In My Country

Yesterday, on my way home from work, about a block from my house, I discovered something kind of unsettling: my brand new brakes, which are nominally anti-lock, sometimes lock. The guy in front of me accelerated as though he was going to go through the yellow light, and then abruptly changed his mind for reasons which will become evident below. I slammed my brakes, and the car slowed, and then the brake pedal ceased to resist my foot and the car ceased to slow, and I hit this dude's Honda.

It was a low-speed collision, there was no damage and no airbags were deployed. The reason for the Honda's caution became readily apparent, as the cop who had stopped at the other side of the traffic light turned on his flashers and waved us both over to the parking lot. I got out and checked with the other guy, and we shook hands and agreed that there was no damage and we were both okay, and that was nice, and I apologized and he said it was nothing, and I felt quite relieved. The cop then took my license and asked the other guy if he had one, and the other guy smiled and said "In my country."

Immigration laws are laws of necessity, not choice. So much of our society and system of government, from politics to finance to education to medicine, is predicated on everybody being equal in the eyes of the law, and thus recognized by the eyes of the law. We don't have laws against unsanctioned immigration because we are xenophobic, we have them because we have a system that we all enjoy, that we all agreed upon in some form or other, and the proper functioning of which requires certain rules.

The passenger in the other car mumbled something to the driver and then walked away across the parking lot when the cop asked to speak to me. He asked me if I wanted to pursue the issue. I told him the accident was pretty clearly my fault, mechanical failure or not, and that any pursuing was the other guy's decision. The cop looked up at me and scowled, and told me that the other guy wasn't really in a position to pursue anything. He walked back over to the other car and starting asking more questions, taking pains to make clear right off the bat that he was no fan of illegals. Tattered papers were produced and exchanged, and the accident was quickly becoming the least of this guy's problems. I tried to signal my apologies over the cop's shoulder, and the guy gave me a hapless smile and raised his arms in the international sign language for "Oh well, what can you do?" The cop turned around and told me that I was free to go, and that I really ought to act upon that freedom.

Mr. Artiz was in the wrong place at the wrong time yesterday evening. In a number of ways. First of all, he was in front of me, my over-zealous desire to get home, and my dubious brakes. Secondly, he was in Arlington, Virginia, without legal citizenship of the United States. One was not his fault and the other, barring abduction/blackmail/et cetera, was. I'm not sure exactly what happens to illegal immigrants when they get stopped by police for being victims of someone else's criminal negligence, but the immigrant in question most certainly found out the hard way last night, and I feel pretty bad about it.

There are those who would celebrate this sort of thing. They would congratulate themselves on doing their part, however accidentally (haha), to combat the alien menace. There are those who would decry the injustice of it all, that this guy who was just minding his own business and obeying the laws of the road should be subjected to interrogation and criminal penalty on account of someone else's folly. I'm not really entirely in either camp. I feel really terrible that I might have caused this guy to be separated from his family, that I might have swiped bread off some kid's table, that I might have screwed this guy over at his most vulnerable position, perhaps tantalizingly close to getting himself on the right side of the law. But alternately, he knew the rules of the game, and he knew where he stood in regards to them. Like a British officer whistling "Tipperary" in the trenches, this guy's defeated smile signalled an acceptance of fate, and of the risks inherent in his actions. Sometimes, out of a clear blue sky, things just go completely sideways. What can you do?

The US Congress is debating a reform of current immigration law right now. By the sound of things, neither side of the political spectrum is pleased with the whole bill. Because of that fact, I'm inclined to support it, or at least not oppose it, and here's why: if we could grant the prosperity of our nation to every other person around the world, we would. We cannot, however, guarantee that the prosperity we now enjoy, the enviable conditions that cause people to flock to our country in search of a better life, can be maintained if we allow everyone who wants to come here to do so. There's no comfort in that equation, there's no moral high ground to be claimed, there is just the unfortunate reality that our situation will be either exclusive or unsustainable. That should cause some guilt, but that guilt can be acknowledged without diminishing the pride of citizenship. Of those to whom much is given, much is expected. So my apologies to Mr. Artiz, and I wish him the best in his attempts to enjoy the freedoms and opportunities that have been granted to me since birth. There are obviously some advantages to doing it legally, but the fact that he didn't avail himself of that option earns him the same amount of ill will from me that I earned from him.