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Jackson was the first American political leader to recognize and incorporate into his movement my community of Arab Americans and our domestic and foreign policy concerns.
Rev. Jesse Jackson, who passed away last week, was a larger-than-life figure who made enormous and consequential contributions to American life. He registered millions of voters laying the groundwork for a substantial increase in the number of Black elected officials across the country. He also succeeded in pressing major corporations to increase economic opportunities for Black Americans thereby significantly increasing the Black middle class.
As part of the younger generation of Black leaders who had developed a global consciousness, his agenda moved beyond civil rights to make support for movements for social justice and liberation part of the mainstream of American politics. Because of this, he was the first American political leader to recognize and incorporate into his movement my community of Arab Americans and our domestic and foreign policy concerns.
I first began working with Rev. Jesse Jackson in the late 1970s. His staff approached me to discuss his plans for a visit to Palestine-Israel to see for himself the situation in the occupied lands. The injustices he witnessed left an indelible impression, leaving him committed to addressing the centrality of Palestinian rights to Middle East peace.
In 1979, when US Ambassador to the United Nations Andrew Young was removed from his post for speaking with the Palestine Liberation Organization’s United Nations representative, many Black leaders, Reverend Jackson included, were outraged. It wasn’t just that Andy Young had been a colleague in the civil rights movement. Jackson could not accept that the US had committed itself to a “no talk” policy with the Palestinian leaders.
In all the years I worked with Rev. Jackson, I witnessed not only his commitment to justice and courage in the face of challenges, but also the extent to which he recognized that his personal power could make a difference on the world stage.
He resolved to visit Beirut to meet directly with PLO chief Yasser Arafat and demonstrate that “a no talk policy is no policy at all.” Before leaving, he asked to address my Palestine Human Rights Campaign convention, taking place at that time. His presence and his remarks were electrifying and drew national and international media coverage.
In 1983 Rev. Jackson approached me at a dinner and asked me to leave what I was doing and join his campaign for president. When I replied, “I’ve been organizing my community of Arab Americans for the last four years and I’m not sure I can leave what I’m doing,” he said, “You will do more for your community in the next four months than you’ve done in the last four years.” He was right.
Up until that point, Arab Americans had never been welcomed in American politics as an ethnic constituency, mainly because of our support for Palestinian human rights. Candidates had rejected our contributions and endorsements. No campaign had ever included an Arab American committee. And no candidate had raised the issues about which our community cared deeply.
Rev. Jackson changed all that, and the response from Arab Americans was overwhelming. In fact, we were so moved by that 1984 campaign, that we launched the Arab American Institute to focus on lessons we’d learned: increasing voter registration, encouraging candidate engagement, and the importance of bringing our concerns into the electoral arena.
Because Rev. Jackson had made it possible to speak about Palestine, we built coalitions around the issue during the 1988 presidential campaign. We elected a record number of delegates across the country, and built coalitions with Black, Latino, progressive Jewish delegates, and others. We passed resolutions supporting Palestinian rights in 10 state Democratic conventions. And at the national convention in Atlanta, we’d earned enough delegates to call for a minority plank on Palestinian rights.
There had never been a discussion about Palestine at a Democratic convention. In negotiations with the presumptive winner Michael Dukakis’s campaign, they were adamant that the issue would not be raised. In fact, Madeleine Albright, representing the Dukakis people, said if the “P word” was even mentioned at the convention, “all hell would break loose.” I told them not to play “chicken little” with us and insisted that the issue be discussed. Rev. Jackson asked me to present our plank from the podium of the convention and I did. It was a heady experience to be able to address the National Convention calling for “mutual recognition, territorial compromise, and self-determination for both Israelis and Palestinians.” My speech was preceded by a floor demonstration of more than 1000 delegates carrying signs calling for Israeli-Palestinian peace and a two-state solution and waving Palestinian flags. It was the first (and unfortunately, the last) time that that issue was raised at a party convention.
The backlash was intense. While Rev. Jackson had secured a position for me on the Democratic National Committee, party leaders told me I should withdraw because my presence would make me a target for Republicans and for some Jewish Democrats, who would use an Arab American in a DNC leadership role to attack Dukakis. Incoming Party Chair Ron Brown thought it best that I withdraw but promised to make it up to us. And he did. He became the first party chair to host Arab Americans at party headquarters, to meet with Arab American Democrats around the country, and to address our national conventions. A few years into his term, he appointed me to fill a vacancy on the DNC where I’ve been ever since.
