Diversity and Education: Half of Canadian kids witness ethnic, racial bullying at their school

Interesting and useful survey. Most interesting finding for me (apart from the extent of bullying) is the correlation between greater student diversity and knowledge of racism in Canadian history. Worth reading the full survey:

As Canada grows and changes, becoming more diverse every year, new generations of children are immersed in a reality that can look far different than that of their parents or grandparents.

And while diversity in schools is largely an accepted and comfortable fact of life for Canadian children, a new study from the non-profit Angus Reid Institute in partnership with the University of British Columbia finds some – in particular those who identify as a visible minority – struggling to fit in more than children who do not identify this way.

Indeed, this conversation with 12- to 17-year-olds in Canadian schools finds that racially motivated bullying and insults are a reality in more ethnically diverse areas of the country.

While half of kids who describe their school as made up of mostly students from similar backgrounds say that these racial issues are something they have seen, this rises to two-thirds among those who say their school is more diverse. Further, visible minority students are three times as likely as white children to say that they have faced personal abuse. Indigenous children are twice as likely to say this.

That said, most Canadian children say that they have an outlet to talk about these issues. Indeed, nine-in-ten say that they talk to their parents or other family members about it. There may, however, be more for teachers and school staff to do. Three-in-ten victims of bullying or abuse say that staff in their school were either unaware of it or just ignored it.

More Key Findings:

  • Children in more diverse schools are significantly more likely to say that they have learned about racism in Canada’s history, Indigenous treaties, residential schools, and multiculturalism, than those who say their student body is made up of kids from mostly the same background.
  • Most Canadians kids are comfortable with their peers wearing different clothes, celebrating different holidays and speaking different languages than they do. Approximately two-thirds say it’s not a big deal, while one-in-ten say they enjoy it.
  • Among those who say that they have been the target of ill treatment, 43 per cent say it is something that they carry with them after it happens. More than half (57%) say it doesn’t bother them, or that they’re able to move past it.
  • Older kids, between the ages of 15 and 17, are more likely than 12- to 14-year-olds to say they talk about racism with their friends – 73 per cent to 56 per cent respectively

Link to full survey: https://angusreid.us12.list-manage.com/track/click?u=4adb83e0e056e657a62fc6d8a&id=5493b06c34&e=1e1ae5dd63

McWhorter: What I See in the Latest Blackface ‘Scandal’

Misguided wokeness:

At the University of Michigan recently, the music professor Bright Sheng — who’s had a superlative career as a composer, conductor and musician — wanted to share with his students how Giuseppe Verdi transformedShakespeare’s “Othello” into the acclaimed opera “Otello.” That transformation is a rich and instructive topic in music composition.
In September, Sheng showed his undergraduate composition seminar the 1965 film based on the Royal National Theatre’s stage production of “Othello,” with Laurence Olivier playing the title role in blackface makeup, in line with the custom of the era.
Some students took offense: One told The Michigan Daily that she was “shocked” and that Sheng failed to first contextualize what the class saw. Sheng apologized. Days later, the dean of Music, Theatre & Dance wrote that “Professor Sheng’s actions do not align with our school’s commitment to anti-racist action, diversity, equity and inclusion.” Sheng apologized again, and in an apparent effort to mitigate, offered examples of his professional support over the years for people of color. That drew criticism from grad students, undergrads and faculty, who, according to The Daily, called it “inflammatory” in an open letter calling for Sheng’s removal as course instructor.
In a Medium post, a writer identifying as a member of the class took Sheng’s department chair to task for, reportedly, recommending that the issue “may be something you ought to first discuss with Professor Sheng.” (The audacity.) The same post implied that Sheng’s alleged transgressions were as grave as, for instance, incidents of sexual harassment and abuse. If you want to read more, Cathy Young has provided invaluable coverage of what she correctly describes as yet another “moral panic.”
Sheng has left the class.
A common response to occurrences like this is to condemn the students involved as being overly delicate — snowflakes, in today’s parlance. However, merely leveling that charge doesn’t facilitate a constructive discussion about what fuels these sadly routine events. The underlying issue isn’t the students’ fragility, it’s that their approach illustrates the difference between radicalism and progressivism. It’s an example of a strain of thought permeating campuses (our whole society, really), one that blithely elides that difference in favor of preaching only of “social justice.”
Start here: What happened to Sheng would have been much less likely a generation ago. In the late 1990s, I showed a class of white, Black and Asian American students a scene from a film with white performers in blackface. Beforehand, I mentioned that this was a very old movie and that we were going to see a practice that nobody would venture today, but that the film was instructive for other reasons. None of the students batted an eye, at least that I could see. If anything, some of the Black students (and maybe some of the non-Black students) snickered at the performers for how ridiculous they looked.
So, here’s our query: Is the response of Sheng’s students an advance on those of my students a generation ago? Were me and my students missing something upon which our modern era is more enlightened?
Before we tackle that, there are two important points to address. First, as Young notes, Olivier’s performance does involve a degree of cartoonish swagger beyond what some blackface performances of the era entailed. But it’s reasonable to assume that Sheng’s students would have had a similar response to more restrained blackface portrayals of Othello, such as Orson Welles’s.
Second, Sheng should indeed have made clear that he was about to show his students something that would require them to put on their “history glasses,” as I sometimes put it. But the question involves degree: Should he now be barred from the class amid rhetoric that makes him sound like a pitiless bigot, unfit and out of step with an enlightened society? I’d say no.
Now: Let’s break down what the crux of objections to showing a blackface performance ever at all are.
The typical idea is that blackface is a reminder of the reign of minstrel shows, in which white performers wore blackface makeup and engaged in clownish distortion of Black speech and dance styles. Minstrel shows were core American entertainment for most of the 19th century, and well into the 20th. It was a filmic depiction of a minstrel show, in fact, that I showed my class: Al Jolson in 1930’s “Mammy.”
Minstrel shows were disgusting, all the more so in how utterly central they were in American entertainment for so very long. But is there no statute of limitations on how long a people will feel actual injury about such a thing? In 2021, there is barely a person alive who attended a minstrel show performed as mainstream, professional entertainment. Even those who may have caught ragtag amateur groups keeping the tradition alive are likely now quite elderly.
The idea seems to be that we (relatively) younger Black people and our non-Black fellow travelers are nevertheless so viscerally stung by seeing any manifestation of this bygone tradition that to show dated footage of a white British actor in blackface, as part of an academic colloquy, qualifies as a grievous insult. But I like to think of Black Americans as a people of pride and forward thinking. I miss those qualities in this submission to an insult leveled by perpetrators now very, very dead. And since no one can seriously argue that Sheng’s intent was to revive or exalt the practice of blackface — and not to teach something about the operatic adaptation of a seminal literary work — to treat him as an accessory to those dead perpetrators seems more a kind of performance in itself than a spontaneously felt insult.
Another idea would be that to imitate a Black person by trying to darken the appearance of one’s skin is, inherently, to ridicule that person. But is it impossible in the logical sense that someone might costume oneself as a Black person one admires and put on makeup to darken one’s face simply as part of seeking to look like that person? Many will heatedly object: “Impossible!” But we must attend to why. If the answer is minstrel shows, then see above.
These days, we’re expected to recoil, under any circumstances, at the idea of a white person attempting to make their skin look like the color of a nonwhite person’s, as if this were the automatic equivalent to using a racist slur, or worse. But context matters. A lot.
Is blackface being shown as part of a collegiate-level discussion, as in the Michigan case? College students shouldn’t need protection from an old film used to help them think about and debate the conversion of a classic over time. Sheng was using the film to stir and inform artistic consciousness. To read that situation otherwise is deeply anti-intellectual.
Is blackface being deployed comedically, not to make fun of Black people, but to lampoon the absurdity of racism? For example, in one episode of the sitcom “30 Rock,” Jane Krakowski’s character is made up in blackface and wears men’s clothing; Tracy Morgan’s character is made up in whiteface, a blond wig and wears women’s clothing in a “social experiment” to see who has it harder in America — white women or Black men. In another episode, Krakowski is made up in blackface and dresses as the Pittsburgh Steelers great Lynn Swann, who’s not derided in any way, the bit being a clever play on the movie title “Black Swan.”
Last year, not long after George Floyd was murdered, three “30 Rock” episodes that involved blackface, including those two, were taken out of syndication. The show’s producers, including its star, Tina Fey, may have concluded they had no choice. But we might ask why the sheer matter of the makeup was an insult to Black people. It’s not self-evident that pulling those episodes was morally necessary in 2020 because of careers like Jolson’s. The shows’ flashes of wit didn’t set Black people back in any way. It’s hard to see how a lighthearted plotline about racism and sexism, even with blackface, harms Black people — or how taking it off the air helps us. My horse sense tells me that the vast majority of us get that a joke can be a joke.
These are my own observations. They are up for debate. But those condemning Sheng seem to consider their ideas not just opinions, but truths — the predicate for an inquisition. Yet, the view that blackface makeup is so uniquely revolting that a professor should be hounded from his class for showing, in a scholarly setting, decades-old scenes of an actor wearing it is a point that many find extreme. It is a position that requires some serious lifting and a vast transformation in common modes of thought, even among people with good-faith concerns about race relations, and would look odd to time travelers from just a few decades ago. A position like that is not simply “antiracist,” but radical.
This radical proposition, like so many on race of late, is being put forth as if it were scripture that no moral actor could question. It misses the point, then, to dismiss the students as fragile. Their claim entails that people were injured by such usages of blackface before, therefore must still be now, and that we should redefine the bounds of permissibility to bar such images from general experience. They think their recoil from the very sight of decades-old racist imagery is uniquely enlightened, a resistance to abuse endemic to our society’s past, present and future. To them, their response isn’t only appropriate, it’s mandatory.
But that’s a proposition they must assert in the public square and assume as subject to discussion and dissent.
And let’s face it, in that discussion, this radical proposition would likely be voted down. Its adherents would deem this as racism winning out. But many others would see it as a victory for common sense, seeing the current fashion as a performance, a kind of, yes, virtue signaling.
Or just maybe, the people who witch-hunted Sheng could defend their position better than I am imagining. I’d be happy to observe the attempt. But from where I sit, we’re seeing a radical agenda not proposed, but imposed. Upon what authority are they allowed such primacy of influence in how we speak, think and teach in our times?
Source: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/15/opinion/blackface-michigan-sheng.html?searchResultPosition=2

