foreignpolicy--2020-06-19--The Legacy of American Racism at Home and Abroad

The Legacy of American Racism at Home and Abroad It used to be that Americans had to wait decades to learn how U.S. national security professionals viewed racism within the United States .
Only declassified reports and personal memoirs revealed how senior officials and diplomats condemned segregation , inequality , and racial injustice in their own country .
Many of them saw the evils of racism as an affront to U.S. values and an impediment to the country ’ s foreign-policy goals , especially in sub-Saharan Africa .
They delivered their points directly or indirectly—in situation rooms , policy debates @ @ @ @ @ @ @ however , were rarely offered publicly or directly to Americans .
It was inappropriate , many believed , for foreign-policy specialists to discuss domestic issues .
This artificial divide between the professional and personal sidelined some of our sharpest foreign-policy minds from addressing systematic racism in America .
The national uproar over the killing of George Floyd may finally tear down the wall between the personal and professional .
Over the past two weeks , numerous U.S. diplomats of different races have said exactly what they think .
The U.S. ambassador to Zimbabwe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ … I have known that my rights and my body were not fully my own , ” while the chief of mission in Eritrea reaffirmed that “ George Floyd and Eric Garner and Michael Brown and Freddie Gray and Trayvon Martin and too many other young black men should be alive today.
” If the United States is going to heal its society and remain a source of inspiration abroad , it has to publicly and openly embrace self-criticism .
Foreign-policy practitioners have to do what was once rare : use their platforms @ @ @ @ @ @ @ audiences abroad about racism and change the way the foreign-policy community operates .
Domestic racism has long undermined U.S. foreign policy .
With the civil rights movement coinciding with the dawn of independence in sub-Saharan Africa , national security officials swiftly labeled segregation and racism as threats to U.S. foreign policy toward the region .
As the public was to learn years later , U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower ’ s secretary of state , John Foster Dulles , noted that the situation in Little Rock , Arkansas , was “ ruining our @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in Asia and Africa will be worse for us than Hungary was for the Russians.
” Officials in John F. Kennedy ’ s administration were even more forthright : Kennedy adviser ( and , later , a senator from Pennsylvania ) Harris Wofford advised that racial justice at home would “ do more good in promoting good relations with Africa than anything else we can do.
” It was infrequent when these sentiments were shared publicly , though Kennedy ’ s assistant secretary of state for African affairs ( and former governor of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Williams , denounced racism as a “ blight on America ” in a speech at the University of Oklahoma .
This viewpoint reverberated through subsequent administrations .
President Lyndon B. Johnson ’ s U.S. Information Agency director Carl Rowan shared in a memo that although African reactions to the Civil Rights Act were highly favorable , “ some evidence exists of an increasing impatience with what is regarded as the lagging eradication of racial discrimination in the United States.
” In a 1973 memo , U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for African @ @ @ @ @ @ @ credibility on moral questions of racial equality is challenged.
” Perhaps it is no wonder that U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger later trashed the Africa bureau staff in a memoir for “ casting themselves as the defenders of American idealism.
” While the historical record is replete with foreign-policy professionals talking about race and racism in the United States within the corridors of power , few of those discussions took place in the public square .
Apart from a few speeches at universities and with civil rights leaders and interest groups , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sharing their personal views in real time and in public settings .
As a white man , I see echoes of how policymakers grapple with racial discrimination in my own life .
I know how easy it is to cite professional reasons to stay silent about racism .
With family and friends , it can be easy to talk about racism ’ s vile legacy in America .
But at work ?
On a dais ?
Foreign-policy specialists , I contend , do not have a remit for domestic issues .
While discussing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Hatch Act , which prohibits most employees of the executive branch from engaging in many political activities , when I was in government , it was convenient to lean into the act .
After all , what does it mean to use one ’ s official title or position to talk about social issues , such as police brutality and racial discrimination ?
Even if speaking about racism isn ’ t necessarily political activity , didn ’ t I need permission ?
Such conversations required taking a stand , being counted , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pretty risky , and , as a rule , government bureaucrats don ’ t like risk .
As an African American man working in foreign policy , meanwhile , it is impossible for me to ignore the connections and contradictions between U.S. domestic and foreign policy .
I stand in a place that would be familiar to generations of my forebears—faced with the prospect of advocating for rights and freedoms abroad that we have yet to fully achieve or enjoy at home .
My family has been in America since at least 1827 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ produced in those nearly 200 years , I am of the first to be born with the full rights of citizenship .
It strains credulity that they could display such passion and acuity for police abuses against Africans in Harare , Lagos , and Nairobi , yet be so deliberately obtuse to the same injustices faced by African Americans in Baltimore , Ferguson , or Minneapolis .
It has been difficult to square the United States ’ image as the global standard-bearer for human rights , individual freedoms , and democratic governance with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ armored vehicles taking to U.S. streets ; of peaceful protesters being met with rubber bullets , tear gas , and batons ; and of senior government officials in the legislative and executive branches calling for us to “ send in the troops ” and “ dominate the battlespace , ” by which they mean the public square of towns and cities across the nation where citizens exercise their rights to assemble and protest .
I often encounter these biting contradictions in professional settings .
Engaging with white counterparts on issues of governance , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I am just as likely to be struck by their silence to our domestic parallels with these challenges as I am by their insightful observations of what is happening abroad .
It strains credulity that they could display such passion and acuity for police abuses against Africans in Harare , Lagos , and Nairobi , yet be so deliberately obtuse to the same injustices faced by African Americans in Baltimore , Ferguson , or Minneapolis .
As the writer and activist James Baldwin once said : “ I can ’ t believe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what you do.
” The measure of rhetorical commitments to equality will be in organizational actions to reexamine their hiring practices ; promote staff diversity ; address issues of salary equity ; and rethink the composition of their boards and executive leadership .
Foreign-policy specialists have a particular obligation to address issues of systemic racism and discrimination in the United States , and those who have been quiet for far too long must take responsibility for inaction or silence , rejecting excuses that professional activities are separate from personal views .
It is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ press for change , and it is necessary if U.S. diplomacy is to carry weight in Africa and elsewhere .
Offering a platform for African and African American journalists , academics , and activists to comment on and condemn Floyd ’ s murder and police brutality is one way to start .
Similarly , foreign-policy practitioners need to engage local communities at home and abroad .
Local communities can speak to the ties between U.S. foreign policy in Africa and the persistence of racism in the United States .
One of us has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a local prison , bringing together these two strands for incarcerated citizens .
This can be replicated outside of the United States , with diplomats speaking frankly about the inequalities of U.S. institutions , a recommitment to right historical wrongs , and how that will reshape American foreign policy .
In times of national crisis , Americans often hear political , civic , and business leaders decry , “ We are better than this !
” Now is the chance for the foreign-policy community to prove it .

