Arab Americans do not form their foreign policy opinions like other Americans, but neither are they entirely different. To emphasize the similarities would deny the uniqueness of the group just as emphasizing the differences would take the group out of history, as if nothing in the American experience had an impact. In reality, Arab-Americans live on both sides of the hyphen.

Professor Ronald Stockton

President Bush may have contributed to the problem. After September 11, Bush drew a distinction between radical and mainstream Muslims. This qualification was beneficial at the time, protecting a vulnerable minority, but it contained a trap not immediately obvious. It compelled Muslims to claim the mantle of moderation. Put bluntly, they were presumed guilty unless they distanced themselves from Islamic militancy. Muslims could theoretically be accepted as individuals if they proved by words and expressions of patriotism to be “moderate” rather than “radical.” But even then, there were limits. Leaders were repeatedly subjected to accusatory statements such as, “Why do you not renounce terrorism?” This question doubles as a non-falsifiable accusation without an acceptable answer. When a high-profile Muslim group organized a mass petition against terrorism entitled “Not in the name of Islam” and put together a coalition of religious leaders to issue a fatwa (religious opinion) declaring attacks on civilians to be a violation of Islamic law, it was still continually attacked for not renouncing terrorism. The technique was disturbingly reminiscent of the McCarthy-era query, “Are you now or have you ever been a Communist?” Such questions are designed to besmirch. They imply that the person asking them has knowledge of misconduct and the moral authority to demand an answer. Any answer — an affirmation of innocence or a contemptuous refusal to respond — is considered evidence of guilt or deceit.

But even when individuals are accepted, the community is still at risk. As Professor Michael Suleiman put it, “Arabs are doing fine as individuals, but not as a community. The whole community is suspect.” Suleiman’s observation echoes what Sartre wrote about the French Jews. The view of Jewish rights dating to the French Revolution had always been “everything for the Jew as an individual, nothing for the Jews as a community.” This put Jews into a dilemma of being accepted only if they were not Jews: “The perpetual obligation to prove that he is French puts the Jew in a situation of guilt. If on every occasion he does not do more than everybody else, much more than anybody else, he is guilty, he is a dirty Jew—and one might say: To judge by the qualities we demand of a Jew if he is to be assimilated as a ‘true’ Frenchman, how many Frenchmen would be found worthy of being Jews in their own country?” A similar predicament is pressing upon Arab Americans today, especially Muslims.

Most Arab Americans also see the idea of a clash of civilizations as threatening. If the public came to think in terms of fundamental conflict, that would be dangerous for those with an Arab world heritage, even the 58% who are Christians. The rhetoric around this doctrine has more to do with mobilizing popular support for controversial foreign policies than with an analysis of international relations. While the idea is often presented as a description of how they see us, it is more accurately a description of how we see them, and how we plan to treat those who resist our politics. For this reason, it is ultimately a domestic political debate over influence and status. As such, most Arab Americans, especially Muslims, see it as coming from elements not friendly to their welfare.