Category: Uncategorized (Page 14 of 15)

There is no other way to describe my immersion in the new cycle of the 2024 Presidential Election other than sudden, unprecedented, and intense. When Trump was planting the seeds of his anti-immigrant vitriol during his 2016 campaign, I was living and going to school in Shanghai, China. At that time, I would not describe myself as “political” in any sense of the word; I was far-removed from this political conversation. Yet, through these readings, the dramatic and sensationalist nature of Trump’s approaches to immigration policy—specifically, that pertaining to Mexican migrants—is starkly familiar to me. He has conjured up such an image and approach to immigration that has been a prevalent cultural and political message through the past decade.

In “Trump promises to deport all undocumented immigrants, resurrecting a 1950s strategy − but it didn’t work then and is less likely to do so now,” Burgess writes that Trump’s militarized approach to deportation of undocumented immigrants is “playing to unfounded and dehumanizing fears of an immigrant invasion” and “misrepresents the context and impact of Eisenhower’s policy while ignoring the vastly changed landscape of U.S. immigration today.”  Trump’s fearmongering of immigrants made the national stage during the presidential debate, as his comments on Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio gained internet virality.

His comments are rather reminiscent of Eisenhower “Operation Wetback” Era where the popular opinion of immigrants was much more hostile. However, in Fear & Hope: What’s It Take to Make Sanctuary Real? [NYC Immigration Stories], the immigration lawyer describes immigration as the pivotal driver of the economy, dynamism, cultural capital, and enrichment in sanctuary cities. Mass, sweeping deportations do not translate in the same way as the 1950s due to this dramatic shift in the immigration policy sphere: the undocumented population is increasingly dispersed and diverse, and many live in cities where sweeps are hard to carry out.

Additionally, these readings helped me gain a fuller perspective of Biden’s approach to the border. In the political conversation, democrats are often described as ‘unsure’ around the issue of immigration compared to their republican peers. Perhaps this manifests in the language that these reporters use to describe Biden’s history on immigration: ambivalent, a balancing act, mixed bag… Biden has come out strong on his support for migrants, in his 2020 presidential campaign stating that the U.S. must take on the role as a “safe haven for refugees and asylum seekers.” He retained Trump’s deportation policy, Title 42, during the beginning of his presidency and has also enforced more punitive orders that shut down the Southern border which originally directed migrants to seek asylum between ports of entry.

As Harris runs on a campaign that looks toward the future, I’m left wondering about how the departure from a Biden presidency may impact the intensification of regulation along the border.

In my opinion, the reading that provided me with the newest insight was “Will Mexico Decide the U.S. Election?” There is a general narrative that Mexico lacks strong immigration policy of its own, instead reacting to the continuous demands of the U.S. The impact of Mexico’s National Migration Institute suspension of deportation proceedings, and how it aided with American efforts is an interesting reflection on how the dialogue around Mexico-U.S. immigration issues is more symbiotic than we assume. This insight may be central into how the U.S. continues to develop border policy for the upcoming administration.

If you asked Charlie Roth how his summer was, he’ll probably tell you he was manually inputting property tax records of the Witherspoon-Jackson neighborhood, one number at a time.

A college student’s summer break is a precious thing. Charlie was surrounded by the splashes of his younger brother in the pool as he drummed his fingers away at the kitchen counter, gazing into rows of excel spreadsheet cells. “I could have been miserable, sitting in my house while everyone’s at the beach or at an a cappella tour,” Charlie said. “But I’m typing numbers into a spreadsheet and having a blast—making the find that 20 houses doubled in property tax overnight.”

When Charlie was taking classes as a public policy major at Princeton University, he oftentimes found himself off campus grounds. He served as Head Data Editor and Senior News Writer for The Daily Princetonian, the university’s student-run newspaper, and was regularly reporting on local government meetings.

“In the very, very first meeting, I asked the editor if I could report on the Princeton town council because that wasn’t something that we did,” Charlie said.

In one of his interviews with a town council member, representatives directed him towards a blaring property issue that rested just north of Princeton University: the tax revaluation that had hurt the Witherspoon-Jackson neighborhood, a historically Black, low-income community.

