Successful Secession: Could Mexico Be a Path?


Time to redraw the map… again?

Could our cultural descent into the abyss lead to a fertile valley if we step carefully rather than allow ourselves to be pushed in?

If the Confederate states had removed slavery as an issue, how would we recall the Civil War’s casus belli?  The Southern fury over Northern tariffs would scarcely have cooled—tariffs that advantaged Northern industries while inflating the South’s cost of living.  Secession might well have remained the harvest of that fury; and Mr. Lincoln’s moral window-dressing of an extortionate bid for imperium could only have come out looking plain, despite his fabulous rhetorical skill.  Few farmers and small artisans would have flocked to defend a contract out of which several members had legally opted, no matter how holy the Union was hymned.  Slavery would have been needed to trim the mantle of righteousness: it wasn’t the war’s primary cause, but it was surely the war’s strongest selling point.

Could the large plantations have hired sufficient manual labor for the sums they invested in slavery?  Probably not.  Did the South need large plantations to survive economically?  Absolutely not.  Such agricultural behemoths were a relatively late arrival in the Southern states, and their presence indeed impeded other, more wholesome kinds of development.  That Southern leaders could not find a way to avoid hitching their homeland’s wagon to the scabrous mule of slavery cost them a clarity in defining their cause which proved fatal.

I have begun to wonder if immigration may be the “slave issue” of our time.  By this I do not mean that corporations love to employ dirt-cheap workers without benefits as virtual human chattels, though the parallel is apt; nor do I mean that well-heeled white liberals (and pseudo-conservatives) require an ample stock of menials to toil in kitchen, nursery, and garden, though that parallel is also apt.  What I mean is that lying demagogues and damned fools have clouded the moral issues attendant upon our “Mexican situation” until a dumbed-down electorate can hardly find its way through the fog.  Might a big gust of wind be possible that would clear the air?

Please consider what I am about to write as very speculative and only half serious.  But please consider it half serious.

Mexico is a remarkably well-endowed little nation.  It has hundreds of miles of coastline and balmy subtropical weather.  Even in its present state of virtual civil war, it remains a desirable tourist destination.  If tidal or volcanic energy is ever harnessed to produce electricity (as opposed to the lavishly costly, stunningly inefficient wind and solar farms that deface our own portion of the Sonoran Desert), Mexico would be North America’s powerhouse.  In the meantime… yes, there’s oil.  Tons and tons of freshwater—the coming century’s gold—also drench the Caribbean coast yearly in the form of torrential rain.  Someday I imagine this resource pumping itself (by the power of run-off) inland to turn wastes into cornucopias rather than inflicting millions of pesos of seasonal damage as it drains uselessly back into the sea.

We of the Southwest are lectured by the political, academic, and journalistic elites routinely about being racist because we object to the price tag of illegal immigration.  Our local taxes and insurance rates soar, our hospitals and parks shut down, we are saddled with the expense of new bypasses and jails… but we’re just thinking selfishly!  (Which really ought to be a charge of stinginess rather than racism, shouldn’t it?)  We’re even more racist because we lie about the growing risk to our personal safety.  “Studies” show that our sanctuary cities are havens of peace and brotherhood!  (Note to Steve Chapman and other uncritical consumers of statistical analysis: not all criminal activity shows up on police reports.  An illegal is unlikely to call the cops when beaten or raped, City Hall has plenty of incentives to disguise any uptick in violent crime, and some of us just don’t waste our effort on petty incidents.  Why should I report the new trash cans that went missing from beside my house or the guy I found nosing around in my open garage one afternoon?  [Unflustered, he offered me two grand in cash for my pick-up, using his son as an interpreter.] Such things never happened before 2005… but, no, Señor Chapman, I have no stats.)

