Critical Race Theory

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Link – Immigration/Latino

Immigration and citizenship normalize whiteness and obfuscates non-white narratives

Calderon 6—(Dolores, University of Utah assistant professor in the Department of Education, Culture, and Society and the Ethnic Studies Program “One-Dimensionality and Whiteness” USA Policy Futures in Education, Volume 4, Number 1, 2006 , cayla_)

The development of this possessive investment in whiteness is linked to the origin of property rights in the United States where ‘race and property ... played a crucial role in establishing and maintaining racial and economic subordination’ (Harris, 1995, p. 277). Identification in the United States of the individual with his/her society, as Marcuse (1991) identifies, in this case the possessive investment in whiteness, has been concretely accomplished both historically and currently via the construction of citizenship.[3] In the United States, the legal definition of whiteness took shape in the context of immigration law, as courts decided who was to have the privilege of living in the United States’ (Delgado & Stefancic, 2001, p. 77). Who had and has access to citizenship is a one-dimensional construction in which citizenship requires a type of ‘false consciousness’ that constructs citizenship as a proxy for whiteness.[4] Historically [5], citizenship in the United States was defined by an explicit socially and culturally homogeneous view (Torres, 1998, p. 170). For example, ‘judges defined the white race in opposition to blackness or some other form of otherness. Whiteness, thus, was defined in opposition to nonwhite, an opposition that also marked a boundary between privilege and its opposite’ (Delgado & Stefancic, 2001, p. 77). Therefore, because inclusion in the benefits of citizenship is measured by whiteness, disenfranchised non-white communities can only access these benefits if they attempt to assimilate to the totality of whiteness. For example, the concept of ‘passing’, or becoming white, which is ‘well known among black people in the United States’ is a ‘feature of race subordination in all societies structured on white supremacy’ (Harris, 1995, p. 277). Passing, in the context of the black experience in the United States ‘is related to the historical and continuing pattern of white racial domination and economic exploitation, which has invested passing with a certain economic logic’ (1995, p. 277). This assimilation, however, is also obfuscated for non-whites because the concept of whiteness irrationally maintains the non-white citizen at a distance from the core of whiteness. This manifestation of whiteness reflects how the ‘“cunning of Reason” works, as it so often did, in the interest of the powers that be’ (Marcuse, 1991, pp. 15-16). Simply identifying whiteness as the measure of citizenship is not enough. If the analysis were to stop at this point, it would preclude an analysis of the racism of whiteness. Maria de los Angeles Torres (1998) explains that because citizenship assumes loyalty to a state, ‘the identities of many immigrants are too complex to allow’ for a singular oath of allegiance to the United States (Torres, 1998, p. 170). This oath is emblematic of the normative and universalizing discourse whiteness has upon institutions. This is problematic for non-white communities as: [d]iaspora communities often reside in multiple states or have traveled through them. Restricting loyalty to one state flattens immigrants’ experiences and limits their political options, particularly when they are affected by the decisions of many states. (1998, p. 170) One-Dimensionality and Whiteness 77 The construction of citizenship thus reflects the full ideological manifestations of whiteness. Thus, ideology has very real and concrete manifestations that serve to promote advanced industrial society. [. . .] Interestingly, the plight of immigrants in the United States is framed from an ideological position that claims that only through achieving the legal status of citizenship can individuals truly attain the American Dream. Furthermore, in contemporary society, the: absorption of ideology into reality does not, however signify the ‘end of ideology.’ On the contrary, in a specific sense advanced industrial culture is more ideological than its predecessor, inasmuch as today the ideology is in the process of production itself ... It is a good way of life – much better than before – and as a good way of life, it militates against qualitative change. Thus emerges a pattern of one-dimensional thought and behavior in which ideas, aspirations, and objectives that, by their content, transcend the established universe of discourse and action are either repelled or reduced to terms of this universe. (1991, pp. 11-12) For this reason it is important to understand how whiteness has historically manifested and transformed itself, for it is in the contemporary moment that whiteness is most transparent and difficult to lay a finger on. This transparency is not an accident of history; it is the living legacy of whiteness, which locates its heritage in the devastation inflicted on the colonized by the European colonizer. In order to extract whiteness from its invisibility, it is important to note, ‘[e]very colonized people – in other words, every people in whose soul an inferiority complex has been created by the death and burial of its local cultural originality – finds itself face to face with the language of the civilizing nation’ (Fanon, 1967, p. 18). Thus, in the language of citizenship one can find the language or reproduction of whiteness.