“A few years ago, there had been a tax revaluation that like hit that neighborhood really hard, because their property taxes hadn’t gone up in a while. Then in one year, it went up 25% on average, in which he said, ‘You should look into it.’”

That summer, far from beachy waters, Charlie has been finding a key slice of information that allowed him to solve this economic housing puzzle. Helping elucidate local and national issues through journalism rests at the core of his studies at Princeton and his career aspirations of becoming an investigative journalist.

This fortunate moment got Charlie hooked on journalism, and led into the opportunity of the property taxes investigation which would end up as an award-winning piece titled: “‘Our community has become a commodity’: How Princeton’s historically Black community is fading.”

Charlie grew up in Baton Rouge, La. Despite being born in New York City and then moving to the New Jersey suburbs, he became stationed in Baton Rouge very young. His parents moved from cushy PR jobs in New York to support the family business, a dental and vision insurance company named Goudchaux.

“My mom, before she was in PR, was a producer at CBS News. Growing up, I watched a lot of news because, you know, she couldn’t help it, and I loved it,” Charlie said.

Notably, he was drawn to political satire—something that contrasted from his mother’s career.

“His passion, at least at the beginning was the writing gig, to write for the amazing Stephen Colbert, right? That was not my passion,” Deborah Roth, Charlie’s mother said.

To Charlie, these shows incorporated an element of the theatrical, the funny, and the political: all wrapped in a neat broadcasting-media package. Shows like “The Colbert Report,” “The Daily Show,” and “Last Week Tonight” were central to forming his media and writing voice.

Perhaps this was because Charlie grew up in a household that analyzed showtunes during minivan rides.

“Charlie and his father, who’s also musically inclined, would ride in the car and put on Phantom of the Operaand go through and stop and pause and explain the show,” Deborah said.

However, from this first taste of musical theatre, Charlie was fully aware of the operations of the theatrical world. “My mom was in the car with us during ‘A Heart Full of Love’ and she turned to my dad and said, ‘There’s no way they understand what this is about.” My dad motioned to me and I explained what a love triangle is. I was no older than eight,” Charlie said.

From there, Charlie has become involved in on-campus theatre through Princeton’s comedy musical troupe Triangle and the theatre production club Princeton University Players. He is also pursuing a musical theater minor in which will produce a political satire thesis project, titled “What’s the Issue with Charlie Roth?”

“I’m like, ‘Holy cow, you’re like an encyclopedia of this!’ But it’s so cool. He loves it,” Deborah said.

The people around Charlie see him as someone who is generously curious. Take his girlfriend, Madeline LeBeau who he first met before even stepping foot on campus. Charlie had called the university’s Center for Jewish Life to learn more about the reformed community at Princeton, and by luck, Madeline ended up answering.

“I was dazzled that he reached out to the Center for Jewish Life before choosing the school and to weigh his options,” Madeline said. “He’s inquisitive and hardworking, and just a really great person to be around.”

Charlie’s inquisitive nature permeates his experiences, relationships, and fine tunes the way he approaches challenges and questions in his life. During a trip to Newport Beach, R.I. with Madeline, while she was writing her research paper on the founding brothers of the Newport Jewish community, Charlie’s investigative passion rung out.

“Charlie made an active effort to find everything there was about Jewish Newport. He found this one random tour we went to, random houses that he looked up and found out that they were like related to his family,” Madeline said.

“He found all of these things that he knew would be really special and interesting and important to me. And, you know, that’s the type of person Charlie is.”

Burgess’s approach to analyzing the practical implications of an Eisenhower-style deportation policy in a potential second Trump administration is incredibly insightful. Trump’s mass deportation program is a central part of his political messaging during the election campaign, and it seems to resonate with many voters in light of growing apprehension about uncontrolled migration. Burgess’s analysis of Eisenhower’s Operation Wetback—which Trump used as a reference point—shows not only the rhetorical differences and divergent policy goals of Trump and Eisenhower around mass deportation, but also how the changing demographic and political landscape in the United States would complicate anything remotely resembling Operation Wetback. I am wary, however, of the conclusion that mass deportation in 2024 is an elusive goal. Trump has proven time and again that he is willing to take unconventional paths when it comes to implementing campaign promises, particularly when it comes to migration governance. The promise of a wall between the United States and Mexico was also met with intense skepticism in 2016. Eight years later, the wall—despite our criticism of its effectiveness—is being built. Title 42 is another measure that shows how far Trump is willing to go to limit immigration. Both the wall and Title 42 were continued by the Biden administration, indicating that immigration policy in the United States is shifting slightly to the right, at least domestically. I hope Burgess’s article will encourage us to be creative in anticipating the paths Trump might take to achieve his agenda, given how the political landscape in the United States (and the world) has also changed, especially in regard to migration.

