Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, January 17, 2018
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F
eeling
hatred
is
a
given, rejecting it is a
choice. It is not enough
to disagree privately; we must
vocally
remind
ourselves
that every person has value,
regardless of origin.
My friends from shithole
countries
were
pretty
incensed by the president’s
comments last week. When
I first heard his words, I
stopped for a second and
wondered
if
Egypt,
my
country of origin, would be
considered a shithole country
by his standards.
It’s safe to say that without
the pyramids, Egypt certainly
would be among the brown
and
black
countries
that
Trump, and many people,
find inferior. But, with this
designation comes a certain
sense
of
pride
because
I
know
that
immigrants
will persevere despite this
perception of us.
Yet I can’t always shake
the way the president’s words
resonante with me when I look
in the mirror. Sometimes, I do
feel like I’m from a shithole
country. I see violence, the
restriction of freedoms and a
lack of prosperity.
What
I
must
remind
myself is that every country
struggles
on
some
levels
with these issues. There are
historical
and
sociological
reasons for the circumstances
of each country. Although
we can’t always mute self-
hatred, it’s our responsibility
to respond to it with positive
reinforcement—both for our
own sake and for others.
I thank God every day that
my parents immigrated to
America. Because of that, I
was born in what is, for me,
the greatest country in the
world. However, with that
blessing comes a lot of strings.
America
has
a
way
of
reminding you of all the ways
you’re different. This isn’t
always a bad thing, and the
individuality and creativity
it promotes is part of what
makes it great. Still, I know
from
personal
experience
how easy it is to conflate
being different with being
less.
A sense of belonging is not
the most natural impulse
when nobody in your lecture
hall looks like you. It’s hard to
feel heard by representatives
who don’t tune in to your
narrative.
Caring
about
headlines 12 time zones away,
asking your parents questions
about America they don’t know
the answer to; it’s part of the
territory of being an immigrant.
It builds character, and I’m
at peace with the difficulty
of it. I believe it makes me
a
stronger
person,
more
ready to raise kids here and
continue the experiment of
being an American.
We learn every day just
how
heterogeneous
our
society can be, and how many
different walks of life can be
accommodated
peacefully
instead of rejected violently.
What it means to be American
is always in contention, and
our responsibility is to affect
that meaning positively.
I’m not personally upset
at what the president said
because
that’s
how
many
people
feel.
I’m
upset
because, for a moment, I felt
the inferiority that somebody
else
determined
for
me.
The young immigrants who
hear these remarks may feel
worse about themselves, and
all of us – whether we were
born here or not – might fail
to reassure them that these
voices of self-hatred are false.
How much worse would my
mom feel, as a child-arrival
bullied for the food she ate
and the clothes she couldn’t
afford,
if
her
president
reaffirmed
the
negative
feedback she was getting at
school? Would my dad find
the same success if he saw
other immigrants as rivals
instead of allies?
I can imagine both of
them being invigorated by
the
president’s
comments,
as my friends are today. It’s
not impossible to succeed in
this country as a minority,
but self-hatred fuels those
moments of ambiguity when
I question whether or not
I belong here. Even though
it’s unhealthy, it’s natural to
question whether I can fit
in and stand out at the same
time.
I wouldn’t run into these
feelings if I never left Egypt.
But America is the greatest
country in the world for
me because it has potential
beyond any other. America’s
core values are ambitious and
future-oriented; the spirit of
self-improvement is woven
into our flag. No country is
quite like us in our melting-
pot culture and our character
of accommodation.
Yes, such grand visions are
easy to fail, and quite often
they’ve backfired horribly.
It’s
easy
to
contemplate
giving up, settling for the
kind of homogenous, closed-
off country we’re used to
reading about in history —
the same country some of
my neighbors crave, where
everyone is from the same
shithole country instead of
many.
Until
the
moment
I’m
dragged off this soil, I’ll
continue demonstrating my
value to this country. It’s a
shame that the success of
immigrants is political, but
it’s on us to see in ourselves
and in each other that we
belong here.
A familiar voice
ANDREW MEKHAIL | COLUMN
Andrew Mekhail can be reached at
mekhail@umich.edu.
B
y
targeting
women,
minorities
and
other
vulnerable populations
through his tweets and public
comments, President
Trump has begun to
cement his legacy as
a bully more than a
role model, despite
being in office for less
than one year.
