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Immigrant Song

5/9/06
There's a lot to be said for the classics of literature, mostly by people who're paid to say it. In spite of that, sometimes there's real content beneath that World o' Words you get force-fed through middle and high school, like actual useful information and stuff. Case in point: Mark Twain's Life On The Mississippi, and its tale of the Steamboat Pilot's Guild.

In that narration, Twain described what amounted to a power grab by a small number of exceptionally talented pilots who banded together to improve their lot at the expense of everyone else in the local economic food chain. By achieving a monopoly on the navigational information that was formerly shared freely, the Pilot's Guild was able to hold the entire enterprise of river shipping for ransom, along with any pilots unlucky enough not to get in on the sweet deal. The whole episode brings home a pertinent and highly useful fact: to have bargaining power, first you must have a bargain.

The biggest problem with unionizing is that almost without exception, folks who need solidarity the most are least likely to make it stick. Starting an International Brotherhood of Anything is kind of like getting an abortion: by the time you work your way around to the concept, you're already in trouble, awakened to your state of servitude by the obnoxious clanking of those cool new chains they told you were so stylish.

It's been a source of considerable consternation and occasional amusement to me to watch my generally sane and rational fellow street performers wax grandiloquent over the prospects of forming some sort of Itinerant Performers Union. Exactly who were they expecting to pressure for better treatment, pray hap? The sidewalk, maybe? Not to mention the annoying detail that picketing til you drop doesn't stop the scabs who'll swarm in to take your good paying corner while you're nobly on strike for better working conditions. The one and only Busker's Guild I've ever seen survive and thrive operates entirely within the playpen of Pike Place Market and spends most of its attention on relations with the management of that august historical landmark. A real street performer's benevolent protective society wouldn't stand a chance without some centralized authority to push against.

Which brings us to the Great May Uprising (Not) of Beltaine Last. Millions of immigrants, legal and otherwise, chanted as they strode the streets of our nation, raising curious and exotic slogans in various degrees of legibility, demanding that undocumented workers be treated better. Not the most strategic move for people who aren't supposed to be here in the first place, and not one conducive to either more favorable treatment by the sweatshoppers exploiting them or sympathy from the general populace that didn't invite them, don't profit from them and see them, if at all, only as clots of day laborers frantically waving at passing cars.

On the other hand, by the Pilot's Guild analysis, not altogether a useless action either. Unlawful labor -- and yes, Virginia, they're in violation of the law -- serves a purpose similar to the homeless in keeping average joes and janes in line in the workplace by sending a message: shape up, kids, you could be replaced, and then where's your plasma tv? Canny members of the immigrant community can sense this, and for this valuable service to their adopted society, they can well expect a certain degree of respect in return. The direct action, marching and slogans and walkouts, serves as an adjunct, a little underlining of the message: and we mean it.

We make a habit in America Love It Or Shove It of blaming the individual for everything bad, be it drug addiction, high school bullying, corruption in high places or homelessness. A lotta times that assessment is dead on, but at best it's an oversimplification and at worst a cheap hall pass for that other gang smoking in the boy's room. Individual responsibility is a two-edged sword. It makes for a motivated and competitive workforce that really cranks out the revenue, but it also leads to nasty crap like people sleeping under bridges and killing each other for quarters.

Worse, any humanistic impulses the society might entertain (and arguably humanistic impulses are a benefit to any social group) are directly in conflict with the kind of dog-eat-rat mentality that the cult of the lone wolf engenders. Try to prop up the bottom of the soggy cardboard box of social welfare and the first thing you know everyone's lining up for the free soda crackers and cola and ignoring their good paying jobs. Beats working, boy.

Immigrants aren't the problem. Poor, , inconceivably brave and foolhardy foreigners betting their lives on a chance to crash the outhouse of the big party are only a symptom. This whole sloppy greasy mess isn't their fault. If there's blame to be placed, it falls in two places.

First, the incredibly corrupt and degenerate nature of far too many foreign governments, starting with our dear partners in trade to the south. Think the Middle East is medieval? Try Mexico, land of fun, sun and feudalism, where three quarters of the population starves and the aristocrats, when they're not on stage, build mansions on the hills with nice thick walls to keep the peons at bay and are real easy with the idea of pushing their surplus population off on the rich retarded giant on their doorstep.

The other culprit lives right next door. He's your friendly neighborhood restaurateur paying dishwashers five an hour under the table. He's the contractor using laborers with green cards drawn in crayon. She's the busy housewife with the remarkably affordable housekeeper. It's kinda like drugs, people -- if there wasn't any demand, there wouldn't be any supply, now would there?

You wanna get the legally-challenged worker problem under control? Start with them. Any plumber can tell you that you can't plug a leaky basement from inside. Oh, and while we're at it -- the water's not to blame either.


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