FAREWELL TO  THE AMERICAN HEARTH.

Senator Frank Lautenberg was the last surviving veteran of WWII to serve in our United States Congress. I mention this not only to honor him and his service to our country, but to lament the passing of something even greater — a binding  experience of American commonality; a common cause around which to rally. Our American hearth.

Growing up in the 1960s, I remember reading about congressional activity with great interest at a time when, like now, so much was changing. Even though the issues were very controversial and debates very heated, there seemed to be an invisible line that these gentlemen statesmen (and they were all men) just did not cross. For the most part, they minded their manners and backed off when they knew they were losing, enabling cooperation and compromise in passing historic legislation and moving our nation forward. They were patriots before they were Republicans or Democrats. Sadly, loyalty to a political party now trumps loyalty to our fellow Americans.

Then Senator Obama spoke of our ever increasing political hostilities in his book, The Audacity of Hope, and suggested that one reason for the lack of civility was that there are fewer reminders of our past common greatness; such as WWII. In the 1950s and 60s, nearly every person serving in Congress had served in WWII. This immediate memory of brothers in arms against a common enemy made it easier to see those on the other side of the aisle, not as mortal enemies, but only temporary ones. The debater on the floor was also a fellow veteran, an ally in defeating fascism and saving our Republic.

In the 1960s there was the additional thrill of the space program and the race to the moon. I remember how truly out of this world it all seemed. We were at the top of our game, at the top of the world. We had just saved the world from a brutal dictatorship, and went on to plant an American flag on the moon. Here again, we were united against a common enemy and beat the Soviets to the moon. We were Americans, and we were great!

So, what happened? While it is true that there is a greater diversity of all kinds in our current congress — diversity of backgrounds, ethnicities and ideas — this diversity demonstrates a greater commitment to our founding principles, and should enhance our sense of patriotism. The fact that there are now more women in congress has proven to be a real benefit, as they are the ones most engaged at present in reaching across the aisle to the other party.

While accommodating new voices and ideas requires adjustments, we have been electing a more diverse congress for decades now, so this alone cannot be a major culprit in creating the discord we have now. The last truly unifying event that we experienced together as a nation was 9/11. American flags were everywhere, people were treating one another with kindness and compassion, and we all felt the enormous pain of our great loss. It is unfortunate that this good feeling and sense of commonality was too short-lived due to the controversial manner in which we invaded Iraq. Before long, the compassion we shared with one another and that the world lavished upon us after the attack, had turned into 1960s-style protests against the war. Even natural disasters are now sources of controversy, it seems. Didn’t we all used to agree about disaster relief?

So, how do we get it back? Is it going to take another plane flying into a building? A dirty bomb? Nuclear holocaust? The end of the world? Is it only in the face of terror that we can unite and call one another sister and brother? Do we need a new common enemy? If so, what or who? Our enemies are not as easily identifiable as they used to be. How do we get our American Mojo back?

This may sound like a lame suggestion, but how about rejoicing in our greatness, past and future? Do we need a greater reason to see one another as patriots than just having the honor of calling ourselves and one another American? I know that every American has their own idea of what patriotism is. Even though I often abhor the comments I hear, I am really happy that people care enough to want in on the discussion; the ongoing discussion of what it means to be American. It is sad to me that more people don’t participate in our great and ongoing American experiment.

I really like the word ‘hearth.’ For me, it brings a sense of a gathering around, of family, of commonality. Where is our American hearth? I hope we don’t need to be invaded from outer space in order to find it again. I miss it. I think we all do, and that is why we will all miss Frank Lautenberg.
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Having retired from the practice of law, Irene Daniel is now focused on a second career as a writer and activist. She is a second-generation Mexican-American, native Arizonan who transplanted to Los Angeles to attend the UCLA School of Law, and now calls LA home. She lives in Eagle Rock with her husband Ken and her black lab Maggie.

FATHER’S DAY–NOT.

I really dread Father’s Day. Why? Ever since I can remember, all around me kids at school with fathers talking about what gift they’ll get their dad, the great times they’ll have. And me? I don’t have a dad. You see, I’m a zombie without a dad. So what am I supposed to do?

Early on, I think I was seven years old, I decided to ask my mom about my father. “Is he still alive? Where is he?” I asked. “Why doesn’t he come by to visit?”

“Porque es un sinverguenza cabrón!” She replied. Suddenly she was more angry than I had ever seen her. “We will NOT talk about your useless father who ran out on us when I needed him the most. You are lucky NOT to have father like him! Sinverquenza! ”

After that I didn’t task any more questions about my father.

