If the horrible tragedy playing out in Ukraine has taught the nonprofit world anything, it is that narrative has an enormous influence on policy.
When President Volodymyr Zelensky uttered his now-famous words — “I need ammunition, not a ride” — a hero and a narrative were instantly born. His refusal to leave the country despite clear threats to his life ignited a motivating David vs. Goliath storyline and led leaders worldwide to come together to help Ukraine fight back against a much more powerful Russia. This included U.S. political leaders on the right who had previously embraced Russian President Vladimir Putin, but now quickly shifted their allegiance to Ukraine.
While wartime is unique in its ability to birth powerful stories that can spur immediate policy action, there are nonetheless important lessons here for those of us who have struggled for decades to change social policy domestically. Nowhere is that truer than in my area of focus — immigration.
It’s been 35 years since Congress passed the last comprehensive overhaul of immigration laws and provided legal status to much of the nation’s undocumented population. The lack of progress since then is not for lack of trying. Millions of dollars and years of effort have not been enough to overcome opposition to change — a reality compounded in recent years by increased levels of residential segregation, social division, and zero-sum thinking, which lead some people to believe that when immigrants win rights, those born in the United States lose out.
Many Americans hold their position on immigration sacred and even see it as their ticket to belonging in their social and political groups. This makes them less likely to move or change their thinking even when facts and data challenge their own group’s beliefs and mores. Such dynamics may help the immigration movement motivate its base, but make it far more difficult to gain new supporters to the cause.
After more than a decade inside the immigrant-rights movement, I’ve concluded that changing individual mindsets and societal norms will be key to making progress, at least in the current social and political environment. Philanthropy and the movement for immigrant justice must invest in work that shifts culture at least as much as labor to shape immigration policy itself.
This work requires first understanding what immigration law means to different segments of the population and how their policy attitudes connect to their values and identity.
Research conducted by the American Immigration Council, where I work, found that a portion of the public strongly believes that America’s immigration story is an important piece of the nation’s identity and that we should continue to open our doors to immigrants. Others, however, are just as committed to the idea that a fortified border provides safety and sovereignty. We don’t have to agree with any particular view to understand that it can have significant meaning to its adherents. Ignoring that reality will make our work harder.
The hopeful news is that only about 27 percent of the U.S. population has a deeply committed pro or con position on immigration, according to our research. That leaves nearly three-quarters who are uncommitted, conflicted, and somewhat ambivalent on the issue. This huge group is still open and moveable when it comes to revamping immigration laws.
Strikingly, our research also found that two-thirds of the U.S. public lack a personal connection to an immigrant, which makes them far more susceptible to myths, fearmongering, and disinformation. This insight provides an opportunity for action by immigration advocates and their philanthropic supporters. Together, they need to launch major cultural efforts focused on addressing fears and concerns about immigration, finding common-ground solutions, and creating opportunities for personal connections between immigrants and the U.S.-born. Here are a few places to start:
Develop narrative and storytelling projects that connect immigrants and nonimmigrants through shared values and experiences. Much can be learned from the success of other movements that have embraced this approach. The National Rifle Association, for example, famously connects guns to personal identity, family lore, and the values of freedom, individual rights, safety, and patriotism. Under the NRA narrative, gun ownership isn’t just a Second Amendment policy issue; it’s a personal symbol of honor and way of life. This values-based narrative strategy is clearly working for gun-ownership advocates.
Similar examples exist in the immigration arena, but much more is needed to shift narratives. For instance, the Ad Council’s Belonging Begins with Us campaign seeks to bind U.S.- and foreign-born people using storytelling that highlights the common need to feel part of a community, while leaving for later the political questions that immediately activate conflict.
Create natural opportunities for the U.S.-born and newcomers to forge personal connections. The social sciences teach us that when individuals from different groups are given the opportunity to get to know each other under equal, nonthreatening conditions, they become less biased toward and better able to empathize with each other.
The movement for LGBTQ rights was highly effective at demonstrating the value of personal connections in advancing better laws and policies. The coming-out movement didn’t just help millions of LGBTQ individuals reveal their personal truths. It was also a brilliant cultural strategy that led many people to realize that they knew, loved, and cared about people who are LGBTQ. This reduced bias at an individual level and created a palpable shift in social norms that eventually resulted in major policy change.
Such opportunities for connection between immigrant and U.S.-born individuals can be facilitated through houses of worship, workplaces, schools, or libraries, which can naturally bring together diverse groups of people to organize locally or solve workplace challenges. This type of social contact, where everyone has equal status and works together on common goals, can significantly reduce prejudice over time.
Gather people with diverse ideas about immigration to talk. It’s effective to hold problem-solving conversations in community settings that feel safe and respectful of divergent views, but focus on advancing common-ground solutions. The Kettering Foundation, for example, hosted a series of 86 immigration forums in 28 states before the pandemic, asking participants to consider options for addressing immigration and to spell out concrete actions and trade-offs. The foundation described the forums as a “powerful demonstration that typical Americans with differing views can exchange ideas on immigration and that, as they listen to one another, their views [can] become more nuanced and pragmatic.”
Influence the next generation. Youth-led organizing, training, and school curricula that explore common identities and issues of mutual interest for young people, no matter where they were born, will help set the stage for a new generation to feel safe and connected to one another. For example, the YMCA and New American Economy recently came together to launch a fellowship program for young immigrant and U.S.-born leaders who work together to solve issues facing their shared communities and connect more deeply to one another in the process.
These strategies are the building blocks for creating a culture abundant with positive narratives, new norms of civic friendship and problem solving, and deeper engagement among people from diverse backgrounds. Philanthropy can help make this type of work more the norm by investing in cultural strategies at parity to policy advocacy. Such investment will help break the paralysis of toxic polarization on immigration and potentially re-energize cooperation and mutual care on a host of intractable problems.