Why social mobility is key to explaining attitudes toward multiculturalism – EUROPP

Interesting that applies to both upward and downward mobility:

What explains attitudes toward multiculturalism in Europe? And how do citizens without a migration background react when the cities they live in become more diverse? Drawing on a new study, Lisa-Marie Kraus and Stijn Daenekindt show that social mobility is a key factor in determining why some people are more optimistic about multiculturalism than others.

People without a migration background have become a numerical minority in numerous Western European cities such as London, Amsterdam, Rotterdam and Vienna. Looking at the generation of children aged 15 and younger, these numbers are increasing, indicating that this is a lasting phenomenon.

These evolutions generate various challenges. One important aspect in this regard is how people without a migration background experience their changing status and, more generally, how this influences their attitudes towards multiculturalism. Some people may respond optimistically towards living in such multicultural societies: they may support ethnic diversity, embrace the idea of a multi-ethnic city and consider it as part of everyday life. Other people are rather pessimistic: they may insist on maintaining their ‘own’ culture and reject other cultural influences. How can we understand the variation in these attitudes among people without a migration background?

Inspired by numerous studies which have demonstrated the link between educational attainment and attitudes towards ethnic diversity, we hypothesised that we can find a partial answer to this question by focusing on educational social mobility. Educationally socially mobile people either hold a higher (upward mobility) or lower (downward mobility) educational qualification than their parents.

Previous research has shown that the experience of educational social mobility is an influential factor in various domains of social life and highlights the consequences of social mobility. In particular, downward mobility has been connected to feelings of frustration, depression and failure as it entails a drop in social status. Yet, even if upward mobility entails increased social status, it can also come with negative consequences.

This is because both upward and downward mobility ultimately puts individuals in a different social environment from the one they were raised in. Hence, the socially mobile are exposed to ‘alien’ lifestyles, perspectives, attitudes and habits. Because of this, socially mobile individuals may neither feel genuinely at home in the social environment in which they were raised, nor in the one in which they end up. We believe that this experience of different contexts is related to the multicultural attitudes of the socially mobile.

To investigate the role of social mobility in the formation of multicultural attitudes, we used data from people without a migration background who live in five highly ethnically diverse Western European cities: Amsterdam, Antwerp, Malmo, Rotterdam and Vienna. Our analyses show that the experience of social mobility is related to more optimistic multicultural attitudes.

Socially mobile individuals have a more positive outlook on multicultural societies than their immobile counterparts. Both upwardly and downwardly mobile individuals demonstrate greater openness to multiculturalism. While the experience of social mobility, and in particular downward mobility, has generally been associated with rather negative inter-ethnic attitudes, our study finds no evidence for this. On the contrary, both upwardly and downwardly mobile people are more open to multiculturalism than their immobile peers.

What explains this finding? We believe that the experience of social mobility allows people to adapt more easily to ethnically diverse social contexts. The socially mobile have encountered different social environments throughout their lives. This experience involves the adaption to, and navigation of, lifestyles typical of different social environments. The exposure to different social environments may lead to a general ability to adapt to different contexts and moving between these environments may make the navigation of different contexts a ‘habit’. Mobile individuals have, so to speak, embodied the ability to adapt to diversity and this is reflected in their attitudes towards multi-ethnic cities.

Our findings provide insights into the way attitudes towards multiculturalism are developed in general. They suggest that if policymakers wish to stimulate support for multiculturalism among those without a migration background, they might achieve this through policies which focus on other forms of diversity, such as the desegregation of neighbourhoods and schools along the lines of social class.

Source: Why social mobility is key to explaining attitudes toward multiculturalism – EUROPP

The Statelessness Pandemic by Laura van Waas & Natalie Brinham

Interesting detailed analysis and observations:

Legal theorists once consigned the idea of “statelessness” to the realm of fiction, because they considered it to be impossible within the state system that emerged after World War I. Every human being was supposed to be assigned a nationality and a country to call his or her own. But the war had created many refugees, and as empires disintegrated and new nation-states adopted exclusionary nationality laws, not everyone was in fact included.

At least 15 million people today are stateless, and millions more are threatened with national exclusion. The issue of statelessness thus demands urgent attention, as do works of history that shed light on the problem.

The rise of fascism in the 1930s and 1940s further exposed the fallibility of this system and the ominous reality of the state’s power to exclude people or strip them of citizenship. Across Europe, citizenship-stripping went hand in hand with genocide for Jews and other minority groups.

Following World War II, questions about the right to nationality, state power, and the limits of sovereignty loomed large in the development of human rights and international law. Could the states that were being created out of the independence movements and diminished European empires adopt nationality laws that excluded entire population groups? Did national governments hold the power to strip their own citizens of that status? Who was responsible for the newly stateless?

These issues remain highly pertinent today. Statelessness affects at least 15 million people, and the nationality of millions more is under threat, owing to an escalation of racially discriminatory policies and rhetoric in many countries. Nationality policies remain a favored tool of authoritarians, who sometimes use them in tandem with mass atrocities, as in Myanmar, where the Rohingyas have been denied citizenship and subjected to genocide and mass deportations to Bangladesh. Making matters worse, the COVID-19 pandemic has led to even more xenophobic scapegoating and ethno-nationalism, with political leaders like former US President Donald Trump and Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán blaming migrants and refugees for spreading the coronavirus.

The pandemic also reminds us of the enduring influence that nationality has over our lives. Last May, Filippo Grandi, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, warned that, “The right to a nationality is a fundamental human right and in this time of crisis it can mean the difference between life or death.” When governments prioritize their citizens over others in their public-health and economic responses, the stateless suffer. Because statelessness remains a major blind spot for the institutions charged with protecting life and livelihoods, stateless people have been left further behind than ever.

GHOSTS OF STATELESSNESS PAST

At a time when statelessness demands urgent attention, two recent books provide important lessons about the nature of state power, international responses to national acts of exclusion, and the consequences of failure. Statelessness: A Modern History, by Mira L. Siegelberg of the University of Cambridge, and Denaturalized: How Thousands Lost Their Citizenship and Lives in Vichy France, by Claire Zalc, Director of the Institute of Modern and Contemporary History at the École Normale Supérieure, underscore both the historic scale of the problem and its grim costs. Each takes a different but equally meticulous approach to researching the history of the problem. And both explore how people have had their citizenship denied and revoked against the background of some of the most violent periods in modern history. Together, they remind us that the history of statelessness is a history of crumbling empires, world wars, genocides, and the emergence of an interstate system based on the formal equality of states.