Nonetheless, every year, come the beginning of June and I would start hearing my classmates all conferring on what gifts they would be getting their dads, and how the family would go out to the beach or on a picnic or have a special bar-b-que to celebrate Father’s Day. And they would always ask me, “Hey Lazo, what about you? What are you getting your dad and where will you go?” Of course, I was embarrassed to admit I had no dad. Before long I had invented my own version of my dad walking out on my mom and me.

“He’s in the military.” I would say conspiratorially when asked about my dad. “Special forces, can’t really talk about it–secret assignment. Yeah, he’s out there defending our country and he’s not going to be able it make it back for Father’s Day this year. A tough job but someone’s got to do it.”

That usually shut everyone one up. No more questions. Which is exactly how I wanted it.

The hardest part came on Father’s day itself. It always fell on a Sunday and I would wake up knowing that somehow I had to get through the day. Since my resurrection from the Evergreen cemetery, my mom had gotten very religious–she went to mass every morning and twice on Sundays. Fortunately for me, she didn’t want to raise any questions about me since some of the brothers and sisters at the Parish had also been at my funeral. So I got to stay home.

When I was ten years old, my mom could see that I was really struggling with the Father’s Day thing and a few days before Father’s Day that year, I overheard her on the phone talking to my Uncle Chepito, her brother.

“Cheppy,” she said, “Please. En el nombre de Díos, take him out to a movie or to Disneyland or something,. The poor child needs a father figure. I’ll pay for it all.”

I was not surprised when the dreaded day finally came around and my mom woke me up early, a huge smile on her face. “Mijo, get up! Get ready, brush your teeth, put on your make-up and deodorant! You’re Tio Chepito is going to take you to a movie!”

Gotta say, it really put me in a good mood. I got dressed quickly, scarfed down some raw liver festering in the frig and was ready when my Uncle Chepito knocked on the front door.

Okay, my Uncle Cheptito is no great father figure, let me tell you. I’m grateful that he agreed to show me a good time–problem was his idea of a good time and mine were totally different.

He drove us to the cinemaplex at the local mall and we had to wait in line for twenty minutes before we could even buy the ticket. He bought just one ticket and gave it to me. “Look,” he said, “I’ve already seen this movie. Just go in and when the movie’s over, you come find me at that building over there, the one with the sign.” He pointed to a building across the mall with sign over it which read , “O’Reilly’s Bar.” “Come for me and I’ll take you home.”

Hey, I was getting a free movie so I wasn’t going to complain. So I went into the theater and found a seat. As the movie began I imagined that my Uncle was there sitting next to me, or perhaps the father I had never known was there with me, or, heck, anybody but the young couple who were making out all through the movie.

When the movie was over, I went to find my Uncle Chepito at O’Reilly’s Bar. He was sitting at the bar counter with a woman I didn’t know. They were drinking and talking loudly and having a good time. I could see from his expression when I walked up to them that my uncle was not all that happy that movie was over. “Mijo,” he said., “I’ll be ready to go in just a minute. Horetencia, this is my nephew, Lazaro.” The woman smiled at me with big teeth, one of them capped with gold. “Oh, what a darling!”

My Uncle Chepito motioned to the bartender. “Sammy, get me something for the kid, will ya? “ he added with a wink, “He’s older than he looks.“

The bartender brought over a foamy mug of a kind of coke I had never tasted before. It was a little bitter at first, but after a few sips it got to taste really good. I don’t really remember too much of the rest of that afternoon. My uncle and his lady friend had a great time and after a while I was laughing right along with them, though I didn’t really get the jokes.

I do remember getting sick when my Uncle finally took me home. I was trying to hold it down but didn’t quite make it to the front porch. I barfed all over the front lawn of the house. About that time my mom came out and ran to me. She took a long at me as I continued to barf on the front lawn. She gave my Uncle Chepito an angry look. He tried to smile at her.

“I guess it must have been that hot dog I bought him at the movie.” He said.

“Sinverguenza!” My mother said “Emborrachaste a mi hijo! Malagradecido! Sinverquenza! You men are all the same!” She picked me up and dragged me into the house. And that was the last I ever saw of Uncle Chepito.

Ever since then I have created my own way of celebrating Father’s Day. While my mom is away at church, I slap a rented video into the DVD player. It’s always the same movie, the one that I saw by myself when I was ten years old and pretending my Uncle or dad was there with me–“Home Alone.”

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Copyright 2012 Lazaro De L aTierra and Barrio Dog Productions Inc.

Note: This blog was previously published on Latinopia on June 12, 2012.

IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE?

I have noticed that more than a few academicians have joined the sport of criticizing some of the icons of the Chicana/o Movement. It concerns me because the criticism is coming from people who often have an axe to grind or simply don’t know what they are talking about.