In fact, the changing political landscape is exactly what Blitzer comments on in his New Yorker article: What’s Behind Joe Biden’s Harsh New Executive Order on Immigration? Blitzer rightfully notes that Biden did not need to institute the executive order that closed down the border to asylum seekers at the time that he did it. The number of asylum seekers was already low at the time, especially compared to last year. But Blitzer showed that Biden’s decision was largely a political one with two main goals: First, to make it clear to voters that the Republican Party is what is standing in the way of a lasting solution to what he now recognizes as a “migrant crisis.” With this executive order, he is expressing his commitment to a solution, but also lamenting his lack of support from Republicans in the Senate. Second, Biden is taking tough measures that he hopes will positively influence public opinion on his administration’s handling of migration ahead of the November elections. This is also reflected in the PBS Newshour video on the main differences between Trump and Biden’s migration policies. Biden is standing firm on the migration issue, contrary to popular expectations. As Blitzer points out, however, his approach does not seem to be working, as Biden is still poorly ranked in the polls on this specific issue. With Biden out of the race, I wonder what has changed and how much of an issue migration will be for Kamala Harris, whom the Republican Party has dubbed “the border czar.”

Finally, I enjoyed reading about Mexico’s role and influence in U.S. migration policy. What struck me most was the recognition of the changing migration dynamics between the United States and Mexico, and within Mexico itself. As Bárcena noted, “[Mexico has] become a country of origin, destination, and transit.” This important quote underscores the changing nature and direction of migration and the importance of transnational approaches to migration governance. I hope we will discuss this in more detail in class, as the success of U.S. migration management will continue to depend in large part on international cooperation.

I found many interesting takeaways from this week’s readings and videos.

Admitting my naivety, I am unfamiliar with many immigration policies issued by the United States. With this being said, I was particularly intrigued that Biden’s administration had kept Trump’s Title 42 deportation policy intact. Given my unfamiliarity with either candidate’s stance on immigration or action during each campaign, I found it interesting that Biden kept Trump’s policy until the courts disregarded it. I found this interesting because it appeared to make stances on immigration less black and white than we typically think of political issues. I also found the video’s take on Biden’sduality of the immigration issue interesting. Biden’s somewhat strict and humane approach to the issue of immigration introduces the idea of negotiation and compromise between political parties and specific stances on immigration issues.

I found the article titled, “Trump promises to deport all undocumented immigrants, resurrecting a 1950s strategy − but it didn’t work then and is less likely to do so now” particularly frightening. The beginning of the article discussing Trump’s desire to “carry out the largest domestic deportation operation in American history” was particularly disturbing to read, given the bluntness and lack of explanation. I feel as though the article painted an accurate description of how strongly Trump takes the immigration issue and stressed just how strong of pillar immigration is in Trump’s campaign. I found the article’s description of the “Operation Wetback” movement somewhat contradictory to what Trump desired to accomplish with his immigration plans despite him using “Operation Wetback” as some inspiration. One of the biggest contradictories that particularly stood out was that one fundamental idea “was not to remove Mexican immigrants but rather to frighten U.S. farmers, especially in Texas, into hiring them legally.” The rationale behind frightening U.S. farmers to offer legal positions rather than to deport immigrants immediately seemed to entirely dispute Trump’s seemingly blunt claims of only working towards deportation.