The line of morality in modern data collection has been skewed for foreign surveillance

Gonzalez 15 - J.D., University of California, Berkeley (Marc-Tizoc "Afterword: Habeas data: Comparative constitutional interventions from latin america against neolibral states of insecurity and surveillance"

By such means, among others (e.g., truth and reconciliation processes and other extraordinary constitutional writs like amparo and similar writs of protection),5 diverse Latin American peoples sought to recover their societies from those, often military officers and members of the traditional landed elite, who had disappeared, killed, tortured, and terrorized their citizenry with impunity in the final decades of the twentieth century.6 Simultaneously, these third generation human rights were designed to safeguard the precious new democracies so that the terror of the dictatorships would never more recur.7 Why does it feel critical to remember these histories and to understand the constitutional remedies developed by those who reconstructed democracies in the aftermath of these regimes? Recent revelations about the technology, scale, and coordination of contemporary corporate and state surveillance throughout and beyond the United States have opened new opportunities to contextualize historically and to chart spatially our neoliberal states of insecurity and surveillance.8 While distinctive, the rights protected by habeas data are not unique to Latin America. Indeed, many countries and international unions, such as Germany, the United States, and the European Union, have developed a complex array of legal protections for data.9 Nevertheless, the terrible twentieth century histories of Latin America constitute compelling sociolegal reasons for evolving the venerable writ of habeas corpus into the information-focused right of habeas data and for embedding habeas data into a foundational source of national law like the United States Constitution. Without habeas data rights being recognized as fundamental by the highest court of a jurisdiction, people may well lack effective means to learn what information their governments have collected about them.10 Moreover, failing to constitutionalize rights like the writ of habeas data may contribute to “a dialogic default—a failure to contest economic [and other forms of] injustice within constitutional and political discourse.”1 In this Afterword, I offer a critical intervention into the existing discourse of Anglophone legal scholars regarding bulk metadata collection and related programs.12 While I claim neither expertise in national security law, nor in Internet privacy law, my conversations regarding habeas data with legal scholars based in the United States over the past decade have impressed on me that many scholars may be completely ignorant of this critical evolution in constitutional protections In light of the recent reportage of massive surveillance

Federal immigration law enforcement is tied to racial profiling of Latinos as non-documented