Siegelberg’s work is a sweeping survey of international legal and political thought, covering a period that includes WWI, the rise of fascism in the 1930s, the Holocaust, the postwar reconstruction of the international legal order, and the independence movements of the postwar decades. Drawing on a wide variety of archival sources – including popular fiction, case law, correspondence from stateless people to the League of Nations, works of legal and political theory, and notes from negotiations on human-rights treaties – she documents how the problem of statelessness informed theories of human rights and sovereignty.

Siegelberg is concerned with how notions of statelessness developed within, and then shaped, “the political contours of the modern interstate order.” She reminds us that the concepts of citizenship and statelessness are not static. Rather, the meanings attached to these terms are constantly being reshaped and reconstructed by historic events and shifting power relations.

While Seigelberg’s book provides a comprehensive overview of international perspectives and experiences concerning statelessness and the modern state’s power to exclude, Zalc’s work focuses on Vichy France between 1940 and 1944, when Jews and others were denaturalized in increasing numbers to serve the Nazi agenda of deportation to death camps. Her detailed investigation provides unique insights into how bureaucracies in authoritarian regimes produce and reproduce violence.

Drawing on the Vichy government’s archives, Zalc follows the life stories of some of those who were naturalized as French during the interwar years, only to be stripped of their citizenship and deported under wartime France’s collaborationist regime. In parallel, she also delves into the life stories of the civil servants and judges who presided over these denaturalizations, revealing the murky boundaries between collusion and resistance to Nazi policies.

CREATING THE “OTHER”

Siegelberg’s Statelessness shows us that the racial hierarchies that characterized early twentieth-century citizenship regimes gave way not to equal citizenship, as was envisaged, but rather to other forms of racism in Europe. At the same time, Zalc’s book demonstrates how processes of citizenship were racialized with the help of seemingly neutral and innocuous bureaucratic categories and data collection. Under the French Third Republic, Jewishness had been considered a private matter of faith and thus went largely unrecorded by the state. But as Zalc shows in fascinating detail, the categorizations of “Jew” and “Israelite” were deciphered and applied retroactively to stigmatize and discriminate. With a new racialized definition of “Jew,” and under pressure from the occupying Nazi regime to identify, count, and denaturalize Jews according to quotas, individual citizen files were scrutinized for evidence of Jewishness.

This process relied on proxy indicators. Chief among these were first and last names which were deemed, sometimes inaccurately, “Jewish.” Name changes, too, were identified as suspicious. Other proxy indicators included place of origin, profession, and family affiliation. The lack of clarity on the criteria for denationalization, and the broad scope left for discretion in decision-making, enabled “bureaucratic anti-Semitism.”

Zalc’s work provides direct evidence of how state power – and sometimes state violence – functions through the routine processes of registration, categorization, and counting. This was how discriminatory decisions by administrators and judges, on the basis of predominantly unstated racial criteria, ultimately resulted in deportation and mass murder. Denationalization, Zalc shows, does not only result from explicit discrimination in nationality laws, but also from the misuse of administrative and bureaucratic processes.

We see this today, too. National registers or citizenship-verification processes requiring excessive documentation and paperwork are used to exclude and marginalize certain groups. A case in point is the mass disenfranchisement of Muslims carried out by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government in Assam – the biggest exercise of its kind in this century. An administrative act described by the government as “just a process” has pushed some 1.9 million people to the brink of statelessness, and many more will follow if this “process” is rolled out nationwide.

Racialized categories are also still being applied retroactively to exclude people, including through proxy indicators such as name, place of origin, or one’s status as a “dual national.” For example, according to the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, the denial and deprivation of nationality in the Dominican Republic has “disproportionately affected people of Haitian descent, who are frequently identified as such, correctly or incorrectly, based on the national origin or migratory status of their parents, skin color (especially those with a dark-colored skin), language ability, or surnames.”

And in Myanmar, where racial hierarchies in citizenship acquisition are explicit, registration and application processes have been fully weaponized against ethnic minorities and political opposition groups. Categories such as place of birth, religion, and family affiliation are used to single out Myanmar Muslims for discrimination. Meanwhile, Rohingyas using “Burmese names” on registration documents is forbidden, not explicitly in law but in the implementation of registration procedures at the township level. Local administrative processes, including restriction of movement for those within particular geographic pockets, enable the classification of ethnic and religious “others” and sustains systems of apartheid.

UNDER COVER OF “NATIONAL SECURITY”

Siegelberg and Zalc highlight not only the potential for bureaucratic violence through the administration of citizenship, but also how this exercise of state power is put to deliberate and targeted use. The archival material examined by Zalc offers a sampling of some of the legitimizing rhetoric of the day. In Vichy France, the law on denationalization was “of primordial importance.” According to a 1941 letter by Prime Minister François Darlan, it was needed to ensure that “the morally tainted or insufficiently assimilated elements that have been allowed to infiltrate the national community be eliminated as soon as possible.”

Similarly, a recent academic symposium canvassing revocations of citizenship from the 1960s through the present (with contributions focusing on Syria, India, Nigeria, and Myanmar) identified a common thread: “those targeted for exclusion are reimagined and branded as ‘aliens’ or even ‘infiltrators,’ who the state can and must uncover.”

Zalc warns that the inherent “malleability of the notion of national interest” can easily be used to legitimize “discretionary power as being exercised in the name of the higher interests of the state.” This has become a live issue again today. The revocation of nationality is enjoying something of a renaissance even in some Western democracies, where it is framed as a counterterrorism measure. As the UN Special Rapporteur on contemporary forms of racism Tendayi Achiume noted in a 2018 report to the General Assembly:

“States all over the world continue to use national security and counterterrorism justifications to strip members of their national populations of citizenship […] which in practice [has] a disproportionate effect on marginalized racial, national, and religious groups.”

TURNING A BLIND EYE

When stateless people appealed to the League of Nations for assistance in the years following WWI, the world’s first global-governance body received so many letters that it was forced to acknowledge the issue, and to consider whether and how it could take up the refugees’ cause. But, as Siegelberg shows, the response was muted. Firm in their resolve to protect the legitimacy of states and the international state system, legal experts at the League shied away from “the messier world of politics.” They preferred to situate “the problem of statelessness within the domain of the conflict of laws and avoided addressing it as a wider international or humanitarian crisis resulting from mass denationalization or exclusionary national legislation.”

Then came the post-WWII system, which renewed the ambition to use international law to insulate the modern world against mass atrocities, statelessness, and human-rights abuses, but has proved insufficiently robust. States have maintained and adapted their powers to exclude and denationalize their own people.

This is evident even in countries that harbor no doubts about their status as liberal democracies. In 2019, the United Kingdom’s then-Home Secretary, Sajid Javid, summarily revoked the citizenship of Shamima Begum, a teenage girl who had run away from home to become the bride of an Islamic State fighter. (Since this decision had clear political motives and was taken without any judicial proceedings, a court of appeal ruled in July 2020 that Begum should be allowed to return to the UK to fight the decision, but this ruling was overturned by the UK Supreme Court.)

Siegelberg probes the sources of the current international system’s weaknesses, such as the relationship between human-rights frameworks and sovereignty. In recent decades, important strides have been made in reframing statelessness as a human-rights issue, rather than as merely a matter of conflicting laws. Solutions have shifted from a focus on technical legal assistance (which tiptoes around the elephant in the room – state power) to approaches that challenge discrimination and states’ exclusionary powers directly.

And yet, the international system still renders us powerless to temper the discretionary power of states to choose their own membership. There is no reliable, effective check against authoritarian states that set out to disenfranchise sections of their national communities.

The contemporary drivers of statelessness are eerily reminiscent of the League of Nations era. Ethno-nationalism, security-related anxiety, and economic scapegoating are all contributing to processes of “Othering” that, in the extreme, leave individuals or entire communities without citizenship. And, as was true of the post-WWI period, we have very few effective remedies to protect stateless people.

