perhaps, is not so great.  Still, I can’t help but wonder, in the spirit of Appreciative Inquiry, if our nation does not still offer a glimmer of light, even if it be dim.  I know we are not the Savior of the world, but when I walk in the footsteps of the people of Juarez for a few minutes, I can understand why they might want to come.  Is it possible that boots, even without bootstraps, are better than bare feet?

Our immigration system desperately needs reform.  Our promise needs reform.  But I was reminded today to appreciate the promise of old, stained and tarnished as it may be.  Perhaps our renewal can come from remembering what was good, and reflecting on all the best things the promise of our nation has to offer.  We’ve gotten a long way from them, I believe, but if we return, perhaps some of our problems will be solved.  Or, perhaps they were all just a myth to begin with.  But to the hundreds of thousands who still flee to our borders every year, the myth is real.  They need it to be.

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!”

– “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus; inscription on the Statue of Liberty

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Tags: American Dream, American Myths, Appreciative Inquiry, bootstraps, El Paso, Immigration, Juarez, Mexico, Robert Wuthnow, Texas

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