Why not handle the migrant crisis at the border with a new Ellis Island?

Eric Gay/AP Photos

The current migrant "crisis" in America is widely debated. Texas Gov. Greg Abbott has been sending thousands of migrants to cities like Chicago, New York and Denver, while national leaders have failed to address the border situation, opting instead to blame each other. Local and state leaders are left to handle the situation with limited resources.

Yet, there's a precedent in our history for managing mass migration successfully: Ellis Island.

Elected officials could take a cue from Ellis Island to establish a fair and orderly immigration process, identifying and welcoming those who meet the legal criteria and contribute to our nation. This involves allocating funds to create Ellis Island 2.0 at our southwest border, not in New York Harbor.

From February 2021 through September 2023, over 1.7 million people were allowed into the U.S. temporarily. Meanwhile, Ellis Island saw nearly 12 million immigrants from 1892 to 1954, with 1.7 million processed in 1907 alone. Ellis Island operated under federal law, with an initial budget of $75,000 (about $2.44 million today), later doubled by Congress, recognizing the national importance of immigration.

Ellis Island processed new arrivals efficiently, conducting medical and mental inspections. Despite strict guidelines, only 2% of the 12 million were denied entry.

Today, we could be confident in a precise process with technology that includes facial recognition and electronic background checks.

I approach this from a political and personal perspective. My grandfather, Proco Joseph Moreno Sr., emigrated from Mexico as a boy, settled in Illinois and served as a paratrooper during D-Day, despite being a "non-citizen." His story, like many others, highlights the strength immigration brings to America.

An orderly process that values immigrants as a national strength, while respecting laws and sovereignty, is crucial. We need an Ellis Island 2.0. Without a legitimate pathway, people will find riskier ways to enter America.

Proco Joe Moreno, former 1st Ward alderman

When free speech becomes hate speech

Imagine being a Jewish college student who cannot study for finals because the antisemitic chants outside your dorm are too loud for you to focus. Imagine having classmates — and outsiders — taunt and threaten you as you walk to class. Imagine having your professor offer extra credit to your classmates who are doing this. Imagine your professor moving class to where that harassment is centered.

Imagine how it feels when the university is silent. That is why Chicago Jews are so upset by anti-Israel tent encampments, only recently dismantled from local college campuses.

Our Jewish community is outraged because these protests, invoking free speech as insulation for their hate, don’t chant for peace. Many of the virulent protests, perhaps orchestrated by outside, professional agitators, espouse hate, threaten Jewish students and coach student protesters to flout campus rules with impunity.

This is what that "free speech" looks like:

At DePaul, it is celebrating — and promising a repeat of — the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust. One masked protester, outfitted to resemble a Hamas terrorist, hand-signaled "10-7" (Oct. 7) to the crowd and drew his finger across his neck, pantomiming slitting his throat.

At Northwestern University, Jewish students are told to "go back to Poland." At the University of Chicago, an encampment sign threatened that "Jewish safety cannot be achieved until Palestine is freed."

Yet zero suspensions, zero expulsions, zero consequences for known violators.

Imagine the outrage were other students told to "go back to" China, Mexico, Iraq or Africa. Imagine the horrified response if protesters mimicked a lynching. This would never — should never — be tolerated. This is what Jewish students face, as some of their professors encourage the protesters, and some administrations either stand idly by or reward those violating campus rules with concessions.

This is not about the right to free speech, which Jews revere. But when free speech crosses over into hate speech, the rules are different. Messages of hate and threats of violence are not protected.

Turning the other cheek is indefensible when Jews or anyone is being targeted. University leaders must follow their campus policies and eject outside agitators, discipline students, professors and staff who flout the rules, and denounce — along with elected officials and interfaith leaders — the hatred being spewed. The failure to do so sends a powerful message to antisemites.

We refuse to accept the normalization of this hate. We refuse to accept that we are the only ones so committed.

Jay Tcath, executive vice president, Jewish United Fund

Thanks, mom

Only a fool would argue that motherhood is not the world’s toughest job. I have only to set the way-back machine to watch my mom raising twins and an older brother (by a mere 15 months), which essentially meant triplets in an era absent of Pampers and microwaves. The brothers-three tumbled down the stairs around her ankles like puppies from our third-floor apartment, then hung off the fenders of her bike to make trips to the market.

In honor of all the moms out there doing the world's most important, difficult and rewarding job, I offer the following, dedicated to the memory of my own cherished and beautiful mother:

Where would any of us be without our moms? They dried our tears, bandaged our knees, kissed our bruises, tucked us in, sang to us, read to us, made us eat our peas but also gave us dimes when the Good Humor truck came by. They made us do our homework, but let us turn on The Beverly Hillbillies when that arithmetic problem became too much to bear. They doubled our victories by sharing them with us and halved our defeats with a hug and a promise that you did your best and next time would be different.

And when all is said and done, you better believe that "Mom" is the only name you’ll never see X-ed out on any sailor's arm, cause mom is the gal that ain't going nowhere.

Rob Hirsh, West Ridge