It used to be that Americans had to wait decades to learn how U.S. national security professionals viewed racism within the United States. Only declassified reports and personal memoirs revealed how senior officials and diplomats condemned segregation, inequality, and racial injustice in their own country. Many of them saw the evils of racism as an affront to U.S. values and an impediment to the country’s foreign-policy goals, especially in sub-Saharan Africa. They delivered their points directly or indirectly—in situation rooms, policy debates, and briefings. These critiques, however, were rarely offered publicly or directly to Americans. It was inappropriate, many believed, for foreign-policy specialists to discuss domestic issues. This artificial divide between the professional and personal sidelined some of our sharpest foreign-policy minds from addressing systematic racism in America.
It used to be that Americans had to wait decades to learn how U.S. national security professionals viewed racism within the United States. Only declassified reports and personal memoirs revealed how senior officials and diplomats condemned segregation, inequality, and racial injustice in their own country. Many of them saw the evils of racism as an affront to U.S. values and an impediment to the country’s foreign-policy goals, especially in sub-Saharan Africa. They delivered their points directly or indirectly—in situation rooms, policy debates, and briefings. These critiques, however, were rarely offered publicly or directly to Americans. It was inappropriate, many believed, for foreign-policy specialists to discuss domestic issues. This artificial divide between the professional and personal sidelined some of our sharpest foreign-policy minds from addressing systematic racism in America.
The national uproar over the killing of George Floyd may finally tear down the wall between the personal and professional. Over the past two weeks, numerous U.S. diplomats of different races have said exactly what they think. The U.S. ambassador to Zimbabwe recalled that “as an African American … I have known that my rights and my body were not fully my own,” while the chief of mission in Eritrea reaffirmed that “George Floyd and Eric Garner and Michael Brown and Freddie Gray and Trayvon Martin and too many other young black men should be alive today.”
If the United States is going to heal its society and remain a source of inspiration abroad, it has to publicly and openly embrace self-criticism. Foreign-policy practitioners have to do what was once rare: use their platforms to speak to the American people and audiences abroad about racism and change the way the foreign-policy community operates.
Domestic racism has long undermined U.S. foreign policy. With the civil rights movement coinciding with the dawn of independence in sub-Saharan Africa, national security officials swiftly labeled segregation and racism as threats to U.S. foreign policy toward the region. As the public was to learn years later, U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, noted that the situation in Little Rock, Arkansas, was “ruining our foreign policy. The effect of this in Asia and Africa will be worse for us than Hungary was for the Russians.” Officials in John F. Kennedy’s administration were even more forthright: Kennedy adviser (and, later, a senator from Pennsylvania) Harris Wofford advised that racial justice at home would “do more good in promoting good relations with Africa than anything else we can do.” It was infrequent when these sentiments were shared publicly, though Kennedy’s assistant secretary of state for African affairs (and former governor of Michigan), G. Mennen “Soapy” Williams, denounced racism as a “blight on America” in a speech at the University of Oklahoma.
This viewpoint reverberated through subsequent administrations. President Lyndon B. Johnson’s U.S. Information Agency director Carl Rowan shared in a memo that although African reactions to the Civil Rights Act were highly favorable, “some evidence exists of an increasing impatience with what is regarded as the lagging eradication of racial discrimination in the United States.” In a 1973 memo, U.S. Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs David Newsom argued that “our credibility on moral questions of racial equality is challenged.” Perhaps it is no wonder that U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger later trashed the Africa bureau staff in a memoir for “casting themselves as the defenders of American idealism.”
While the historical record is replete with foreign-policy professionals talking about race and racism in the United States within the corridors of power, few of those discussions took place in the public square. Apart from a few speeches at universities and with civil rights leaders and interest groups, U.S. diplomats and other officials shirked from sharing their personal views in real time and in public settings.
Seoul Embassy Black Lives Matter
Such silence and disengagement is a luxury not afforded to all. The two authors of this piece have long backgrounds in foreign policy—in international nongovernmental organizations, the United Nations, the intelligence community, and the National Security Council. But as a white man and an African American man, our experiences grappling with the impact of racism and our role in combatting it couldn’t be more different.
As a white man, I see echoes of how policymakers grapple with racial discrimination in my own life. I know how easy it is to cite professional reasons to stay silent about racism. With family and friends, it can be easy to talk about racism’s vile legacy in America. But at work? On a dais? Foreign-policy specialists, I contend, do not have a remit for domestic issues. While discussing social issues is not a violation of the Hatch Act, which prohibits most employees of the executive branch from engaging in many political activities, when I was in government, it was convenient to lean into the act. After all, what does it mean to use one’s official title or position to talk about social issues, such as police brutality and racial discrimination? Even if speaking about racism isn’t necessarily political activity, didn’t I need permission? Such conversations required taking a stand, being counted, and opposing the system. That seemed pretty risky, and, as a rule, government bureaucrats don’t like risk.
As an African American man working in foreign policy, meanwhile, it is impossible for me to ignore the connections and contradictions between U.S. domestic and foreign policy. I stand in a place that would be familiar to generations of my forebears—faced with the prospect of advocating for rights and freedoms abroad that we have yet to fully achieve or enjoy at home. My family has been in America since at least 1827. Of the eight generations it has produced in those nearly 200 years, I am of the first to be born with the full rights of citizenship.
It strains credulity that they could display such passion and acuity for police abuses against Africans in Harare, Lagos, and Nairobi, yet be so deliberately obtuse to the same injustices faced by African Americans in Baltimore, Ferguson, or Minneapolis. It has been difficult to square the United States’ image as the global standard-bearer for human rights, individual freedoms, and democratic governance with recent images of militarized police forces and armored vehicles taking to U.S. streets; of peaceful protesters being met with rubber bullets, tear gas, and batons; and of senior government officials in the legislative and executive branches calling for us to “send in the troops” and “dominate the battlespace,” by which they mean the public square of towns and cities across the nation where citizens exercise their rights to assemble and protest.
I often encounter these biting contradictions in professional settings. Engaging with white counterparts on issues of governance, human rights, and conflict in Africa, I am just as likely to be struck by their silence to our domestic parallels with these challenges as I am by their insightful observations of what is happening abroad. It strains credulity that they could display such passion and acuity for police abuses against Africans in Harare, Lagos, and Nairobi, yet be so deliberately obtuse to the same injustices faced by African Americans in Baltimore, Ferguson, or Minneapolis. As the writer and activist James Baldwin once said: “I can’t believe what you say, because I see what you do.”
There must be a break from past practices. Diplomats and foreign-policy leaders must raise their voices at home—and continue to keep them loud abroad in recognition of the inextricable linkages between the two. It has been encouraging to see U.S. embassies in Africa and elsewhere issue statements of condemnation for the killing of Floyd or hang Black Lives Matter banners outside their buildings. But these sentiments and gestures have to be backed by substantive policy change. They have to match the intensity and urgency of those on the streets demanding justice and accountability for those who have been killed, including Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery.
The measure of rhetorical commitments to equality will be in organizational actions to reexamine their hiring practices; promote staff diversity; address issues of salary equity; and rethink the composition of their boards and executive leadership. Foreign-policy specialists have a particular obligation to address issues of systemic racism and discrimination in the United States, and those who have been quiet for far too long must take responsibility for inaction or silence, rejecting excuses that professional activities are separate from personal views.
It is possible to contribute to the conversation and press for change, and it is necessary if U.S. diplomacy is to carry weight in Africa and elsewhere. Offering a platform for African and African American journalists, academics, and activists to comment on and condemn Floyd’s murder and police brutality is one way to start. Similarly, foreign-policy practitioners need to engage local communities at home and abroad. Local communities can speak to the ties between U.S. foreign policy in Africa and the persistence of racism in the United States. One of us has been teaching classes on U.S.-Africa policy at a local prison, bringing together these two strands for incarcerated citizens. This can be replicated outside of the United States, with diplomats speaking frankly about the inequalities of U.S. institutions, a recommitment to right historical wrongs, and how that will reshape American foreign policy.
In times of national crisis, Americans often hear political, civic, and business leaders decry, “We are better than this!” Now is the chance for the foreign-policy community to prove it.


