Truth, Accuracy and Immigration

It was the ‘70s and my brother and I were wandering around in Greenwich Village, probably looking for some good pizza. We were bantering about our reading preferences; Jon read non-fiction, while I preferred fiction and the occasionally well written autobiography (which today might be called memoir). Jon said that fiction didn’t really carry much information because it wasn’t true. And that’s when things really got interesting because, of course, we then launched into a discussion of truth and accuracy, yada, yada, yada.

I held – and still hold – that fiction and stories are filled with truth. In fact, somewhere along the way I’ve read that fiction could be considered the “lies that tell the truth.” And I quite like that characterization. Because even if the path is not a direct one, good stories do lead to the truth. But, the truth about what? Not to put too fine a point on it, stories lead us to the truth about our lives, the lives of others, and the entire human condition. They are the purpose behind learning by example; the function behind reasoning by analogy. Just as we learn our very language by paying attention to the interactions between actions and words, we learn our humanity by paying attention to the interactions between entities within a narrative structure. That is, we learn how to react to particular circumstances, to empathize with other humans, and to live effectively in society through the examples handed down to us through stories, be they formal or informal.

This constituted an undeniable stretch, from Jon’s perspective, and maybe from the perspective of others, as well. However, I’m pretty firm in my belief on this one. Many things I know because of the stories I have heard and many more things I know because of the stories I heard once, but then forgot. For example, I have a particular perspective on the whole issue of federal immigration policy based on having read a whole lot of fiction about immigrants, including “My Antonia” (Willa Cather), “Mama’s Bank Account” (Kathryn Forbes), “A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain” (Robert Olen Butler),  “The Mambo Kings Sing Songs of Love” (Oscar Hijuelo), “The Joy Luck Club” (Amy Tan), “Maggie: A Girl of the Streets” (Stephen Crane), “’Tis” (Frank McCourt), and “The House on Mango Street” (Sandra Cisneros). I am certain that those stories have colored my views on this issue.

By the same token, my views have also been colored by the immigrant stories passed down through my own family, as well as the stories my Aunt Gen told about serving as a social services counselor at Manzanar Relocation Center (Japanese internment camp in northern California). While the Japanese families detained at Manzanar were not immigrants in the strictest sense of the word, they were considered outsiders nonetheless. Our perception of these people as the “others” allowed the government to develop and implement policies — ostensibly as much for their own good as for the good of national security — that ultimately disenfranchised thousands of human beings, many of whom were actually legitimate U.S. citizens and second-generation Nissei.

At the same time, my mother was telling me stories, passed down from  her mother, about German immigrants through the Great Hall at Ellis Island in the first half of the last century. My grandmother worked for a time as an interpreter at Ellis Island and it was her job to explain the process to the  many Germans who filed through the Great Hall day after day. Many lost all of the belongings they’d managed to bring with them and a few even lost their names. Some of the stories were heartwarming, complete with teary reunions and a few were too sad to repeat. But, coming to America was what these people were about. Today, their descendants are our neighbors and our friends.

Stories such as these help us to know the faceless entities about whom we hear in terms of numbers and locations on the nightly news. We come to know them as who they really are: folks like us who have come here under varied circumstances, similar to many of our own ancestors. The fact that the stories from the 19th and 20th centuries reflect the same faces as do the 21st century versions reminds us that the people haven’t changed, even if official policy has. Decisions made without recourse to such exposure are not fully considered decisions. Platitudes lacking knowledge is really only foolishness.

Having heard the stories about Manzanar from my aunt, I grew intrigued and read more about the history of the Japanese relocation program and the camps in which these people were placed. At Manzanar alone, more than 10,000 people were “relocated” within a matter of months, resulting in huge logistical errors and affronts to human dignity. An undertaking of that scale created practical dilemmas never imagined in the rooms where men made the policy. Now imagine the task of relocating the more than 10 million “illegal aliens” said to currently reside in the United States. Such a policy sounds good, but stories from our past call this out as just so much political rhetoric rather than a real, feasible solution to a pressing social issue.

 

3 thoughts on “Truth, Accuracy and Immigration

  1. Thanks Sally, enjoyed the read. The first part of your piece attracted my attention because I have been thinking of these very issues. In the end I think it is how important one believes the imagination or the creative process is in the formation of events. Myth is often more “true” to people than facts. Myth can have deeper meaning and stir the imagination to create not only great philosophical and ethical stands but a belief in say the myth that the world is flat will lead to vehicles very different than if the inventor believed the world is round. The belief that the process of consciousness development followed a physical biological formation i.e. cells lead to more complex forms over time, finally a spine that develops a brain that begins to think, sets in motion a series of assumptions that, when these assumptions are reversed i.e. consciousness creates form, the universe changes, the world is a different place. I am not religious, by the way. In the second scenario, the world is no longer a product of a non-feeling, aggressive, accidental biology but filled with some-sort of awareness all the way through. Humans are responsible for what they are. Doesn’t everything created by man start with a thought, an idea?? As below, so above.

  2. Thanks for your comment, Steve! You bring up some heady questions about imagination, creativity and consciousness. I have an iPad that I now do a lot of my reading on. (Not necessarily a good thing because it makes it easier than ever to read multiple books at the same time so that sometimes end up confusing myself!) One such electronic book I’m slowly working through is called “Who’s in Charge? Free Will and the Science of the Brain” by Michael Gazzaniga. Don’t know the answers, but am intrigued by the process of pondering them!

  3. Sally, thanks for the great reads! I’m completely with you about the felt truth of fiction. Jon and I have had the same discussion many times! But I’m happy to report that I believe he’s opened his mind to “the lie that tells the truth”–though he still reads non-fiction, as a rule. So glad to see that our interests in storytelling are crossing!

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