I have tried to be objective, and in no way do I want to stifle critical analyses of historical figures within the Chicana/o historical experience. I realize that I have my biases; I am protective of the legacy of the late sixties. But, it goes beyond hero worship.

What concerns me is that the type of criticism that I hear often gives people a false sense of power – the power of being in the know.

I also realize that I take criticism personal and accept it from those who have shown some level of sacrifice and commitment. It is hard for me to accept criticism from administrators or white professors who have done nothing to advance the betterment of minority or poor students. The same goes for Chicanas/os who have not worked to correct the imperfections within the Mexican American community.

Criticism is always personal. Admittedly, my criticism of the present generation of Chicana/o scholars is personal. I criticize them for what I consider their lack of mentorship of MEChA and Chicana/o students. I criticize them for not building Chicana/o studies.

Many Chicanas/os sacrificed their scholarly ambitions to establish Chicana/o studies – which was not accepted in 1969. They did it because they wanted to create a pedagogy that would motivate students from inferior schools to learn. The intention was never to build a field of study so Chicanas/os scholars could have employment opportunities.

I am also concerned about the quality of criticism that is coming from the Chicana/o academic community as well as self-identified progressives. It is frankly inchoate and does not rise above the level of middle school gossip.

It is often frustrating. I have spent hours defending a deceased colleague because, according to some, he was offensive because he called students mi hijita (my daughter) and mi hijito. It is proof that he was a sexist pig. It does not matter that the particular professor spent hours talking to students, and giving them a sense of worth when most other professors had split for their homes.

Recently there has been criticism of the late César Chávez. Although César was not perfect, some of the criticism goes beyond that leveled at let’s say Martin Luther King by the African American community. Most – not all of the latest criticism of César reminds me of investigative journalist Ralph de Toledano’s biography entitled Little Cesar that was funded by John Birchers in 1971 and has had a long shelf life.

The main criticisms of Cesar is that he was autocratic and purged leftist out of the union — which he probably did. However, I had long conversations with the late Sam Kushner who wrote Long Road to Delano. Kushner was a communist and wrote for the People’s World. He was close to César and spoke highly of him. Kushner complained that many leftist went into the farmworker’s union to party build. In his words, it was up to César to lay down the rules.

My fear is that many of the critics do not know the nuances of organizing and that their criticisms have the same negative impact as the biography Little César. In terms of the movement, it is important to have symbols and role models. Young people get confused and often believe the worse. Because of the nature of the criticism, the icons and not the system become the enemy.

The other criticism is that César hated undocumented workers, which is ridiculous. César was a trade unionist, and as a trade unionist accepted the ridiculous premise that farmworkers could not be organized until the flow from Mexico was stopped. Few activists at the time emphasized that it was American policy that created migration.

Anyone who has read my pieces knows that I have the highest regard for Ernesto Galarza. He is one of the few intellectuals who I met, and this includes people like Ivan Illich and Paulo Freire. However, Galarza was not perfect; many of his early writings and utterances include the word “wetback.” During the infamous Di Giorgio Strike of the late 1940s, he tried to stop the braceros from coming in and like most Chicanas/os was silent during “Operation Wetback” (1953-55). The Pan American Union that employed Galarza in 1940 was full of CIA operatives. However, based on what I know about Galarza he remained progressive and his contributions are singular.

However, sure as hell does not exist, someone will dig this up. I have already been told that Galarza was half German (his father). Does it really matter? Should it?

This icon bashing is destructive, and we should be aware of it and the harm it does to movements. In many cases it is like telling a kid that the person he or she loves is not his/her father. What is the purpose?

We live in a time when people join groups that confirm their beliefs. The outcome is they live in bubbles not knowing what is happening outside their space helmets. They rarely transform society and correct its imperfections.

I criticize my own department because I care about it and want to improve it. I am always asked why I keep on working, teaching two classes per semester? Why not let go and let the younger generation take over?

I sincerely would like to let go as they say. But as long as my colleagues want to parachute in and out of the department, teaching two days a week and not going to MEChA functions then my feeling is that I would only be hurting the students — who after all is why we should be in Chicana/o studies.

I dread going to NACCS (National Association for Chicana/Chicano Studies) in San Antonio. Every year there are fewer students and more Chicanas/os with sinecures. They have their minds made up, and carry an air of certainty that comes with having a Dr. before their name. I have to listen to the most outlandish assumptions, which are based on one or two oral testimonies of people who they have adopted because through them they become experts.

When I listen to the latest beliefs: César hated Mexicans; Galarza was a German; what went wrong was that the national leaders were cultural nationalists; I silently give the insiders the sign of the cross as we do to people who have expired.

