For years, the only phone in my mother's hometown of El Cargadero, nestled high in the mountains of the desiccated central Mexican state of Zacatecas, was in the house of Salvador Barrios. Whenever someone received a call, Salvador had to jog up and down El Cargadero's hilly streets and let the person know that someone wanted to talk to them. It didn't matter if it was night or day, heat or rain: Salvador ran. But thanks to the thousands of dollars that my mother's fellow expatriate cargaderenses wired to their birthplace over the decades, the Mexican government finally installed telephones in El Cargadero two years ago—and Salvador's aching legs finally get a rest.
President Bush cites this modernization of El Cargadero and countless other Mexican ranchos as justification for his half-assed revamping of American immigration policy. Bush is calling for the abolishment of the U.S.-Mexico border—but only for Mexicans who register with American companies willing to employee them for a maximum of six years. There is no call for amnesty in Bush's proposal. Instead, all participants would only attain the minimal rights guaranteed to American workers, such as minimum wage, safety-regulations and sick leave. As a churro on a stick, Bush also suggests the establishment of a lucrative pension fund that workers can only cash in on when they return to Mexico.
Bush presented his program by arguing that Mexican immigrants come to this country only to earn enough cash that can be lived off in Mexico, a view seconded by President Vicente Fox of Mexico. “[Mexicans] are not going to become American citizens, nor do they want U.S. citizenship,” Fox told the Associated Press on Jan. 9. “They want to have their rights respected, to get good pay for their work and to be able to visit their families in Mexico.”
But El Cargadero's reality betrays Fox and Bush's vision. Despite the rancho's assumption of suburban infrastructure while retaining its pastoral charm, it is dead. Only the elderly, the young, and the drunk remain. Anyone able to migrate did years ago, with more than 1,000 of us residing in Anaheim alone. And while the capital investments in El Cargadero are spectacular—there are even lawns and sprinklers in some yards nowadays—these are monuments to immigrant entrepreneurship experienced only weeks at a time. The rest of the year, the hard labor of a generation stands deserted, a staid museum display rather than a living, breathing community. Even Salvador Barrios' house is largely empty: all his children migrated when they turned 18.
My ancestral village's depressing case isn't exclusive at all. Modern Mexico has come to this: hamlets eagerly embracing the 21st century but with the majority of its children toiling away in el Norte. They've been leaving now for a good century, transforming Latinos into the largest American ethnic group. With Mexico's economy continuing to stagnate, this phenomenon won't let up anytime soon.
Immigrants send back money to Mexico by the billions—an estimated $14 billion in 2003—and visit come vacation time, residing in now-lavish houses funded by years of sweat. But that's all Mexico is to them now, a vacation spot. They invariably trek back to the States after realizing life in Mexico is inferior. They imbibe from the damned American cup of success—the higher wages, better living conditions and modern-day comforts—and find it attractive. They have children, who then assimilate to the point where Mexico means nothing other than food and music and where grandma lives.
Bush's plan ignores this relevant fact, however, since its implementation would be a victory for the American and Mexican governments. Bush's big business buddies can now legally fill employment shortages that Americans would easily assume if it wasn't for the insulting pay. These Mexicans never have a chance of becoming citizens, thereby absolving the United States of any true responsibility toward them. Fox, in turn, doesn't have to improve his own country and allows his paisanos to leave, ensuring that the restless Mexican nation doesn't heed its centurial call to revolution. The billions sent back maintain Mexico's economy—and the Mexican government doesn't even have to worry about taking care of this money spout.
The losers, of course, are the Mexican immigrants—aren't they always? “Dear and beloved Mexico/If I die far away from you/May they say that I'm sleeping/And that they return me to you,” the immortal charro Jorge Negrete sang in “México, Lindo y Querido.” All Mexican immigrants—legal and illegal—maintain the illusion of returning one day to Mexico. But they rarely return permanently, and without any possibility for amnesty, illegal immigrants will continue to live in the shadows. All they will have is an empty house in Mexico, a house that keeps their nostalgia but little else.