Malaysia’s Coronavirus Scapegoats

Earlier this year , Malaysia made headlines when a mass religious gathering at a Kuala Lumpur mosque became the largest known coronavirus vector in Southeast Asia at the time .
Among the more than 12,500 Muslims who attended the services—most of them Malaysian and about 1,500 visiting from neighboring countries—were at least hundreds of migrants and refugees residing in Kuala Lumpur .
The Malaysian government asked attendees , irrespective of their legal immigration status in the country , to present themselves for free testing if they exhibited symptoms , and it assured that no arrests would be made .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ operations would be suspended for the duration of Malaysia ’ s lockdown—which began on March 18 and has been considerably relaxed in phases to continue until at least Aug. 31 , with most economic sectors resuming early last month .
Since those promises were made , however , the government has backpedaled .
In May , Malaysian authorities carried out at least four immigration crackdowns and arrested more than 2,000 undocumented migrants—including asylum-seekers and at least 98 children .
The move has echoed a growing xenophobia amid the pandemic-related economic slowdown .
Malaysia @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has focused on treating all infected individuals without discrimination , but the roundups contradict that and could undo its progress .
Local and international human rights groups have vehemently criticized the mass arrests as counterproductive in fighting an unprecedented public health crisis .
Detainees were reportedly cramped into small vans and deprived of face masks before being sent to Malaysia ’ s immigration detention centers—which have been revealed to be overcrowded and unsanitary .
Such conditions are ripe for the virus to spread and , looking ahead , the fear of arrest may @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they exhibit symptoms .
Malaysian authorities rounded up these migrants in so-called red zones that had been placed under what are known as enhanced movement control orders .
These areas have posted higher numbers of infections and are typically walled off with barbed wire to prohibit anyone leaving or entering while all inhabitants are tested .
Malaysia had seen how neighboring Singapore had gone from success story to cautionary tale in overlooking the susceptibility of its migrant population to the virus , and it had escalated its response to prevent the same fate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ restrictions were a crucial part of the country ’ s early lockdown and targeted testing approach and they have proved effective in Malaysia ’ s fight against the coronavirus .
By late April , Malaysia announced that it had successfully flattened the curve of coronavirus cases and was in recovery mode , reducing Malaysia ’ s R0 number , a measure of contagion , from 3.55 to 0.6 .
This , despite the fact that there was a political vacuum in Malaysia for a week in late February before a new government under @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a political coup .
Ismail Sabri Yaakob , the defense minister , stressed that Malaysia had the right to protect the integrity of its borders and that the arrests of undocumented migrants were needed to prevent the spread the disease to “ our own innocent citizens ” before the enhanced restrictions were lifted .
But by turning a public health directive into “ a tool to round up undocumented migrants , ” as Amnesty International Malaysia put it , and then carrying out mass arrests , Malaysia may undermine the progress it has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ public prejudice against migrants .
The first warning sign came when at least eight Myanmar nationals deported in May tested positive upon arriving in their home country .
This prompted the Malaysian authorities to ramp up the testing of detainees .
They found that the virus has now infected over 770 detainees across four immigration detention centers , including some migrants picked up before Malaysia ’ s national lockdown was imposed .
After the infections from the mosque gathering , detainees form the second-largest cluster in Malaysia .
The source of the infections @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Director-General Noor Hisham Abdullah said that though the detainees were screened before the arrests , the virus may not have been detected during its incubation period .
Later , in the immigration detention centers , detainees would have easily infected other inmates in the confined and congested cells .
The new cluster of infections found among undocumented migrants risks reinforcing prejudice against them , and he cautioned in a Facebook post : “ Negative sentiments against detainees must not be amplified and must not be a catalyst for discrimination in saving lives.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the coronavirus will be deported , while those who test positive will be sent to quarantine centers in Malaysia and treated before being deported .
But despite the government ’ s best efforts , there remains a possibility that testing could fail to pick up a positive reading due to the virus ’ incubation period and a detainee may export the virus to another country .
Local rights group Tenaganita also urged that the deportations exclude refugees , because they would be put at risk of political persecution if they were returned @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 4 , Malaysia saw the biggest daily increase in new coronavirus cases since the pandemic started—277 , of which 270 were found in immigration detention centers .
Since then , the number of new infections from that cluster has dwindled and the number of daily new cases among Malaysia ’ s own citizens is down to low single and double But migrant lives are not “ acceptable casualties , ” in the words of local rights group Lawyers for Liberty .
Activists also cautioned that Malaysian citizens could have been put at risk @ @ @ @ @ @ @ executive director , said that “ the constant cycle of people entering and leaving a center creates a perfect hotbed for spreading the virus to and from communities.
” Fortunately , this has not been borne out—one staff worker at an immigration detention center has reportedly been infected future outbreaks might be less forgiving .
Activists have long warned that mass arrests would deter undocumented migrants from coming forward for testing and force them into hiding .
Another serious challenge remains : Activists have long warned that mass arrests would deter undocumented migrants @ @ @ @ @ @ @ People will start hiding from the authorities .
Even if they are sick , they are not going to come out and seek treatment , ” said M. Ramachelvam , a co-chair of the Malaysian Bar Council ’ s Migrants Refugees and Immigration Affairs Committee .
A week after the arrests , it was reported that at least nine people had fled from a quarantine center in Kuala Lumpur and at least 145 laborers had fled a construction site where workers had tested positive .
This local discontent , which often does not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ migrant workers , and refugees , has hit Rohingyas hardest .
Misinformation and hate speech aimed at members of the minority group has proliferated on social media , culminating in several petitions to forcibly deport them , even though they face genocidal persecution back in Myanmar and are effectively stateless .
Such sentiments were fueled by a video that purported to show a Rohingya demanding Malaysian citizenship and equal rights , as well as activist calls for the Malaysian government to continue allowing boats carrying refugees to disembark on Malaysian shores and refrain @ @ @ @ @ @ @ themselves have been threatened with physical attacks and sexual violence—also reported that businesses run by undocumented migrants have been shut down and property owners have been told not to rent to them .
Foreigners were recently prohibited—for the time being , said Religious Affairs Minister Zulkifli Mohamad al-Bakri—from worshipping at mosques as they reopen tentatively , with one reportedly carrying a sign outside saying “ We are not welcoming Rohingya.
” To all this , there has been a groundswell of support in defense , with people sharing positive stories under the hashtag @ @ @ @ @ @ @ too ” ) , but it does not seem to have dampened the hate .
The backlash against the Rohingya is unusual for Malaysia , which for decades has tacitly allowed them to remain—though it refuses to legally recognize refugees .
Nearly 180,000 refugees—including about 100,000 Rohingyas—hold identity cards from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees that allow them to stay in Malaysia , and many have managed to find piecemeal access to employment and education .
But their lack of formal status means they are always insecure and subject to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ They have sometimes been swept up and detained in immigration raids and only released after their status as refugees or asylum-seekers is verified .
Malaysian leaders have been sympathetic to the Rohingya plight in times past , but as public demand for a scapegoat has mounted , government rhetoric has also shifted .
In early May , Home Minister Hamzah Zainudin allowed that refugees could stay in the country on humanitarian grounds until they were resettled , but described Rohingya refugees as “ illegal immigrants with a UNHCR card ” who “ do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ or basis to make any claims on the government.
” The conflict over the large number of undocumented migrants in Malaysia is a problem with deep roots that needs to be solved over the long term , but carrying out mass arrests seems a solution is short-sighted in this pandemic .
The construction sites , factories , and plantations that are restarting operations as the lockdown eases are heavily staffed by migrants .
There are an estimated 5.5 million migrant workers in Malaysia , 3.3 million of whom are working in the country @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , India , and Myanmar .
Malaysian health experts have said that the country does not have enough testing kits to test all of them , which makes their coming forward if they fall ill even more critical .
The Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs , a local think tank , found that giving refugees alone the right to work would contribute over 3 billion ringgit , about $ 701 million , to the Malaysian economy .
To rebuild trust , the government could reconsider the arrests and the detention of undocumented @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Rights groups propose alternatives , like offering amnesty and introducing rehiring procedures to formalize them , as they fill a gap in the economy for so-called “ dirty , dangerous , and difficult ” jobs that Malaysians tend to reject in the agriculture , manufacturing , and construction industries .
( The Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs , a local think tank , found that giving refugees alone the right to work would contribute over 3 billion ringgit , about $ 701 million , to the Malaysian economy . )
Activists and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to look immediately into improving the conditions of detention centers so social distancing can be observed and alleviating the cramped housing conditions of migrant workers as a long-term solution .
Moreover , a humane approach to fighting this pandemic would do better not to focus solely on preventing coronavirus infections in saving lives .
This pandemic has already hit undocumented migrants and refugees particularly hard , with many of them losing their livelihoods and shelter , and the fear of arrests and detention exacerbates their stress .
Just this month , six undocumented @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by suicide .
So far , Ismail Sabri has said the Malaysian government will not yield to calls for a moratorium on arrests and detention .
But on June 4 , Noor Hisham , said that a committee has been tasked to review the protocol for holding undocumented migrants in immigration detention centers , and that Malaysia needs a “ multi-agency , whole government , whole society ” strategy to deal with migrant workers as a whole .
It ’ s not yet clear what this means , but it ’ s a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hundreds of infections reported in the detention centers , the Malaysian government may have to rethink its approach and align the priorities of different ministries to respond to a still-ongoing pandemic that , in Noor Hisham ’ s words , “ knows no boundaries and does not favor any ethnicity and social status .
”