I propose that we have a general discussion about the damaging consequences of our bubbles, and why as long as we are a community of chismes the Chicana/o academic community will continue to have no influence on society. We will remain powerless and the students disaffected.

We should all watch Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1946). It is about George Bailey (James Stewart), who considers himself a failure. His bumbling uncle loses the bank money, and George faces financial ruin and arrest. George contemplates suicide when an angel named Clarence stops him and gives him a crash course on the people he has touched, and what their lives would have been like if George had never been born. George then realizes that, despite all his flaws, he has had a wonderful life.

When I look at the lives of César, Galarza and my deceased friend, I ask whether their lives made a difference. What would life have been like without them? Then I look at the people casting the stones, would life have been any different if they had never been born? We should all apply this test to ourselves and those we criticize.

Rodolfo F. Acuña

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Dr. Rodolfo Francisco Acuña is a historian, educator and social activist. In 1969, he co-founded the Chicana/o Studies Department at San Fernando Valley State College (later called California State University at Northridge). This was arguably the first department of Chicana/o Studies in the nation. Dr. Acuña served as its first chair. Because of his pioneering role in developing Chicano Studies as a respected academic discipline he is often referred to as “the father of Chicano Studies. To contact Dr. Acuña:  hchsc003@csun.edu

Note: This is the Keynote Address delivered by Dr. Arturo Madrid on the occasion of the 20th Anniversary of The Biennial Conference of the Puerto Rican Studies Association, University of Albany, Albany, NY, October 25, 2012.  The plática and essay was published on the National Institute for Latino Policy listserv list on Sunday, November 18, 2012.

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In 1967, at the height of the debate over the war against Vietnam, the renowned linguist and MIT Professor, Noam Chomsky, took the apologists for U.S. policy in Southeast Asia to task in an essay titled “The Responsibility of Intellectuals.”  In his compelling essay Chomsky echoed and cited Dwight McDonald, a public intellectual of an earlier generation, who in 1944 published an equally powerful critique of U.S. policy in the Second World War, titled The Responsibility of Peoples: An Essay on War Guilt.

“The responsibilities of intellectuals,” Chomsky wrote in 1967, “are much deeper than what Macdonald calls the ‘responsibility of people,’ given the unique privileges that intellectuals enjoy.” “It is the responsibility of intellectuals,” he stated in his essay, “to speak the truth and to expose lies.” McDonald and Chomsky were concerned with the issue of responsibility vis-à-vis the policies and practices of waging war.

The issues facing Latino academic and public intellectuals today, although perhaps less compelling and world-shaking than those of McDonald and Chomsky, are no less fundamental or significant. They include the question of our place in this society; of how we are imagined within it; and of the role we students of the historical experience and current circumstances of our various communities might play in the evolution of American society. These matters have major implications for the United States, and by extension for our hemisphere and larger world.

We find ourselves, at the beginning of the second decade of the 21st Century, deeply engaged in a battle over whose vision of society will prevail: a society defined by exclusivity or one that advocates inclusivity; a society that privileges individuality or one that values community; a society that protects advantage or one that promotes opportunity; a society marked by intolerance or one characterized by tolerance; a society that continues to judge people by the color of their skin, their cultural background, their religious beliefs, or their sexual orientation, or one that prizes them for their character.

The referent of “their America” in the title of this essay are those persons and groups who seek to maintain their historical hegemony, who believe they have the authority to define “American” values, who believe that “their American” interests trump all others, who pretend to determine who belongs and who does not, and who will go to extraordinary lengths to exclude those so deemed from being part of “their America” in the name of those supposed values or characteristics.

The various Latino communities are at the center of this struggle over who belongs, and not simply because of our growing numbers but also because of the complexity of our biological, cultural, economic, political and social makeup. We do not fit the neatly into those racial or religious or relational categories that have historically facilitated exclusion. Notwithstanding our diverse national and cultural origins, we have been constructed as a homogeneous population. Despite our different histories we are characterized as recent arrivals and undocumented immigrants. In spite of  evidence to the contrary we are imagined as monolingual in Spanish and resistant to learning English; incapable of and antagonistic to learning; unambitious and dependent on the public weal; debased and inclined to criminality.

We find ourselves at a defining moment in the evolution of this society. The U.S. is experiencing a cultural, economic, and political tectonic shift, a shift driven by demography and technology and advantage. The first shocks have already occurred.  More will follow.

The economy of the United States may stabilize over the course of the next few years, but it is not going to return to what it was at any time in the past. Most of what we used to manufacture has been shipped offshore. What manufacturing is left is increasingly produced technologically and by a smaller percentage of the population, specifically by those who possess economic and educational advantage. Over the past three decades the income of the population that identifies as middle-class has shrunk; the wages of those persons classified as blue-collar workers have diminished; and the security of employment of white-collar employees has disappeared. Moreover the U.S. may still have the largest economy on the globe, but it operates on the credit extended by Chinese bankers, and it is only a matter of time until they call in their notes.

