Editorial 10.1, January 2008, by Deirdre Helfferich Expatriates in Alaska Ester, and Alaska in general, is full of expatriates: Scandinavians, Asians, Pacific Islanders, South Americans, Middle Easterners, Canadians, and so on. My husband is one, a German citizen. He’s been here for twelve years, is a legal resident alien, works and pays taxes, is an active member of the community, and is keenly interested in politics and the workings of government. He likes Alaska, the elbow room and the wildlife. But, like many expatriates, he has no interest in becoming a United States citizen. This is something that is very hard for most people we know to understand. He’s been asked over and over why he came here. His answer, that he came because he was in love with me and wanted to be with me, and I wanted to live here where I grew up, doesn’t seem to be believed. (I suspect that I should be insulted by this.) People’s assumption seems to be that foreigners come here for three possible reasons: one, for the money and the jobs; two, to escape repression and to live in a free country; and three, to become a proud citizen of the Best Country in the Whole Wide World, the United States of America. Get over yourselves, already. The United States is not the only country in the world. It’s not the only one worth being from, either. It doesn’t have the best healthcare system, or the best educational system, nor is it even the most democratic. And it certainly isn’t the oldest democracy in the world (as I actually heard a UAF history professor state at a public forum on party politics a couple of years ago). We certainly aren’t the wealthiest (per capita) place, either (Ireland, Norway, and Equatorial Guinea are among those who beat us here). The US doesn’t have a lock on spectacular scenery or nice weather or interesting wildlife or incredible museums or magnificent cities or worthwhile jobs or wonderful things to do. Other countries outstrip us in quality and quantity of cultural, political, and natural assets in many areas. We are, in fact, simply one among many lands. Despite all this, citizens of the US seem to regard themselves and this nation as superior to all others. We are Americans (sorry, Canadians, Mexicans, Cubans, Belizeans, Virgin Islanders, Hondurans, Costa Ricans, Brazilians, Panamanians, Guatemalans, Peruvians, Nicaraguans, Salvadorians, Columbians, Ecuadorans, Guyanans, Paraguaians, Bolivians, Argentinians, Venezuelans, Uruguaians, Suri-namians, Chileans, Falklanders—you just don’t count), and we are the Best and the Brightest and the Biggest. Or at least, the most bombastic. And it is true that we are the country with the most bombs, big and little. Our military, despite the best efforts of the current administration, is still one of the best equipped in the world, and quite good at what it does. When Hans was first here, after we had married, we went to a borough assembly meeting on some issue or other. Many other Ester residents were there. The meeting opened as usual with the Pledge of Allegience. After it was over, Jeff Rogers leaned back and said to Hans, “Doesn’t that feel good?” Hans was confused, particularly since veneration of a national symbol such as a flag—and pledging allegience to it—is seen as a very scary thing in Germany (the Nazis made a big deal out of the symbols of the Fatherland, and as a consequence, most modern Germans are very suspicious of avowals of patriotism and allegience to a nation and its symbols—for good reason). Jeff thought that Hans had become a citizen, and that he would be proud and pleased therefore to recite the Pledge. Hans, of course, had not recited it, and we gently explained to Jeff that Hans wasn’t a US citizen and didn’t really want to be one. Other people have demonstrated an ignorance about Germany in the kinds of questions they ask Hans, assuming that he is here for the good-paying construction jobs (he made far more in Europe) or that he is here because he wanted to be free (Germany, learning from the flaws in the US system of government, has in many ways much more democratic and representative institutions than we do). Hans isn’t particularly devoted to his country of birth, however; patriotism, such an important part of life in the United States, is, as I said, looked on with suspicion and distrust by most Germans. They’ve been taken before, and they don’t want it to happen again—no matter where they live. Some people’s attitude, however, is much more disturbing: Hans recently was verbally threatened, by a local, because he doesn’t want to be a citizen—not to his face, but within earshot, and when Hans confronted the man, he ignored Hans completely and left the Eagle. Anti-immigrant feeling is rampant in this country, the latest scapegoat for right-wing pundits to flog, to the point that we are doing something as ridiculous as building a stratospherically expensive wall on our Mexican border. Our nation’s political rhetoric is frequently confrontational and derisive toward other countries and foreign nationals; we treat other countries’ citizens like criminals when they come to visit, by, for example, demanding that they be fingerprinted. Immigrants, the thinking seems to go, are BAD, unless they become citizens, and if they don’t want to be citizens of This Great Nation of Ours, then they are obviously suspect and perhaps even dangerous. Many Americans place dangerously misplaced value on the US flag. Don Young introduces a constitutional amendment every year that would allow Congress to prohibit “desecration” of the flag. This has serious conflicts with the First Amendment, but it also betrays confusion of a symbol for what it symbolizes. A flag is a piece of cloth. Period. To make the flag so important that it cannot be legally harmed violates the freedom that it is purported to symbolize. In truth, the US flag does not symbolize freedom, it symbolizes the country of the United States—and it is vital that we remember the difference. Freedom is an idea, a goal worked toward in many ways, all around the world. The United States, like any country, is a mundane thing, and can be corrupted or have corrupt officials. The US does not equal freedom, and never has. It can, however, offer it. When Hans was discussing politics in the bar one evening, it was suggested to him that he should become a citizen so he could vote and thereby effect change. But voting is not the only way, nor even really the most effective way, to make a change in one’s political environment. (Not that I think voting is a waste of time: I vote in every election I can, primary or general, local, state, or national. Voting is a good thing.) It is talking with people about politics that probably does the most good, because it’s through discussion that we share our ideas and persuade others. Our actions demonstrate our beliefs. Hans, like many of us, goes to borough meetings and testifies, works on the park, picks up trash on Clean-Up Day. He lives his values. Curiously, no one has asked my husband why he prefers to remain an expatriate. Instead, they ask why he doesn’t “want to be American.” It doesn’t seem to occur to many of our fellow Esteroids that it is reasonable or acceptable for a foreign citizen to live here as an expatriate, and for that expatriate to have political opinions. (At the extreme, it’s the “become a citizen or shut up” attitude—although, speaking as a citizen, it’s plain that shutting up is deemed the thing to do if you disagree with those in the majority. Otherwise, one can get labeled a traitor for “demoralizing the troops” or “supporting the enemy”—whoever they are.) We are quite comfortable with the thought of the American expatriate living in other countries. We certainly don’t expect that a US citizen will become a citizen of, say, France, or Saudi Arabia, or Thailand, even if they’ve been living there for decades. Why, then, do we seem to be so easily confused or threatened by the notion of a foreign expatriate in the US? The idea that a foreigner might want to live here while retaining his European Union membership or her South American nationality seems to fuddle us. It shouldn’t. The world is wide, and offers many ways of living and organizing ourselves into societies. Expatriates integrate themselves into society without letting go of who they are and the cultures and countries they come from, and we should be glad of that. Expatriates give us, by their example, opportunity to welcome the world to the United States—without trying to remake everything and everybody into our image. | ||
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