I had the pleasure recently of seeing “Hamilton,” the new musical at The Public Theatre about the immigrant from the West Indies who helped found the nation, wrote two-thirds of the Federalist Papers and practically invented the U.S. financial system.
The show, by Lin-Manuel Miranda, is the “buzziest” of the spring, according to The Wall Street Journal. As the Journal reports, “The founding fathers and Mr. Burr are played by non-white actors—Mr. Miranda was born in New York to Puerto Rican parents—to underscore the diverse American experience.” The show’s run has been extended three times.
As it happens, the anticipation that awaits “Hamilton” comes as Republicans in the U.S. Senate tried for a third time last week to stop President Obama from allowing as many as five million immigrants who arrived in the U.S. unlawfully as children to remain here and work, study or serve in the military without fear of deportation.
The wrangling in the Senate follows passage along party lines in the House of a measure that would gut the president’s latest order and a similar initiative from three years ago. As the GOP’s moves suggest, immigration continues to drag down Republicans, who, with some exceptions, remain captive to the Tea Party, which opposes any action that might connote an easing at the border. As Elizabeth Drew writes in the latest issue of The New York Review of Books:
In less than two weeks in office, the House also voted to strip enforcement provisions from the Dodd–Frank bill to reform financial institutions, and to roll back some of the president’s immigration initiatives, a move that could end in the deportation of millions—this despite the deep concern of Republican pragmatists, including party chairman Reince Priebus, that unless the party can attract a great many more votes of Hispanics and other minorities, its chances in the Electoral College are dim for 2016.
Though Hamilton himself, who arrived in North America at about age 17, would have been too old and possibly too undocumented to qualify for the president’s policies, his spirit imbues them. As someone who has the privilege of performing pro bono legal service on behalf of immigrants, I have seen first hand the anticipation that accompanies the documenting of oneself and the hopefulness that greets the ability to work in, serve or otherwise contribute to this country. It’s hard to get more Hamiltonian.
Miranda depicts the Founding Fathers as upstarts who birthed a nation and as the forbears of the pushing back, from civil rights to hip-hop, that follows. Miranda traces a line from one to the other and captures the energy that America on its best days draws from those of us assembled here. “To me there’s nothing more fascinating than a roomful of young people just trying to look at the world and seeing how they can affect it as they’re being affected by it,” Christopher Jackson, who plays George Washington in the show, told the Times.
The idea of having a stake in one’s country runs through both the president’s order and Miranda’s show. “By telling the story of the founding of the country through the eyes of a bastard, immigrant orphan, told entirely by people of color, [Miranda] is saying, ‘This is our country. We get to lay claim to it,’” Oskar Eustis, the artistic director of the Public, told The New Yorker.
For his part, the president, recognizing the extent to which his actions resonate with this nation of immigrants, practically dares Republicans to go forward with their plans. “I will veto any legislation that got to my desk that took away the chance of these young people who grew up here and who are prepared to contribute to this country” he told young immigrants in a meeting last Wednesday.
The people whom the president aims to assist have been referred to as “Dreamers,” an acronym inspired by “Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors,” a cleanup of immigration laws first introduced nearly 14 years ago that would provide a path to citizenship for certain groups of green card holders.
Of course, dreams have spurred immigrants as long as there’s been an America. “Hey, you, I’m just like my country. I’m young, scrappy and hungry,” Miranda’s Hamilton announces in verse. “And I’m not throwing away my shot.”