Last week, Trump
added to his history
of crude and overtly
prejudiced comments
at a White House
meeting with select
senators
regarding
various
immigration policies, including
the status of the Deferred
Action for Childhood Arrivals
program, put in place by
former
President
Barack
Obama in 2012.
When asked by Senator Dick
Durbin, D-Ill., whether certain
countries
like
Haiti
could
receive Temporary Protected
Status for their undocumented
immigrants living in the United
States, CNN confirmed Trump
said, “Why do we need more
Haitians?
Take
them
out.”
In an even more egregious
act of racism, Trump went
on to describe immigrants
from Africa as coming from
“shithole
countries,”
a
statement that was not denied
by White House spokesperson
Raj Shah when asked about it
the following evening.
At
first
glance
these
statements are shocking, but at
this point, should be expected
from a president whose power is
predicated on the subjugation of
outsiders who present a threat to
his vision of a white, patriarchal
society. And until this racism
is wiped from the country’s
core institutions, these types
of comments from the nation’s
leader will only perpetuate this
system of inequality.
Above all, DACA is a measure
of
inclusivity
and
empathy
overshadowed and mitigated by
the generally tough immigration
policy supported by the Trump
administration.
By
granting
undocumented
immigrants
protection
from
immediate
deportation
and
the right to work
and
study,
DACA
highlights
the
empathy with which
Obama
understood
the
desperate
situation of many children from
economically
and
politically
decimated countries who have
known nothing but America
since immigrating here at a
young age.
Many factors might explain
the divergence between Obama
and
Trump’s
philosophy
on
DACA,
which
Trump
announced he would begin to
phase out after the proposed
bipartisan
deal
presented
a “big step backwards” for
immigration policy and the
country’s spending deficit.
One
powerful
factor
that cannot be ignored in
explaining this dichotomy is
race, though it is one that is
frequently neglected because
of its controversial nature.
Trump’s “shithole” comments,
undoubtedly
fueled
by
an
underlying prejudice against
minorities,
represent
a
pervasive problem in a country
that prides itself on inclusion
and democracy.
Recently in one of my classes,
Islam in Africa, we watched a
Ted Talk by Nigerian writer
Chimamanda
Adichie
called
“The Danger of a Single Story.”
Adichie’s lecture has become a
popular teaching tool for many
historians
and
sociologists
as a way to highlight the
consequences
of
racial
stereotypes and generalizations.
Adichie recalled that when
she moved from Nigeria to the
United States to attend college,
she was shocked by the reaction
of her American roommate.
Not only did the roommate ask
to listen to Adichie’s African
“tribal music,” but also assumed
that she did not know how to
use a stove.
While
these
demeaning
generalizations may be in part
due to individual prejudice, it
is equally if not more a result of
institutional racism embedded
in our schools, media and politics.
The very course in which
I heard this story is not only
an objective introduction to
the history of Islam in Africa,
but an attempt to tear down
the
misunderstandings
and
stereotypes attached to each
of these topics, the type of
sentiment held by President
Trump
and
many
others
who see Africa and Haiti as
“shithole” countries without
the
means
necessary
to
function in the modern world.
Until America as a whole
is educated in more than one
“story” of Africa, Haiti and
all
other
countries
whose
refugees are seeking a better
life in the United States, the
racism demonstrated by Trump
will continue to appear in both
everyday life and political policy.
It then becomes the task of
us as students to not only learn,
but to educate others in a way
that emphasizes diversity and
inclusion. Trump’s comments
will surely perpetuate racist
ideology in the United States,
but a strong opposition to this
rhetoric through education and
wholesome
media
coverage
may reverse the flow of this
anti-immigrant philosophy.
Racism in practice
BEN CHARLSON | COLUMN
Ben Charlson can be reached at
bencharl@umich.edu.
P
rior
to
last
week’s
college
football
national championship
game,
President
Donald
Trump
took
the
field
for
the
national
anthem.
White
House
officials
likely
hoped
the
appearance
would help boost
an
embattled
president, but the
plan
backfired
when TV cameras
caught
Trump
mumbling
as
he
sang
along,
leading many observers to
conclude that Trump did not
know the words. The outcry
was swift and harsh.
For the record, I am not
convinced
that
Trump
forgot the national anthem’s
lyrics. The footage seems
to show a man somewhat
awkwardly trying to appear
presidential
on
national
television rather than a man
struggling to remember the
words. But either way, a more
interesting, and far more
consequential
question
is
this: how important is it for
presidents and other political
leaders to know aspects of
our civic culture, like the
national anthem?
