Two San Diegos

The evacuation of half a million residents in San Diego provided an inspiring picture of the way that an entire society can pull itself together to respond to a crisis. Almost unlimited social resources--food, clothing, shelter, fuel, and even cash--were instantly made available for free to help the displaced. And there were innumerable stories of individual acts of selflessness and heroism as people put everything on hold to pitch in for the rescue and relief efforts. The response to the fires also showed the viciousness and cruelty of a society that's been ripped in two by anti-immigrant racism.

San Diego County's population is about 30% Latino and the city is home to tens of thousands of undocumented immigrant workers. Like many other major American cities, San Diego is split in half by a color line, the San Diego River, which flows into the bay just north of the original Spanish mission. The farther north or south you travel, the more uniform the population. San Ysidro in the south is 75 percent Latino, while the North County coastal town of Carlsbad is 85 percent white. During the evacuation, San Diego's Latino and immigrant communities faced a second firestorm of scapegoating, racial profiling, harassment, and intimidation.

The Union Tribune played a key role in fanning the flames of racism. When a group of immigrants were caught in the Harris Fire and taken to the burn unit at UCSD Hospital, the UT ran the story under the inflammatory headline, "Illegal border crossers brave flames, get burned." Reporter Leslie Berenstein made her angle explicit, complaining in the third paragraph that UCSD "would not confirm the identity or immigration status of any of the 16 patients in the hospital's burn unit." Evidently, Berenstein felt this information was important enough to pursue with all the determination and zeal of a Bob Woodward. She published a follow-up story published a week later, "11 of 18 in burn unit undocumented." The subtitle declares, "UCSD cases put focus on who pays for care." The ghoulish story details the advanced techniques used by the burn center, including the grafting of "human cadaveric skin." But Berenstein isn't concerned with their effectiveness. Instead, she focuses on their expense and approvingly quotes a representative of an anti-immigrant think tank who suggests sending the patients to Mexico for care. The story also mentions in passing that four bodies had been found near the border, remarking only that "authorities suspect they crossed illegally before they died." The barely concealed implication is that they too might have ended up in the hospital at taxpayers' expense.

The fires unmasked anti-immigrant hatred not only on the front pages of the UT, but across the city. Immigrant agricultural workers at multiple sites were ordered to keep working despite heavy smoke and ash, in some cases even as flames approached. 477,000 reverse-911 calls went out in English only and there were very few bilingual staff at most evacuations centers, in some cases none. Volunteers at some centers took it upon themselves to ask for IDs and inquire about the immigration status of Latinos applying for relief. And after the Union Tribune published unsubstantiated rumors of looting in suburban neighborhoods, a smog of tension and suspicion began to mix with the smoke of the fires. At Del Mar Fairgrounds, Sheriff's deputies conducted a sweep, questioning Latino evacuees especially closely. And as people began to return to their homes, Latinos were grilled at check points across the county.

The atmosphere at Qualcomm Stadium, the "civilized" counterpart to the Superdome, was especially intense. On Wednesday, the third day of the fires, donated goods were so plentiful that relief workers told people to take as much as they needed for themselves and their families. A Latino family of about twelve adults and children accepted the offer, gathering up food, water, diapers, along with "puzzles and notebooks for the children to draw on and a cooler with juice and Gatorade." San Diego City Police detained them, allegedly for stealing, then turned them over to the Border Patrol who deported them to Mexico. The Border Patrol then stationed uniformed officers as "observers" at FEMA and Red Cross tables. In response to the intimidation, many families simply left, while others felt trapped inside. Wednesday night, San Diego Police launched a midnight sweep through the stadium, waking people up to ask for identification and rousting those who couldn't provide it. The next morning they set up ID check points at the entrances to the stadium.

Despite the flood of racism, the Union Tribune boasted about the response to the fires in what may be one of the most hypocritical headlines in its 135 history: "Regardless of ZIP code, we're all in this together." The truth is that, even in the midst of the city’s biggest disaster, there are two San Diegos, one for the rich and white, another for the poor and brown.

Divided by fire

Firestorm: Treatment of Vulnerable Populations During the San Diego Fires