This society has prided itself on being classless, has denied the centrality of privilege, has advanced a master narrative that individuals and not society create opportunity and that education and ambition trump advantage when it comes to socio-economic mobility. Yet even Charles Murray, author of The Bell Curve, who a decade ago declared us as intellectually deficient, is telling us these days that we are now a highly classist society. He calls it a cultural divide rather than a class divide, but Murray does not shrink away from the fact that the divide is the result of advantage, particularly educational advantage. Neither race nor ethnicity nor gender, Murray argues, but rather cultural values and the advantage those values provide drive the great societal divide, separate the 1% from the 99%, or the 53% from the 47%.

The United States is in political retreat globally. The feckless policies of the neo-conservatives enmeshed us in the longest and most expensive wars in our history, and these policies have ironically fomented a protectionist society, a new iteration of “Fortress America.” The nation that called on the Soviet Union to tear down the walls that encased it is itself feverishly constructing literal and virtual walls.  They may be designed to keep people out rather than in, to be sure, but they are walls nonetheless.

This protectionism is manifesting itself domestically in the criminalization of immigrants; in the incarceration of minority youth and young adults; in the disenfranchisement of citizens of color; in the denial of the protections guaranteed by the Bill of Rights and the Constitution; in the privatization of opportunity; and in a hyper-nationalism marked by racial, religious and cultural resentment.

The Portents for Latinos

What are then the portents for our diverse and extended Latino communities? What are the indications or signals or markers of what is to come? The ones cited above are self-evident (de cajón, as we say). Less evident, but no less significant portents are the following, contradictory as some may seem:

*continuing cultural integration, if of a nefarious kind; and
Ÿ*increased electoral participation, but not truly representative of our interests or proportional to our numbers;

Not as evident to all, yet truly troubling in the long run are

Ÿ* aggressive de-legitimization of our standing, of our interests, of our needs, and of our concerns; and
Ÿ*denial of our historical relationship to this society and nation.

At the center of any discussion of the portents for our community are, of course, its demographics. We are a youthful and growing population and that has major implications for American society. Young people can do something that old people can’t: reproduce themselves. Our numbers will continue to grow even as “their” numbers will diminish and, as the majority population grows older it will more and more require our services and support.

Our youthfulness, however, is double-edged. Youth does have its drawbacks. A young
population has not had time to accumulate either intellectual or material capital.  A significant number of the young can’t vote, either because of their age or their civic status. Others are not inclined to vote. Further, a young and therefore inexperienced population is susceptible to the siren calls of hyper-patriotism, self-indulgence, and selfish individualism.

If this society wishes to be stable and prosperous, it will have to educate and integrate the population that constitutes its future wellbeing. Not only are the stakes considerably higher than in the past, but in addition the circumstances have changed. Since labor-intensive production has been shipped off-shore the only production that can replace it requires higher level intellectual skills, greater technological aptness, and constant learning. And this nation has fallen behind in that regard. Our 25-45 age population has less educational attainment than their 45-65 old counterparts. Only the education of the 15-25 old population can turn that around, and we have reasons to be concerned about that matter.

In prior moments in this society social and economic integration was fundamentally achieved by subjecting new members of the society to an educational process shared by all: public education. Our public educational system, however, is under attack.  Social conservatives are openly antagonistic to public education and would replace it with instructional programs that are values-based, ideologically-driven, and antagonistic to inquiry.  Economic conservatives blame teachers and their unions for all that is wrong with our educational system and would substitute for it privately-run, profit-making educational programs that have workplace preparation and socialization as their primary goal. In both cases they call for delivery systems that are de-centralized and un-regulated. These two thrusts inevitably reinforce the divisions that are manifesting themselves in our society, are increasing the divide between the “haves” and the “have-nots”, are fueling antagonism towards the 47%; are fomenting cultural, economic and social apartheid.

Following World War II, post-secondary education contributed not only towards greater
social integration but also as a driver of social mobility, and thus a public good.  By the end of the 20th Century post-secondary education, however, had become conceptualized as a private good, and thus increasingly commoditized by both private not-for-profit and public colleges and universities, subsequently monetized by the private for-profit sector, and ultimately marketed as requisite to upward economic mobility by all sectors.