Earlier this year, Malaysia made headlines when a mass religious gathering at a Kuala Lumpur mosque became the largest known coronavirus vector in Southeast Asia at the time. Among the more than 12,500 Muslims who attended the services—most of them Malaysian and about 1,500 visiting from neighboring countries—were at least hundreds of migrants and refugees residing in Kuala Lumpur.
Earlier this year, Malaysia made headlines when a mass religious gathering at a Kuala Lumpur mosque became the largest known coronavirus vector in Southeast Asia at the time. Among the more than 12,500 Muslims who attended the services—most of them Malaysian and about 1,500 visiting from neighboring countries—were at least hundreds of migrants and refugees residing in Kuala Lumpur.
The Malaysian government asked attendees, irrespective of their legal immigration status in the country, to present themselves for free testing if they exhibited symptoms, and it assured that no arrests would be made. In April, the government announced that immigration operations would be suspended for the duration of Malaysia’s lockdown—which began on March 18 and has been considerably relaxed in phases to continue until at least Aug. 31, with most economic sectors resuming early last month.
Since those promises were made, however, the government has backpedaled. In May, Malaysian authorities carried out at least four immigration crackdowns and arrested more than 2,000 undocumented migrants—including asylum-seekers and at least 98 children. The move has echoed a growing xenophobia amid the pandemic-related economic slowdown. Malaysia’s health response to the pandemic has focused on treating all infected individuals without discrimination, but the roundups contradict that and could undo its progress.
Local and international human rights groups have vehemently criticized the mass arrests as counterproductive in fighting an unprecedented public health crisis. Detainees were reportedly cramped into small vans and deprived of face masks before being sent to Malaysia’s immigration detention centers—which have been revealed to be overcrowded and unsanitary. Such conditions are ripe for the virus to spread and, looking ahead, the fear of arrest may discourage undocumented migrants from coming forward when they exhibit symptoms.
Malaysian authorities rounded up these migrants in so-called red zones that had been placed under what are known as enhanced movement control orders. These areas have posted higher numbers of infections and are typically walled off with barbed wire to prohibit anyone leaving or entering while all inhabitants are tested. Malaysia had seen how neighboring Singapore had gone from success story to cautionary tale in overlooking the susceptibility of its migrant population to the virus, and it had escalated its response to prevent the same fate.
Though optically draconian, such enhanced restrictions were a crucial part of the country’s early lockdown and targeted testing approach , and they have proved effective in Malaysia’s fight against the coronavirus. By late April, Malaysia announced that it had successfully flattened the curve of coronavirus cases and was in recovery mode, reducing Malaysia’s R0 number, a measure of contagion, from 3.55 to 0.6. This, despite the fact that there was a political vacuum in Malaysia for a week in late February before a new government under Prime Minister Muhyiddin Yassin took over after a political coup.
Ismail Sabri Yaakob, the defense minister, stressed that Malaysia had the right to protect the integrity of its borders and that the arrests of undocumented migrants were needed to prevent the spread the disease to “our own innocent citizens” before the enhanced restrictions were lifted. But by turning a public health directive into “a tool to round up undocumented migrants,” as Amnesty International Malaysia put it, and then carrying out mass arrests, Malaysia may undermine the progress it has made in combating outbreaks and risks reinforcing public prejudice against migrants.
The first warning sign came when at least eight Myanmar nationals deported in May tested positive upon arriving in their home country. This prompted the Malaysian authorities to ramp up the testing of detainees. They found that the virus has now infected over 770 detainees across four immigration detention centers, including some migrants picked up before Malaysia’s national lockdown was imposed. After the infections from the mosque gathering, detainees form the second-largest cluster in Malaysia.
The source of the infections is still being investigated, but Health Director-General Noor Hisham Abdullah said that though the detainees were screened before the arrests, the virus may not have been detected during its incubation period. Later, in the immigration detention centers, detainees would have easily infected other inmates in the confined and congested cells. The new cluster of infections found among undocumented migrants risks reinforcing prejudice against them, and he cautioned in a Facebook post: “Negative sentiments against detainees must not be amplified and must not be a catalyst for discrimination in saving lives.”
For now, detainees who test negative for the coronavirus will be deported, while those who test positive will be sent to quarantine centers in Malaysia and treated before being deported. But despite the government’s best efforts, there remains a possibility that testing could fail to pick up a positive reading due to the virus’ incubation period and a detainee may export the virus to another country. Local rights group Tenaganita also urged that the deportations exclude refugees, because they would be put at risk of political persecution if they were returned to their home country.
On June 4, Malaysia saw the biggest daily increase in new coronavirus cases since the pandemic started—277, of which 270 were found in immigration detention centers. Since then, the number of new infections from that cluster has dwindled and the number of daily new cases among Malaysia’s own citizens is down to low single and double digits. But migrant lives are not “acceptable casualties,” in the words of local rights group Lawyers for Liberty.
Activists also cautioned that Malaysian citizens could have been put at risk. Glorene Dass, Tenaganita’s executive director, said that “the constant cycle of people entering and leaving a center creates a perfect hotbed for spreading the virus to and from communities.” Fortunately, this has not been borne out—one staff worker at an immigration detention center has reportedly been infected . But future outbreaks might be less forgiving.
Activists have long warned that mass arrests would deter undocumented migrants from coming forward for testing and force them into hiding. Another serious challenge remains: Activists have long warned that mass arrests would deter undocumented migrants from coming forward for testing. “People will start hiding from the authorities. Even if they are sick, they are not going to come out and seek treatment,” said M. Ramachelvam, a co-chair of the Malaysian Bar Council’s Migrants Refugees and Immigration Affairs Committee.
A week after the arrests, it was reported that at least nine people had fled from a quarantine center in Kuala Lumpur and at least 145 laborers had fled a construction site where workers had tested positive.
With the arrests, Malaysian authorities have played into the xenophobic backlash against undocumented migrants that has been building since March. Two million Malaysians may lose their livelihoods because of this pandemic, and unemployment spiked 42 percent in the first quarter of this year. As in many countries where resources are spread thin, migrants are accused of taking citizens’ jobs, being a burden to their host country, and now spreading the virus. In May, about 78 percent of new infections involved migrant workers.
This local discontent, which often does not differentiate between those termed illegal immigrants, migrant workers, and refugees, has hit Rohingyas hardest. Misinformation and hate speech aimed at members of the minority group has proliferated on social media, culminating in several petitions to forcibly deport them, even though they face genocidal persecution back in Myanmar and are effectively stateless. Such sentiments were fueled by a video that purported to show a Rohingya demanding Malaysian citizenship and equal rights, as well as activist calls for the Malaysian government to continue allowing boats carrying refugees to disembark on Malaysian shores and refrain from deporting them. Refugee rights activists—who themselves have been threatened with physical attacks and sexual violence—also reported that businesses run by undocumented migrants have been shut down and property owners have been told not to rent to them. Foreigners were recently prohibited—for the time being, said Religious Affairs Minister Zulkifli Mohamad al-Bakri—from worshipping at mosques as they reopen tentatively, with one reportedly carrying a sign outside saying “We are not welcoming Rohingya.”
To all this, there has been a groundswell of support in defense, with people sharing positive stories under the hashtag #MigranJugaManusia (“Migrants are humans too”), but it does not seem to have dampened the hate.
The backlash against the Rohingya is unusual for Malaysia, which for decades has tacitly allowed them to remain—though it refuses to legally recognize refugees. Nearly 180,000 refugees—including about 100,000 Rohingyas—hold identity cards from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees that allow them to stay in Malaysia, and many have managed to find piecemeal access to employment and education. But their lack of formal status means they are always insecure and subject to the whims of public and political sentiment. They have sometimes been swept up and detained in immigration raids and only released after their status as refugees or asylum-seekers is verified.
Malaysian leaders have been sympathetic to the Rohingya plight in times past, but as public demand for a scapegoat has mounted, government rhetoric has also shifted. In early May, Home Minister Hamzah Zainudin allowed that refugees could stay in the country on humanitarian grounds until they were resettled, but described Rohingya refugees as “illegal immigrants with a UNHCR card” who “do not have any status, right, or basis to make any claims on the government.”
The conflict over the large number of undocumented migrants in Malaysia is a problem with deep roots that needs to be solved over the long term, but carrying out mass arrests seems a solution is short-sighted in this pandemic. The construction sites, factories, and plantations that are restarting operations as the lockdown eases are heavily staffed by migrants. There are an estimated 5.5 million migrant workers in Malaysia, 3.3 million of whom are working in the country illegally—mostly from Indonesia, Nepal, Bangladesh, India, and Myanmar. Malaysian health experts have said that the country does not have enough testing kits to test all of them, which makes their coming forward if they fall ill even more critical.
The Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs, a local think tank, found that giving refugees alone the right to work would contribute over 3 billion ringgit, about $701 million, to the Malaysian economy. To rebuild trust, the government could reconsider the arrests and the detention of undocumented migrants and refugees during this pandemic. Rights groups propose alternatives, like offering amnesty and introducing rehiring procedures to formalize them, as they fill a gap in the economy for so-called “dirty, dangerous, and difficult” jobs that Malaysians tend to reject in the agriculture, manufacturing, and construction industries. (The Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs, a local think tank, found that giving refugees alone the right to work would contribute over 3 billion ringgit, about $701 million, to the Malaysian economy.) Activists and health experts have also advised the government to look immediately into improving the conditions of detention centers so social distancing can be observed and alleviating the cramped housing conditions of migrant workers as a long-term solution.
Moreover, a humane approach to fighting this pandemic would do better not to focus solely on preventing coronavirus infections in saving lives. This pandemic has already hit undocumented migrants and refugees particularly hard, with many of them losing their livelihoods and shelter, and the fear of arrests and detention exacerbates their stress. Just this month, six undocumented migrants from Myanmar in Malaysia reportedly died by suicide.
So far, Ismail Sabri has said the Malaysian government will not yield to calls for a moratorium on arrests and detention. But on June 4, Noor Hisham, said that a committee has been tasked to review the protocol for holding undocumented migrants in immigration detention centers, and that Malaysia needs a “multi-agency, whole government, whole society” strategy to deal with migrant workers as a whole. It’s not yet clear what this means, but it’s a move in the right direction.
With hundreds of infections reported in the detention centers, the Malaysian government may have to rethink its approach and align the priorities of different ministries to respond to a still-ongoing pandemic that, in Noor Hisham’s words, “knows no boundaries and does not favor any ethnicity and social status.”