ACLU 9 (a nonpartisan, non-profit organization whose stated mission is "to defend and preserve the individual rights and liberties guaranteed to every person in this country by the Constitution and laws of the United States." “The Persistence of Racial and Ethnic Profiling in the United States: A Follow-Up Report to the U.N. Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination” August 2009 , cayla_)
As of May 2009 a total of sixty-six 287(g) MOAs have been signed in twenty-three states,83 and approximately eighty applications to join the program are pending approval.84 ICE’s budget for the program has increased tenfold in the last two years, from $5.4 million in 2007 to $54.1 million in 2009.85 Enforcement of federal immigration law by local law enforcement is inherently problematic and tied to practices of racial profiling, as noted recently in ACLU testimony before Congress: Because a person is not visibly identifiable as being undocumented, the basic problem with local police enforcing immigration law is that police officers who are often not adequately trained, and in some cases not trained at all, in federal immigration enforcement will improperly rely on race or ethnicity as a proxy for undocumented status. In 287(g) jurisdictions, for example, state or local police with minimal training in immigration law are put on the street with a mandate to arrest “illegal aliens.” The predictable and inevitable result is that any person who looks or sounds “foreign” is more likely to be stopped by police, and more likely to be arrested (rather than warned or cited or simply let go) when stopped. . . . The problem of racial profiling, however, is not limited to 287(g) field models . . . the federal government uses an array of other agreements to encourage local police to enforce immigration law. Racial profiling concerns therefore are equally present under jail-model MOUs or other jail-screening programs. Officers, for example, may selectively screen in the jails only those arrestees who appear to be Latino or have Spanish surnames. Police officers may also be motivated to target Latinos for selective or pretextual arrests in order to run them through the booking process and attempt to identify undocumented immigrants among them.86 As such, immigration enforcement by local police raises grave concerns about racial profiling of Latinos and other racial minorities, and of both U.S. citizens and non-citizen immigrants. Although the overwhelming majority of Latinos in the United States are U.S. citizens or legal permanent residents87 (and Latinos are expected to constitute more than twenty-five percent of the U.S. population by 2050),88 Latinos have frequently been singled out for immigration stops and inquiries by local law enforcement. Such race and ethnic-based immigration enforcement imposes injustices on racial and ethnic minorities, specifically reinforcing the harmful perception that Latinos—U.S. citizens and non-citizens alike—are presumptively “illegal immigrants” and therefore not entitled to full and equal citizenship unless and until proven “legal.”89 Low-wage Latino immigrant workers are particularly threatened as are low-wage South Asian workers, who face an intersection of anti-immigrant hostility, employment abuse, and post-9/11-related discrimination.90 In addition to exacerbating pre-existing racial profiling in local communities, local police enforcement of the immigration laws under the 287(g) program and other related ICE ACCESS programs undermines the trust between the police and the communities that they serve. When local police function as immigration agents, the message is sent that some citizens do not deserve equal protection under the law. Fear, as opposed to trust, is created in Latino and other immigrant communities, and Latino U.S. citizen children with parents, who are either immigrants or citizens, may avoid coming in contact with police or any public officials (including school officials) out of concern that they, their parents or family members will be targeted by local enforcement because of their actual or perceived immigration status.91 Latina and other immigrant women who are victims of domestic violence may fear interacting with the police because of their immigration status, or the status of their families, or even their abusers, and the consequences of that fear can leave them in dangerous and violent situations.92 Respect and trust between law enforcement and communities of color are essential to successful police work.93 It is for this reason that many police executives and police organizations have expressed concern that local police enforcement of the immigration laws has a “negative overall impact on public safety.”94 Despite the significant problems associated with local police enforcement of immigration laws, ICE has not responded to, or monitored, complaints about the 287(g) program or other ICE ACCESS programs. The U.S. Government Accountability Office (GAO) recently reported that ICE lacks key internal controls for the implementation of the287(g) program, even though the program has been in operation for approximately seven years.95 The GAO report conclusively found that 287(g) program objectives have not been documented in any program-related materials; guidance on how and when to use program authority is inconsistent; guidance on how ICE officials are to supervise officers from participating agencies has not been created; data that participating agencies use to track and report to ICE has not been defined; and performance measures valuating progress toward program objectives have not been developed.

It’s a Petit Apartheid—Surveillance and searches reinforce white, middle-class citizens’ suspicions—turns their offense

Romero 6 – (Mary, professor and faculty head of Justice and Social Inquiry at Arizona State University and an affiliated faculty member with Women and Gender Studies, Asian Pacific American Studies and African and African American Studies “Racial Profiling and Immigration Law Enforcement: Rounding Up of Usual Suspects in the Latino Community” Critical Sociology, Volume 32, Issue 2–3 2006 , cayla_)

