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Muslim American Support for Trump Is an Act of Self-Sabotage

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › politics › archive › 2024 › 10 › muslim-american-support-trump › 680449

Over the weekend, a group of Arab American and Muslim American leaders in Michigan appeared onstage at a Donald Trump rally and urged their communities to vote for him. The outreach might be working: A recent poll showed Trump with a narrow lead among Arab American voters.

This is shocking, but hardly surprising. It’s shocking because Trump’s stated policies—on Palestine, on political freedom, and on the very presence of Muslims in America—are antithetical to so much of what most of these voters believe in. It’s unsurprising because we Arab and Muslim Americans have a long tradition of merciless political self-sabotage.

In 2000, angered by the sanctions against and bombing of Iraq, the use of “secret evidence” in deportation proceedings against Arab and Muslim immigrants, and especially the carnage of the Second Intifada, many liberal Arab Americans—myself included—decided not to vote for Al Gore and turned instead to Ralph Nader, himself a prominent Arab American. If the point was to advance Arab political interests, our protest was a pathetic failure. The election of George W. Bush led directly to the catastrophic 2003 invasion of Iraq, a strategic disaster that continues to resonate in the Middle East, and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Arab civilians.

This time around, the primary grievance is the Biden administration’s support of—or, at least, inability to end—Israel’s invasion of Gaza and, now, its widening wars in Lebanon and Iran. Once again, the impulse is to express our anger and “punish” the politicians responsible by withholding a vote for them. In an election with only two viable candidates, however, there is no difference between not supporting Kamala Harris and actively supporting Trump. And a quick review of the most important issues on which there’s a consensus among Arab and Muslim Americans demonstrates that a second Trump term would be dramatically worse than a Harris presidency.

[Read: What would a second Trump administration mean for the Middle East?]

Start with Trump’s signature issue, immigration. Nothing in Harris’s agenda would restrict immigration from Arab or Muslim countries. Trump offers the precise opposite. One of his first acts as president was to institute a “Muslim ban,” flatly prohibiting the entry of nationals from a list of seven majority-Muslim countries. President Joe Biden rescinded that executive order; Trump has vowed to reinstate and possibly expand it.

Moreover, Trump’s likely attack on Temporary Protected Status, especially for Haitian immigrants, is ominous for a number of Arab and Muslim communities whose members currently qualify, including Afghans, Somalis, Yemenis, Syrians, and Sudanese. With a stroke of Trump’s Sharpie, all of them could find themselves stripped of this protection—and included in his promised “bloody” mass deportations. Efforts to extend Temporary Protected Status to Lebanese nationals, entirely plausible under a Harris administration, would be dead in the water under Trump. Defending his decision to endorse Trump, an imam in Michigan declared that the former president “promises peace.” He plainly does not. The Washington Post has reported that, according to six sources, Trump recently told Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to “do what you have to do” militarily in Gaza, Lebanon, and Iran. The notion that Trump would prioritize the interests of Arab civilians is simply absurd. This is a man who has repeatedly used the word Palestinian as an epithet against his (in many cases Jewish) Democratic political opponents.

Trump already has a long, instructive, and highly discouraging record on these issues. As president, he moved the U.S. embassy in Israel to Jerusalem and issued a statement recognizing Israel’s sovereignty in the contested holy city. He recognized Israel’s annexation of the Syrian Golan Heights, in direct contravention of the United Nations charter’s rule against the acquisition of territory by war. And he slammed shut the Overton window on Palestinian independence and a two-state solution, which had been a matter of bipartisan consensus since the end of the Cold War. His “Peace to Prosperity” plan, released in January 2020, invited Israel to annex 30 percent more of the West Bank. Such a move would leave the remaining Palestinian territory surrounded entirely by Israel, and therefore incapable of meaningful sovereignty. The primary effect of this crude document was to create a permission structure for Republicans to support wide-scale Israeli annexation of the West Bank and dispense with supporting Palestinian independence.

Harris, by contrast, has been categorical in her support of a real two-state solution that would mean the end of the occupation that began in 1967. The vice president has clearly stated that Palestinians and Israelis need to reach a peace agreement that affords them “equal measures of prosperity and freedom.” Trump has never spoken of Palestinians and Israelis enjoying equal measures of anything.

[David A. Graham: Trump’s new racist insult]

Trump’s anti-Palestinian bias extends to the home front. Arab and Muslim Americans have been emigrating to the United States in large numbers since the late 19th century in search of a better life characterized by liberty and democracy. And yet Trump’s whole campaign, and his entire agenda, amounts to an assault on those ideals. He has consistently singled out pro-Palestinian protests on college campuses as part of a “radical revolution” that he has pledged to eliminate. According to The Washington Post, he told a group of Jewish donors in May that he is determined to deport pro-Palestinian students and “set that movement back 25 or 30 years.”

Our communities are overwhelmingly aghast at the U.S. government’s ongoing support for Israel’s military campaigns. I share the sentiment. But channeling that anger into support for Trump would be an exercise in the most rarefied gullibility and naivete. Far from promising peace, Trump threatens war on “the enemy from within.” Arab Americans and Muslim Americans, particularly those with pro-Palestinian sentiments, are likely to be high on the list of targets. We need to learn from the lessons of our own history. When we try to punish the politicians who have disappointed us without taking a serious inventory of the likely consequences, we usually just end up hurting ourselves.