foreignpolicy--2020-06-19--How White Supremacy Weakens the United States

The Black Lives Matter protests suggest a tectonic shift in the domestic politics of the United States .
Their significance , however , extends far beyond the water ’ s edge .
For the United States and its image in the world , race matters , and the whole world is watching .
Global expressions of solidarity with minority victims of racism and police abuse demonstrate yet again why civil rights are a foreign-policy issue .
They should also remind us that a foreign policy informed by white supremacy weakens the United States and negates some of its core strategic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Donald Trump has openly flirted with white supremacy .
Part of Trump ’ s “ America First ” vision has been to reserve power for white men throughout society and its institutions .
That is part of the reason why the cabinet is almost entirely white and male ; why Latino people at the border are caged ; why Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids target Latino communities ; and why his administration has gone beyond crackdowns on “ illegal ” immigration to discuss limiting all immigration to the United States .
In this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ international alliances would ideally reflect the supposedly white , Christian character of the country .
That is why Trump , following the lead of his one-time political advisor Steve Bannon , has sought solidarity with right-wing political movements , even when that solidarity disrupts relations with allied governments .
It is why he has placed so much weight on relations with Russia and Hungary , countries whose leaders see themselves as the Jan III Sobieskis of the 21st century , defending Vienna from the Muslim hordes .
The events of recent weeks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of why this foreign-policy vision is so flawed .
First , it contradicts important elements of U.S. national identity and weakens U.S. “ soft power.
” For all of its flaws , the United States traces its origins to an anti-imperialist struggle .
Despite its own deeply imperfect record on racial equality , the United States has fought and won two major wars against abhorrently racist states : the Civil War and World War II .
These were also the costliest wars the United States has fought , in terms of U.S. lives @ @ @ @ @ @ @ claim an anti-racist legacy .
Billions of people worldwide can identify with the struggle for equality of black people in the United States , even as many of them may dream of refuge in the United States from oppression at home .
The thousands protesting in solidarity with Black Lives Matter in Berlin , Amsterdam , and London attest that turning the United States into a haven for white supremacist thinking risks alienating our partners abroad .
White supremacist policies also weaken U.S. “ hard power.
” The United States has long been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ strong economy , low density , and open culture .
Today , the United States is the No .
1 destination for migrants in the world , mostly for economic reasons .
The American dream still exists for immigrants .
Partly as a result , the U.S. population continues to grow ( if at a lower rate than in the past ) , while other powers , mainly in Europe , but also in Asia , have stagnant or declining populations .
The United States crossed the threshold of 300 million population in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ million by 2058 .
This is a vital power resource in a country that faces global competition from China and India , with their combined population of more than 2 billion .
Without immigration , there is no chance that the U.S. population will continue to increase , since U.S. fertility rates are below replacement .
Further , the United States is blessed with minority and immigrant populations that integrate well and wish to serve in the U.S. military , which is on the whole one of the most successful examples of racial @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s U.S. armed forces include more than 40 percent minority service members , including both recent immigrants and African Americans who have overcome the legacies of slavery and racism to serve a nation with greater fidelity than the nation has sometimes been willing to show them .
The U.S. Armed Forces did not integrate until 1948 , a belated recognition of the contribution of African Americans to the triumph and defense of U.S. ideals .
But in the succeeding decades , the military has become one of the institutions that has done the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the armed forces today confront the legacies of segregation in the naming and location of major military installations , the United States continues to aspire to greater racial equality .
For those who question whether black Americans or immigrants have the quality to be top leaders , consider that Colin Powell , the son of Jamaican immigrants , is the only U.S. general who appears to have won a war in any durable sense in the past 50 years .
Part of the United States ’ success in integrating immigrants is because of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ notion of citizenship based on freedom and mutual respect .
But part of it is because of the aspirations and culture of the minorities and immigrants themselves .
Latinos have proven to adapt extraordinarily well to life in the United States .
While many first-generation immigrants have important ties to their countries of origin and speak Spanish better than English , many studies have shown that by the third generation , most Latinos primarily speak English , as has been the pattern with previous generations of European immigrants .
The United States has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Muslim Americans than other countries that have insisted on racial or historical bases for citizenship .
These successes keep the United States strong , keep immigrants rolling into the United States and into the U.S. military , where they strengthen the United States on the front lines .
Openness at home enables partnerships abroad .
Being open to the world and open to diversity at home are essential elements of U.S. soft power .
That Americans are not afraid to have serious disagreements among themselves on the pace and direction of their social @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they show how free societies need not suppress conversation or fear debate .
Fighting for racial justice therefore materially strengthens the United States .
The U.S. Army has known this for a long time and is stronger for its willingness to be open to all Americans .
U.S. society ’ s diversity in service of common ideals is our greatest strength , and the best message we can share with the world—which is why the white supremacist thinking embedded in Trump ’ s misguided “ America First ” policy weakens the United States @ @

Ronald J. Granieri and Mitchell A. Orenstein

The Black Lives Matter protests suggest a tectonic shift in the domestic politics of the United States. Their significance, however, extends far beyond the water’s edge. For the United States and its image in the world, race matters, and the whole world is watching. Global expressions of solidarity with minority victims of racism and police abuse demonstrate yet again why civil rights are a foreign-policy issue. They should also remind us that a foreign policy informed by white supremacy weakens the United States and negates some of its core strategic strengths.
The Black Lives Matter protests suggest a tectonic shift in the domestic politics of the United States. Their significance, however, extends far beyond the water’s edge. For the United States and its image in the world, race matters, and the whole world is watching. Global expressions of solidarity with minority victims of racism and police abuse demonstrate yet again why civil rights are a foreign-policy issue. They should also remind us that a foreign policy informed by white supremacy weakens the United States and negates some of its core strategic strengths.
The administration of U.S. President Donald Trump has openly flirted with white supremacy. Part of Trump’s “America First” vision has been to reserve power for white men throughout society and its institutions. That is part of the reason why the cabinet is almost entirely white and male; why Latino people at the border are caged; why Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids target Latino communities; and why his administration has gone beyond crackdowns on “illegal” immigration to discuss limiting all immigration to the United States. In this white supremacist vision, the United States’ international alliances would ideally reflect the supposedly white, Christian character of the country. That is why Trump, following the lead of his one-time political advisor Steve Bannon, has sought solidarity with right-wing political movements, even when that solidarity disrupts relations with allied governments. It is why he has placed so much weight on relations with Russia and Hungary, countries whose leaders see themselves as the Jan III Sobieskis of the 21st century, defending Vienna from the Muslim hordes.
The events of recent weeks, however, have offered stark evidence of why this foreign-policy vision is so flawed. First, it contradicts important elements of U.S. national identity and weakens U.S. “soft power.” For all of its flaws, the United States traces its origins to an anti-imperialist struggle. Despite its own deeply imperfect record on racial equality, the United States has fought and won two major wars against abhorrently racist states: the Civil War and World War II. These were also the costliest wars the United States has fought, in terms of U.S. lives.
These sacrifices allow the country to claim an anti-racist legacy. Billions of people worldwide can identify with the struggle for equality of black people in the United States, even as many of them may dream of refuge in the United States from oppression at home. The thousands protesting in solidarity with Black Lives Matter in Berlin, Amsterdam, and London attest that turning the United States into a haven for white supremacist thinking risks alienating our partners abroad.
White supremacist policies also weaken U.S. “hard power.” The United States has long been a nation of immigrants because of its strong economy, low density, and open culture. Today, the United States is the No. 1 destination for migrants in the world, mostly for economic reasons. The American dream still exists for immigrants. Partly as a result, the U.S. population continues to grow (if at a lower rate than in the past), while other powers, mainly in Europe, but also in Asia, have stagnant or declining populations. The United States crossed the threshold of 300 million population in 2006 and is projected to reach 400 million by 2058. This is a vital power resource in a country that faces global competition from China and India, with their combined population of more than 2 billion. Without immigration, there is no chance that the U.S. population will continue to increase, since U.S. fertility rates are below replacement.
Further, the United States is blessed with minority and immigrant populations that integrate well and wish to serve in the U.S. military, which is on the whole one of the most successful examples of racial integration in U.S. history. Today’s U.S. armed forces include more than 40 percent minority service members, including both recent immigrants and African Americans who have overcome the legacies of slavery and racism to serve a nation with greater fidelity than the nation has sometimes been willing to show them.
The U.S. Armed Forces did not integrate until 1948, a belated recognition of the contribution of African Americans to the triumph and defense of U.S. ideals. But in the succeeding decades, the military has become one of the institutions that has done the most to promote equality. Even as the armed forces today confront the legacies of segregation in the naming and location of major military installations, the United States continues to aspire to greater racial equality. For those who question whether black Americans or immigrants have the quality to be top leaders, consider that Colin Powell, the son of Jamaican immigrants, is the only U.S. general who appears to have won a war in any durable sense in the past 50 years.
Part of the United States’ success in integrating immigrants is because of its culture and institutions, and a notion of citizenship based on freedom and mutual respect. But part of it is because of the aspirations and culture of the minorities and immigrants themselves. Latinos have proven to adapt extraordinarily well to life in the United States. While many first-generation immigrants have important ties to their countries of origin and speak Spanish better than English, many studies have shown that by the third generation, most Latinos primarily speak English, as has been the pattern with previous generations of European immigrants. The United States has also had far greater success in integrating Muslim Americans than other countries that have insisted on racial or historical bases for citizenship. These successes keep the United States strong, keep immigrants rolling into the United States and into the U.S. military, where they strengthen the United States on the front lines.
Openness at home enables partnerships abroad. Being open to the world and open to diversity at home are essential elements of U.S. soft power. That Americans are not afraid to have serious disagreements among themselves on the pace and direction of their social policies is a further strength, as they show how free societies need not suppress conversation or fear debate. Fighting for racial justice therefore materially strengthens the United States. The U.S. Army has known this for a long time and is stronger for its willingness to be open to all Americans. U.S. society’s diversity in service of common ideals is our greatest strength, and the best message we can share with the world—which is why the white supremacist thinking embedded in Trump’s misguided “America First” policy weakens the United States abroad.


foreignpolicy--2020-06-20--Our Top Weekend Reads

Our Top Weekend Reads

DO N'T LOSE ACCESS : Your IP access to ForeignPolicy.com will expire on June 15 .
U.S. diplomats and foreign-policy leaders must engage with the public on issues of race in order to emphasize the inextricable linkages between racism and foreign policy .
Meanwhile , U.S. President Donald Trump wants to pull troops out of Germany .
The uproar following his announcement highlights how unprepared Germany is for a U.S. withdrawal .
And an election in Kiribati could consolidate Chinese influence in the Pacific—and bring it dangerously close to U.S. borders .
1 .
The Legacy of American Racism at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be encouraged to do what was once rare : use their platforms to speak to the American people and audiences abroad about racism and change the way the foreign-policy community operates , Travis L. Adkins and Judd Devermont write .
The major international relations theories do not treat race as a meaningful part of the discourse , but history has shown that it is a central organizing feature of world politics , Kelebogile Zvobgo and Meredith Loken write .
3 .
The Sorry State of Germany ’ s Armed Forces The controversy surrounding @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that he would reduce the U.S. troop presence in Germany highlights how little European countries have devoted to defense , Rajan Menon writes .
Nepalis pride themselves on a history of religious tolerance , but India ’ s right-wingers are trying hard to change that , Arun Budhathoki writes .
5 .
China Could Be in Reach of Hawaii After Monday ’ s Election in Kiribati A watershed moment in China ’ s expansion across the Pacific toward the Americas will unfold when Kiribati decides whether to reelect a pro-China president or choose @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Christopher Pala writes .

