I lived in Arizona briefly.   My parents recently moved there, from Boston, to a development in the hilariously-named town of Surprise.  (I always feel like I should type that in all caps, with an exclamation point.)

I’ve spent some time in Arizona.  In truth, I love a lot of things about that state.  The landscape is stunningly beautiful, it’s easy to get around, and I have a lot of good memories there.  I have a number of family members there, and they are thoughtful, intelligent people.

With all of that having been said, the discussion around immigration and the extreme measures AZ has taken recently in a purported effort to protect itself from the ills of illegal immigrants are frustrating me.  Here’s the thing.  I don’t pretend to completely understand.  I don’t know whether the net effect of the illegal immigrant population on Arizona’s economy is a positive one or a negative one.  I don’t know how much sales tax revenue is derived from that population, or what types of services are so subsidized by the use of inexpensive illegal labor that they would be come unprofitable and disappear or diminish if that labor force evaporated.  I don’t know if the citizens of Arizona (or of the rest of the U.S., for that matter) would be better or worse off if more resources were devoted to securing the border.  I don’t even know what the right approach to border security would be, or if we would benefit more as a society from the devotion of those resources to, say, cancer research, or improving education in economically-challenged schools.  I think the idea of devoting massive military or para-military resources to watching a line in the sand for fear of some dark, malevolent enemy swarming in seems, intuitively, to smack of fear and ignorance rather than rational risk and opportunity-based decision making.

My experience is admittedly limited.  When I was in Arizona, I saw many people whom I, in my ignorance, would probably guess were of Mexican descent.  They may have been from somewhere else; I am not especially talented at identifying ethnicity or national origin.  Because of the proximity of the Mexican border, I tended to assume they were Mexican.  I remember them.  Some were students, like me.  One was a genius, who scored a perfect score on his Math SAT, but couldn’t get a job at a gas station near campus, because they said they didn’t hire Mexicans.  I don’t remember ever seeing someone I perceived as Mexican and thinking: “lazy” or “criminal”.  That was never my assessment, based on objectively observable facts.  In the 100+ degree summer desert heat, you see a lot of darker-skinned guys working HARD, repairing streets, laying patio tile.  I remember wondering how they did it, how the human body could adapt to an environment as inhospitable as the surface of Mars.  I know this is just one observer’s opinion, and my opinion is not predicated on a foundation of quantifiable facts and figures, but my position is this:  I’ve observed Hispanic men and women adding value far more consistently than I have, for example, Caucasians.  I’ve seen less idle and sloth, less greed, less immorality, less conceit, less self-righteousness and less entitlement.  That’s not to say that there aren’t bad actors.  That’s just to say I have no evidence to support the position that immigrants from Mexico, regardless of legal status, have a net negative impact on our society.  I hear and read assertions that illegal immigrants are sending millions of dollars home to their families.  I read that they cross the border to have their children, so that their children will enjoy the benefits of U.S. citizenship in spite of the illegal act that made it possible.  I read that their presence elevates crime, takes jobs from hard working Americans, and strains our social welfare programs.  I’ve seen no evidence to support any of these claims.

I’m not generally a morally presumptuous guy.  I’ll admit that my gut tells me discriminating against anyone on the basis of race is intuitively wrong, but I’ll also acknowledge that I think I recognize the interests that people in Arizona are trying to protect.  People who are different from you can be scary.  People who are hungrier, more motivated, used to living with less, used to working harder for less, doing things you may not be willing to do… all of these things are genuinely intimidating and threatening, and that fear may not be irrational, per se.  My personal belief is that what is really scary here is the inevitable acknowledgement that the sense of entitlement we’ve cultivated for a few generations is unsustainable.  It’s easier to say the enemy is at the gates, and focus on trying to keep them out, than to recognize and deal with the fact that your son or daughter may not enjoy the same standard you’ve enjoyed.

Lean and hungry can be quite terrifying to fat and lazy.  I, for one, would welcome a reasoned discussion of immigration policy informed by well-documented facts and evidence in support of each proposed position.  Without resigning ourselves to amorality, I think it appropriate for rational decision-making to aggregate and analyze available information, and make a self-interested decision based on the best data available.  Even as I type that, I struggle with the word self-interested, as one would like to believe that decisions ought not be exclusively self-interested.  Still, as I said, I’m typically not morally presumptuous, and I think the challenge here from a moral philosophy perspective is the definition of “self” in self-interested.  I do think it appropriate for the United States to establish and define an immigration policy that is aimed at promoting national self-interest, which, if representative democracy works, should reflect the perceived self-interest of the citizenry.  We’ll tackle the “if democracy works” discussion another day.  It’s about time I get to work.