Something I found particularly striking from the video, Fear & Hope: What’s It Take to Make Sanctuary Real? [NYC Immigration Stories] was the authenticity behind the immigrants taking the bus from Texas to New York City. It was incredibly emotional seeing and hearing the story of the immigrant mother who was separated from her son for three months and had her husband deported back to Ecuador. Hearing this personal account and seeing the people behind it made me think about my own family and how hard being separated for months on end without knowing when I would be able to see them next. It also emphasized the humanness behind these immigrants. In addition to that scene in the video, they are like any other human. I also found the scene with the protestors outside the Roosevelt Hotel incredibly compelling. Seeing the pure anger and unrest of protestors reinforced the profound controversy this issue has prompted for sanctuary cities in particular.  Despite being humans and only looking for better opportunities, immigrants coming into these cities are under consistent fire from protestors. This reality makes people like Power Malu, the founder of Artists, Athletes, and Activists,  even more significant in situations like New York. Boarding the bus in the video and welcoming these immigrants to New York was a comforting scene, given the treacherous journey so many had gone on to get there. Reintroducing hope and comfort, Malu appeared to act as a bridge to New York.

One of the last articles I would like to comment on is the New Yorker piece titled What’s Behind Joe Biden’s Harsh New Executive Order on Immigration by Johnathan Blitzer. It outlined Joe Biden’s stance and actions on immigration well. It also prompted a particularly engaging question at the end of the piece that made me think about why Biden might desire to bring attention to the Immigration issue despite seeming to mitigate it well.  “Why did Biden decide to issue a proclamation reasserting that there was a crisis when he’d actually been managing to keep it at bay?” It makes me think that Biden may desire attention to his current work on immigration to help promote the excellent work that he has been doing. Suppose a political candidate is being successful at what they are working on. In that case, I see no reason why they wouldn’t want to bring attention to the work that they are doing and bring eyes back to an issue that is being addressed adequately at the moment.

Comparing the two Goudeau chapters provides an interesting contrast in American immigration sentiments and policy pre- and post-World War II – but what is more interesting to me is comparing them with current stances towards immigration. Do people now lean more towards better-safe-than-sorryism or towards fulfilling what Truman referred to as America’s “responsibilities”?

In my opinion, the modern political climate – certainly in attitudes towards immigration – is far closer to the “restrictionists” vs “liberalizers” conflicts than the (mostly) unified support towards immigrants under Truman.

Certainly, the current Republican party is isolationist. They are explicitly “America first,” echoing the name of Lindbergh’s 1940 committee. Certain members of the party have continuously voted against giving aid to Ukraine, and a significant majority support a strong border with Mexico. That was even a common refrain in Trump’s 2016 campaign: “We’re going to build a wall, and Mexico’s going to pay for it.” So far, at least, one could argue that a partial wall was built, but Mexico certainly has not paid for it.

The modern isolationists’ concerns also echo their predecessors, though they have expressed even more concerns. The economic argument remains – Trump has been arguing since 2014 that “They’re taking your jobs” (referring to immigrants), and just this summer famously said that immigrants are “taking Black jobs and they’re taking Hispanic jobs and you haven’t seen it yet but you’re going to see something that’s going to be the worst in our history.” Trump has also said repeatedly that illegal migrants are coming from “mental institutions” but some have theorized that it’s simply because he doesn’t know the two meanings of “asylum.” In any case, isolationists have also added that the immigrants are illegally voting – and voting against their party – and the fentanyl crisis has only heightened their concerns. Are we looping back into the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century stances?

If we are, I wonder how we might loop back to the post-World War II standpoint. One where we are welcoming towards those seeking refuge. Where the country feels an obligation to help them. Perhaps it would not be because of some horrible situation, but because we have the means to help other humans. Are we currently capable of that kind of humanity – where we see other humans as humans without caring about their nationality or a race?

Reading the quotes from Truman’s speech was fascinating. How many people would think that we have an obligation to refugees? It sparks an interesting debate – if something similar happened today – heaven forbid – would people think we have a continued obligation to help the refugees of war, or would people think our obligation ended because we “saved” them and ended the war? Perhaps the argument of owing it to the troops who died would win over any restrictionists? Would people support “doing what was right, even if it was hard?” (granted, that was from a movie, not Truman). Are liberalizers now more willing to fight against restrictionist legislation, as opposed to their lack of opposition to the Chinese Exclusion Act?

