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- Roman Empire: gold standard of
immigration
- The ancient superpower could teach the U.S. a thing or two
about a strong multicultural society.
- By Cullen Murphy
- June 16, 2007
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- YOU'VE SEEN the phrase a hundred times: "the world's longest
boundary between a First World and Third World country." But hearing
those words the other day, as the immigration bill seemed to be
falling apart in the Senate, my thoughts turned not to the 2,000-mile
border of the United States and Mexico but to ancient Rome's
6,000-mile border with … well, its border with everywhere.
There's a widespread view that the Roman Empire was swept away mainly
by a relentless tide of hostile outsiders; we've all heard ugly
references to the "barbarian hordes" in today's immigration debates.
But the truth is that Rome was the world's most successful multiethnic
state until our own — and history's longest lasting one, bar none.
So it's natural to wonder if the Romans might have anything to teach
Americans. I'd argue that they do. One lesson is that the notion of
"taking control of the borders" is overrated; borders were pliable
then, and are even harder to define (or police) now. A second lesson
is the importance of nurturing a national culture. It was the source
of Rome's power, just as it is the source of ours.
Hadrian's Wall, which crosses the neck of Britain and marked the
northern limit of the Roman Empire, gives the appearance of something
built to deter an onslaught. That impression is misleading. The wall
was not meant to be a Maginot Line; it was designed to be penetrated.
It had gateways every mile to encourage traffic. Commerce moved both
ways. You would have seen the same pattern at the borders of the
empire along the Rhine and the Danube, and elsewhere on the frontier.
Americans today think of a nation's physical border as a static and
even sacred sort of artifact — not quite as unchanging, say, as the
path of the equator, but significantly more durable than the outlines
of a Texas congressional district. Most historians, though, now see
Rome's long imperial frontier as a dynamic zone where the interactions
of different peoples had transformative repercussions on either side.
The frontier, in other words, was a crucible, not a line in the sand.
And it's the same with us, for all the vigilantes grimly uncoiling
barbed wire in the desert. What does "border" even mean? Global
communications and electronic capital flows have brought borders into
the fourth, fifth and nth dimensions. Hadrian's Wall today would have
to be supplemented by Hadrian's Firewall.
American borders aren't quite where the map shows them, anyway. For
national security purposes, they extend to the docks of Rotterdam and
Hong Kong and as high as satellites in geosynchronous orbit. Some
borders have simply disappeared. Consider the transnational revolution
wrought by the ATM machine. For corporations, borders are a figure of
speech.
If borders aren't a bulwark, then what is? Transported back to the
Roman Empire, you would see something remarkably uniform from the
Atlantic to the Euphrates, from Britain to North Africa. This was so
even though the empire encompassed a wide variety of peoples, not all
of whom had known their butter knives from their fish knives before
coming under Roman rule.
The temples and baths of Londinium resembled those of Cordoba in Spain
and Alexandria in Egypt. Roads and coins were uniform. Soldiers all
wore something akin to dog tags (as did their horses). Even the
statuary from place to place looked the same: At one time there were
20,000 statues of Caesar Augustus on view. All of this was just the
physical embodiment of an underlying dynamic — a set of values and a
way of life — that rapidly turned outsiders into insiders.
Rome's ability to assimilate newcomers is so well-established that
it's easy to lose sight of. And it has been overshadowed, in the
history books as well as in movies, by episodes of invasion and mayhem
in the final centuries, when the empire's domestic health was already
gravely compromised.
But the expansion of the empire to include tens of millions of
non-Romans — and then the absorption through immigration of many
millions more — was a bigger phenomenon still. Military service
integrated some, but Romanization occurred without the help of other
tools that Americans take for granted, such as public schools, mass
communications, Madison Avenue or even a single language. (The
strivers and elites spoke Latin and Greek, but the empire was
polyglot.)
It took place because Roman civilization turned out to be a good deal.
The historian Tacitus rather cynically recognized its power, observing
that what Rome's subjects called "culture" was in fact what kept them
in line.
The U.S., too, is an assimilation machine, though one whose efficiency
we tend to doubt in the present, and to acknowledge only in hindsight.
Looking back, we now know that the U.S. managed to accommodate the
huge waves of immigration in the 1850s, the 1880s, the first decade of
the 1900s and the 1980s — despite skepticism at each of those moments
that it ever could. Every age doubts that it retains the absorptive
capacity of ages past, just as every age fails to remember the human
heartache and wrenching adjustments that past immigration entailed.
Or the utter determination. My father-in-law came to the U.S. from
Mexico in 1920, in his mother's arms, and on his yellowing immigration
papers there is the line "Mode of arrival" followed by the typed-in
word: "rowboat." My children, now that I think about it, have the kind
of ironic heritage that would have been commonplace on the Roman
frontiers: One Mexican ancestor came north to the U.S. shortly after
one Irish ancestor went south, with Gen. John J. Pershing, to fight
Pancho Villa.
In the end, the example of Rome suggests that the most effective
long-term stance toward the outside lies less in building walls than
in strengthening the foundation of our own society — bolstering not
just such tangible structures as education and healthcare and a
government free of corruption but also intangible values such as
equality, the entrepreneurial spirit and the principles of access and
opportunity. If we take care of this, much else will take care of
itself.
In the shadow of Hadrian's Wall, archeologists have pulled bits of
Roman-era writing from the muck. Many of these scribblings were
produced by soldiers who by birth were not Romans and preferred some
German tongue. The Latin they wrote is clumsy. But it is Latin, real
Latin.
Reading those fragments, I'm reminded of the cards passed out at a
demonstration in Washington last year, when thousands of prospective
immigrants united to say certain words, which were printed out
phonetically. The cards read: "Ai pledch aliyens to di fleg / Of di
Yunaited Esteits of America." It was a very American moment — and a
very Roman one too.
- ______________________________________________________________
- CULLEN MURPHY was for many years the managing editor of the
Atlantic Monthly and is now the editor at large of Vanity Fair. His
most recent book is "Are We Rome?: The Fall of an Empire and the Fate
of
Los Angeles Times opinion article at:
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-murphy16jun16,0,7065340.story?coll=la-tot-opinion&track=ntottext
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