In our relationship with Mexico we accept a number of asymmetrical absurdities that are not supposed to arise in polite conversation about immigration reform: Mexico lectures the U.S. about proper treatment of its own population, whose current economic disparity is, in some part, a direct result of immigrants giving up large portions of their U.S. income in remittances to make up for the absence of a safety net for relatives left behind in Mexico. It assumes that the United States does not and should not mimic Mexico’s own favoritism for native-born citizens in matters of government employment, military service, and public assistance. And Mexico believes that the U.S. under no circumstances should emulate its own immigration policy and treat Mexican illegal immigrants here the way Mexico treats illegal immigrants from Central America.

Fifth, immigrant lobbies have never squared the circle of demanding citizenship from a country that in most activist literature is portrayed quite negatively. From the trivial (the illegal alien who fled Mexico but whose car is plastered with Mexican-flag decals) to the important (Chicano Studies departments that teach southwestern American history as melodramatic pathology to students who desperately wish to acquire U.S. citizenship and discard or ignore their Mexican citizenship), we are baffled by the idea that criticizing America in the abstract is compatible with wanting it in the concrete. That paradox leads ultimately to an unsustainable situation — as we saw in the surreal reception of the U.S. national soccer team by the jeering crowd at the Rose Bowl in 2011. For many Americans the idea that guests make demands on their hosts is odd enough; but the notion that the country that was glad to say goodbye to its millions is so often romanticized while the one that accepted them is so often faulted is incomprehensible.