In 1994 in the months after Oslo Accords signing, Rev. Jackson accepted an invitation to be keynote speaker at an international peace conference the Palestinians were convening in Jerusalem. Once there, the Israelis said that we could not meet in Jerusalem or hold a political meeting with Palestinians. Rev. Jackson was determined to go forward. We spoke with Prime Minister Yitzak Rabin and Foreign Minister Shimon Perez urging them to allow the event to go forward. Even though they were unrelenting, Jackson convened the meeting and then announced that we’d march from the hotel to the Orient House, the Jerusalem headquarters of the Palestinians. The Israeli military surrounded the hotel and told us we could not leave.
True to form, Rev. Jackson announced that we’d march anyway and so we left the hotel walking through the lines of Israeli soldiers. To be honest, I was frightened, but what happened surprised us. Because of the power of his personality and his work, Jackson’s presence was formidable on the world stage. Once the Israelis soldiers saw him leading this peaceful march right up to their blockade, they parted and not only allowed him through, but many gathered around, wanting to touch or shake his hand, asking to have their pictures taken with him. The Israeli commanders were furious and continued barking orders to their troops to back away. The soldiers ignored them. We marched to Orient House and had our meeting.
In all the years I worked with Rev. Jackson, I witnessed not only his commitment to justice and courage in the face of challenges, but also the extent to which he recognized that his personal power could make a difference on the world stage. He freed prisoners. He opened doors to negotiations. He gave hope to the hopeless and voice to the voiceless. He also challenged the Democratic Party to be principled and consistent in its commitment to human rights and justice. He will be missed, but his legacy lives on in the progressive movement for domestic and foreign policy change that he helped shape.
From Reagan to Trump, when a U.S. president or Congress has sought to take measures curtailing a range of civil liberties, they have exploited the perception of the danger posed by Arabs to justify their actions.
For decades now, Arabs, in particular Palestinians, and supporters of Palestinian rights have been the weak link in the civil liberties chain.
During this period, when a U.S. president or Congress has sought to take measures curtailing a range of civil liberties, they would exploit the perception of the danger posed by Arabs to justify their actions. They feel comfortable in doing this because they understand that the negative stereotypes associated with Arabs make the measures more acceptable and opposition to their efforts less likely to occur. Examples abound.
On three separate occasions in the 1980s, when the Reagan administration sought to roll back civil liberties, they began their assault with an attack on Arabs’ rights. Having established the identity of Arab or Palestinian with terrorist, they assumed no public support would be forthcoming in defense of Arab civil liberties. On the other hand, if their targets had been persons of another ethnicity, opposition would have been more likely.
In 1981, the Reagan administration issued an executive order that dismantled all earlier reforms by the Carter administration to outlaw domestic surveillance by the CIA and FBI, using Arabs as the scapegoats to justify this measure. As a result, for five years, the FBI infiltrated and disrupted Palestinian student groups nationwide—finally disbanding the effort with nothing to show but agents’ hours wasted and millions of dollars spent.
What Trump’s administration policies share in common with his predecessors is the use of Arabs, in particular Palestinians, and their supporters, as convenient scapegoats to justify the erosion of rights and liberties.
Reagan’s Department of Justice was also able to rewrite U.S. extradition law, making it easier to fulfill the requests of foreign countries to extradite individuals without due process protections. They did so using the case of a Palestinian visa holder whose extradition had been requested by Israel. Based on this case, Congress rewrote the laws affecting all extradition requests.
It was also under former President Ronald Reagan that the Immigration and Naturalization Service released its “Alien Terrorist and Undesirables Contingency Plan,” detailing steps under provisions of the McCarren Walter Act to imprison, try in secret, and deport large numbers of aliens based solely on their ethnicity or their political beliefs or associations. Consistent with the approach taken, the “Plan” makes several references to Arab immigrants. In fact, the test case used to lay the groundwork for this “Plan” was the arrest of seven Palestinians and the Kenyan wife of one of them, charging them with nothing more than their political beliefs and association.