Daniel Georges-Abeyie’s (2001:x) theoretical paradigm of grand and petit apartheid links current practices of racial profiling with other “negative social factors and discretional decision-making by both criminal justice agents and criminal justice agencies.” Georges-Abeyie’s theoretical work outlines a continuum of petit apartheid discriminatory practices ranging from the covert and informal to the overt and formal. Petit apartheid has been used to explain racial profiling in the war against drugs (Campbell 2001; Covington 2001), regulating and policing public space (Bass 2001; Ferrell 2001b), under-representation of persons of color interested in law enforcement (Ross 2001) and the use of racial derogation in prosecutors’ closing arguments ( Johnson 2001). Petit apartheid relates to concerns about struggles over access to urban public space, freedom of movement, the processes of capital investment, political decision-making, and policing first theorized by Henri Lefebvre (1996 [1968]) and others (see Caldeira 2000; Ferrell 2001a; Harvey 1973, 1996; Holston 1999; Mitchell 2003). Images and perceptions of public space are used to encourage, discourage, or prohibit use and movement. Exclusionary models of public life are most noted for privileging middle-class consumers. Surveillance, stops, and searches maintain a landscape of suspicion and reinforce white, middle-class citizens’ suspicions of racial minorities and protect their access to public space. When citizenship is racially embodied through law-enforcement practices that target Mexican-American neighborhoods and business areas, then Henri Lefebvre’s (1996 [1968]:174) statement about urban space is actualized: “The right of the city manifests itself as a superior form of rights: right to freedom, to individualization in socialization, to habitat and to inhabit.” Immigration law enforcement assists such exclusionary use of urban public spaces and limits freedom of movement. However, the INS is in the position of having to negotiate an adequate flow of undocumented labor to meet urban capitalist needs while maintaining the appearance of controlling immigration. Consequently, immigration law enforcement in US cities is not structured around systematic or random checking of identification but rather a pattern of citizenship inspection that maintains the landscape of suspicion. Given the class and racial segregation perpetuated by exclusive residential zoning, the INS targets ethnic cultural spaces marked by Mexican-owned businesses, agencies offering bilingual services, and neighborhoods with the highest concentration of poor and working-class Latinos. Within these areas, INS agents engage in “typing” suspected aliens (Heyman 1995; Weissinger 1996) that embodies a “figurative border” (Chang 1999). In the process of typing Mexicans as suspects, Americans are “whitened.” The 1975 Supreme Court decision that “Mexican appearance” “constitutes a legitimate consideration under the Fourth Amendment for making an immigration stop” ( Johnson 2000:676) legalized micro- and macro-aggressions inflicted upon Mexican Americans. Micro- and macroaggressions, as well as petit apartheid, are experienced by Mexican Americans when they are caught within a racially profiled dragnet in which INS agents operate with unchecked discretion. Harms of reductions and repression occur when Latinos are subjected to racially motivated (and frequently class-based) stops and searches and race-related INS abuse (Arriola 1996–97; Benitez 1994; Lazos 2002; Vargas 2001). Micro-aggressions are racial affronts on a personal level, experienced when an individual Mexican American is stopped and asked to prove citizenship status; macro-aggressions are group affronts because they are directed towards “Mexicanness” in general. Macro-aggressions target dark complexions and physical characteristics characterized as “Mexican” or “Latino;” speaking Spanish, listening to Spanish music, shopping at Mexican-owned businesses, or any other cultural practices bring on racially motivated stops.

Mexican immigrants are discriminated against in immigration searches

Romero 6 – (Mary, professor and faculty head of Justice and Social Inquiry at Arizona State University and an affiliated faculty member with Women and Gender Studies, Asian Pacific American Studies and African and African American Studies “Racial Profiling and Immigration Law Enforcement: Rounding Up of Usual Suspects in the Latino Community” Critical Sociology, Volume 32, Issue 2–3 2006 , cayla_)