At the same time, statelessness remains a key causal factor in human-rights abuses. The international community has come under scrutiny for failing to protect Myanmar’s Rohingyas from mass atrocities. But the writing there had been on the wall since the enactment of the country’s 1982 citizenship law, which stripped them of their rights.

Willful ignorance of the problem of statelessness has provided fertile ground for official abuses historically. Today, we must not look away as xenophobia is institutionalized in citizenship laws and bureaucracies. We must put aside fears of the “messier world of politics” and call states to account for their exclusions – before it is too late for the excluded.

Source: The Statelessness Pandemic by Laura van Waas & Natalie Brinham

New Zealand: Tertiary institutions given 10 years to end minority pass rate disparity

Of note (and the difficulty of change):

It’s the third time in the past decade the commission has set a deadline for achieving parity.

In 2012 the commission wanted to eradicate disparities in polytechnics by 2015 and in universities by 2018. But that didn’t happen. In 2018-19 the commission aimed to achieve parity within five years and fined institutions that failed to improve. But it quietly dropped that deadline and last year introduced the 10-year target.

Tertiary Education Commission deputy chief executive, Learner Success Ōritetanga Directorate, Paora Ammunson, said past attempts at tackling the disparities had failed because they were based on isolated interventions.

“One of the frustrations I guess is that our approach to equity has tended to be really well-intentioned but quite bespoke and disconnected piecemeal interventions and we’re at a stage in the TEC now where we realise that’s not going to close the gap, that’s not going to serve the learners well that we want to succeed,” he said.

Ammunson said the commission had been trialling a different approach requiring large-scale whole-of-institution changes.

“The solution is going to be about a whole-of-ecosystem approach in those institutions towards tackling the problem of attrition, really taking a holistic approach to that. Using your data intelligence, using your guidance systems, making sure that your leaders are setting the direction, making sure you’re doing it in partnership with the community groups and organisations that are important in your context,” he said.

He said the commission was confident its approach would work.

“We’ve been testing this model with tertiary partners. It will require us to work with them and it will require us to have sometimes hard conversations about parts of their delivery that aren’t achieving what they and the TEC would be expecting.”

Last year universities had a qualification completion rate of 52 percent and course completion rate of 82 percent for Māori students. For Pacific students the figures were 48 and 75 percent, while for non-Māori and non-Pacific students the figures were 66 and 90 percent.

In polytechnics Māori students had a 48 percent qualification completion rate and 70 percent course completion rate. For Pacific students the rates were 46 and 71 percent, and for non-Māori and non-Pacific students the figures were 57 and 84 percent.

The Tauira Pasifika National President of the Union of Students’ Associations, Jaistone Finau, said the time was right to tackle the disparities.

He said tertiary institutions were taking student wellbeing more seriously and were also moving to introduce a new code for pastoral care.

Finau said institutions should treat students as partners and use their insights to improve completion and retention rates.

Te Mana Akonga tumukai takirua (co-president of the Māori students’ association), Nkhaya Paulsen-More, said universities had not been doing enough to help Māori students achieve.

“University strategies seem to be aligning with Tiriti-led policies but on the ground we’re still getting complaints from students that they don’t see much of a change,” she said.

“Things like ‘my lecturer doesn’t understand me because I’m Māori and they don’t respect the fact that I’m not the person to go to automatically if they don’t understand anything that’s Māori’, so being referred to as the cultural trainer in formal settings or utilising their knowledge without reimbursing them for that knowledge.”

The organisation’s other tumuaki takirua, Renāta White, said if the commission used financial penalties against institutions that failed to make progress, it should require the institutions to spend the money on improvements.

“I would rather the funds go back into supporting the students. So if there is a fine they are fined needing to employ maybe more support and mental health or more support and peer mentorship rather than the funds going back to government,” he said.

Huhāna Wātene from the Tertiary Education Union said universities and polytechnics could make a big difference for Māori students by hiring more Māori academics and tutors.

She said students also needed more culturally-appropriate support.

“In institutes whether it be in schools, polytechnics, kohanga, kura, it’s the services that are wrapped round them [students] that really assist and allow them to flourish. If you put any students, not just Māori and Pasifika, in that kind of environment they can’t do anything but do well,” she said.

“We know for a fact that Māori students do exceedingly well when they have that support services around them or people who value and appreciate their cultural aspirations and the tikanga.”

Wātene said the commission should use incentives rather than penalties to encourage change.

Source: https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/national/453303/tertiary-institutions-given-10-years-to-end-minority-pass-rate-disparity

USA: Student loan debt is deepening the racial wealth divide

Of note. Anyone aware of comparable studies, even if Canadian tuition rates are more reasonable than in the US:

By design, economists’ reports are rather staid, which makes it all the more noticeable that in their 2016 report Black-White Disparity in Student Loan Debt more than Triples after Graduation, written for the New York-based Brookings Institution (BI), Professor Judith Scott-Clayton and Jing Li characterised the US$25,000 loan debt gap between whites and blacks in the United States a few years after graduation as “whopping”. 

At graduation, black students owed US$7,400 more than did their white peers (US$23,400 vs US$16,000). 

Since Scott-Clayton and Li’s paper, a series of other papers BI published have shown that the gap, if anything, has grown. 

Last June, a paper prepared for BI by Andre M Perry, Marshall Steinbaum and Carl Romer showed that in 2019, 75% of blacks who took out student loans to finance higher education owed more than they had borrowed as compared with 48% of whites.

“Black students finance their education through debt, and thus college degrees actually further contribute to the fragility of the upwardly mobile black middle class,” wrote Perry et al in Student Loans, the Racial Wealth Divide, and Why We Need Full Student Debt Cancellation.

“And because education does not achieve income parity for black workers, the disproportionate debt black students are taking to finance their education reinforces the racial wealth gap. Today the average white family has roughly 10 times the amount of wealth as the average black family, while white college graduates have over seven times more wealth than black college graduates.”

The debt differential begins as soon as the students write their first cheques. The financial crisis of many black families means that a much lower percentage are able to contribute to their sons’ and daughters’ higher education than is the case for white families. 

Some 72% of black students (as opposed to 34% of white students) qualify for Pell Grants. This federal programme provides the very poor with a maximum of US$6,495, roughly one-third of the cost of tuition, room and board at public universities and colleges, and a seventh of the average cost at private colleges and universities. 

In their study, Perry et al point out that the black student debt crisis is partially fuelled by the shift from “public funding to tuition-based business models in higher education – all financed with federal student loans”. 

According to figures from the American Association of University Professors, between 2009 and 2011 state governments cut their grant for full-time students at state universities and colleges from US$9,124 to US$7,364. 

Only in 2019-20 did the state grant equal what it was in 2009. The cumulative financial loss over this period for each full-time student is more than US$7,800. These figures show the reality behind Perry et al’s claim that “the balance (US$1.7 trillion) on the federal books represents the states’ disinvestment from higher education”.

Further adding to the aggregate black student debt is the fact that about 12% of black students enrol in for-profit colleges and universities, approximately twice the rate of whites. This sector has come under scrutiny for predatory practices that target, among others, economically disadvantaged populations such as blacks. 

“Despite enrolling only 11% of the higher education population, for-profit colleges and universities receive 25% of all federal student aid … Some of the largest for-profit colleges receive as much as 90% of their total funding from federal aid, incentivising schools to target low-income students and veterans who are eligible for large amounts of federal aid,” wrote William Roberts, managing director for democracy and government reform at American Progress, and Marissa Parker-Bair in an article published on the Center for American Progress’s website in July 2019.

According to Jon Boeckenstedt, vice provost for enrolment management at Oregon State University, “in addition to predatory practices, for-profit colleges and universities have very successfully lobbied the federal government to reduce oversight of their programmes”. 

“Further, for-profit colleges and universities tend to have lower graduation rates (26% v 60%) which means that students who took out loans to attend these institutions are unable to benefit from the increased salaries that are expected for college graduates. Historically, default rates for students who don’t finish the degree or programme they started are considerably higher than for graduates,” Boeckenstedt said.

Struggling to repay

The wage gap between blacks and whites is a significant factor in why black students – both those who drop out as well as those who graduate – struggle to repay their student loans. 