In 1995, then-President Bill Clinton issued an executive order “Prohibiting Transactions with Terrorists Who Threatened to Disrupt the Middle East Peace Process” and followed by the Omnibus Anti-Terrorism Act of 1995. Both efforts introduced draconian measures that would seriously erode civil and political rights guaranteed to U.S. citizens and residents under the Constitution and international law. The law, for example, gave far-reaching powers to law-enforcement agencies, removed the presumption of innocence for those under investigation, made it easier for the government to conduct surveillance against persons suspected of violating conspiracy laws, allowed for prohibition of “material support deemed by the president to benefit terrorist organizations,” established procedures allowing the government to detain and deport individuals based on secret evidence with no opportunity for the detainees to defend themselves, and allowed law-enforcement agencies to conduct surveillance on individuals or groups, based purely on their beliefs and associations. Using the executive order and new legislation the Clinton administration unleashed a nationwide profiling program at airports, which harassed and questioned hundreds of Arab and Arab American airline passengers, even before checking in for their flights, based solely on their dress, appearance, or Arabic names.
After 9/11, the Bush administration and Congress upped the ante. While intelligence failures and lax airline safety requirements were at fault in allowing terrorists to be trained in the U.S. and carry out their horrific attacks, then-President George W. Bush issued a series of orders that resulted in the roundup and deportation of thousands of innocent Arab students, workers, and visitors. They also ordered tens of thousands of Arab and Muslim visa holders to report to immigration offices where many more were held for deportation. The anti-terrorism legislation that passed through Congress allowed expanded surveillance by law enforcement, including warrantless wiretapping, searching library records, and an expanded use of profiling. Using the expanded powers given to them by the administration, law enforcement agents infiltrated mosques and Arab social clubs, entrapping a few gullible individuals in plots that were often organized by the law enforcement agencies themselves.
This is only a partial history, but it lays the predicate for the actions being taken by the Trump administration: threats to civil liberties like freedom of speech, assembly, and academic freedom; expanded authority given to law enforcement agencies to use unconstitutional measures to detain and deport individuals based on their ethnicity or political beliefs; and an expanded interpretation of the “material support” argument used by the Reagan and Clinton administrations to violate the protected rights of citizens and residents.
There are differences to be sure. While the measures taken during the Reagan, Clinton, and Bush administrations were based on exaggerated fears of terrorism in the U.S., it’s important to note that a review of the profiling, surveillance, and immigration programs established during these administrations did little to uncover or prosecute actual cases of terrorism. At the end of the day, despite billions of dollars spent and precious law enforcement resources expended, these programs did nothing more than contribute to an expansion of law enforcement powers and erosion of rights. In the case of the Trump orders, there’s not even the pretense of fighting terrorism—rather, an exercise in the brutal use of power to create fear and force institutions and individuals to cower and submit.
What Trump’s administration policies share in common with his predecessors is the use of Arabs, in particular Palestinians, and their supporters, as convenient scapegoats to justify the erosion of rights and liberties. What Trump knows is that in the midst of Israel’s war on Gaza, his support base will enthusiastically back his efforts. He also knows that liberals in Congress, who might otherwise oppose his policies, will be hesitant to offer full-throated support to the victims of his policies if it appears they are defending Palestinians or critics of Israel. For Trump, it’s the perfect storm. For those who care about defending rights and liberties, it’s just another example of Arabs, Palestinians, and those who defend them being the weak link in the civil liberties chain.
Instead of blaming the people they let down, the Harris campaign needs to look in the mirror and find fault with itself.
There’s an insidious blame game occurring on social media. Whenever U.S. President Donald Trump takes one of his outrageous actions, Arab Americans are subjected to a flood of abusive messages. The “nicer” comments simply blame us for Mr. Trump’s victory, but others are punctuated by obscenities, vulgarities, and threats. There appears to be a concerted effort to absolve the Biden White House for their failed policies and the Harris presidential campaign for their bad political decisions and instead blame Arab Americans for Trump’s victory.
Being threatened or targeted for blame is nothing new for Arab Americans. For decades now, we’ve had to fend off abusive comments holding us responsible for everything from the 1973 Oil Embargo to terrorist attacks, whether here in the U.S. or in the Middle East.
I have experienced this personally. In the last two decades there have been four convictions for these kinds of threats directed against me, my family, or my staff. During one two-year stretch, between 2015 and 2017, we received 772 outrageous email threats accusing me of planning, training, and funding dozens of acts of violence.
