Reliable Security Information
[an error occurred while processing this directive]
[an error occurred while processing this directive]
Migrants? or Refugees?


I would not open windows into men's souls.


When interviewed, these poor wretches espouse various
reasons for their journey in the wilderness:
Economic opportunity is one, which makes them migrants.
A well founded fear of persecution is another,
which makes them refugees, even if they also seek
a better life for their children.


The term refugee creates a presumption of sympathy
while migrants are coming to steal our jobs and rape our women.


This is why this huddle mass of humanity is normally
termed migrant, and almost never refugee.


But I think they are the truest Americans, because they
believe in "America" as the shining City on the Hill,
they believe in the American dream with a purity and
strength that has faded for most born here.


A policy of "open borders" is no policy, and while
it might work with Canada, where conditions are similar,
it cannot work to the South, lest it lead to immiseration
and social tension here at home.


But refugees and migrants are the hope of our future,
since they will provide the young workers to support
our aging population and enable America to avoid
the demographic implosion facing Japan, Korea,
and the many "blood and soil" monoculture European
nations.


Don is trying to conflate "the caravan" with the
Gaza March of Return, the crowd that tries to
storm the border with Israel every Friday after
prayers. Or maybe the Asding Vandals, come
to pillage Rome.


Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

The New Colossus
Emma Lazarus
November 2, 1883

The opinions expressed in this article and the SitRep website are the author's own and do not reflect the view of GlobalSecurity.org.

 
Subscribe to SitRep:
GlobalSecurity.org SitRep RSS Feed GlobalSecurity.org SitRep ATOM Feed