July 1, 2020
Farhad Manjoo
Link: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/01/opinion/us-travel-ban-europe.html?searchResultPosition=1
Farhad Manjoo
Link: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/01/opinion/us-travel-ban-europe.html?searchResultPosition=1
You might call it
poetic, if it weren’t so painful. Donald Trump won the White House largely on a
campaign of shutting America’s borders to pretty much everyone other than
people of European descent. “Why are we having all these people from shithole
countries come here?” he once asked, about Haitians, Salvadorans and
Africans. “We should have more people from places like Norway.” So what should
one conclude about America’s own proximity to Trump’s global latrine now that
“places like Norway” have decided to keep their borders indefinitely
closed to us? Among the list of nations to which Norway and the rest
of Europe will soon reopen for travel are three from the continent that Trump
flushed down the toilet: Algeria,
Morocco and Rwanda. Canada is also on the list. So is China,
assuming it reciprocates. But Trump’s America is not, because we are nowhere
close to meeting Europe’s criteria for reducing the spread of the coronavirus.
How successfully a society can fight a pandemic is as objective a measure of
national capacity, not to mention “greatness,” as one is likely to find — and
on this, like so much else these days, America ranks near the bottom.
I have lived in the
United States for more than 30 years, and I can’t think of any national failure
as naked and complete as this one. When I look at the graphs showing American
infections soaring while the virus abates in
nearly every other affluent country, I feel the sting of defeat,
misery and embarrassment. As an immigrant from South Africa, I find it hard to
resist seeing Europe’s travel dis as the ultimate comeuppance of Trump’s
xenophobia. Like a lot of Americans, I sometimes find myself assuming American exceptionalism — the idea that
America’s founding ideals make us morally superior to “ordinary” nations and
confer on us special credibility and insight when dealing with global crises.
But America’s pandemic
failure demolishes the notion that our country is better off without people and
ideas from beyond our borders. The last few months should stick a fork in the
absurd proposition that the United States enjoys some kind of monopoly on
brilliance. Clearly, we do not. Rather than close ourselves off from the
planet, we should be inviting others to join the urgent project of rebuilding
America. I bang this drum often. As I’ve argued before, I am in favor of throwing
America’s borders wide open to much of the world. My primary reasons
are moral — I don’t think a country founded on the idea that everyone is equal
should seal itself off to the ambitious billions who live beyond our shores. There
are also powerful economic and strategic arguments for openness; American
exceptionalism is impossible without immigration. The only way
that a country with less than 5 percent of the world’s population can maintain
the long-term economic and cultural superiority to which many Americans feel
entitled is to collectively produce much more than 5 percent of the world’s
best ideas.
The only way to do that
is to invite in the other 95 percent. I spent much of my career covering
Silicon Valley. Some of the most innovative companies in the world — from
Google to Intel to Instagram to Stripe — were founded by immigrants, and many
in the industry say the whole place would
not work without immigration. I am not one of those lefties who
believe that Trump bears all of the blame for our flawed response to the virus.
The breakdown here was so total that it lays bare larger and more persistent ailments:
our creaking health care system, the ruthlessness of our economy, our
Swiss-cheese safety net, and political polarization that poisons effective
action but excels at whipping up nonsensical culture wars. The totality of our
failure is precisely why we should look to the outside for success — yet Trump
has used the virus as an excuse to accelerate
his restrictions on immigration. Last week, Trump suspended
the issuance of work visas for hundreds of thousands of foreigners,
from tech workers to seasonal workers in the hospitality industry to au pairs
and students. Another group the restriction affects is doctors. About 127,000 doctors, nearly a quarter of the physicians
in the United States, are immigrants. Many of them are now caring for coronavirus patients in communities
without enough health care professionals. All the while, immigrant doctors have
had to worry not only that they might die of the virus while taking care of
Americans, but also that if they do, their families could be deported. This is
madness. More than that: If we keep shutting foreigners out, what justifies our
arrogant assumption that the world’s best and brightest will keep wanting to
come here?
Consider, for instance,
Rwanda, one of the countries that did make Europe’s list. In 1994, it suffered
a genocide in which the United States and the United Nations infamously refused
to intervene. Almost a million people were killed. In the 26 years since,
Rwanda has rebuilt
itself, and now it boasts one of the most capable medical systems in Africa. Rwanda’s 13
million people have nearly universal health care coverage; the country uses
drones to carry blood and other supplies to far-flung hospitals. And when the
coronavirus came, Rwanda set up contact tracing to quickly halt
the spread of the virus, making it one of several African countries to squash it.
To date, only two Rwandans are known to have died of Covid-19. I truly hope
that Rwandans and others witnessing America’s dysfunction are not tempted to
celebrate our fall. The United States’ coronavirus failure is a loss for the
world, which has long depended on American leadership to combat global crises. The
lesson here is obvious: We are all in this together. It’s time to stop
pretending that America, and Americans, have all the answers. We need all the
help we can get.
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