In 2019 the US Department of Education reported that one year out from graduation, blacks who hold bachelor degrees earn 10% less than their white counterparts (US$36,000 to US$40,000). In 2020 the New York City Department of Consumer and Worker Protection reported that, for whites and blacks who are further into their careers, the annual salary gap grows to US$21,900: US$64,700 to US$42,800. 

Nor does higher education close the gap. A slightly higher percentage of blacks go on to graduate school than do whites (14% to 13%). Yet, wrote Scott-Clayton and Li, “blacks with graduate degrees still earn less on average than whites with only a bachelor degree.” 

Equally important for why blacks are less able to repay their college loans is the structure of the federal student loan programme. As soon as a student drops out of college or university, or graduates, the interest clock starts ticking. 

Graduate students are given a forbearance from repaying their undergraduate loans for the period of time they are enrolled in graduate school; however, the interest keeps accruing. 

The accrual of interest onto the principal debt, what economists call ‘negative amortisation’, is why nearly half of all blacks who took out student loans owe more on their loans than they did upon graduation.

A further factor mitigating against blacks repaying student loans is the direction of intergenerational transfer of wealth in black families. 

According to a 2017 study covering 23 years beginning in 1989 and conducted by the Economic Research unit of the Federal Reserve Bank of St Louis (FRBSL), after graduation white students benefit from their families transferring money to them to, for example, put a down payment on a house. By contrast, the FRBSL found that black graduates are much more likely to transfer money to their families to, for example, support their parents, thus leaving less money each month for loan repayment.

Neither the ability of well-off families, which are disproportionately white, to refinance student debt at favourable rates, nor what the income tax act allows former students to deduct from their income taxes, directly contribute to the debt crisis faced by blacks. 

They do, however, contribute to the wealth gap between the two groups and, thus, skew perceptions of the issue, leading some to argue that those who cannot repay their debts are the authors of their own misfortune.

Graduates from well-off families benefit from their history of positive credit scores. The interest rate on federal student loans is presently 6.8%. The most creditworthy customers, however, are able to refinance student debt for as low as 1.8%, says Carl Romer, Perry’s co-author. 

All former students can deduct US$2,500 of interest charges from their federal taxes. However, as Romer explained to me, the greater benefit goes to those who have borrowed less money. “If your loan is US$100,00 and you are paying 6% interest, then you are paying US$6,000 in interest. But you are still allowed to deduct only US$2,500 in interest. This penalises households with high amounts of student loans, which are disproportionately black households,” he told University World News.

The inequity is even more striking if we look at it over 20 years. Students who can refinance their debt at 1.8% repay the debt at the rate of US$496 a month and pay US$19,150 in total interest. Students whose debts are repaid at 6.8% interest pay US$763 per month and over 20 years pay US$83,000 in interest, or more than four times the amount their peers from well-off families pay.

Alleviating worst consequences

In their 2016 paper, among their proposals, Scott-Clayton and Li theorised that a ‘Revised Pay As You Earn’ (REPAYE) could alleviate the worst consequences of the racial debt disparities. 

Their caveats, including daunting paperwork and the fact that “too often students do not learn about the income-contingent options until after they are already in trouble – having missed payments, accumulated fees and damaged their credit” have proven all too prescient.

“Policy-makers as far back as the Clinton administration were very much influenced by the income-driven repayment plans in place in Australia and the UK,” Scott-Clayton says. 

“The difference in both of these cases, though, is that in those countries the plans work much more seamlessly with the treasury and payments are integrated into the tax system. So, this [the American system] is kind of trying to take that model and fit it into the very not automatic US system.”

REPAYE may look fair on paper, having, for example, former students pay 15% of their income towards their debt. Yet, Romer notes, because these households are in such straightened conditions, the presence of, in many cases, decades-old student debt on their credit report means “they are unable to access the type of credit that middle-class households need in order to thrive”.

“They are not able to get a credit card. They are not able to purchase a home. They are not able to do the types of things that would make their lives that much easier.”

Nor, Romer says, does the government’s logic make sense. For those who have been paying 15% for 20 or 25 years, the government cancels the debt.

“This is another reason why we say to cancel the debt instead of holding these households really hostage to their student debt for minimal levels of repayment, if any, it is better to just make their lives better by cancelling the debt.”

After underscoring that 51% of the student debt is held by households with zero or negative net worth, and that black households at every income level and at every age are more likely to hold student debt than are non-black households, as had Scott-Clayton, Romer framed the question as a social justice issue.

Romer concluded, however, by speaking the language of political economy, saying that cancellation of student debt can help in the economic recovery from the COVID crisis. The FRBSL, he says, found that student debt slowed the recovery from the 2009 Recession. According to Romer, the Lee Institute based in Charlotte, North Carolina, reported that cancelling student debt would grow the economy by US$100 billion every year for the next 10 years. 

“They did this study five years ago. So, the amount of student debt has only grown since and it is pretty simple to infer their projection would have grown as well. As we recover from the pandemic-induced recession, it’s important to think about how previous economic studies on the macro-economic effects of student debt have shown that the answer is to cancel it in order to grow the economy,” says Romer.

Targeted or piecemeal approach?

A few days before I interviewed Scott-Clayton, the Biden administration cancelled the student debt of 323,000 people who together owed US$5.8 billion, which brought the number of former students whose debt the government had wiped out to 455,000 and the amount to US$8.7 billion. 

When I asked her about the government’s approach, given that the amount on the government’s books was US$1.7 trillion, Scott-Clayton said: “It is obvious that rather than pushing hard for some kind of blanket forgiveness, they’re trying to do a more targeted approach. And, to the extent that they are committed to that, they’ll keep identifying additional groups that are at high risk of delinquency and default.”

The problem with this piecemeal approach, she says, is that it “won’t reach all the borrowers who urgently need help”.

Source: https://www.universityworldnews.com/post-nl.php?story=20211015145615217

Carpentier et Harel: L’interculturalisme, seul choix pour Montréal

More semantic than substantive, with the main difference being reference to a French-based society rather than multiculturalism’s reference to both official languages and bilingualism. And highly ironic given that most opposition to Bill 21 is in Montreal, precisely because of its divisiveness and exclusion, not inclusion:

Les 50 ans de la politique du multiculturalisme canadien (1971-2021), commémorés par Justin Trudeau le 8 octobre dernier, conduisent à une négation telle de la nation québécoise qu’un candidat à la mairie de Montréal s’est cru autorisé à proposer un référendum pour choisir la ou les langues officielles en usage dans la métropole.

Cette déclaration et bien d’autres du même acabit sont les résultantes de la même conception qu’affiche le premier ministre du Canada lorsqu’il affirmait, cette semaine : « En plus des membres des Premières Nations, des Métis et des Inuits, des personnes appartenant à plus de 250 groupes ethniques considèrent le Canada comme leur foyer et célèbrent leur patrimoine culturel avec fierté. » Exit l’existence de la nation québécoise, de son histoire, de sa culture, et la nécessité d’intégrer en français la diversité ethnoculturelle qui l’habite et contribue à sa vitalité. Cet état de fait est fortement préoccupant dans le contexte d’une nation francophone minoritaire en Amérique du Nord, dont les besoins démographiques et l’épanouissement sont assurés par l’immigration.

Multiculturalisme vs interculturalisme

Alors que le multiculturalisme canadien est consacré par une politique officielle (1971), un principe interprétatif de la Charte canadienne des droits et libertés (1982) et une loi (1988), le Québec n’a jamais formalisé son approche interculturelle en matière d’aménagement de la diversité ethnoculturelle et d’intégration des personnes immigrantes. Le choix québécois de l’interculturalisme a bien fait l’objet de définitions ici et là et de déclarations publiques, mais rien sur le plan juridique ne vient le soutenir.

Pourtant, le multiculturalisme et l’interculturalisme diffèrent, notamment en ce qui a trait aux représentations de la communauté politique et nationale qu’ils proposent au regard de la diversité. L’approche québécoise insiste sur la présence d’une société d’accueil francophone, alors que celle promue par le gouvernement fédéral et les autres provinces, qui représentent une culture anglo-saxonne hégémonique, n’en ressent pas le besoin.

Sortir de l’ambiguïté et de l’imprécision

Nous sommes sensibles aux craintes exprimées par Gérard Bouchard quant aux dangers associés au laisser-faire québécois, lequel favoriserait le développement d’un véritable multiculturalisme montréalais.

