Cruelty to immigrants is a game all can play — even immigrants

Since you're here, I assume you are a regular reader of newspapers, just like me. I get the Sun-Times and New York Times delivered at home, going through each pretty much cover to cover. I also subscribe to the Washington Post online. And the Tribune, though I don't always get to it.

Many, many news stories. Most, you glance at the headline and move on. Others, you read a few paragraphs and quit. A few are worth finishing. Most are forgotten forever two minutes later.

But every now and then, you read a news story, something clicks and you think: "That's it!" And you know the story will linger with you for a long, long time.

I had that thought reading Emmanuel Camarillo’s story (headline: “Ring of Ire”) in Wednesday’s paper. A story well summarized in the first sentence. "Advocates say the owners of a building across from a Pilsen migrant shelter have installed a loud noisemaker to deter shelter residents from gathering outside."

But that isn't the really interesting part. The really interesting part is conveyed by two salient facts lower down. Two facts that might be missed.

First, the building with the high-pitched noise device on the roof is used for storage but mostly vacant. So it's not an apartment building, where the baby can't sleep because the migrants are blasting merengue music.

Elaborate spite projected against a notional harm that isn't actually being experienced by the aggrieved party — how much current American life can be explained by that? The desperate refugees arriving at our border are damned as "an invasion." No, what they are is an inconvenience. A logistical problem. A temporary challenge and permanent boon.

Let's use a metaphor. One night trucks start pulling up in front of your house, offloading building supplies: stacks of lumber, bags of cement, boxes of nails, metal bracing, rolls of insulation. The stuff piles up and is unsightly. You can't give it back, so you grumble and hire trucks and rent warehouses and store it all, which is expensive and bothersome. Until time passes and you start using it to build houses and make money.

That's immigration. Raw material that built our country in the past and will continue to build our country in the future, unless we go crazy and seal the borders. Which lots of people want to do, even though it would be national suicide.

Nations without immigration — hellooooo, Japan! — are doomed, their population in a demographic death spiral. Freaked out by immigrants? Go buy a house for a dollar in one of the abandoned towns of Japan.

The second salient fact which makes Emmanuel's story so memorable is that the owner of the building is Truong Enterprises, an ethnic food wholesaler which has a warehouse next door. Its self-declared mission? "Bringing Asian flavors to every table," according to its website. Of course Asian food is savored by people of every race and ethnicity, both new arrivals and those whose ancestors crossed on the Mayflower. I'm not an immigrant, but at lunch Wednesday I tucked into satay, beef and vegetables and lad nar, washed down with Thai iced coffee at Ruby of Siam in Skokie. Delicious.

But still. It's a company that at least benefits from the idea of free flow of people and culture. The hypocrisy is stunning. If those migrants across the street were from Cambodia or China, would Truong still blast a 108-decibel mosquito whine at them? I doubt it.

The values statement on their website reads: "Operating with honesty and respect for employees, partners and the community."

"The community" — would that include people across the street? Or is there a codicil — if those in our community waiting for their American futures to unfold don't look like us, well, not so much respect for them.

This story sticks because it reminds us how easy and ingrained disdain for migrants can be. It's a drug anyone can shoot up. An immigrant can crawl onto shore, stand up, towel themselves off, get their card stamped, then turn and spit on the people following, step on their fingers as they try to haul themselves up the ladder. They open a business catering to America's glorious palette of diverse tastes, then lash out at the newest arrivals to that feast. Were I Truong Enterprises, I'd be rolling platters of spring rolls across the street. Welcome your new customers.

Alejandro Munoz, director of operations at Truong, told Camarillo he didn’t know when or why the device was installed. Truong Enterprises did not respond to my requests for comment. Which is a pity. Because I'd really like to hear what they have to say. I wonder if their customers know how the company treats people not so different from themselves. They know now.