What We're Doing With Our Independence

Last night, my daughter and I walked down to the waterfront to watch the fireworks over San Diego Bay. It was a terrific night, warm enough to wear shorts and a t-shirt, but cool enough that a brisk walk didn't raise a sweat. Perfect San Diego weather.

The spot I chose was on the boardwalk between a California-style pizza place and the store that sells fishing tackle, overlooking the marina which is home to dozens of million-dollar yachts and even more fishing boats, many of them of the kind that go for days at a time. If there had been a breeze, the booming of the fireworks would have been mixed with the pinging of the rigging on a hundred sailboats. I love both sounds, and when they're mixed? I'm euphoric.

It wasn't terribly crowded where we stood, but there were plenty of families there: parents with strollers keeping one eye on their playful youngsters and the other on the fireworks, while the kids hollered and gamboled in blissful ignorance of the five fireworks displays visible from where we stood.

It might have been the Perfect Independence Day Experience if any of those kids had spoken English.

No,

I am not a racist.

I am, however, a thoughtful moderate, and finding myself at a celebration of my country's birth surrounded by people who came here from somewhere else set me to thinking about a single question: What happened to The Melting Pot?

I was raised to believe that America had risen so quickly to become the great nation it is because we are a nation of immigrants. We've drawn our strength from a pool of positive qualities brought here by an enormously diverse group of people who came here (and still come here) seeking something better than what they had wherever they were. I have met many immigrants and befriended a few; they all share a passionate desire to work -- and work hard -- for the benefits they draw from their new home. For that reason alone, we Americans should welcome them with open arms.

My daughter's high school graduation ceremony was conducted in both Spanish and English. Spanish first, followed by an English translation. I won't say I wasn't miffed, but it stands to reason; Hispanic students comprise the largest ethnic group in San Diego City Schools. Bilingual ceremonies at public schools are an indicator of the change this country has undergone since the 1990s, when we began to espouse multiculturalism and encourage immigrants to retain their cultural heritage rather than assimilate.

I grew up in a predominantly Irish neighborhood, and I knew of several households where Gaelic was regularly spoken. Despite that, no one ever suggested that public school ceremonies be conducted in both Gaelic and English; those parents who spoke only Gaelic forbade their children from speaking anything but English at home in order to create an environment where they themselves could learn the language. Those parents had come here seeking a life better than what they had in Ireland, and they understood that it came at the cost of joining American society. They all felt it was a price worth paying.

Multiculturalism teaches that we can still have that unified society, but presumes that relinquishing even a small part of one's cultural heritage is somehow disrespectful, or at a minimum, embraces a misunderstanding of the importance of that heritage. The problem with that line of thinking is that a common language fosters a greater understanding between cultures, and the lack of a common language only serves to impede the very thing we as Americans ought to be seeking: acceptance of our fellow citizens.

This country has always struggled with immigration, and at one time or another, every single ethnic group in America has had to deal with the fallout of racism and discrimination. Every successfully integrated group has achieved their place in our society through understanding -- by understanding those who arrived before and by fostering understanding of who they are and why they came. The thing we all have in common is that we or our ancestors all came here seeking a better life.

The ongoing debate over immigration in this country is understandable, but the drive to close our borders and make immigration more difficult baffles me. To be sure, there are those who come here to leach off our society, but my experience is that these are very few and far between. The vast majority of immigrants come here understanding that they will have to earn their place here, and they go to enormous lengths to do so. I work with a South African immigrant who owns his own business and employs several people, including me on a part time basis. A friend of mine is a first-generation American whose father died a millionaire, but began as a tuna fisherman in the days when the industry relied on men who could stand on a rolling deck for days to haul fish aboard using cane poles. These men, and many like them, have earned their place here, and they embody the spirit of Democracy.

Our foreign policy for many years has centered on a desire to spread Democracy to other nations, and the war in Iraq and Afghanistan is a good example of that sort of cultural myopia. The governments in Iraq and Afghanistan are failing because Democracy cannot be given as a gift; it must be earned with sweat and tears and blood. Like any commitment, Democracy requires sacrifice every day.

As we walked home from the fireworks last night, I was a little sad for us as a country for our tendency to exclude those who come here with so much to offer, and for those who receive so little welcome.

I don't think anyone has said it better than Bill Murray in Stripes: "We're all very different people. We're not Watusi, we're not Spartans, we're Americans. With a capital "A", huh? And you know what that means? Do you? That means that our forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world. We are the wretched refuse. We're the underdog. We're mutts."

Welcome to America.