When pre-collegiate education ceases to be understood as being in the public interest and post-secondary education is defined as a private good, the persons who will profit most will be those with the greatest advantage. They will be able to choose the schools to which they will send their children, will be able to assure that they receive a high-quality education, which will in turn provide their off-spring access to the elite higher education, which of course they can afford. The rest of the population will have to make do with what options they will have as a result of the defunding of education, whether pre-secondary, secondary, or post-secondary.  The future portends more of such. Want an education but can’t afford it? Win a scholarship!  Get a job! Secure a loan! Borrow the money from your parents!!!

In 2009 I participated in a panel discussion on the status and future of Latinos in American society held at the Fourth Annual Conference of the American Association of Hispanics in Higher Education. In closing the session, the moderator, Henry Cisneros, asked the participants: If you had opportunity to address the American public, what would you say? My answer was: “We are your neighbors, we are your fellow workers, we are members of your churches, we are or will soon be your in-laws, we fight your wars, and we are your future.”

In retrospect, my statement may have overreached. To be sure, there is considerable social integration occurring in the workforce, but it is principally at the lower levels of the economy. Most Latinos, however, work alongside other Latinos in low-income occupations. Few work with more than one peer in professional or in mid-level managerial environments. And Latinos remain one and onlys at the upper levels of the professional, managerial or director classes.

Latinos do constitute a large and growing percentage of church membership, in large measure because of the fall-off in church membership in the general population.  But not unlike what is the case in the areas of education, employment, and housing, Latino church membership is highly segregated.

Induction into the military resulted in considerable social integration of Latinos during much of the 20th Century. We do currently constitute a percentage of the military that is somewhat disproportionate to our population size. However the elimination of the draft system and the creation of a “volunteer” military have diminished that process, notwithstanding reports that the military may be the most highly integrated sector of American society.

A very clear potent of the future and an area in which I probably didn’t overreach, however, is the cultural integration of the younger generations. There is considerable intermingling and not-inconsiderable intermarriage. It is an integration that is driven by the media, probably the principal social integrative mode at this point in our history. As historically been the case, the young take on the cultural expression of the majority society.

The media’s role, however, is double-edged. As it eliminates some boundaries, it reinforces others. Unlike the case in previous generations, young Latinos do see themselves sometimes reflected in the mainstream media’s representation of larger society, and to some extent in entertainment realm. Moreover the growth and evolution of Spanish language media, which has reinforced the cultural expression of their elders, has also provided venues for Spanish language artists whose audience, though youthful, has deep roots in regional or national expression. But it is a shallow and mindless cultural integration, driven as it is by consumerism. And worse, informed by a false consciousness: on the one hand, that one can belong if only one subscribes to the values and expression of the reigning hegemony; or on the other, that one can exist separate from and independent of the core culture, if marginal to it.

The portents for our economic status are of course tied to those of the larger society.  Those among us with privilege will join the 1%; those of us who are able to secure some advantage will become part of the 52%. Those who cannot heroically supersede the defunding of the public good will inevitably be consigned to making do on the margins, or depending on a leaner, meaner private (no longer public) weal, or wasting away in a penal institution.

Meanwhile the two primary political parties of this nation are vying to determine which can alienate Latinos the most, whether by dismissing, marginalizing, de-enfranchising, criminalizing, incarcerating, or deporting members of our community. Republicans believe that the worthy among us share their values; Democrats believe they are the default mode for the rest of us. In both cases our presence in those parties is still 0more symbolic than substantive.

While our demographic primacy may be inevitable, our political ascendency is not.  We have not been able to develop common interests or common goals and we lack strategies for developing such and for engaging our communities in pursuing them. Our increased electoral numbers and participation will be of little or no consequence unless we develop common purpose.

Challenges, Goals, and Possibilities

Given the circumstances and the portents described above, how should we respond?  What might be our objectives? What must we do? What might we do? What can we do?

Most of challenges to our wellbeing posed by our status and circumstances are different in degree but not in kind from those of other American populations. To be sure other populations share our experience of social segregation, cultural denigration, civic alienation and political marginality. What makes our situation different from that of other population sectors are our numbers and the multiple complexities that inform those numbers. Our demographic make-up will increasingly define this society. Our already considerable numbers and the youth of our population will have considerable impact on its institutions.

Unlike any other American population, we represent a significant threat to a hegemony that was initiated almost four hundred years ago on the eastern seaboard of this nation and that for the past two centuries has extended through the hemisphere.  The question before us is what kind of society and nation we will have: theirs or ours; an exclusive one or an inclusive one; a society informed by justice and opportunity or one marked indelibly by privilege?  The challenge before us is to offer a different vision from the reigning one and to realize that vision.

We are not, however, a homogeneous population and that heterogeneity carries with it major socio-cultural complications and has major political implications. How do we battle against exclusion and for inclusion if we are scattered and divided?  How do we exert the necessary political influence if we are fragmented? Our fundamental challenge, our foremost objective, is to find the commonalities we have as Latinos.

