A Renewed Debate in Red, White and Blue

As the United States today celebrates the Fourth of July, that perennial reaffirmation of national identity, the country’s most cherished marker of civic privilege is facing a barrage of public scrutiny and attack not seen in almost a century.

Long virtually absent from public discussion, citizenship has reemerged as a front-line topic of debate in Congress, academia and in communities across the nation. It has been the focus of contentious legislative hearings, noisy protest marches and sundry “reform” proposals--even as there has been a proliferation of mass swearings-in of new citizens, including ceremonies for 7,000 in Los Angeles on Thursday.

Republicans have accused the Clinton administration of carelessly hastening election year citizenship applications as a partisan weapon--an echo of 19th century cries of fraud as Tammany Hall and other political machines herded new arrivals to the voting booth. Some in Congress and elsewhere are pushing for new restrictions on who may become a citizen.

In the meantime, last year’s federal welfare act set aside decades of practice to erect sharp new divisions in the rights of citizens and noncitizens--distinctions now being challenged in federal court. And one possible outcome of the current campaign finance scandal sweeping Washington is an outright ban on political contributions by noncitizen legal immigrants.

The widespread perception that immigrants are being targeted continues to prompt vast numbers to apply for citizenship--a record 1.1 million took the oath in the most recent fiscal year, a stunning jump of almost fivefold in just four years. Applications will rise an additional 50% this year, officials say.

Historian Reed Ueda of Tufts University concluded: “Citizenship seems to have assumed a role in our society that it hasn’t had since the early 20th century.”

Although today’s controversies somewhat mirror historical debates about citizenship, the unprecedented diversity of today’s new citizens has added a new--and provocative--element.

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As the millennium approaches, citizenship in the United States has become a de facto front in the culture wars, a test of how multicultural America defines itself: as a nation fragmenting or uniting. Citizenship, like bilingualism and affirmative action, is now a cultural battlefield.

“It used to be we had a myth of a common culture that helped define citizenship,” said Frank Wu, law professor at Howard University. “But today those myths are in doubt.”

As President Clinton, embarking on a mission to heal the nation’s racial divisions, recently asked, “Can we define what it means to be an American, not just in terms of . . . our ethnic origins but in terms of our primary allegiance to the values America stands for and values we really live by?”

Frequently acclaimed as a hallowed, all-inclusive signpost of U.S. democracy, citizenship has long been a highly politicized--and racially charged--concept. Commentators in previous high-immigration epochs questioned the assimilative capabilities of new arrivals from Europe, mostly Catholic or Jewish.

“Citizenship law has been crafted to reflect different political viewpoints of what the country should be,” said Rogers M. Smith, political scientist at Yale University.

In fact, there is no readily clear-cut definition of what it means to be a U.S. citizen--beyond pledged adherence to the nation’s stated constitutional principles of democracy and equality. Unlike the situation in most countries, being a citizen here is a civic concept that does not imply specific bloodlines, religious ties or ethnic affinity.

Nonetheless, citizenship is a value that resonates strongly. Many are outraged that some would-be citizens’ motivations are more linked to prosaic concerns--such as retaining welfare checks--than to loyalty.

“I think it’s a pretty poor basis to become a citizen of the United States, just not to miss out when the benefit wheel goes by,” said former Republican Sen. Alan K. Simpson of Wyoming, a pivotal shaper of U.S. immigration policy for almost two decades before his retirement last year. “To me, it’s a cheapening of the process.”

Nathan Glazer, a professor of sociology and education at Harvard University who has written extensively about immigration and assimilation, said: “We want people to become citizens because they love and admire America, and we’re unhappy if their primary purpose is more calculating.”

Contemporary naturalization ceremonies--such as those being held this week in Los Angeles, New York and Chicago, to coincide with the Fourth of July holiday--feature de rigueur accolades to the varied origins of today’s new citizens.

But some observers openly decry today’s large-scale enlistments of polyglot new citizenry, echoing the much-assailed comment by Pat Buchanan, the commentator and presidential aspirant, that Englishmen would probably make better Americans than “a million Zulus.” These critics see multiculturalism run amok, a dilution of the American identity.

