Predictably, the bill has sparked outrage in some quarters and hosannahs in others; it's also drawn comparisons to everything from Nazism to apartheid. The main point of contention is the "where reasonable suspicion exists" part. How does an officer of the law arrive at that reasonable suspicion? There are no specific criteria or guidelines, leading many to conclude that the only "reasonable suspicion" needed is the appearance of being an illegal alien ... which in the American Southwest translates to "Hispanic."
Rehm's usual complement of analysts and reporters batted around the implications of the bill, with Mark Krikorian of the Center for Immigration Studies voicing support and Angela Kelley of the Center of American Progress taking the opposite view. What struck me most about the debate was that Krikorian kept painting scenarios in which a suspect would have been stopped by a peace officer for committing some sort of infraction — say, making an illegal left turn, or making too much noise in public. Thing is, there's nothing in the language of the bill that stipulates any such scenario. There's a provision stating that if an alien who is unlawfully present in the United States is convicted of violating state or local law, that person can be deported. Another provision says that a law enforcement officer doesn't need a warrant to arrest a person who the officer has probable cause to believe has "committed any public offense that makes the person removable from the United States." But nowhere does it say that probable cause is required for an officer to question someone about his or her legal status. And nowhere does it detail the grounds for reasonable suspicion.
That's a mighty big omission. In essence, it means that a police officer can walk up to anyone who has brown skin and ask to see proof of legal immigration. And since most of us don't carry around our birth certificates, it also means that someone born in this country could ostensibly be detained until such proof is given — someone like me, or my father, or any of my relatives of Puerto Rican descent who happen to find themselves in Arizona. That last observation is born of a certain wry cynicism: I've learned over the years that few non-Latinos make a distinction between Puerto Rican and Guatemalan, or Colombian and Chilean, or any other flavor of Hispanic. Among less-than-observant Americans, we're all lumped into a much-disdained pile called "Mexicans."
Of course, the failure of the federal government to pass legislation that deals with our porous southern border is a contributing factor here. And as long as there's furious resistance to any bill that includes a path to citizenship for illegal immigrants, I don't see the situation changing. Even so, Arizona's approach is fatally flawed (and quite possibly unconstitutional) because it makes racial profiling practically a given.
Gov. Brewer has said she'll work to ensure that the police have the proper training to carry out the law. But when asked what other factors might be used to single out an unlawful resident, she answered, "We have to trust our law enforcement."
Sorry, but that's simply not enough. Law enforcement officers are by and large dedicated to their jobs and to protecting the people in their jurisdictions. But they're also subject to the same biases and human failings that plague the rest of mankind; they don't suddenly become immune to those biases and failings when they get their badges.
Just ask any African American who's been pulled over for "driving while black."