There is much that makes us different, and there are powerful forces at work to divide us. Thus the necessity to identify the interests we have, the concerns we share, the aspirations we hold, the realities we experience so that we can begin to develop common goals, common purposes, and common objectives. Bringing us together must become a central and driving objective.

What must we do?

First and foremost, we must continue to affirm our place in this nation.

Second, we must continue to carve out larger and more significant spaces for ourselves in this society and its institutions. Third, we must revitalize the ideals of this nation.

We have a profound claim on this nation, one that goes back to the pre-Columbian history of the Americas. Our ancestors—whether of African, Asian, European, or indigenous origin—occupied it, settled it, developed it, and enriched it. The consolidation of the nation was realized by a war against Mexico and its imperial reach by the war against Spain. Those wars incorporated us into the nation if not into its society. The 20th Century was marked by our fight against de jure exclusion from its institutions. At the beginning of the 21st Century, despite signal victories in that struggle, de facto exclusion continues and de jure exclusion looms once again.

The nation’s economic needs may blunt both types of exclusion, but societal anxieties and fear of the other will continue to drive its political dynamics. Economic protectionism may no longer be possible, but political, social and cultural protectionism is manifesting itself aggressively. It has served the nation’s purposes historically to imagine us as the poor, uneducated, illiterate, debased other in order to justify exclusion and exploitation. It currently serves the purposes of sectors of this society to imagine us as being “illegal,” as having no documents or questionable documents, of having no legitimate claim to membership in the society.

Thus the importance of affirming our rights as members of this society, of assuring that its protections extend to us, of staking claim to its benefits, of marking our historical presence in the establishment of this nation and our centrality to its future; and of taking ownership of its institutions. It is our responsibility as the educated and the educators to do so on behalf of our entire community, but in particular for those who are most vulnerable to attack.

Although it behooves us to continue to lay claim to the larger societal and institutional spaces, let us not be fooled by the bones we have been tossed or the lip service to which we are subjected. A canapé at a reception does not a banquet make; a patch of scrub oak does not a forest constitute; an occasional award does not confer worth, value or respect. We need to become constituent components of this society and its institutions, not marginal appendages. We need the public acknowledgement that our accomplishments merit, rather than token recognition given grudgingly.

We have, over the course of our history in this society and nation, found it necessary to create our own institutions and organizations because we were denied the benefits, the advantages, and the protections of “theirs.” In so doing we preserved and promoted our artistic and cultural expression, affirmed the legitimacy of our needs and concerns, and developed the intellectual wherewithal to defend and advance our interests.  These entities continue to be as essential in the present as they have been in the past, and it behooves us to nurture and strengthen them.

It is in our interests to advocate for and seek to revitalize the ideals of this society: liberty, justice, and freedom.  Liberty, in the sense of opportunity for all.  Justice, in the sense of equal protection under the law for all and not just for the few.   Freedom, to which much lip service but little substance is given: freedom with respect to movement, to speech, to religious worship, to artistic and cultural expression; freedom of expression and of assembly; and freedom from want, from fear, from exclusion, from incarceration, and from deportation.

To do so we will have to continue to seek ways of defining ourselves as an integral community, as a population with shared goals and points of agreement. Our diversity, whether cultural or social or political or economic, makes that integrative process a challenging one.  Notwithstanding, constituting ourselves as such is still central and essential to our future. Not doing so will make it difficult to secure our rights, to advance our interests, to empower our population, and to provide a desirable future for our children and grandchildren. Unless we do so the most advantaged among us will simply end up becoming part of the 1% or of the 52%, whether as collaborators, accommodationists or oppositionists. If we do not act the bulk of our population will run the risk of forever being characterized and dismissed as a client population, as dependent, as opposed to being considered contributing members of the society, as takers rather than givers.

The Responsibility of Intellectuals

Finally, what can we, as academics and intellectuals, do? We must take up our responsibilities
as persons with the stature and armature required to challenge entrenched power, and the modes and money that support it: that is, as a community of scholars who are able to analyze the basis of power; who have the authority to expose its contradictions and weaknesses; who can identify and respond to conceptualizations and discourses that delimit, dismiss, or denigrate us; who have the standing to speak truth to power as well as the venues from where to do so; and who can identify our commonalities and develop ways and means to address them.

Addressing that challenge and meeting that objective are difficult undertakings, but is it not complexity that drives us as intellectuals? Is it not our métier as academics to seek out the complexities that inform apparently simple matters?  Are we not scholars trained to address complexity? Is it not our intellectual purpose to seek out the answer, the solution, the key to complex problems? Is it not our charge when faced with complexity to break it down into its constituent parts and give it clarity?