While legal scholars, civil rights advocates, and the general public denounced federal law enforcement practices towards Muslims and persons of Middle-Eastern descent under the Patriot Act, racialized immigration stops and searches, abuse, and harassment are ongoing processes honed over a century of citizenship inspections of Mexicans. Immigration policing is based on determining that citizenship is visibly inscribed on bodies in specific urban spaces rather than “probable cause.” In the Chandler Roundup, official investigations found no evidence that stops and searches were based on probable cause of criminal activity. The conclusion drawn by the Attorney General’s investigation underscores the harms of micro- and macro-aggressions and the use of petit apartheid: . . . there were no other warrants, charges, or holds for these individuals that in any way indicated other criminal activity or that required extraordinary security or physical force. The issue raised by this type of treatment is not whether the arrest and deportation is legal, but whether human beings are entitled to some measure of dignity and safety even when they are suspected of being in the United States illegally. (1997:28–9) The Chandler Roundup fits into a larger pattern of immigration law enforcement practices that produce harms of reduction and repression and place Mexican Americans at risk before the law and designate them as second-class citizens with inferior rights. Latino residents in Chandler experienced racial affronts targeted at their “Mexicanness” indicated by skin color, bilingual speaking abilities, or shopping in neighborhoods highly populated by Latinos. During immigration inspections, individuals stopped were demeaned, humiliated, and embarrassed. Stops and searches conducted without cause were intimidating and frightening, particularly when conducted with discretionary use of power and force by law enforcement agents. [. . .] Racialized immigration stops establish, maintain, and reinforce second-class citizenship and limit civil, political, economic, and cultural rights and opportunities. In urban barrios, the costly enterprise of selected stops and searches, race-related police abuse, and harassment results in deterring political participation, in identifying urban space racially, in classifying immigrants as deserving and undeserving by nationalities, and serves to drive a wedge dividing Latino neighborhoods on the basis of citizenship status.

Viewing Mexicans as foreigners links to the K—border patrol and securitization prove

Romero 6 – (Mary, professor and faculty head of Justice and Social Inquiry at Arizona State University and an affiliated faculty member with Women and Gender Studies, Asian Pacific American Studies and African and African American Studies “Racial Profiling and Immigration Law Enforcement: Rounding Up of Usual Suspects in the Latino Community” Critical Sociology, Volume 32, Issue 2–3 2006 , cayla_)

Conquest of the Southwest subliminally grafted Mexicans to “the American psyche as a ‘foreigner,’ even though the land had once belonged to Mexico” (Romero 2001:1091). Following the Mexican-American War, special law-enforcement agencies were established to patrol the newly formed border and to police Mexicans who remained in occupied territory, as well as later migrants across the border. The most distinct form of social control and domination used by the US in this occupation was the creation of the Texas and Arizona Rangers. Maintaining the interests of cattle barons in Texas, the Texas Rangers treated Mexicans living along the border as cattle thieves and bandits when they attempted to reclaim stolen property from cattle barons. Similarly, the Arizona Rangers protected capitalist interests by protecting strikebreakers against Mexican miners. Following a parallel pattern, the INS rarely raided the fields during harvest time and scheduled massive immigration roundups during periods of economic recession and union activity (Acuña 2000). Remembering the policing functions of the Texas and Arizona Rangers and the Border Patrol (including the current militarization at the border) is crucial in recognizing the social functions accomplished by racialized immigrant raids, sweeps, and citizenship inspections (Acuña 2000; Andreas 2000; Dunn 1996; Nevins 2002). Under Operation Wetback, for example, only persons of Mexican descent were included in the campaign and thus were the only group to bear the burden of proving citizenship (Garcia 1980). Militarized sweeps of Mexicans maintained the community in “a state of permanent insecurity” in the 1950s; in response a petition was submitted to the United Nations charging the USA with violating the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Acuña 2000:306). A number of recent studies unveil the hypocrisy of US border policies that manage to allow enough undocumented immigrant labor in to meet employers’ demands while at the same time increasing INS and Border Patrol budgets (Andreas 2000; Massey et al. 2002; Nevins 2002). Longitudinal studies comparing INS efficiency and increased budget prior to the 1986 Immigration Reform and Control Act (IRCA) to late-1990s immigration law reforms suggest that the cost of detaining unauthorized border crossers has increased (Massey et al. 2002). Immigration researchers (Chavez 2001; Massey et al. 2002) claim that we are paying for the illusion of controlled borders while politicians make a political spectacle, pandering to alarmist public discourse about a Mexican immigrant invasion, the breakdown of the US-Mexico border, and increased crime resulting from immigration (Chavez 2001). Operation Blockade and Operation Gatekeeper failed to deter extralegal immigration from Mexico. US employers continue to have access to a vulnerable, cheap labor force created by assigning workers an “illegal” status. The worst cost of these failed policies are the increasing loss of human lives as migrants are forced to cross the border in the most desolate areas of the desert (Cornelius 2001; Eschbach et al. 1999)

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