“It’s obvious that the people coming through now are encouraged to think of themselves as members of factions rather than as members of the nation as a whole,” said Peter Brimelow, author of the provocative 1995 book “Alien Nation: Common Sense About America’s Immigration Disaster,” which argues for reduced levels of immigration. “Getting citizenship has become like getting a driver’s license.”

Brimelow, a naturalized citizen from England, is among those calling for bolstered English-language and civics testing or expanded waiting periods to encourage assimilation.

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On the other side of the issue, observers from both the right and left applaud contemporary citizenship applications as a crucial element in maintaining a sense of national unity--especially at a time when immigration is at or near historical highs and is more geographically diverse than ever. The far riskier course, some argue, is to cut off full civic access to millions of legal residents.

“Though the motives may not in all cases be pure, citizenship in itself is an unalloyed good, sealing the contract between immigrants and native-born and underlining America’s identity as a nation ethnically diverse but culturally unified,” Peter D. Salins, author of the 1997 book “Assimilation, American Style,” wrote in the conservative journal Commentary.

Behind today’s criticisms of the citizenship process, many immigrants and their advocates see a hidden agenda: blunting the political force of Latinos and Asians--the bulk of new Americans--by denying them access to the ballot box. Many recall all too well past wrongs, such as the barring of most Asians from becoming citizens until 1952, or the mass repatriations to Mexico during the 1930s and 1950s of thousands of U.S. citizens of Mexican ancestry.

“Some people just do not want our people to become citizens,” said Lucy Boutte, one of about 200 mostly Latino protesters who marched recently in downtown Los Angeles against mounting delays in processing citizenship applications.

Not so, respond Republican leaders in Congress, who say their principal concern is assuring that citizenship is reserved for those who deserve it.

“It doesn’t matter where someone comes from--what matters is whether they want to become hard-working, constructive citizens,” said Rep. Lamar Smith (R-Texas), who heads the House immigration subcommittee.

Today’s scenario provides a distinct counterpoint to the early 20th century, the last great wave of immigration.

In that era, officials were also worried about undeserving people--from anarchists and communists to polygamists--becoming citizens. But even more alarming was the fact that many new immigrants were not even bothering to become citizens--a phenomenon widely attributed at the time to Eastern and Southern Europeans’ inability to appreciate their newfound democratic rights.

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As a result, the government crafted a twofold response: Naturalization guidelines were standardized and tightened, including the introduction of formal requirements for familiarity with the English language and U.S. civics. In an effort to remove politics from the process, naturalization hearings were banned within 30 days of elections. Eventually, all states made citizenship a condition for voting.

About the same time, though, officials launched a large-scale “Americanization” campaign that became a national benchmark of assimilation. The effort included extensive citizenship classes in ethnic enclaves, boisterous Fourth of July parades and heavily promoted mass naturalization ceremonies.

Citizenship, Ueda wrote in the Harvard encyclopedia of American ethnic groups, became a means “to fuse diverse ethnic groups into one nation,” a potent counterbalance to nativist impulses from those upset about the makeup of an earlier wave of new immigrants.

Today, citizenship applications have reached a level of diversity unimaginable just a generation ago.

At the Los Angeles Convention Center on Thursday, about 7,000 new Americans from 123 nations pledged their allegiance during a flag-draped patriotic fest that featured an honor guard from Garfield High School and a keynote speech by actor Edward James Olmos.

Afterward, many acknowledged their apprehension about laws targeting noncitizens. Asked their principal motivation, some cited their wish to vote, to petition for loved ones in their homelands, carry U.S. passports and be eligible for government jobs, scholarships and benefits. But all interviewed spoke of a more fundamental desire: to be an American.

“I love America! I love freedom!” said an ecstatic Ahmad Hewadpal, a 42-year-old native of Afghanistan. “Now I feel very strong, like an American.”

Likewise, Douglas Chang appreciates the freedoms that he never had in his native Taiwan. But the 24-year-old auditor also frankly described citizenship as a kind of insurance policy against periodic anti-immigrant backlashes. The UCLA graduate is well aware of past laws barring both the immigration and naturalization of Chinese and other Asians.

“Practically speaking, when the economy goes bad, people look for scapegoats,” Chang said. “Being a citizen gives you some protection.”