Suppose
Trump
did
indeed
forget
the
lyrics:
Was the deluge of criticism
that
followed
merely
an
instance of liberals trying
to score political points, or
was it a warranted critique?
I contend it’s the latter.
Admittedly,
knowing
the
national anthem’s lyrics will
not boost the economy. It
won’t fix health care, nor will
it thwart terrorism. But not
knowing the words would
be an affront to our nation’s
civic culture, which can be
loosely defined as respect,
admiration and knowledge
of our country’s democratic
values, history and system
of governance. The national
anthem is a celebration of our
civic culture, but this civic
culture is arguably in decline
Last fall, researchers at the
University of Pennsylvania’s
Annenberg
Public
Policy
Center conducted a survey
on Americans’ knowledge of
the government and the U.S.
Constitution, and the results
were less than impressive.
A third of the country could
not name any of the three
branches of government and
only a quarter could identify
all three. They also
found
37
percent
could not name a
single civil liberty
protected under the
First
Amendment,
and none of the First
Amendment
rights
were identified by
more than half of
respondents.
For
what
it
is
worth,
a
separate
ABC poll found 60
percent of Americans
don’t
know
the
national
anthem’s lyrics. Moreover,
the country’s ignorance of
basic civics seems to be on the
upswing. The Annenberg poll
has been conducted annually
since 2011, and the results
have shown a steady decline
in the civic knowledge of
Americans. The concept of
civic knowledge is two-fold,
involving
both
practical
topics like the provisions of
the Constitution and more
symbolic matters like the
national
anthem,
but
the
polling suggests Americans
largely
don’t
know
much
about either.
Frankly, these figures are
depressing
and
alarming.
An educated electorate is
essential to the health of
a modern democracy. The
Founding Fathers were well
aware of this and feared
the irrational decisions of
an ignorant populace. Some
forefathers
believed
the
solution was to limit the
role
of
everyday
citizens
in governance, leading the
drafters of the Constitution
to create institutions like
the
Electoral
College,
the
indirect
election
of
senators and voting rights
restrictions.
Others,
like
Thomas Jefferson, believed
the
political
participation
of average citizens to be
imperative in an egalitarian
society and saw the education
of the masses as the cure to
an
ill-informed
electorate.
Jefferson’s
commitment
to
this goal led him to found the
University of Virginia with the
purpose to educate Americans
to better our democracy after
his presidency.
Fortunately, in the centuries
since the Constitution’s ratification,
we
have
endorsed
Jefferson’s
view and gradually eliminated
voting rights restrictions and
other
roadblocks
to
true
representative
democracy.
But in order for Jefferson’s
vision to be realized, we
must commit ourselves to
being informed, responsible
citizens, which begins with
knowing rudimentary civics.
Though ignorance towards
civics
does
not
directly
translate
to
ignorance
towards policy, voters are
unlikely to make reasoned
decisions at the ballot box
if they do not even know
how the government works.
Though
this
lens,
civic
ignorance constitutes a real
threat to political efficacy,
since
research
suggests
the
less
people
know
about government, the less
confidence they have in it.
Trump’s national anthem
mumbling
raises
another
concern: the possibility that
civic ignorance, that is a lack
of knowledge and even a lack
of regard for basic civics,
could spread to our leaders.
Politicians are rational actors,
and if voters don’t care about
their civic knowledge, neither
will candidates for public
office, which will presumably
lead to ignorant leaders. We
should want our political
leaders to be knowledgeable
about the Constitution, our
country’s history and other
elementary civics. However,
even assuming we want this
in principle, we need to know
civics ourselves if we are to
determine if candidates do.
Who
knows
if
Trump
knows
the
words
of
the
national anthem. What is
clear is that most of us don’t,
and our blissful ignorance
extends far beyond that to
serious matters of law and
governance. This is not to
suggest that learning about
our
government
is
some
magical fix to our nation’s
problems, but rather that
our nation’s ignorance is a
problem in itself and one
worth fixing. The loss of
civic
knowledge
reflects
a
corrosion
of
America’s
civic culture, and it is our
collective responsibility as a
country to rectify it.
On civic ignorance
NOAH HARRISON | COLUMN
Noah Harrison can be reached at
noahharr@umich.edu.
NOAH
HARRISON
BEN
CHARLSON
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“I can’t always
shake the way the
president’s words
resonante with
me when I look in
the mirror.”