Why Some People Act in Mean and Offensive Ways Toward Immigrant Children
Central American immigrants get on the so-called La Bestia (The Beast) cargo train, in an attempt to reach the Mexico-US border, in Arriaga, Chiapas state, Mexico on July 16, 2014
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The hate and fear directed at immigrant children today is mean and offensive. There are a lot good people who agree with me, but they aren’t organized and don’t get much media attention. Progressives and people committed to compassion in public policy should fight for open borders and provide sanctuary and protection for the victims of persecution and poverty who come to the United States
While advocacy, organizing, and political action should be our response to the current crisis and antipathy toward immigration in general, understanding the psychological roots of the current xenophobic responses reported in the media every day is also important. Understanding our political enemies is vital to a longer-term strategy aimed at weakening their power and deepening the compassion of their opponents.
By understanding anti-immigrant sentiment, I’m not referring to the crass cynicism of politicians, conservative commentators and other public figures who use such sentiments for political advantage. My interest is in better understanding the fear and anger of ordinary people toward these immigrant children fleeing from persecution and poverty, feelings that not only bring protestors out to scream epithets and stop buses but motivate actively resistances to welcoming such children into their communities.
The psychology of xenophobia is based on at least two powerful unconscious dynamics. The first is the deep conviction that “they” are not like “us.” Forget for a moment that we all come from immigrants. I’m talking about a common psychological dynamic often seen in individuals and groups; namely, the irrational need to project undesirable aspects of ourselves onto others whom we can then attack or get rid of. When this dynamic is enacted in the public arena, the result is xenophobia.
The reason some people have to harden themselves against empathizing with children who are vulnerable, frightened, and rejected is because such threatening and shameful feelings exist in all of us to some degree. Attributing our own uncomfortable feelings to others and then demeaning and eliminating these others is a way of (temporarily) getting rid of what they represent in us.
Whether we like or admit it or not, many us wrestle with internal and painful feelings of vulnerability, isolation, “outsider-ness,” and fear. Such feelings are often unacceptable and shameful and we need to condemn or deny them to ourselves or others. Projecting them onto innocent children who are seeking security and comfort for similar feelings leads to an anxious need to get rid of those who embody them, while our government seems to offer them refuge, comfort, and support, leaving the rest of “us” have to go it alone. Such paranoid feelings lead to mythic stories of children being put up in luxury hotels while the rest of us have to struggle to make ends meet.
Getting rid of such children in the external world offers an opportunity to get rid of their reflections in our internal world.
The second dynamic behind the hatred of immigrant children—of immigrants in general—is and always has been the need for community. The “us” who belong wants to get rid of the “them” who don’t. Most of us have experienced not being welcomed or wanted, whether not being chosen in a pick-up softball game, or not being asked to dance at a party or, on a larger level, being the object of a resentful and exclusionary ethnocentrism by virtue of simply being part of a particular ethnic or racial group. Being an “insider,” however, enables us to do unto others what was done to us—what psychologists call “identifying with the aggressor”—namely, excluding and devaluing other individuals or groups.