March 23, 2009--Wicked Witchcraft

This continues to be Green Owl week.

Over coffee a few days ago we got all tangled up about the A.I.G. bonuses and after that, in an attempt to distract ourselves, we exchanged snide comments about the manner in which some in Switzerland take to the hiking trails. Yesterday, we were at it again. This time arguing about one of the most incendiary of subjects—immigration and its effect on the economy. Especially now that that economy is so strained.

If you have been following my Owl encounters, you can only imagine.

“Have you been down to South Florida recently and driven around in those neighborhoods where they live?” This was Stan (not his real name) who before he retired used to work for a bank.

“Isn’t this South Florida?” I tried, knowing where this was heading and hoping to get us onto a different subject.

“I don’t consider it to be South Florida. Here, we have primarily Americans living.”

For this I couldn’t sit still, “Oh really? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean here we have citizens. People who speak English and are willing to work for a living.”

“And what do they in the real South Florida do? They don’t work for a living? Almost all in fact work very hard to make money. And take on a lot of jobs that your so-called Americans are not willing to do.”

“Like I said, if you drive around down there—and if you’d like I’d be happy to take you there—you’d see that fifty percent of them don’t want to work. They only came here to be on welfare. And to take advantage of our schools and hospitals.”

My coffee had gotten cold while the discussion had heated up. I was shaking with frustration, not from too much caffeine. How could Stan, who is otherwise a nice and reasonable guy be saying these kinds of things? In truth, making things up out of his own frustration with the state of the world.

I’m still used to having leisurely breakfasts in New York City, downtown in Soho, where you never have arguments of this kind. Everyone pretty much agrees about all things political, arguing gently mainly about this book or that, that movie or this. All the while comfortable being served and having one’s coffee cups taken away and washed by whomever happens to have had enough paperwork to present to get hired with not too many questions asked.

How nice it is there for all of us. It’s so good to live surrounded by people who agree with you about everything and let you sip your espresso without being interrupted by what so many in other, less-enlightened parts of the country, are concerned about.

Not that I don’t love it at the Green Owl; but some mornings, before I’ve had enough of their very fine American coffee, I’m not ready to be fighting about how large the government should be, who should or mainly shouldn’t be taxed, and how we should build a fence along the border and try to round up and send “home” the 12-15 million illegal (in New York we refer to our restaurant bussers as “undocumented”) immigrants. And yes, put in jail any one who employs them.

“Stan, I’ve got to tell you that you’re not right about this. However they get here they are coming to work. To make better lives for themselves. Like your grandparents, who came here from Italy. What kind of work did they do? You told me once. I think you said your grandfather worked for the Sicilian Asphalt Company, paving streets in Brooklyn. Near where I grew up. I remember them. Not your grandfather, but those guys. Gangs of them. And you know what, none of them seemed to speak English. They all spoke Sicilian. But their kids, every one of them, learned English on the streets and in school. Their parents were eager for them to. That’s why they came here in the first place. Just like today. How many kids whose parents snuck across the border don’t want to learn English? I’d say none.”

“That’s not true. They only want to speak Spanish. I’ve been to some of those demonstrations that they have to protest immigration policies and all I see are flags there from Mexico and the rest of those countries. I’ve never seen any of them carrying American flags.”

“I’ve seen that too and it’s not my favorite thing. But the other day, Saint Patrick’s Day, right here on Atlantic Avenue, did you see all the Irish flags? And on Columbus Day what do you see? Italian flags. And on Israel Independence Day? This doesn’t mean that the Irish or Italians or Jews aren’t good Americans. It’s just that they’re also proud of their backgrounds.”

“But they all speak English and are willing to work. Not live on food stamps and hang out on street corners. Like I said, I could take you to see this with your own eyes. More than fifty percent are not willing to work.”

“Stan, if I did some Googling and came up with the real numbers about unemployment, and if Steven is right,” it was Rona, the voice of reconciliation, “would you change your mind?”

“I know the numbers, but if you find others of course I would change my mind.”

So shortly thereafter we went home and did some research. From the Pew Research Center, state of the art for data of this kind (report linked below), we quickly found the following:

• Until late 2008 when unemployment began to rise rapidly, non-citizen Hispanics had lower unemployment rates than whites, blacks, and Hispanic citizens.

• During the last quarter of 2008, a small gap of less than two percentage points opened between non-citizen Hispanics and other categories of workers.

• But, compared to other groups, a larger percentage of non-citizen Latinos 16 and older were still in the work force.

So much for Stan’s numbers.

We forwarded the report to him but haven’t as yet heard back. We’ll see if he shows up at the Owl this morning—I should hurry and post this so we can get there.

My guess is that he will be there but will remain unshaken in his beliefs.

As Harvey, who was there yesterday but uncharacteristically didn’t participate much, as he said we’re having another of our periodic witch hunts, looking for scapegoats on whom to blame our most frustrating problems. That like in the 1690s at the heart of the matter is fear about the future. As then, the economic future.

I didn’t know that much about what came to be called the Salem Witch Trials and so I did a little research about that too. Harvey is right.

At the end of the 17th century, increasing family size fueled disputes over land between neighbors and within families, especially on the frontier where the economy was based on farming. Changes in the weather or blights could wipe out a year's crop. A farm that could support an average-sized family could not support the next generation, prompting farmers to push farther into the wilderness to find land. As the Puritans had vowed to create a theocracy in this new land, religious fervor intensified and added tension to the mix. Loss of crops, livestock, and children, as well as natural disasters such as earthquakes and bad weather, were typically attributed to the wrath of God. Explanations for this needed to be found, sacrificial victims on whom to blame things needed to be identified. And they were:

A hundred-fifty were arrested. Twenty-nine were convicted of witchcraft--a felony. Nineteen were hanged, fourteen of these were women. Six others died in prison.