D’autant que cela contribue à creuser le fossé qui sépare Montréal du Québec des régions. La présente campagne à la mairie est l’occasion de demander au gouvernement de formaliser l’interculturalisme. C’est là un élément crucial du rôle que la métropole doit assumer dans le contexte québécois !

Engagement électoral phare pour Montréal

Malgré les bonnes volontés exprimées de toutes parts, ce choix de l’interculturalisme demeurera vide de sens tant qu’il ne sera pas officialisé — et pourquoi pas constitutionnalisé, alors que le gouvernement s’apprête à modifier la Constitution interne du Québec en vertu du projet de loi 96 à l’étude.

Comme candidate et candidats à la mairie, faire preuve d’audace serait de demander à Québec cet ajout essentiel pour établir clairement les conditions du vivre-ensemble, indispensable pour une métropole cosmopolite comme la nôtre.

Il s’agit aussi pour Montréal, dans le cadre québécois, d’un engagement qui fait appel à sa responsabilité quant à la réaffirmation du caractère pluriel de la nation, où l’on ne peut faire l’économie de la conciliation entre les aspirations de la majorité francophone et la valorisation de la diversité ethnoculturelle. Autrement dit, si Montréal ne prend pas clairement position pour une nation inclusive, qui le fera ?

Source: L’interculturalisme, seul choix pour Montréal

We’re about to find out how many new seats there will be in Parliament. Then the fighting starts

Yes, indeed. Looking forward to the overview and eventually the new riding list:

The federal election may be over but a new fight over ridings is about to start.

On Friday, the Star has learned, Elections Canada will announce the number of new seats each province will be allocated in the House of Commons. It’s not quite the gerrymandering that occurs in the United States — where politicians draw zigzags to create safe districts — but every 10 years in Canada new constituencies are added and riding boundaries are reviewed. And here too, MPs have lots to say about where they want those lines to be.

“Every party is going to look at this and say, ‘OK, what polls did we win? Where did we lose? How can we create a combination that will give us the best outcome at election time?,’” one MP told the Star. “Everybody does it.”

It may be less overt — and less successful — in Canada but political parties will try to sway the decisions of the independent three-person commissions that decide where the boundaries go.

Those panels, one for each province, will be struck in the next two weeks. The chair is named by the province’s chief justice and the two other members by the Speaker of the House of Commons, Liberal MP Anthony Rota. Over the next year, they’ll draw up a proposal for where they think the lines should be, based on population data from this year’s census. The public will then have a say before a final report is issued. That’s where things can get interesting.

In 2012, for example, when the Saskatchewan commission suggested getting rid of eight pizza-shaped ridings that split Regina and Saskatoon up into four pieces with a tiny bit of urban area and a large rural part, there was massive opposition.

The commission suggested creating two urban districts in Regina and three in Saskatoon to reflect the cities’ rapid growth. They expected 40 people to show up at the hearings: 230 registered. Four extra days were added to the schedule.

MPs came, as did defeated candidates, small town representatives and the public. The vast majority opposed the changes. But once commissioners started receiving identical postcards and petitions and 3,000 written submissions, they understood politicians had mobilized their supporters.

Source: We’re about to find out how many new seats there will be in Parliament. Then the fighting starts

Building back better includes taking action against hatred

The how is the difficult part:

“Don’t read the comments . . . Don’t feed the trolls.” There’s a certain caricature of people who write nasty, hateful comments online. This election campaign, it seemed as if the people who express hate in comments sections and on social media decided to show up in real life, armed with nasty signs and throwing rocks at the incumbent prime minister. Many of these protesters were supporters of the People’s Party of Canada (PPC).

Hate crimes are on the rise in Canada, including an increase in anti-Muslim hate arising from the policies and rhetoric of the post-9/11 world. We know hate crimes are the highest they’ve been since Statistics Canada started tracking them in 2009, that they are under-reported, and that only one per cent of reported hate crimes are investigated by police.

Some of this can be linked to the COVID-19 pandemic — for instance, a dramatic rise in anti-Asian hate crimes motivated by the virus’s origins in China. Researchers have also documented connections between the anti-vaxx movement and far-right groups. “The racist right that we monitor and the COVID conspiracy movement are inseparable from each other at this point,” Evan Balgord, the executive director of the Canadian Anti-Hate Network, told the Canadian Press.

We know there is a problem. I want to talk about what we can do about it. Here are policy solutions that we should take seriously in this new climate of hate and far-right extremist activity.

Scrutinize and go after far-right and white supremacist movements with the same vigour as other terrorist groups

When I was an undergraduate student in the 2010s, it was normal for officers from the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) to infiltrate Muslim Student Associations as part of anti-terrorism efforts by the Canadian government. Some students even had CSIS officers come knocking on their doors. These activities were done in the name of “community outreach,” presumably to groups thought to be potential breeding grounds for terrorism.

Over the past two decades, Canada has spent hundreds of billions of dollars on anti-terrorism efforts through activities such as counter-terrorism capacity building, research funding and augmenting agencies such as CSIS and the Canada Border Services Agency, Stephanie Carvin, associate professor at the Norman Paterson School of International Affairs at Carleton University, said in an interview.

So now that we know the demographics, whereabouts and identities of violent far-right extremists, where is the same level of policy action and government spending?

We need to dedicate adequate funding and personnel to root out violent extremism in far-right and white supremacist extremist groups. The federal government has acknowledged the threat of white supremacy and radicalization in Canada, and has funded research into far-right extremism and listed far-right and white supremacist groups as terrorist entities. But I want to see the same level of funding, urgency and legislation devoted to combatting white supremacist and far-right movements as we did other efforts to counter violent extremism. We urgently need governments to take action against hate — both harmful online activities and the violent hate crimes that have seen an uptick in recent years. The National Council of Canadian Muslims published a robust list of recommended legislation this summer, which provides clear direction for federal, provincial and municipal governments to better legislate against hate.

As part of pandemic recovery, find ways for people to connect with each other again

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Unfortunately, it’s hard to build political will to implement preventative policy solutions because the fruits of those investments often come many years later — when the government of the day is no longer in office.

We are emerging out of (and, strangely, simultaneously re-entering) a prolonged period of isolation and frustration. There are decades of research that show these conditions breed radicalization and extremist views. “Isolation exacerbates already existing grievances, leaving individuals vulnerable to extremism,” argued a May 2021 piece in openDemocracy. The Canadian government’s own 2018 National Strategy on Countering Radicalization to Violence (which focuses on groups such as groups such as Daesh and al-Qaeda but also references far-right extremism) acknowledged that a “desire for empowerment, belonging, [and] purpose” can help radicalize individuals.

There are policy implications for the isolation, frustration and anger we have all experienced over the last year and a half, and we see it in the increased polarization in our society. I want to see government fund programs that have people meaningfully engage with those they don’t agree with — Stanford University’s America in One Room project is a great example — as well as grassroots organizations that provide opportunities for individuals to connect with community. While Heritage Canada has funded anti-hate and anti-racism programs, these programs should be expanded in scope and funding as we emerge from this pandemic, especially given the tripling of popular support for the PPC in just two years.

It has only been a few months since four members of the Afzaal family were fatally run down by a truck in broad daylight in London, Ont. I wonder about the journey taken by the man accused of their murder. What happened to him in the years and months before this violent, Islamophobic crime? How many others are going through the same journey he did, and are on the cusp of expressing their hatred through violent means?

If we don’t take action fast enough, we will find out the hard way.

Source: https://policyresponse.ca/building-back-better-includes-taking-action-against-hatred/?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=151021&utm_source=Policy+Response&utm_campaign=b0da1d1e1d-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2021_02_25_11_09_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_e0a96a8e52-b0da1d1e1d-377030342

Wage theft hits immigrants — hard

Curious to know extent of this practice in Canada with respect to Temporary Foreign Workers and Permanent Residents:

Audelia Molina, a Mexican immigrant, was earning 10 cents for every garment she trimmed at a factory in Los Angeles, America’s clothing-assembly capital. Her wage was so meager that she started putting in 11-hour days to drive up production. When she asked for a raise, a supervisor denied her request, so she quit in July 2017 — and turned to a labor-rights attorney to help her file an unpaid-wage complaint with the California Labor Commissioner.