When telling a story, journalists need to maintain accuracy and not distort facts to heighten emotional impact. The emotional angle, however, is equally important because it helps readers connect with the human experience behind the facts. This duality is crucial, especially when discussing historical events like the collapse of the Iron Curtain. The journalist must ensure that the history is not sensationalized or oversimplified, while also making the story engaging and relevant to readers.

In The Picnic, the author’s approach to mixing historical facts with personal anecdotes allows readers to engage more deeply with the material. By grounding a large historical event in personal stories—like Nemeth receiving a threatening envelope—the abstract political narrative of the Iron Curtain becomes personal, humanizing the political shifts and tensions.

The use of sensory details, such as the envelope scene, is a brilliant narrative technique. It connects the political struggles with individual lived experiences, allowing readers to understand the personal stakes involved. This approach helps break down dense historical topics into more relatable and accessible moments, making the broader story of the Iron Curtain easier to digest.

What are your thoughts on how this narrative technique compares to traditional academic historical writing? Do you feel that the blend of personal anecdotes in The Picnic serves the educational purpose more effectively?

The use of short, impactful sentences, such as “Nemeth had steered himself for a fight. But Gorbachev merely responded: That’s your responsibility,” serves to heighten the tension and emotional weight of the moment. The brevity of these sentences mirrors the abruptness of the interaction, underscoring the contrast between Nemeth’s expectation of a confrontation and Gorbachev’s unexpectedly calm response. Short sentences like these strip away unnecessary complexity, drawing the reader’s attention to the core of the exchange and allowing the gravity of the situation to resonate more deeply. This technique not only accelerates the pacing of the narrative but also lends a sense of immediacy, making historical moments feel personal and raw. How does the use of such concise language shape the reader’s perception of power dynamics in this exchange?

Over the summer, I also became very interested in the idea of writing as a form of shaping collective memory. Through my summer in Argentina I learned about the intersections between collective memory and art as a form of activism. In Argentina, the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo helped keep the memory of people that disappeared by the hands of the government. The collective memory of that time includes both the triumph of freedom and the trauma of repression, that make the topic complicated to fully address. Journalism has become a form of information that people can access easily and in large quantities. How do you see the role of journalism in shaping collective memory, especially when it comes to major historical events like the collapse of the Iron Curtain?

Questions for the Author for Class:

Can journalism, through storytelling, change the way people interpret historical events, and if so, to what extent do journalists hold responsibility for these interpretations?
How do you handle instances where historical facts may conflict with personal anecdotes that are central to a compelling narrative?
How did you find this story and why?

I was blown away by the degree of journalistic access that Matthew Longo had in The Picnic. Even without Longo’s dramatic prose, the cast of interviewees was so strong that a more mediocre writer could have easily carried my interest. Longo was able to get ahold of the prime minister at the time, the guard who opened the gates, and the person who thought of the idea in the first place. I was personally impressed by Longo’s thorough attention to details which, were I the one gathering information, would have struck me as irrelevant. For instance, I would not have thought to  mention the man who was disgruntled with the amount of wire that had been cut, yet it ended up playing a perfect segue from the description of the celebratory crowds to the concluding statistical remarks. In class, I hope to ascertain the degree to which Longo embellished or filled in the gaps with details from his head. Certain details struck me as seeming somewhat strange to have been found in an interview (e.g. was it mentioned that Norbert left behind a scent at specific moments, or was that just part of the storytelling?). I personally always find myself taking extra caution with how I represent another person’s experiences, and I think it would be a great help for me to learn how Longo approaches that tension.

Jessica Goudeau’s After the Last Border was incredibly readable for me, which came as a  surprise since the majority of her evidence consisted of statistics and quotations from speeches. A lot of this excerpt was interesting because it was journalism about journalism. There’s an interesting dynamic of internal complexity that arises from Goudeau’s portrayal of the media’s portrayal of European immigrants. I’d like to give special mention to the way Goudeau initially used “better to be safe than sorry” ironically to indicate the USA’s total disregard for the safety of foreigners, before switching to the offensive and tearing into the consequences of US policy with her paragraph on “the cost of sorry.” After reading academic essay after academic essay, it was certainly refreshing to read a piece of writing that was capable of using forceful language without sacrificing too much of a fact-based foundation. 

