WASHINGTON WATCH
Last week I was in my hometown of Utica, New York. I had been invited to keynote an event at City Hall to commemorate Lebanon’s Independence Day. More than that, it was a day to recognize and celebrate the contributions Lebanese Americans have made to the USA, and to remind us how a welcoming USA had done so much for waves of diverse immigrants and how they, in turn, had built this country.
From the late 19th century through the first few decades of the 20th, a flood of immigrants arrived in the USA from Greater Syria. From available data, it appears that almost one-quarter of a million Syrian-Lebanese arrived during those four decades.
Their reasons for emigration varied. In the early period they came seeking economic opportunities. The World War One famine imposed on the Mount of Lebanon by both the Ottoman Empire and the Allies accelerated the flight. It is estimated that during the war years one-half of the population of the Mount died from hunger or disease. After the war, many of those who were able to leave did so, with their preferred destination being the USA to join family or friends who had migrated earlier. This lasted until the 1920s when a xenophobic backlash against some immigrants led Congress to either limit or eliminate visas for certain groups— among them, the Syrian-Lebanese. For about 30 years, no new US visas were issued.
The Syrian-Lebanese immigrants took advantage of the opportunities provided by their new home and prospered, growing their families and their businesses.
My family’s story was part of this unfolding narrative. My father’s older brother, Habib, left Lebanon in 1910 at the age of 14. His goal was to prepare the ground for others to follow. The war and famine intervened. Escaping famine and ruin they fled to the Bekaa Valley until the war’s end when they returned to their village. It took them until the early 1920s before they were in a position to join Habib. In 1921, with the exception of my father, they did so. Encountering the anti-Syrian visa restrictions, my father, eager to join his family, secured a job and passage to Canada. After arriving, he illegally crossed the border into the USA and found his way to Utica, NY where he was reunited with his mother and siblings in 1923.
Like so many other Lebanese and Arab World immigrants who followed, my father, his brothers and sisters set themselves on a path to succeed in their new homeland. By the time they had passed, they had founded seven businesses, and their children and grandchildren launched many more or became professionals.
The overall Syrian-Lebanese community in Utica grew to become more than six percent of the city’s population, playing a significant role in all aspects of the community. When I was growing up, it seemed like every street corner had a small store owned by members of my ethnicity. They also built three churches, were elected to public office, and excelled in all of the professions, serving in education, law, politics, and medicine.
My father, who came undocumented in the 1920s, got amnesty in the ‘30s and became a naturalized US citizen in 1943. His naturalization document hangs on the wall in my office underneath the presidential parchment from President Obama announcing his appointment of me to serve as his representative to the Commission on International Religious Freedom. I call it “My American Story Wall.”
It is delightful to see the extent to which this pattern of Arabic-speaking immigrants seeking opportunity and building success in the USA is continuing with Utica’s newer immigrants from Arab countries: Palestinians, Yemenis, Iraqis, and more. It is the American story that, despite setbacks and bumps in the road, continues to inspire.
My father, who came undocumented in the 1920s, got amnesty in the ‘30s and became a naturalized US citizen in 1943. His naturalization document hangs on the wall in my office underneath the presidential parchment from President Obama announcing his appointment of me to serve as his representative to the Commission on International Religious Freedom. I call it “My American Story Wall.”
A century ago, Kahlil Gibran penned a “Letter to Young Americans of Syrian Origin.” In it he reminds his readers of both the values they brought with them from their lands of origin and the possibilities available in their new homeland. Toward the end of this letter, Gibran urges his readers “to stand before the towers of New York and Washington, Chicago and San Francisco saying in your hearts ‘I am the descendant of a people that built Damascus and Byblos, and Tyre, Sidon, and Antioch and I am here to build with you.’”
This is exactly what we did. It is the immigrant story, repeated every day, by diverse waves of immigrants in cities across the country. It is what makes America great.