The poet Julio Marzán, one of our numbers, has a poem titled “The Pure Preposition,” in which he describes the awesome responsibility of that modest grammatical particle: “Their absence or much too presence re/Minding us that our labor is a product of  small parts:/ With, by, for, in, on, against.” Like the lowly preposition we academics, scholars, intellectuals, says the distinguished Puerto Rican scholar, Roberto Márquez, “must do the heavy lifting.”

We who have benefitted from prior struggles, who have not succumbed to denigration, who have superseded the structural barriers placed before us, who have not been daunted by exclusionary discourse or requirements, who have standing in a central institution of the society, have the responsibility to take up these challenges.  And in the process lay the foundation for our América, an inclusive and vital América, an América whose spirit and values extend beyond its political borders.

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Dr. Arturo Madrid is the Norine R. and T. Frank Murchison Distinguished Professor of the Humanities at Trinity University and the recipient of the Charles Frankel Prize in the Humanities in 1996, awarded by the National Endowment of the Humanities.  Prior to joining the faculty of Trinity University in 1993, Madrid served as the founding president of the Tomás Rivera Center, the nation’s first institute for policy studies on Latino issues, a position he held from 1984 to 1993. In addition to having held academic and administrative appointments at Dartmouth College, The University of California, San Diego, and the University of Minnesota, he has also served as Director of the Fund for the Improvement of Post-Secondary Education (FIPSE) as well as National Director of the Ford Foundation’s Graduate Fellowship Program for Mexican Americans, Native Americans and Puerto Ricans. He can be reached at Amadrid@Trinity.edu [mailto:Amadrid@Trinity.edu].

NOTES ON THE IRISH/MEXICAN FRONTIER

by Ernest Hogan

A lot of people have a hard enough time dealing with the complicated reality of Mexican Americans – when you add Irish to the mix, their brains start to overheat.

Back when I was going to college in the Seventies, all the background forms had an “ethnicity” box that said Hispanic (Spanish surname only). Not allowing me to be a state-recognized Hispanic left me with no box to check. So I decided to randomly pick an ethnicity every time I had to fill out a form. I was black, white, Asian, Native American . . . never mess with an Aztec leprechaun.

My Irish name and Southern California accent causes people assume that I’m black, Arab, or “you’re so smart – I thought you were Jewish.” I’ve even been called “white” on Indian reservations.

For me, my mom fixing corn beef and cabbage on St. Patricks day was as normal as tacos. And the fact that my family’s killer Mexican beans recipe was invented by an Irishman never disturbed me. It’s the mestizo bruja brew I came out of.

I guess it depends on the accent whether it’s La Llorona or the Banshee crying in the night.

It’s all the result of a Irishman named Michael Hogan, who jumped ship in San Francisco and wound up in New Mexico in the time of Billy the Kid. He supposedly rode in a posse after the Kid, and some of my ancestors testified at the trial.

Billy was also Irish. He had a Mexican girlfriend. He was killed in a barrio, and his last words were in Spanish.

These sorts of things happened in New Mexico, like the Spanish throwing around their DNA in Mexico. So we end up with a world with Irish-looking folks who speak Spanish, and Mexican-looking folks with Irish names. Sometimes they’re in the same family. And it’s not as rare as a lot of people think.

Case in point: the Saint Patrick’s Battalion, or Los San Patricos – Irishmen, who were in the United States Army when the Mexican American War was declared back in 1846. Horrified that they would have to fight their fellow Catholics, they deserted and joined the Mexican army. The Irish tend to do such things.

People have long asked me if I was descended from someone in the Saint Patrick’s Battalion. Since the Mexican American War was long before Michael Hogan jumped ship, I would say no. But recently I found out about a book called The Irish Soldiers of Mexico, by a descendant of one of those Irish soldiers. His name is Michael Hogan.

I contacted him, and asked if his family came from Cork, Ireland – my ancestor was involved in the founding of Cork, New Mexico (later re-named Truth or Consequences). He said, yes, they did.

Unfortunately, trying to find documentation on this won’t be easy. My family never has been great on keeping records. Grandpa Hogan always claimed that the church with his birth certificate burned down.

Of course, this has made me a life-long impurist. I don’t go along with the idea of “Puro Mexicano.” “Mexicans” didn’t exist until the illegal aliens arrived from Spain. The Mexica (Aztecs) were just one of many native tribes. And they were mestizo – “mixed” – add more to the mix, and you become more mestizo, not less.

Who knows where this will lead? Latinos who practice Santeria now use St. Patrick’s Day to honor Damballah, the African god associated with serpents. Could we soon see Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, decked out in green?

¡Viva recomboculture!