Given the fact that Arab Americans and their concerns were given such short shrift by the Harris campaign, it is wrong to hold them responsible for the loss in November.
What’s happening today is different in two ways. Instead of being accused of terrorism, we are being held responsible for Trump’s victory. Some of those targeting us with abuse aren’t mentally deranged individuals who hover about on the right wing of U.S. politics, they are from the left. And while some of those blaming us for Harris’ defeat are unbalanced hate-filled characters, other accusations come from seasoned liberal political operatives or mainstream pundits who ought to know better.
To even suggest that Arab Americans are responsible for this election’s outcome is false, foolish, and irresponsible. In the first place, the Harris campaign didn’t need any help, they lost on their own. They may continue to maintain that their campaign was “flawless,” but if that’s the case, why did Democrats lose 45% of the Latino vote, or a significant share of Black males, or get wiped out among the white working-class?
These failures can’t be pinned on Arab Americans. They were the result of a failed campaign strategy designed and executed by consultants who are unprincipled, out of touch with the changing electorate, risk-averse, and unimaginative. Instead of understanding the changing contours and growing diversity of the Hispanic, Asian, and Black communities, they either took them for granted or approached them with decades-old “one-size-fits-all” messaging. Added to this was their failure to address the economic insecurity of the working class of all races, and the misguided attempt to replace voters they were losing by winning moderate Republican-leaning, white suburban women by campaigning with former Congressman Liz Cheney (whose policies are neither moderate nor appealing to suburban women).
When tallying the “strategists’” failures, we must add former Vice President Kamala Harris’ failure to meet with Arab American leaders, demonstrate any distance from former President Joe Biden’s disastrous blank-check support for Israel, and the campaign’s refusal to allow a Palestinian woman, who had lost family in Gaza, to speak at the Democratic convention. All of these failures took a toll on Arab American support for the Democratic ticket.
Having witnessed the traumatizing genocide that unfolded in Gaza and the enabling role played by the Biden administration, Arab Americans were in a bind. Although for the past two decades they’d voted for Democrats by a two-to-one margin, many found it difficult to support campaigns that ignored them and their pain. They asked for gestures of support and got none. And so, in the end, instead of the 60-30 margin won by Biden in 2020, Trump and Harris split the Arab American vote, with a small percentage supporting a third-party candidate, and a larger than average number not voting at all.
Given the fact that Arab Americans and their concerns were given such short shrift by the Harris campaign, it is wrong to hold them responsible for the loss in November. There’s a bit of racism at work here. If the concerns of any other group (ethnic, religious, or racial) had been so ignored, would they be scorned for abandoning the party that offended them? And when Trump started mass deportations, I haven’t seen Latino voters blamed or targeted with hate because 45% of them didn’t vote for Harris. And of course, they should not be because instead of blaming the people they let down, the campaign needs to look in the mirror and find fault with itself. I would simply have hoped the same courtesy could be extended to my community.
Early on, I warned the Biden-Harris campaigns that they were at risk of losing Arab Americans. My concerns were shrugged off with, “When it comes down to a binary choice—us versus Trump—they’ll support us.” I told them that was insensitive to my community’s pain and politically stupid. They were wrong and I was right.
Despite all of this, I was disturbed when some in my community endorsed Donald Trump, or when others began beating the drums for an unserious third-party candidate. I went to Michigan and joined several Arab American leaders for a Harris endorsement event. While I too was angry at Biden and deeply disappointed by the Harris campaign, I felt strongly that the dangers to our community, our allies, and our country’s democracy were too great to let Trump back into the White House. I understood my community’s pain and anger, but felt that it was important for us to rise above our hurt and consider how much worse it would be if Trump won—worse not only for us, but also for many other vulnerable communities here at home and abroad. As we can see from the new outrages being enacted daily, these fears were justified.
But despite this debate internal to my community, when all is said and done, I insist: Don’t blame Arab Americans. Blame the Biden administration and the Harris campaign. Don’t make us scapegoats, because even if Harris had carried the Arab American vote in Michigan and won that state, she still would have lost the other six battleground states and the election. And even if every Arab American voter had turned the other cheek and cast a ballot for Harris, she still would have lost the popular vote.