U.S. diplomats and foreign-policy leaders must engage with the public on issues of race in order to emphasize the inextricable linkages between racism and foreign policy.
U.S. diplomats and foreign-policy leaders must engage with the public on issues of race in order to emphasize the inextricable linkages between racism and foreign policy.
Meanwhile, U.S. President Donald Trump wants to pull troops out of Germany. The uproar following his announcement highlights how unprepared Germany is for a U.S. withdrawal.
And an election in Kiribati could consolidate Chinese influence in the Pacific—and bring it dangerously close to U.S. borders.
Here are Foreign Policy’s top weekend reads.
Economic Freedom Fighters supporters gather in front of the U.S. Embassy in Pretoria, on June 8 in solidarity with the global Black Lives Matter movement.
U.S. foreign-policy practitioners should be encouraged to do what was once rare: use their platforms to speak to the American people and audiences abroad about racism and change the way the foreign-policy community operates, Travis L. Adkins and Judd Devermont write.
Foreign Policy illustration
Foreign Policy illustration
The major international relations theories do not treat race as a meaningful part of the discourse, but history has shown that it is a central organizing feature of world politics, Kelebogile Zvobgo and Meredith Loken write.
A German soldier holds a machine gun during military exercises near Bergen, Germany, on Oct. 14, 2016.
The controversy surrounding U.S. President Donald Trump’s announcement that he would reduce the U.S. troop presence in Germany highlights how little European countries have devoted to defense, Rajan Menon writes.
A Muslim family offers a special prayer in their home during the Eid-al-Fitr festival.
Nepalis pride themselves on a history of religious tolerance, but India’s right-wingers are trying hard to change that, Arun Budhathoki writes.
Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi and Kiribati President Taneti Maamau sign a memorandum of understanding at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing, on Jan. 6.
A watershed moment in China’s expansion across the Pacific toward the Americas will unfold when Kiribati decides whether to reelect a pro-China president or choose a challenger who pledged to recognize Taiwan, Christopher Pala writes.


foreignpolicy--2020-06-20--Trump Wants to Label Antifa a Terrorist Organization. What About the KKK?

Trump Wants to Label Antifa a Terrorist Organization .
What About the KKK ?
Some say Ku Klux was chosen as the name for the U.S. white supremacist organization because it mimics the sound of a rifle being cocked , though other evidence points to the appeal of the Greek word kyklos , which means circle .
That was essentially the goal of the defeated Confederate soldiers who formed the Ku Klux Klan in 1865—to encircle or kill Black Americans .
As the klan grew in power , it made its intentions publicly clear : promoting Confederate jingoism ; pushing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ raids to intimidate ; destructing property , especially churches ; assaulting ; taunting ; lynching ; hanging ; and dragging the bodies of Black men behind cars .
These acts were carried out to promote white supremacy and also for gaining political power .
In the months and years after the 13th , 14th , and 15th Amendments to the U.S. Constitution were passed—abolishing slavery and guaranteeing basic rights to the formerly enslaved—it became clear to the federal government that forcible action against KKK-led terrorism would be necessary if the newly enacted rights @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
By 1871 , Congress passed a series of enforcement acts that broadened the federal government ’ s powers to oversee elections and allowed the U.S. military to use force to stop the KKK .
Barely a decade later , after the swift dismantling of Reconstruction , the Supreme Court stripped the acts of much of their power ; a lack of enforcement undid the rest .
To this day , right-wing groups , including white supremacy groups , are responsible for more murders on U.S. soil than any other extremist group .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ extremist-related killings were carried out by right-wing extremists , according to research by the Anti-Defamation League .
By mid-2019 , white supremacist violence and arrests had already outstripped those in all of 2018 .
And yet , the Trump administration has slashed funding for programs to counter far-right extremism , claiming—incorrectly—a greater threat from Islamist extremism .
But now the administration has a new bogeyman on which to focus its talk of terrorism .
On May 31 , U.S. President Donald Trump announced he would begin executive legislation to list antifa as a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for “ anti-fascist , ” is a left-wing organization comprising various autonomous groups seeking a common goal—to protect Black people from white terrorism .
The group has been accused of committing property damage during protests , particularly at demonstrations against George Floyd ’ s killing , although there is scant evidence to support that .
If antifa is designated as a terrorist group , the U.S. military can be used against it .
Trump ’ s efforts are little more than bluster : There exists mechanisms only for designating foreign terror groups .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ government to create a domestic terrorism statute .
In light of the institutionalized racism and terror facing Black Americans for the past 400 years , is it not time for the KKK to be shut down ?
Living in terror goes beyond inequality .
Perpetual anxiety leads to high blood pressure—a leading health impact of living with racism , though hardly the only one .
Black Americans live in fight or flight mode , on guard for how they look , what they say , and the ever-present possibility of brutish oppression by @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can be mapped onto our very DNA .
Therefore , every new generation adds another layer to the trauma inherited from slave ancestors .
The “ talk ” given to 10-year-old Black boys today is not new ; it ’ s been done since the 1700s when the discussion was even more degrading : “ Bear the whips and lashes , ” oral histories reveal .
“ Master will tire after 15.
” It is time for a federal law designating the KKK as a domestic terrorist group .
No longer can the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ racist organization or allow the flow of its terrorist propaganda to go unabated .
Although historically the executive branch has immense power when considering foreign matters and war , Congress has constructed legislation specifically aimed at providing the executive branch with the legal means to rein in international terrorism .
Still , congressional leaders have conspicuously chosen to ignore domestic terror cells .
Domestic terrorism is commonly misinterpreted as an act orchestrated on behalf of a foreign terrorist organization .
But it is not practical to refrain from confronting an existential threat simply @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of domestic terrorism generally seek to operate as predators on factions of the U.S. population .
The KKK believes its acts are justified because the government has refused to wholly outlaw its existence , regardless of the blatant danger to public safety .
Thus , our terror extends to the highest level of the law—our government .
From a Black perspective , antifa may be our only hope .