Instead of constantly, fruitlessly calling b.s. on this treatment, why not turn the tables on our “betters” in the capital, the ivory tower, and the newsroom?  Why not move for the secession of Southern and Southwestern states from a terminally dysfunctional and contractually invalidated union, to be followed by confederation with the states of Mexico?  If we are to be inundated with Mexicans, anyway, why not make allies of them?  The constitution that once bound the United States (before that nation’s sworn representatives and judges collectively decided that the word “oath” designates a childish superstition) would be the basis of the new order.  Particularly needful to our brethren south of the Bravo would be a guaranteed right to possess firearms for personal defense, and also the introduction of capital punishment for convicted mass-murderers.  It is the absence of these two legal provisions that has cost Mexico a Vietnam War’s worth of casualties over the past decade.  Villages must be allowed to meet roving thugs with armed resistance (as they periodically now do against the law), and those same butchers should be disposed of systematically instead of waiting a few months in the calaboso for a bribed or blackmailed judge to free them (or for prison guards to spring them, as they did El Chapo this month).

Most Mexicans, unlike the majority of denizens in our Northeastern and West Coast States, understand the sanctity of the family and would not countenance allowing two men to take home a boy from an orphanage.  Most Mexicans have a healthy mistrust of central authority (though those who stray across the border illegally are happy enough to pocket the freebies that our authorities dish out).  Most Mexicans understand nature and the land in a way that the “environmentally conscious” academic never will; and as a result, they would buy into the high-tech truck-farming of our Southwest as a means to individual independence—a much surer means than elbowing their way into overcrowded cites to go on the dole as immensely inefficient wind farms dribble in a few watts of electricity from the wide-open spaces.

There is a dark side to Mexico, I admit (just as there’s a dark side to the South—and to everything human).  The small but still disturbing percentage of males who sire ten kids on ten girls and name all of them “Juan”, or who get drunk and start pawing a seven-year-old who happens to be their daughter, must give any sane adult pause.  (Feminists like to classify such evidence as “male” and be done with it… but the phenomenon is real, and deserves more than the point-scoring diagnosis of career hacks.)  My own take on this kind of behavior is that a) we perceive it as “Mexican” in the U.S. because a higher percentage of sociopaths mixes with those who cross illegally, and b) the offenders are often indios who have been ostracized by the genetically more European Mexicans for hundreds of years.  In other words, this hypothetical wreck of a human being tends to have been uprooted and tossed into the gutter long before he himself was ever born.  His bisabuelo already had a target on his back. It’s hard to learn good habits when you’re being chased from one pueblo to another. (Venustiano Carranza, briefly president of Mexico during the nation’s bloody revolution a century ago, had a genuinely racist vision of América Hispañola that called for the extermination of indigenous peoples. He retains many admirers today among the intelligentsia.)

I find it particularly irksome to hear self-promoting insult-merchants like Geraldo shout down everyone else in the room with charges of racism when there simply is—by the way—no Mexican race.  Of course, there is no pure race anywhere on earth, for that matter; but especially in Mexico, the various combinations of native peoples (themselves quite heterogenous), Spanish (themselves often part Moorish, with perhaps some Celt stirred in), African (by way of Caribbean slavery), and Italian or Eastern European (by way of recent immigration and refugeeism) is little short of bewildering.  If I am a racist, then precisely which race is the recipient of my animosity?

Since we may very likely have lost the war for the Constitution and common decency, anyway, and since a steady infusion of Mexicans is to be one means of dissolving our communities… well, why not side with Mexico and ban people like Geraldo?

Why not renew the Constitution in concert with suffering masses that would be very glad to have one? How about we do that instead of mumbling on scripted occasions a pledge of allegiance (composed by a socialist educator in 1892) to our defunct union as its rulers shred the formal contract’s last pieces?

To those who oppose our secession, why not shout back, “Racists! Mexicans want reunion with Mexico! Why are you opposing our new federation? You hate the South, anyway. Since you hate Southerners and hate conservative Westerners and hate Mexicans who won’t line up to be cannon fodder for your vast oligarchy-aimed voting scam, why not just let us all go, and then design your Stalinist republic all the way down to the gulags?”

One other thing: our immigration policy will be very strict.  Refugees from Vermont or Oregon will not be allowed voting privileges for twenty years.  We’ve already seen what harm they can do in places like Austin, Santa Fe, Denver, and Phoenix.

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