On being an American -- and finding a way to prove it

As we approach the 239th anniversary of our nation's founding, a recent story from the island of Hispaniola caught my attention.

Haiti and the Dominican Republic occupy opposite ends of the island. Thousands of Haitians have gone to the Dominican Republic in search of jobs. Relations between the two countries are tenuous.

What made news was the Dominican Republic's decision to require documentation of Haitians' residency status. Without proper proof, there appeared to be the threat of being deported to Haiti.

Finding proof of who you are and where you should be sounds simple enough, but it can be an insurmountable task, particularly in countries where bureaucracies are in shambles and access to things like birth certificates can be virtually nonexistent.

Did I just say "in countries where bureaucracies are in shambles?"

Think for a moment. Think of all the ways Americans -- the same Americans who have thrived on freedom and democracy for more than two centuries -- are required to prove who they are.

You can't enroll in school these days without a birth certificate. If you are stopped by a police officer, you might be asked for your driver's license. You need documents to get documents, like applying for a passport.

Even though you can get an official copy of your birth certificate in Missouri through a fairly simple process, who's to say you are the person named on the birth certificate? How would you prove you are you, if push came to shove?

What with the explosion of Internet fraud, it appears to be easy to steal someone else's "documentation." You are constantly reminded not to share Social Security numbers and account numbers online, unless you are absolutely sure you are sending this information to a secure site.

But how can you be "absolutely sure?" How do you know if a website is "secure?"

There's a running joke in my family that I will not vacation in Mexico. It's not because I don't like Mexico. I would love to see ruins of ancient civilizations and tropical beauty, especially along ocean beaches.

But I have an irrational fear of winding up in a Mexican jail for no good reason. In my mind, Mexican jails are where legitimate documents like passports and other ID are confiscated or "lost" to extort huge amounts of dollars.

Never mind that hundreds of thousands of Americans visit Mexico every year and have a wonderful time. There are always, you know, exceptions.

I am only once removed from the generation whose births were not routinely recorded. My mother was born at home, not at a hospital with strict procedures for filling out birth certificates. Fortunately, my grandmother insisted on having the doctor, who arrived shortly after my mother's birth, fill out the proper forms. Unfortunately, Dr. Jones took some liberties with spelling. Hence, my mother's legal middle name, which was supposed to be Cille, turned out to be Seal. She hated that name all of her 84 years and refused to use it even when she had to fill out legal documents and other important forms.

If I were to leave today for the Dominican Republic, I would most certainly have a proper passport and driver's license with me. But without them -- say they were lost, stolen, confiscated -- how would I prove I was the Joe Sullivan I claimed to be? Might I wind up being sent to Haiti?

According to the news reports, many of the Haitians being required to come up with identity/residency documentation were born in the Dominican Republic. Their parents, though, may have been in the country illegally. The Dominicans seem to be saying that doesn't matter. Without proper papers you may be sent to Haiti, regardless of the circumstances.

OK. Here's the point where I might be tempted to draw some comparisons between the situation on Hispaniola and along our southern border with Mexico. But those arguments are well fueled and don't need any kindling from me.

Bottom line, I'm worried that Americans in America face identity hurdles too. To get on a commercial airplane these days you must have a ticket, a boarding pass and proof of ID, such as driver's license or passport. You will be searched and possibly probed before you are allowed to take a seat several inches too narrow and with no knee room at all.

While waiting for takeoff, any offhand remark about skyjacking, terrorism or the bureaucracy that runs airport security these days could get you ejected from the flight and arrested.

What would I do? First, I would assert my rights as a U.S. citizen. And I would inform authorities that I have a flight connection to make in Phoenix, or Fort Worth, if I'm headed east. And, when asked, I would say that my name is Joe Sullivan.

And that's when I might hear those dreaded two words: "Prove it."

That's when the fireworks would begin.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.