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THE ONGOING DETENTION of an Irish woman, Cliona Ward, who has lived lawfully in the United States for decades, in an apparently dreadful Immigration and Customs Enforcement facility in Tacoma, Washington, is absolutely appalling.
Ward had battled addiction and was convicted many years ago for drug-related offences. Her record has been expunged.
Yet, after a visit to Cork to see her elderly father, she was seized at San Francisco International Airport and evidently may be kept in custody for months. This situation is a travesty. Ward, who is a carer to her son, is collateral damage in efforts by President Donald Trump’s administration to enhance border control, in accordance with the ascendant mood of the electorate.
One wonders, though, whether opposition to the abstract “illegal alien” will persist at a high level as the public witnesses the manifestly inhumane treatment of innocents caught in the crossfire, such as Cliona Ward. Her plight is angering to Irish people everywhere. It has hit me hard personally, as someone who identifies equally as American and Irish.
How does Ward’s de facto incarceration comport with the ideals our civic religion inculcates in us – that the US is “the land of the free and the home of the brave” and that ours is a “shining city on a hill,” in the words of President Ronald Reagan? It simply doesn’t.
I tell friends and acquaintances here now that – while I was growing up in East Milton, on Boston’s immediate southern edge, during the 1980s and the 1990s – I thought everyone in Ireland wanted to cross the Atlantic and dwell among us. Not only were a slender majority of my pals’ parents Irish-born, we were surrounded by a new generation of immigrants from the “auld sod,” fleeing a dearth of economic opportunity and chasing the prosperity their predecessors worked indefatigably to achieve in the US.
My boyhood perspective was perfectly understandable. The Irish, especially from the western seaboard, were inescapable. Those working in the trades appealed directly to the ancestral loyalties of Irish Americans by proudly advertising their counties of origin and often using them to maximum advantage when bidding for jobs. It may sound far-fetched at this juncture, but I was in the thick of it. That’s how it was.
Of course, I experienced this cultural phenomenon particularly acutely because of the transformative role my late uncle, former US Congressman and Ambassador Brian Donnelly, played in championing the legislation that bears our family name and allowed tens of thousands of Irish women and men a chance at the American Dream. The Donnelly visa was followed by the Morrison visa, further swelling the ranks stateside.
Then, two things happened: one welcome, one tragic. The Celtic Tiger boom attracted many to return to Ireland and dissuaded plenty more from leaving. 9/11, given the onset of strict security measures that resulted, marked an end to unimpeded travel to and from the US for the Irish without status. Their numbers have declined steadily since.
That said, a sizeable cohort in my native territory remains, as my wife invariably notices on our regular trips. On my recent sojourn to Boston, I undertook the scenic walk from East Milton over Milton Hill with its rambling mansions and gorgeous views of the downtown skyline – where President George HW Bush was born, and Irish women toiled as domestic help for old Brahmin families – through Dorchester’s Lower Mills section and onto Adams Corner, probably the city’s most Irish slice.
The pubs, restaurants and bakeries are still there. The convenience stores all feature Irish products. And there are so many Irish staff and patrons that those here who are unfamiliar with these locales, the real Irish America, might find it rather disconcerting. Indeed, I heard several conversations in the Irish language, which was unsurprising in that this has long been the next parish over for Connemara people, lots of whom feel more comfortable in Dorchester or in neighbouring municipalities like Milton, Quincy, Braintree and Norwood than in Dublin.
In this milieu, and in light of President Trump’s immigration tsar Tom Homan’s uncompromisingly ruthless rhetoric pledging to remove anyone not entitled to be in the country without fear or favour, what impact will Green Card holder Cliona Ward’s predicament have on the thousands of illegal Irish in America?
Young emigrants I encountered in New York restaurants and bars on the first leg of my travels expressed worries about their precarious existence. The advice from lawyers and organisations serving the undocumented in the places the Irish typically flock to has been that the individuals who are undeniably taking a big risk – no matter who is in the Oval Office – should tread extremely carefully. In essence, they warn that it is wise to keep your head down.
Conversely, there are definitely Irish women and men who do not believe that they are in any greater jeopardy at this moment than when they opted to overstay their 90-day tourist allowance. Their broad sentiment is that they have always avoided and will continue to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to themselves.
The current administration’s priority, they are convinced, is to deport gang members and criminals, not them. If they stick to their routine of working, paying taxes, contributing to the fibre of their communities, and not getting in trouble, things will be fine. It is simultaneously true that they benefit from being white, English speaking, and part of an ethnic grouping with very powerful allies and advocates in the US.
I pray that they are not wrong. Some are indifferent or unsympathetic on this front. But when I look at the undocumented Irish, I and most Irish Americans see the faces of our own parents, grandparents or great-grandparents, who were able to enter and embrace a new land fairly seamlessly. For many years, however, US law has effectively discriminated against putative Irish immigrants. That was the impetus behind the Donnelly and Morrison visas. We await a worthy successor, albeit with precious little hope at this fraught stage.
We are where we are. Cliona Ward’s is a cautionary tale – remember, she has the right to be there – reminding us that the Irish illegally resident in the US are not immune from President Trump’s crackdown. Their lives could be uprooted in an unfortunate instant.
Larry Donnelly is a Boston attorney, a Law Lecturer at the University of Galway and a political columnist with TheJournal.ie.
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