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Opinion Viewpoint

CBU’s Progressive DACA Plan

Christian Brothers University

While the nation fixates on Donald Trump’s vitriolic anti-immigrant plan — a plan that effectively delivers the presidency to the Democratic candidate in 2016 — a very different and refreshing approach to immigration has emerged here in Memphis.

Christian Brothers University recently announced a $12.5 million initiative to educate DACA (deferred action for childhood arrivals) kids. DACA kids are children who were born elsewhere and brought here by their parents, which makes this population ineligible for higher education federal grants and loans. Also under current Tennessee law, these students must pay out-of-state tuition. DACA kids attend our public schools. Many graduate at the top of their class and dream to achieve success through education and hard work. Enrollment for post-secondary education, however, is complicated and, in most cases, prohibitively expensive.

The “Latino Student Success” initiative at CBU, founded in partnership with Latino Memphis, builds on the philosophy of the 17th-century French aristocrat Jean-Baptiste de La Salle, who gave up his fortune and dedicated his life to educating the poor. The initiative also acknowledges 21st-century American reality, i.e., demographics: Hispanics comprise 18 percent of the nation’s population; they are a potent force as consumers, as investors, and, increasingly, in the political arena. In the upcoming presidential election, the Hispanic vote will be crucial in many states but especially significant in the so-called swing states — Nevada, Colorado, North Carolina, Virginia, and Iowa.

CBU has financed the program with a $3.5 million seed grant and plans to raise $9 million for a total of $12.5 million. The money will allow them to offer tuition at cost and provide no-interest loans to students who must pay back $50 per month on the loan — symbolic money for many of us, but these monthly payments inculcate financial responsibility. CBU also ingrains the mantra that students will “enter to learn, leave to serve” and that they should serve the Memphis community.

This type of creative financing could be a model for all schools in the city, and Christian Brothers University hopes to grow its Hispanic population from where it was two years ago (3 percent of total students) to 10 percent next fall, with a continued climb up.

This program is admirable for (at least) three reasons: First, it’s a humane and creative way to help educate young students who seek a college education and hope to become productive participants in society. Second, it acknowledges the fact that Hispanics make up about 10 percent of the Memphis population. And finally, it’s eminently practical in that it forces people to choose a side in a debate that ought to be a nondebate: Are you on the side of providing or denying educational opportunities to young people in the city and county? The university is making a worthwhile investment in the Latino population, because, according to Dr. Anne Kenworthy, vice president for enrollment at the university, “they represent the future of this city.”

This intelligent, local, and progressive approach has been overshadowed by a very different, but related, news story emerging from the Trump presidential campaign. Trump released his first policy paper — a piece of magical nonrealism in a campaign that’s already outlived its usefulness.

Trump’s national campaign is fueled by his money and a rabid, angry Republican base that is anything but Christian in its simmering hostility toward Hispanics. Trump calls for construction of a “beautiful” wall. (“I want it to be so beautiful, because maybe someday they’re going to call it the Trump wall.”) He’s called for the mass deportation of 11 million people and modification of the 14th Amendment to take away “birthright citizenship.” No serious candidate speaks like this, and, although his candidacy will fail, he has been successful in driving his fellow candidates and his party to an indefensible position on immigration.

So let’s tune out Trump and focus on the good people at Christian Brothers University here in Memphis. They represent what’s true and great about America. They’re providing an excellent education to the underprivileged among us, they’re building our community, and their optimism is evident and inspiring.

Bryce Ashby is a Memphis attorney; Michael J. LaRosa teaches history at Rhodes College.

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Opinion Viewpoint

Texas Roadway Blues

Sandra Bland’s tragic, untimely death has revived questions about racial profiling, police conduct, and civil rights in the U.S.

We’ll never know all the facts about that incident, but I know a little about what Ms. Bland and countless other Americans have experienced. Seven months ago, I was stopped, detained, and released outside Houston in an arbitrary but probably legal procedure by an officer of the Drug Enforcement Agency.

I was alone, driving east on Interstate 10, when the officer drove beside me in a gray, unmarked SUV and signaled for me to pull over. He approached my five-year-old Toyota Corolla on the passenger side, hand on his sidearm. He asked if I had a weapon (I didn’t) and politely ordered me to step out of my car and stand between his vehicle and mine. I followed all commands and handed over my license and registration. He ran the plate and asked a few perfunctory questions. All this took about 12 minutes.

“Terry stops” — so named after the defendant in a 1963 Ohio case — have been legal in the U.S. since a U.S. Supreme Court decision of 1968. They allow police to stop, detain, and search anyone if they have “reasonable suspicion.” Reasonable suspicion is a catch-all that can include refusal to establish eye contact with an officer, too direct eye contact with an officer, or, in my case, driving the legal speed limit, alone, on I-10, a corridor frequently used by drug smugglers, in a car with an “unusual” tag. My car is registered in Memphis, where I have lived for nearly 20 years.

Since 9/11, policing powers in the United States have expanded dramatically, and local police departments have become militarized. A law passed in 1994 allowed the Pentagon to “donate” surplus military equipment to local police departments. As a result, officers in small communities are equipped with combat rifles, riot gear, and armored personnel carriers. Nearly 90 percent of U.S. cities with at least 50,000 people now have a SWAT team.

Police officers are heavily armed in direct proportion to America’s weapon fixation. There are about 310 million firearms in the U.S., or roughly one for every citizen. Americans hold about 114 million handguns. Naturally, police are worried, and they do get shot and killed. The starting salary of a federal DEA officer (between $50,000 and $55,000 a year) hardly seems commensurate with the dangerous work. Americans are generally not interested in paying more taxes to push up salaries of our public officials, even those in law enforcement.

As traffic whizzed past on Interstate 10, the officer quickly established I was no “El Chapo” Guzmán. I sensed he was ready to move on, so I asked, carefully, if he would explain the detention. He told me that my out-of-state tag was suspicious and the I-10 corridor is used by drug smugglers. He also explained that I had “failed to establish eye contact” when he pulled up beside me. This was true, but we were both wearing sunglasses against a bright, morning sun. I let it go. What else could I do?

I wasn’t quite done. I asked, using English and Spanish, “seguramente Usted habla español, given that many people who travel here only speak Spanish, right?” He waved his hand, dismissively, and said, “Nah, I don’t speak that shit.” My cross-examination had ended. But the language question made me realize just how badly this whole detention might have turned had I not spoken careful, respectful English. What if my only language was Spanish, Hindi, or Vietnamese? What if I hadn’t answered any of his questions because of a language barrier? What if I decided to answer in an ironic, sarcastic, or evasive manner?

Or, what if I chose to question why he decided to stop me in the first place when I was breaking no law?

Finally, he asked to look in my trunk, which I agreed to open; hiding there was a small statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe, purchased a day earlier at an East Austin ceramic shop. He looked, shrugged, and closed the trunk. He said “thank you” and walked to his cruiser.

Police in America are stressed out, underpaid, and in many places deeply resented. Innocent people who are detained can avoid danger, arrest, and death by listening more and talking less. As a history teacher, I spend most of my day talking. In Texas, this past January, I decided to play it safe and spent 12 minutes beside I-10 mostly in silence.

Michael J. LaRosa is an associate professor of history at Rhodes College.