Reading John McPhee was encouraging, albeit somewhat painful. On the one hand, getting advice on how to write a lead and how to structure a story is hugely beneficial for me. On the other hand, I had really been hoping to take McPhee’s class before he retired, and this reading served as a reminder of what I missed out on. When it came to the advice, I noted some amusing resonance with Stephen King’s On Writing. These books that seek to offer aid in the nebulous craft of writing tend to give advice (e.g. bring notepad around) then immediately give noteworthy examples of people who didn’t need the proverbial notepad or even openly despise notepads. This can, at times, obstruct my ability to find solid advice. I suppose the general framing of these books is “if your strategy gets the job done, do it…if not, try these things.”

“There’s a saying popular in Hungary”, he says. “The future is certain. It’s the past that keeps changing.”

This statement from László about the historical significance of the picnic made me think about journalism as a form of archive production. László alludes to the fact that the past is always a battleground. The meaning of historical events is constantly being shaped by the evolving priorities and value systems of the present. While it may be possible for journalists to uncover part of the truth, facts can never fully be untangled from the subjectivity of the narrator. László is also alluding to the question of interpretation which, in many ways, is the piece of any writing that does not neatly exist within the writer’s sphere of influence. While facts can be more or less contentious, what they suggest almost always is. This is why thirty years later (at the time of Longo’s writing) the Picnic still remained a source of controversy. While the author did not necessarily address what these controversies might be, one can imagine that they surround the way it was eternalized (or not) in the social consciousness and its true significance. I enjoyed how Longo seamlessly incorporated the archives and historical facts into an engaging narrative that juggles multiple perspectives. I am curious about the tact of emancipating oneself from the constraints of a given form while adhering to the established conventions. I wonder how the author went about taking that liberty while honoring what seems to be, at least in important ways, didactic, archival work.

László’s statement is one that could be used to illuminate some of my reactions to Goudeau’s recounting of the progression of the US’s migration policy. While reading Goudeau’s piece, I could not help but imagine what the post-Covid era (2020-2030) entry would look like. Over the past five years, we have noticed a progressive shift rightward in the US’s migration discourse, as well as in the country’s policy. In the next few days, the Biden administration could expand the “temporary” asylum restrictions that were enacted in June into “a central feature of the asylum system” (Hamed Aleaziz, New York Times). This would be especially surprising given that the Trump administration attempted a similar move in 2018 which was blocked by a federal court. Goudeau would suggest however that migration policy in the United States has always been fluid and a reflection of the preoccupations of the time. If the past is indicative of anything, it is that what is happening in US politics today is a continuation of historical processes that have always defined the US’s approach to migration. Is there then anything fundamentally different about the rise of anti-immigrant sentiments in US politics right now?

Finally, I found the discussion about the lead interesting insofar as it problematized the purpose of a lead. Is it to grab the reader’s attention? Is it a summary? Can a good lead be memorable, provocative, or should it be simply informative?

Mathew  Longo’s The Picnic: An Escape to Freedom and the Collapse of the Iron Curtain detailed various interactions between parties and countries. Throughout Longo’s work, how he described the politics and social constructs of these multiple countries was incredibly endearing. I especially found it interesting when he told the Hungarian democratic forum political parties while in communist Hungary. After the Iron Curtain and Hungary’s disrepair, Longo’s interactions between Habsburg and Hungary provided insight into the extent of border conversations and how Habsburg went about visions of a borderless Europe.

I found a few quotes from the Mathew Longo reading especially compelling; one of the very first quotes, “history cannot speak for itself, it must be given a voice,” especially resonated with how I think about how journalism plays a crucial role in the retelling of history and the retelling of historical events. Through writing, history and specific policies, social constructs, and international developments can be given a voice that implements a way of higher thinking and higher attention. I think some details highlighting and emphasizing how difficult it is to make political change in the Michael Longo reading also stood out and helped shape my understanding when going about some of the Jessica Goudeu readings reviewing US immigration policy. I think that the emphasis Mathew Longo placed on the Pan-European Picnic throughout his chapters crafted an understanding that great communication, time, and effort go into making political change or even attempting it.