A year later, the state found that Molina was paid, on average, $199 a week, violating overtime law and rules that piece-rate workers earn at least the state’s then $10.50 hourly minimum wage. But Molina’s employer didn’t pay her the almost $23,000 owed, not including attorney fees. Her best option was to apply to a state fund for cheated garment workers, a rare backstop California finances with business registration fees.

It took two more years before Molina received her check. Her former employer still hasn’t reimbursed the state fund, as required.

A 30-year resident of California, Molina got caught in a toxic cycle centuries old: Immigrants perform some of America’s lowest-paying, arduous jobs, and are among those most victimized by employers failing to pay them fairly. Even if they have support to file a lawsuit or a claim — with a state labor agency, as Molina did, or the U.S. Department of Labor — they often settle for less to get money faster or must wait as cases drag on.

“They pay whatever they want to pay,” said Molina, now 58, referring generally to the worst of garment factory employers she’s had over the years. “What interests them,” she said, “is that the work gets done, and fast.”

Just like U.S. citizens, any non-citizen whose job is covered under the Fair Labor Standards Act has the right to be paid overtime after 40 hours and the minimum hourly wage. But it’s not unusual for immigrant workers, documented or not, to face employer intimidation — which is illegal — when they assert their rights.

The U.S. Department of Labor, which operates in all states, doesn’t ask victims of suspected wage theft if they’re immigrants. The agency plainly acknowledges that complaints are reviewed regardless of workers’ immigration status.

But a Center for Public Integrity analysis of Labor Department and U.S. Census Bureau data found that industries with higher percentages of foreign-born workers had higher rates of wage theft.

Nationally, 16 percent of U.S. workers are foreign-born. By contrast, 42 percent of all workers performing cut-and-sew garment assembly are immigrants. That’s one of the highest percentages of immigrant workers in the nation. Public Integrity’s analysis also found that the cut-and-sew garment industry had the second highest rate of federal wage-violation cases over the last 15 years.

Other industries with significant numbers of immigrant workers and wage-theft problems include agriculture, building maintenance, hotel work, restaurant and other food services. In certain regions, immigrants and wage problems are also concentrated in construction, nursing homes, warehouses and car washes.

The AFL-CIO, the largest U.S. labor organization, has long argued that a path to legal status for millions of undocumented workers is crucial to reducing wage theft that harms all workers. After years of deadlock, Democrats who control Congress are struggling to advance proposals for a path for some of the undocumented, most of whom have been here for years and are deeply rooted in families and local economies.

“Immigration is integral to the nation’s economic growth,” a seminal 2016 National Academy of Sciences report found, examining research on documented and undocumented workers. “If the American economy grows and requires more workers both to replace those who retire and to create new firms and industries, the primary source of labor will be first and second-generation immigrants.”

In Los Angeles, nobody disputes that undocumented workers are among the 45,000 Latino and Asian immigrants who sew clothing that ends up in many high-end chains and other retail stores. When the pandemic hit last year, some garment workers began sewing face masks and other crucial protective gear. Some 300 workers contracted the coronavirus themselves at one factory, Los Angeles Apparel, and six died.

“The pandemic highlighted the issue of the high level of immigrant workers, especially undocumented workers who were essential workers,” said Victor Narro, project director of the University of California, Los Angeles Labor Center. “What are we going to do for them now?”

Narro supports a path to legal status — and a bill that California Gov. Gavin Newsom signed Sept. 27 that will bar piece-rate pay for garment workers unless it’s additional to an hourly wage and part of a collective-bargaining contract. Staff at L.A.’s nonprofit Garment Worker Center, where Molina learned about her labor rights, lobbied for years for the bill. Center staff say that wage claims they’ve helped file showed an average pay of about $5 an hour — nowhere near legal thresholds. The law, in effect as of 2022, also extends broad wage-theft liability to retailers that contract with factories.

Narro hopes for more reforms to speed collection of unpaid wages.

“Justice needs to happen more on the front end,” he said, “and then all the way on the back end.”

A century of immigrant exploitation

The struggle for fair pay in California echoes a time in the early 20th century, when immigrant garment workers from Europe fought for protections eventually enshrined in the 1938 Fair Labor Standards Act.

Immigrants toiled in dangerous conditions that led to New York City’s 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist fire. Flames engulfed a building and 146 people died, 125 of them immigrant women and girls. Outraged workers fought for safety and child-labor laws and developed momentum toward a national minimum wage. By the time standards were approved, though, immigration was plummeting, reduced by nativist policies with quotas and exclusions.

By 1970, with nativist policies lifted, legal immigration was again on the upswing. But between 1990 and 2007, the undocumented population tripled. That created an unprecedented pool of nearly 11 million people who are more vulnerable to workplace abuse — and who work in communities coast to coast.

Because of alleged abuse, U.S. labor officials this past August obtained a preliminary injunction barring a Danbury, Connecticut, bakery owner from “retaliating, taking any adverse action, or threatening to take any adverse action” against employees. The Labor Department alleges that the owner of Padaminas NY Bakery told workers that he’d fire them or report them to immigration agents if they spoke with labor officials who were investigating the bakery’s employment practices. Bakery staff hung up when contacted by phone for a comment about the allegations.

In California, federal labor officials in May ordered an L.A. County contractor producing garments for the Anna Bella label to pay 10 employees a total of $5,846 in back wages. The department also ordered the contractor to pay $3,485 in penalties for “willful” violations related to bookkeeping and cash-only payments to workers.

Ruben Rosalez, the Department of Labor’s California-based West Coast regional director of wage and hour enforcement, said that while officials don’t inquire about immigration status, their probes often take them to businesses employing “a lot of people of color and large immigrant populations.”

“This is 2021,” Rosalez said. “To have minimum wage, federal minimum wage violations in the garment industry should be unheard of. But it’s not. It’s actually pretty common.”

U.S. labor officials enforce the federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour. If states or local jurisdictions have higher hourly minimums, state or local officials enforce those. Both enforce federal overtime law requiring time-and-half pay for work over 40 hours in a week.

Los Angeles County’s local minimum hourly wage became $15.00 as of July 1 of this year.

In its quest to deter wage theft, the Garment Worker Center spent years persuading California legislators to end piece-rate pay in factories and extend liability for wage violations to retailers. The California Chamber of Commerce fought back, calling the bill a “job killer” and arguing that fashion companies will flee the state to find cheaper factories abroad and in other states. The chamber also argued that piece-rate pay is a benefit for some workers.

But during former President Barack Obama’s administration, U.S. labor officials investigated L.A. garment factories 77 times in a sweep, finding violations in 85 percent of factories and $1.3 million in unpaid wages.

Officials also researched the time and cost of producing garments and found that incentives for wage theft began with pricing: On average, the price per garment that manufacturers received from retailers was only 73 percent of the price needed to support paying workers even minimum required pay. In some cases, retailers paid $4 per garment rather than the $10 needed.

California’s own state labor agency is robust, with staff who review complaints, and also conduct surprise inspections and investigations. Inspectors also work with the Garment Workers Center and other advocates to identify suspect businesses. That’s how state investigators recently discovered an alleged scheme to deprive restaurant workers of overtime pay. Immigrant workers at a series of Baja Fresh franchises in the L.A. area approached the local Restaurant Opportunities Center, an advocacy group. The center helped the mostly Latino workers prepare for an investigation by the state Labor Commissioner’s office.

The probe culminated in March with the Labor Commissioner issuing a citation to G & D Investments, Inc., which operates multiple Baja Fresh restaurants in the L.A. area, as well as seven related entities and their CEOs. The citation accuses them of rotating workers among restaurants to work double shifts in violation of overtime pay. The commissioner said the companies and their CEOs owe 188 workers a total of over $375,800 for minimum wages, overtime, penalties and damages. They have appealed the citation and a hearing is expected next. Baja Fresh and G & D Investments did not return multiple phone calls and email messages seeking comment.

When workers contemplated complaining, “some people were very afraid,” said former employee Rocio Martinez, 30. She said managers often urged her to put in double shifts, and sometimes would make remarks that made workers feel powerless.

“You’d hear things like, ‘You can’t take a break. You’re illegal,’” she said. “It was said like it was a joke. But it really wasn’t.”

Ripping off immigrant families

Narro and other UCLA researchers have heard stories like these for years.

