SEEKING REFUGE
Central American Migrationto Mexico, the United States, and Canada
María Cristina García
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS Berkeley Los Angeles London
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University of California Press
Berkeley and Los Angeles, California
University of California Press, Ltd.
London, England
© 2006 by The Regents of the University of California
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
García, María Cristina, 1960–.
Seeking refuge : Central American migration to Mexico, the United States, and Canada / María Cristina García.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index.
ISBN 0-520-24700-0 (cloth : alk. paper). — ISBN 0-520-24701-9 (pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Political refugees—Central America. 2. Political refugees—Legal status, laws, etc.—United States. 3. Political refugees—Legal status, laws, etc.— Mexico. 4. Political refugees—Legal status, laws, etc.—Canada. I. Title.
HV640.5.C46G37 2006
325'.21'09728097—dc22
2005050648
Manufactured in the United States of America
14 13 12 11 10 09 08 07 06
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This book is printed on New Leaf EcoBook 60, containing 60% postconsumer waste, processed chlorine free; 30% de-inked recycled fiber, elemental chlorine free; and 10% FSC-certified virgin fiber, totally chlorine free. EcoBook 60 is acid-free and meets the minimum requirements of ANSI/ASTM D5634–01 (Permanence of Paper).
In memory of
Clemente García
(1926-1996)
and
Rosario J. Argilagos Rodríguez
(1910-1997)
CONTENTS
1. The Wars in Central America and the Refugee Crisis
2. Designing a Refugee Policy: Mexico as Country of First Asylum
3. Refugees or Economic Migrants? The Debate over Accountability in the United States
4. Humanitarianism and Politics: Canada Opens Its Doors to Central America
Conclusion: Shared Responsibility? Legacies of the Central American Refugee Crisis
PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The idea for this project began in Austin, Texas, in the late 1980s, when I was writing my doctoral dissertation on Cuban immigration to the United States. Before I began my daily ritual at the computer, I allowed myself an hour at a local coffee shop to load up on caffeine and sugar (the graduate student's “fix”) and to read the morning's headlines. A very different immigration story was playing out in the Texas state newspapers. I read about Central Americans who escaped civil war in their homelands and crossed vast stretches of territory to find safety and employment in North America. I read of shelters and halfway houses as far north as Buffalo, New York, where hundreds of people waited for their asylum hearings, their transportation to Canada, or the opportunity to return home. I read of the detention centers emerging along the US-Mexico border to house thousands facing deportation. And I read of “sanctuary workers” who willingly violated immigration law and risked prison to protest what they considered to be an immoral foreign policy. Following this morning ritual, I walked home to write my history of the post-1959 Cuban migration, a group that seemed so fortunate by comparison, despite their own poignant stories of separation and persecution.
Through research and lived experience, I became starkly aware of how politicized refugee policy can be. The US government assisted the Cubans because they fled a hostile communist government during the peak years of the Cold War. Laws were bent if not broken to accommodate them. The Cuban Refugee Program, first established in 1961, invested over nine hundred million dollars in these refugees by the mid-1970s, to help them retool for the US labor market but also to help local economies to accommodate the newcomers with as little strife as possible. The US news media were generally positive about these new arrivals (at least those who arrived during the first two decades). Articles in major newspapers and news magazines celebrated the Cubans' democratic and entrepreneurial values—their familiarity—and helped to convince Americans that they were worth welcoming. This moral and financial investment in their future on the part of so many institutions, chief among them the US government, played no small role in helping the Cubans to adjust to their new society and become among the more “successful” immigrant groups in the twentieth century.
The nation faced a totally different scenario with the arrivals of the Salvadoran, Guatemalan, and Nicaraguan immigrants. This time, the administrations of Reagan and Bush insisted that those who fled the civil wars in Central America were not true refugees, but rather economically driven migrants. During the 1980s fewer than 5 percent of Central Americans were successful in their petitions for asylum; and no government aid packages were granted to assist in their accommodation. This time it was certain sectors of the US population that argued that the United States had a moral obligation to assist the refugees. Debates over immigration and foreign policy took place in town halls, churches, and college campuses across the United States, creating a climate conducive to change. But ultimately, it was the federal courts that mandated changes in asylum policy and in detention and deportation procedures.
These two very different experiences inspired my research and writing these past years, and I had a personal connection to both stories. My family, like thousands of other Cuban families who arrived during the 1960s, benefited from the Cold War struggles between the United States and Cuba. It mattered little whether the doors to the United States were opened because of humanitarianism or politics. The goal was to escape the violence and paranoia of the revolution, and return to Cuba when it was safe. In the meantime, the United States offered peace, economic opportunity, and, more important, choices. Eventually, exile became permanent residence for many of us, a story that needed