Angela R. Pashayan and Docktrel Cromartie

Some say Ku Klux was chosen as the name for the U.S. white supremacist organization because it mimics the sound of a rifle being cocked, though other evidence points to the appeal of the Greek word kyklos, which means circle . That was essentially the goal of the defeated Confederate soldiers who formed the Ku Klux Klan in 1865—to encircle or kill Black Americans. As the klan grew in power, it made its intentions publicly clear: promoting Confederate jingoism; pushing back on Reconstruction-era rights; performing terrorist raids to intimidate; destroying property, especially churches; assaulting; taunting; lynching; hanging; and dragging the bodies of Black men behind cars. These acts were carried out to promote white supremacy and also for gaining political power.
Some say Ku Klux was chosen as the name for the U.S. white supremacist organization because it mimics the sound of a rifle being cocked, though other evidence points to the appeal of the Greek word kyklos, which means circle. That was essentially the goal of the defeated Confederate soldiers who formed the Ku Klux Klan in 1865—to encircle or kill Black Americans. As the klan grew in power, it made its intentions publicly clear: promoting Confederate jingoism; pushing back on Reconstruction-era rights; performing terrorist raids to intimidate; destroying property, especially churches; assaulting; taunting; lynching; hanging; and dragging the bodies of Black men behind cars. These acts were carried out to promote white supremacy and also for gaining political power.
In the months and years after the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the U.S. Constitution were passed—abolishing slavery and guaranteeing basic rights to the formerly enslaved—it became clear to the federal government that forcible action against KKK-led terrorism would be necessary if the newly enacted rights and protections were to have any impact. By 1871, Congress passed a series of enforcement acts that broadened the federal government’s powers to oversee elections and allowed the U.S. military to use force to stop the KKK. Barely a decade later, after the swift dismantling of Reconstruction, the Supreme Court stripped the acts of much of their power; a lack of enforcement undid the rest.
To this day, right-wing groups, including white supremacy groups, are responsible for more murders on U.S. soil than any other extremist group. Over the past decade, three-quarters of extremist-related killings were carried out by right-wing extremists, according to research by the Anti-Defamation League. By mid-2019, white supremacist violence and arrests had already outstripped those in all of 2018. And yet, the Trump administration has slashed funding for programs to counter far-right extremism, claiming—incorrectly—a greater threat from Islamist extremism.
But now the administration has a new bogeyman on which to focus its talk of terrorism. On May 31, U.S. President Donald Trump announced he would begin executive legislation to list antifa as a domestic terrorist group. Antifa, shorthand for “anti-fascist,” is a left-wing organization comprising various autonomous groups seeking a common goal—to protect Black people from white terrorism. The group has been accused of committing property damage during protests, particularly at demonstrations against George Floyd’s killing, although there is scant evidence to support that. If antifa is designated as a terrorist group, the U.S. military can be used against it.
Trump’s efforts are little more than bluster: There exists mechanisms only for designating foreign terror groups. But perhaps it is time for the government to create a domestic terrorism statute. In light of the institutionalized racism and terror facing Black Americans for the past 400 years, is it not time for the KKK to be shut down?
Living in terror goes beyond inequality. Perpetual anxiety leads to high blood pressure—a leading health impact of living with racism, though hardly the only one. Black Americans live in fight or flight mode, on guard for how they look, what they say, and the ever-present possibility of brutish oppression by the police. Epigenetics teaches that trauma can be mapped onto our very DNA. Therefore, every new generation adds another layer to the trauma inherited from slave ancestors. The “talk” given to 10-year-old Black boys today is not new; it’s been done since the 1700s when the discussion was even more degrading: “Bear the whips and lashes,” oral histories reveal. “Master will tire after 15.”
It is time for a federal law designating the KKK as a domestic terrorist group. No longer can the United States ignore the threat from this racist organization or allow the flow of its terrorist propaganda to go unabated. Although historically the executive branch has immense power when considering foreign matters and war, Congress has constructed legislation specifically aimed at providing the executive branch with the legal means to rein in international terrorism. Still, congressional leaders have conspicuously chosen to ignore domestic terror cells.
Domestic terrorism is commonly misinterpreted as an act orchestrated on behalf of a foreign terrorist organization. But it is not practical to refrain from confronting an existential threat simply because it’s domestic.
Perpetrators of domestic terrorism generally seek to operate as predators on factions of the U.S. population. The KKK believes its acts are justified because the government has refused to wholly outlaw its existence, regardless of the blatant danger to public safety. Thus, our terror extends to the highest level of the law—our government. From a Black perspective, antifa may be our only hope.


America’s Identity Crisis

“ Perhaps you were made for such a time as this , ” Mordecai appeals to Esther , the Jewish queen who would save her people from genocide , in the Book of Esther .
Perhaps we all are .
I ’ m a Black international peace builder living in southern Oregon—the “ Bible Belt ” of one of the whitest states in the United States .
I was born here , a Black biracial child to a single mom .
I was raised by a loving white family , attended a white school and a white church in a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it wasn ’ t called “ white ” — it was called “ American.
” There ’ s pride in this identity .
To me , it meant strong and free .
“ America ’ s the greatest country on earth , ” I heard so many times .
And I believed it wholeheartedly .
At the time , the slogan didn ’ t feel like supremacy—it felt like regard , the type you feel when someone in your family , a parent or even a child , accomplishes something spectacular and you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It is a protective pride .
At the same time , though , the world saw me as Black , and I got the sense that there was something bad about that .
My mom got more looks of scorn than normally reserved for single moms .
It wasn ’ t until I was older that I realized how hard I tried to fit into “ white America ” —to be the best at everything to prove I belonged .
I learned pieces of history that were left out of my history classes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lynchings , and Jim Crow .
Eventually , the dissonance between my values and an identity I ’ ve always held dear forced an evolution—a painful one rife with resistance and mistakes , but a necessary one .
The United States is now having an identity crisis of its own .
There are skeletons in the closets of every room in the American house—every aspect of the country ’ s history , culture , governance , wealth , education , and power .
The problem is systemwide , but to talk of racism @ @ @ @ @ @ @ let individuals off the hook .
The system is made up of people , individuals who make choices based on their values and feelings—on whom they believe themselves to be .
That question of identity—both personal and cultural—is not unique to the United States .
Instead of branding—which is top-down , where the brander inscribes an identity on the recipient—social change communication is more like tattooing .
Peace building is all about the process of dealing with conflict—about attacking the problem instead of the person and empowering opposing groups to focus on shared @ @ @ @ @ @ @ positions .
The first thing people do in conflict is demonize the “ other , ” so we start by helping each side identify the other ’ s common humanity .
To that end , in travels to Armenia , Burundi , Colombia , Indonesia , Jordan , Myanmar , Nigeria , and Thailand , training in storytelling and strategic messaging has been invaluable for shifting people ’ s attitudes and behaviors .
Over the years , I ’ ve developed a methodology for this training I call the “ tattoo method , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ audience ’ s identity .
Instead of branding—which is top-down , where the brander inscribes an identity on the recipient—social change communication is more like tattooing .
The recipient sees something they identify with and claims it as their own .
The tattoo artist doesn ’ t sit down and say : “ I ’ m going to give you a dove today.
” It is a collaborative process with the artist and customer .
After that , the customer shows off “ my tattoo ” to friends and family .
They own @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that is how we should make powerful messages and stories around social issues .
To that end , in 2016 , I walked the streets of Yangon , Myanmar , looking at makeshift homes carved out of a dilapidated colonial building .
The country had just dissolved its military rule five years prior , and its citizens felt an optimistic freedom .
For the first time , they could choose who they wanted to be—but it ’ s not that easy .
There are 135 different ethnicities in Myanmar .
Who belongs ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t a trivial question , as the ongoing genocide of the Rohingya shows .
Being rejected from a society based on your identity could mean life or death .
The Search Myanmar office was launching a TV soap opera , The Team , about a soccer team with players of all different ethnicities , including the first-ever Muslim character portrayed positively in a national broadcast .
The staff kept talking about the importance of social cohesion .
But people don ’ t watch a soap opera to learn about “ social cohesion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ drama .
So instead , we came up with taglines such as : “ It ’ s their last chance for greatness .
Will they put aside their differences or will it destroy them ?
” and “ There ’ s more than a game on the line.
” We needed the audience to feel like this was their show .
A few years later , I was in Colombia doing “ tattoo ” training for some government officers , media , and community organizers .
I was there to help them with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to sell “ reconciliation ” to the population in the same way some Americans are trying to sell “ racial justice ” and fix “ systemic racism.
” The people weren ’ t buying it .
After five decades of violent conflict , they were promised a say in the final peace agreement with the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia in the form of a referendum on the deal .
But to the surprise of then-President Juan Manuel Santos , the vote did not pass .
The government made some changes to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Many in the public resented it , causing tensions to once again rise .
I led an exercise with the group to move them away from using the then-politicized words “ reconciliation ” and “ peace.
” They created and interviewed imaginary—but realistic—citizens .
One profile , named “ Mercy , ” was an Afro-Colombian single mom , age 18 , who worked at a fruit stand .
I asked the officials what Mercy cared about most .
After some in-depth thought and conversation , they agreed that it was power ; @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
I then asked them what represents “ power ” to Mercy .
They debated , throwing around symbols like money and cars , until someone said , “ I think eye contact represents power to Mercy .
She goes through her days feeling invisible .
No one even looks her in the eye.
” They had their campaign : “ Mirame a los ojos ” or “ Look me in the eyes.
” Eye contact was a symbol of respect in Colombian culture .
But after years of conflict , it was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ didn ’ t accuse or shame ; it was a call for dignity .
The campaign spoke to a shared Colombian cultural identity .
It spoke to what reconciliation would truly mean—rebuilding trust and being seen .
I can relate to that .
I believe most of us can .
I ’ m once again living in my very white hometown with my Black husband and Black kids when George Floyd is killed .
The first few days , all I felt was my own sorrow and rage .
I did not feel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ community , I was grieving .
I had long known that reconciliation requires the acknowledgment of pain and wrongdoing .
But now I felt it .
We—I , the Black community , America— can not move forward until post-slavery oppression is acknowledged , until our peers can say that Black lives matter just as much as anyone else ’ s .
To give credit where credit is due , so many people across the country have done just that .
But why does it seem so hard for other Americans to do the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
What they hear does not match up with the America they know , the one they associate so closely with .
All these attacks on the “ racist system , ” “ white privilege , ” “ white power , ” and police , who are supposed to be respected , feel personal .
For the past few weeks , I ’ ve been meeting with white conservatives in my town .
Some I know well ; some I don ’ t know at all .
But I share a common value @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that way , I ’ m made for this .
I ’ m a southern Oregon girl , I go to church , and I ’ m Black .
When I ’ m sitting across from them , my goal is not to debate or defeat them .
I need them to see me .
To see my family and what my kids face if things do not change .
I need them as an ally , and attacking their identity won ’ t get me there .
There are beautiful parts of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Christian teaching to “ give justice to the poor and the orphan ; uphold the rights of the oppressed.
” That ’ s what I lean into .
For the Marine , it was the desire to protect others .
For the elder at church , it was the belief that we ’ re all children of God .
For the mother , it was maternal love .
All the information in the world might not change their minds and behavior .
But new experiences and connections with those they once believed were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can ’ t have coffee with everyone , of course , which is why I ’ m making an interactive story game , where young people can practice what to do in conflict situations .
It ’ s designed to build confidence and reframe them as a hero in the narrative—someone who stands up for others and attacks the problem , not the person .
The United States needs heroes .
Heroes who see themselves as protectors and champions of the vulnerable and unrepresented .
It needs fewer zero-sum games and more win-win @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
In other words , more peace building .
The United States can still be the land of the free and brave .
Freedom is the opportunity to discover what ’ s right by yourself instead of being told what to believe .
Bravery is standing up for the oppressed even if it puts a target on your back .
The United States of the free and the brave can be our America , and we can hold pride in the values that bind us .