Multiple UCLA Labor Center reports have long warned of a “crisis” in wage theft that strips money from California’s immigrant families. A 2010 report estimated that low-wage, mostly immigrant workers in L.A. County lost an average of more than $2,000 annually, adding up to more than $26 million per week.

Reviews of claims for unpaid wages can take months, even years, state officials admit. The process includes conciliation attempts, hearings and appeals that can spill into courts. And then, in the end, some businesses just don’t pay up.

Employer failure to pay garment workers was such a festering problem 20 years ago that California legislators created the Garment Restitution Fund, financed by $75 diverted from each manufacturer’s annual registration fees. Employers are notified to reimburse the fund.

But workers’ claims ballooned as fly-by-night factories mushroomed in L.A., and began competing for contracts by promising cheap production. By 2018, the fund was insolvent. With hundreds waiting for checks, legislators in 2019 transferred $16.3 million into the fund from other kinds of business fees and general funds.

California Labor Commissioner Lilia Garcia-Brower says the state needs to do better.

“Every day, a hard-working person provides their labor and are robbed of their wages,” she said at an event in Los Angeles in February. She said she’ll be working with the L.A. Sheriff’s Department to compel employers to pay up when a judgement is issued.

To take steps to press employers to pay unpaid wages, Garcia-Brower’s office does have a Judgment Enforcement Unit. The office also provides an online brochure explaining how workers themselves can try to collect their money. Victims can obtain a lien on an employer’s property, and hope they get a cut of profits if it’s sold one day. They can also try to enlist sheriffs to seize money. But both options, advocates say, require piles of paperwork and fees that are hard for immigrants to take on.

Challenges in other states

Immigrants can face even more limits to obtaining unpaid wages in other states.

In Houston, Texas, the Fe y Justicia (Faith and Justice) Worker Center helps immigrants who’ve been cheated by negotiating directly with their employers. The Houston metro region is estimated to be home to half a million undocumented residents who perform an array of labor, including construction, dry cleaning, landscaping and warehouse work. When workers press for unpaid earnings, some employers try to get them to back down, said Jessica Lorena Rangel, manager of the group’s Community Consultation Legal Center.

“Employers fill their minds with stuff, like telling them: ‘You can’t do anything about me, you have to suck it up because of your status. You’re not even supposed to be working. I’m doing you a favor,’” Rangel said.

In a year’s time, the group received over 540 calls accusing employers of failing to pay at least $1.36 million in wages. Some victims turn to small claims courts, Rangel said, but face similar burdens as in California to collect. The Texas Workforce Commission accepts claims. But many immigrants rotate among construction and other worksites, and are considered independent contractors excluded from filing with the commission.

In Florida, another heavily immigrant state, no state agency is wholly dedicated to investigating wage theft or reviewing claims. The state labor department was abolished in 2002. Alachua, Broward, Hillsborough, Miami-Dade, Pinellas, Osceola counties have anti-wage-theft ordinances with distinct versions of complaint procedures. In Miami-Dade, workers are steered to a service that mediates disputes over, on average, about $1,800, according to Gregory Baker, an administrator in the county’s Office of Consumer Protection, where the program is housed.

“We don’t advocate on either party’s behalf,” Baker said. If employers don’t honor an agreement, it also falls on workers to seek legal remedies to collect.

In New York, unpaid workers can avail themselves of a state system similar to California’s. But in the New York City metro area — home to possibly 1 million undocumented people — attorney Lou Pechman said that groups of workers are increasingly opting to file lawsuits in federal court.

Pechman is representing immigrant janitors who cleaned a Wayfair warehouse and distribution centers in New Jersey last year. Workers allege that their employer, New Jersey-based DME Janitorial Services, paid them between $12 and $16 an hour, with no overtime although they worked up to 90 hours a week. “Plaintiffs were essential workers during the pandemic, ensuring that the facilities that they cleaned were sanitized according to COVID-19 protocols and requirements,” the lawsuit filed in U.S. District Court in New Jersey says. In a court filing, the company denies violating wage laws and, among other defenses, says it acted “in an appropriate, business-like … manner (without) malice or intent to injure.”

‘Just telling the truth’

In California, garment workers’ stories speak to how crucial organizers have been in helping immigrants exercise their rights. After becoming a seamstress Audelia Molina rarely brought home more than $300 a week. Ten years ago, a co-worker urged her to sign up for a labor rights program at the Garment Worker Center.

“I never got to study much in Mexico,” Molina said. “When I joined the program I began to lose my nervous feelings, my shame. I began speaking with more certainty.”

The mother of three grown children mustered moral support from family before quitting the job in 2017 that led her to file a complaint. A year later, she testified at a Labor Commissioner hearing about her former employer, Callaway Fashion, Inc. “One tells oneself, there’s no reason to get nervous because you’re just telling the truth,” she said.

A Labor Commissioner decision document says that Callaway Fashion and its owner didn’t respond to the complaint or appear at the hearing. The company’s corporate status was suspended by the Franchise Tax Board, but the state doesn’t say why. To support her case, Molina submitted notes she’d kept documenting the days and time worked, production and various brands she sewed. A year later, the hearing officer ordered the factory and its executive to pay Molina over $39,300 — for overtime and other violations and hefty damages. The officer also ordered Callaway to pay Molina over $21,400 in attorney fees as extra punishment — a penalty the garment fund doesn’t pay out and that the employer hasn’t paid either.

California law does already allow for holding brands that directly contract with factories liable for unpaid earnings that are proportionate to work done for them, but workers must provide evidence of that link and work. Before her hearing, Molina settled with the Jasmine Sportswear label for $900 and six other labels for over $6,600. The hearing officer later ordered Kjen Apparel, Inc., to pay her over $4,570 and Du North Designs, Ltd., to pay her over $3,220.

Matthew DeCarolis, Molina’s attorney, said it’s not unusual for small factories such as Callaway to ignore wage complaints, and abruptly shut down or declare bankruptcy. DeCarolis is a staff attorney with L.A.’s Bet Tzedek law group, which offers free help to workers.

“I’ve had garment worker clients,” he said, “who showed up to work and literally overnight the factory had disappeared, all the machines and everything.”

Public Integrity called two numbers associated with Callaway Fashion that were disconnected.

Another L.A. garment worker, a Guatemalan immigrant, filed a complaint because a supervisor allegedly fired her after a federal wage-theft investigation in 2017. “I wasn’t the person who complained. All I did was speak with investigators when they came to the factory,” she said, requesting anonymity out of fear of retaliation. U.S. labor officials asked her questions about her work hours. And one official later contacted her to tell her that her employer, Boss Collection, Inc., owed her $4,000 in unpaid wages for three months’ worth of work. Federal records show the company was ordered to pay a total of $35,000 to 11 workers in 2017.

After she received her $4,000 check the Guatemalan immigrant said that a supervisor confronted her and other workers and ordered them to cash the checks and return the money to him. She refused while others complied. The worker was dismissed with $570 in final wages.

“I left crying because I have a family to support,” the worker said. He pushed her, she said, “and treated me as if I were a little dog.”

Months later, staff at the Garment Worker Center helped her file her own complaint with the state Labor Commissioner for additional unpaid wages going back two years. Boss Collection never responded to the claim and the company shut down by September 2018, records show. Property managers for the building where the factory once was had no contact information for the business or its executive.

At a 2019 hearing, the worker testified about her firing and 11-hour shifts she endured with no rest breaks. The hearing officer found that Boss Collection owed the worker over $92,000 for overtime and unpaid breaks, damages and other penalties and interest. Prior to the hearing, the worker settled for $4,000 each from the brands Entro, Mana USA and Ashley USA.

Because of uncertainty over who supervised workers, the business owner was not held personally liable. Like Molina, the Guatemalan immigrant received her money from the garment fund — three years after filing her claim.

“I won,” she said, almost in disbelief.

Labor officials tried to collect reimbursement for the garment fund. On Jan. 21, 2020, the state mailed Boss Collection a final demand letter and notice of a lien in the Guatemalan immigrant’s case. Officials mailed the same type of documents to Callaway Fashion, Audelia Molina’s former employer, on May 24, 2019.

So far, officials said, the state hasn’t recovered a penny from either.

Susan Ferris is a senior reporter at the Center for Public Integrity, a nonprofit investigative news organization in Washington, D.C.

Source: Wage theft hits immigrants — hard