Moving onto the Jessica Goudeu readings, you outlined important information that helped me better understand the Longo readings after the second reflection. To better understand the past, revisiting information helps craft better understandings and perspectives on a more significant level. Using personal narrative and historical and political context throughout her writing, I felt that the Goudeau readings developed precise levels of understanding through explicit details that helped make policies understandable.

The John Mcfee reading was also fascinating in a journalistic context and helped revamp/refresh my journalism mindset after a Summer of straying away from journalistic practices. After taking Professor Joe Stephen’s course last semester and learning about ledes and nut graphs, revisiting these critical journalism practices through the lens of John Mcfee was incredibly beneficial. I enjoyed how he describes and emphasizes the various ways to go about different ledes and how they can evolve throughout the writing process. For me, he balanced both taking the stress away from immediately getting the lede right and ensuring that it is proper at the beginning of the writing process and understanding that the right lede will develop over time. McFee also makes it explicit just how vital the lede is while setting the proper tone for a piece.

Some questions I have after these readings is how to balance both storytelling and information telling when going about non-fiction writing? How do you ensure that your writing is factual and informative, without sacrificing narrative and the story’s appeal to the reader through explicit detail and empathetic/realistic interviews?

I really enjoyed the chapters we read about the Pan-European Picnic in Matthew Longo’s book. I thought the book did a really good job of blending the broader macro-political events and even the personalities of the politicians with the reality of Hungarians, Austrians, and East German refugees on the ground. I would be curious to ask Matthew about his research process. I think something that is interesting about accounts of refugees that Matthew’s book highlights very well is that the experiences of refugees highlight the human duality of being insignificant and the center of one’s own universe. From one view, individual refugees are each an insignificance in the scheme of the world and history—a statistic— but at the same time from another perspective they experience epic struggles and stories with twists, turns, and angels which are beyond the imagination of most people who have not themselves been refugees. 

I found John McPhee’s reflections on writing leads very interesting and he has some great one-liners of advice. I was particularly taken with the idea that the lead is the first thing you should write. I was also taken with the idea that “A thousand details add up to one impression”, which I thought was very true of Longo’s description of the actual day of the picnic. 

I found it fascinating to learn more about the public discourse around migration in the US in the build-up to WW2 and see how many parallels there were between what was being said then and what is being said now in the US and Europe. There were several themes that I noticed in this discourse that particularly stuck out to me. 

The first is that there was a racialised hierarchy of immigrants. For example, the Immigration Act of 1924 made it easier for people to immigrate from England and Austria than from Italy and Greece. Another example would be the Chinese Exclusion Act, which was one of the few early successes of the “restrictionists”. This was in part because Chinese immigrants were perceived as a cultural threat as well as an economic threat. I think this is reflected today when we consider the discourse around immigrants to the US and Europe from the Middle East. Many people decry Islam as a threat to “Western life and values.” Ukrainian refugees, by contrast, were welcomed with open arms by people in the UK, as were dissidents fleeing Hong Kong, a former British colony. 

The next thing that struck me was how immigrants were blamed for economic downturns. The restrictionists were much more successful once the great depression started. I also noticed that Goudeau highlighted how many Chinese immigrants were based on the West Coast, which was economically depressed when the Chinese Exclusion Act was passed. My understanding of the economics is not great, but as I understand it, immigration is often economically vital. The Reform Party in the UK has been making a particularly big deal of blaming immigrants on the UK’s economic difficulties which began with the 2008 financial crisis and then got worse with Brexit. 

Finally, I really liked Goudeau’s description of one part of the political discourse as “better safe than sorryism”. I feel like I have heard this type of argument made hundreds of times in contemporary discourse around immigration. I am curious to know if there was any what I would call “I-told-you-so-ism” which we see so much of now. What I mean by this is when an immigrant commits a violent or sexual crime, their status as an immigrant is held up as a sign that this was foreseeable and could have been prevented simply by not allowing them to enter the country.