“Perhaps you were made for such a time as this,” Mordecai appeals to Esther, the Jewish queen who would save her people from genocide, in the Book of Esther. Perhaps we all are.
“Perhaps you were made for such a time as this,” Mordecai appeals to Esther, the Jewish queen who would save her people from genocide, in the Book of Esther. Perhaps we all are.
I’m a Black international peace builder living in southern Oregon—the “Bible Belt” of one of the whitest states in the United States. I was born here, a Black biracial child to a single mom. I was raised by a loving white family, attended a white school and a white church in a white town. But back then, it wasn’t called “white”— it was called “American.”
There’s pride in this identity. To me, it meant strong and free. “America’s the greatest country on earth,” I heard so many times. And I believed it wholeheartedly. At the time, the slogan didn’t feel like supremacy—it felt like regard, the type you feel when someone in your family, a parent or even a child, accomplishes something spectacular and you get to claim it by proximity. It is a protective pride.
At the same time, though, the world saw me as Black, and I got the sense that there was something bad about that. My mom got more looks of scorn than normally reserved for single moms. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized how hard I tried to fit into “white America”—to be the best at everything to prove I belonged. I learned pieces of history that were left out of my history classes, including Black codes, redlining, lynchings, and Jim Crow.
Eventually, the dissonance between my values and an identity I’ve always held dear forced an evolution—a painful one rife with resistance and mistakes, but a necessary one.
The United States is now having an identity crisis of its own. There are skeletons in the closets of every room in the American house—every aspect of the country’s history, culture, governance, wealth, education, and power. The problem is systemwide, but to talk of racism in “the system” is to let individuals off the hook. The system is made up of people, individuals who make choices based on their values and feelings—on whom they believe themselves to be.
That question of identity—both personal and cultural—is not unique to the United States.
For the past seven years, I have worked for Search for Common Ground, the world’s largest peace-building organization. Their local peace builders tackle everything from reconciliation after genocide to countering violent extremism to the prevention of mass atrocities. It is the idea from Zechariah made real: “For they will sow in peace: the vine will yield its fruit, the land will yield its produce, the sky will yield its dew.”
Instead of branding—which is top-down, where the brander inscribes an identity on the recipient—social change communication is more like tattooing.
Peace building is all about the process of dealing with conflict—about attacking the problem instead of the person and empowering opposing groups to focus on shared goals and interests instead of their separate positions. The first thing people do in conflict is demonize the “other,” so we start by helping each side identify the other’s common humanity. To that end, in travels to Armenia, Burundi, Colombia, Indonesia, Jordan, Myanmar, Nigeria, and Thailand, training in storytelling and strategic messaging has been invaluable for shifting people’s attitudes and behaviors.
Over the years, I’ve developed a methodology for this training I call the “tattoo method,” which is about tapping into your audience’s identity. Instead of branding—which is top-down, where the brander inscribes an identity on the recipient—social change communication is more like tattooing. The recipient sees something they identify with and claims it as their own. The tattoo artist doesn’t sit down and say: “I’m going to give you a dove today.” It is a collaborative process with the artist and customer. After that, the customer shows off “my tattoo” to friends and family. They own it. It represents them. And that is how we should make powerful messages and stories around social issues.
To that end, in 2016, I walked the streets of Yangon, Myanmar, looking at makeshift homes carved out of a dilapidated colonial building. The country had just dissolved its military rule five years prior, and its citizens felt an optimistic freedom.
For the first time, they could choose who they wanted to be—but it’s not that easy. There are 135 different ethnicities in Myanmar. Who belongs? Who doesn’t? It isn’t a trivial question, as the ongoing genocide of the Rohingya shows. Being rejected from a society based on your identity could mean life or death.
The Search Myanmar office was launching a TV soap opera, The Team, about a soccer team with players of all different ethnicities, including the first-ever Muslim character portrayed positively in a national broadcast. The staff kept talking about the importance of social cohesion. But people don’t watch a soap opera to learn about “social cohesion”—they’re there for the drama. So instead, we came up with taglines such as: “It’s their last chance for greatness. Will they put aside their differences or will it destroy them?” and “There’s more than a game on the line.” We needed the audience to feel like this was their show.
A few years later, I was in Colombia doing “tattoo” training for some government officers, media, and community organizers. I was there to help them with the post-reconciliation process. They were trying to sell “reconciliation” to the population in the same way some Americans are trying to sell “racial justice” and fix “systemic racism.”
The people weren’t buying it. After five decades of violent conflict, they were promised a say in the final peace agreement with the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia in the form of a referendum on the deal. But to the surprise of then-President Juan Manuel Santos, the vote did not pass. The government made some changes to the agreement and passed it unilaterally in 2016. Many in the public resented it, causing tensions to once again rise.
I led an exercise with the group to move them away from using the then-politicized words “reconciliation” and “peace.” They created and interviewed imaginary—but realistic—citizens. One profile, named “Mercy,” was an Afro-Colombian single mom, age 18, who worked at a fruit stand. I asked the officials what Mercy cared about most. After some in-depth thought and conversation, they agreed that it was power; Mercy felt very powerless in her situation. I then asked them what represents “power” to Mercy. They debated, throwing around symbols like money and cars, until someone said, “I think eye contact represents power to Mercy. She goes through her days feeling invisible. No one even looks her in the eye.”
They had their campaign: “Mirame a los ojos” or “Look me in the eyes.” Eye contact was a symbol of respect in Colombian culture. But after years of conflict, it was missing from everyday interactions. This campaign didn’t accuse or shame; it was a call for dignity.
The campaign spoke to a shared Colombian cultural identity. It spoke to what reconciliation would truly mean—rebuilding trust and being seen.
I can relate to that. I believe most of us can.
Fast forward to 2020, and I’m trying to apply my peace-building experience to an innovative project for empowering American youth to handle conflict constructively.
I’m once again living in my very white hometown with my Black husband and Black kids when George Floyd is killed.
The first few days, all I felt was my own sorrow and rage. I did not feel peaceful. Like many in the Black community, I was grieving. I had long known that reconciliation requires the acknowledgment of pain and wrongdoing. But now I felt it.
We—I, the Black community, America—cannot move forward until post-slavery oppression is acknowledged, until our peers can say that Black lives matter just as much as anyone else’s. To give credit where credit is due, so many people across the country have done just that. But why does it seem so hard for other Americans to do the same?
It comes down to identity.
What they hear does not match up with the America they know, the one they associate so closely with. All these attacks on the “racist system,” “white privilege,” “white power,” and police, who are supposed to be respected, feel personal.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been meeting with white conservatives in my town. Some I know well; some I don’t know at all. But I share a common value with them: my faith. In that way, I’m made for this. I’m a southern Oregon girl, I go to church, and I’m Black.
When I’m sitting across from them, my goal is not to debate or defeat them. I need them to see me. To see my family and what my kids face if things do not change. I need them as an ally, and attacking their identity won’t get me there. There are beautiful parts of their identity and an understanding of the Christian teaching to “give justice to the poor and the orphan; uphold the rights of the oppressed.” That’s what I lean into. For the Marine, it was the desire to protect others. For the elder at church, it was the belief that we’re all children of God. For the mother, it was maternal love.
All the information in the world might not change their minds and behavior. But new experiences and connections with those they once believed were too different from them could. I can’t have coffee with everyone, of course, which is why I’m making an interactive story game, where young people can practice what to do in conflict situations. It’s designed to build confidence and reframe them as a hero in the narrative—someone who stands up for others and attacks the problem, not the person.
The United States needs heroes. Heroes who see themselves as protectors and champions of the vulnerable and unrepresented. It needs fewer zero-sum games and more win-win strategies, more collaboration and constructive dialogue. In other words, more peace building.
The United States can still be the land of the free and brave. Freedom is the opportunity to discover what’s right by yourself instead of being told what to believe. Bravery is standing up for the oppressed even if it puts a target on your back. The United States of the free and the brave can be our America, and we can hold pride in the values that bind us.