The Collapse of the Khamenei Doctrine

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › international › archive › 2024 › 10 › iran-khamenei-israel-war › 680250

A year of conflict in the Middle East has destroyed the foreign-policy approach of Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. His strategy was always implausible, but its collapse has led Iran to the brink of its first international war since 1988.

What I like to call the Khamenei Doctrine—those close to him have variously dubbed it “strategic patience” or, more to the point, “no peace, no war”—rests on a duality that has remained constant through Khamenei’s 35 years in power. Iran refuses any public dealings with Israel, clamoring instead for the Jewish state’s destruction and surrounding it with Arab militias that seek to destroy it. Iranian officials deny the Holocaust and chant “Death to America” at events and ceremonies. And yet, at no point does Khamenei intend to get into a direct conflict with Israel or the United States—because he knows very well that such a confrontation could be fatal for his regime.

So what is the point of holding this contradictory posture? Khamenei is a true fanatic. He forged his beliefs as a revolutionary in the 1960s, when he read Sayyid Qutb and Mao Zedong. But he isn’t blind or stupid. Rather, he is patient and pragmatic. He appears to have accepted that his dream of destroying Israel won’t be realized in his lifetime, but he remains ideologically committed to it as a long-term goal for Islamists across generations. He has declared that Israel won’t exist in 2040—a year he will see only if he lives to be more than 100. But he seeks to advance the cause to the extent he can, building the strength of Israel’s enemies, and then handing off the task to his successors.

Khamenei knows that his extreme worldview is not popular among most Iranians, or even among much of the country’s ruling elite. And so he adjusts the institutional balance among the Islamic Republic’s various political factions, using the competition among them to gain breathing space when necessary, but never wavering from his objectives.

He makes international adjustments with similar strategic caution. He pursued the 2015 nuclear deal with the United States and other world powers to alleviate the diplomatic and economic pressure on Iran. But during the negotiations, Iran made clear that its support for regional militias, and its anti-Israeli and anti-American orientation, was nonnegotiable. Iran would talk only about its nuclear program, despite the concerns that Western negotiators expressed over Iran’s “regional behavior.” Then President Donald Trump tore up the deal in 2018 and brought a policy of maximum pressure to bear on the Islamic Republic. Khamenei delivered his response in a sermon in 2019: “There will be no war, and we won’t negotiate.” He was referring to the United States, but the phrase was an apt summary of his approach to Israel as well.

From the point of view of many Iranians, Khamenei’s policies have been disastrous, bringing international isolation, economic ruin, and political repression. But for his own purposes, before October 7, 2023, the leader might have seen his policy as a great success.

When Khamenei ascended to power in 1989, most of the region’s Arab states had long since given up the fight against Israel; Khamenei picked up the anti-Zionist mantle and made Iran the sole supplier for anti-Israeli militias across the region. He built a so-called Axis of Resistance, uniting armed groups in Palestine, Lebanon, Yemen, Syria, and Iraq to shoot at Israel, call for its destruction, and occasionally skirmish with U.S. forces in the region. All of this was a win for Islamist internationalism. In the service of that agenda, Khamenei has shown little compunction about sacrificing Iran’s potential as a country for its nearly 90 million inhabitants.

But the Khamenei Doctrine was always untenable, and the events of the past year have shown why. The strategy—build up anti-Israeli forces incrementally, without getting into a direct confrontation—required a certain adroitness. At times, Khamenei has had to restrain the Axis forces with calls for prudence. And the Axis is itself a problem—unwieldy, sometimes insubordinate, and unpopular at home and abroad.

[Read: Iran’s proxies are out of control]

Most of the Axis militias are Shiite (Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad are the exceptions), and some have participated in the region’s sectarian civil wars, which claimed thousands of Sunni Muslim victims—Iraqis, Syrians, and Palestinians. For this reason, not even anti-Israeli populations in the region are unreservedly enthusiastic about the Axis. Within Iran, meanwhile, Khamenei has a hard time selling his animus against Israel to a populace that largely does not share it, and that holds him to account for problems closer to home. When Iranians rise up against their regime—as they did in 2009, 2017, 2019, and 2022—they often use slogans that signal their displeasure with Iran’s support for the Axis. Probably the best-known is “Neither Gaza, nor Lebanon, I give my life to Iran!”

The October 7 attack on Israel and the war in Gaza that followed at first looked like a gift to Khamenei. The conflict would foreclose the possibility of a Saudi rapprochement with Israel and disrupt what Israelis had taken to calling their “growing circle of peace” with Arab countries (Khamenei has long sought to prevent such normalization). But a year later, Khamenei’s doctrine has never looked weaker. Iran and its Axis claim to be the defenders of the Palestinian cause—but they have so far avoided directly intervening in a war that they themselves call “genocide.” At the beginning of the conflict, Iranian hard-liners expressed anger that Tehran was not joining the fight. “Children die under rubble while our missiles rot in their silos,” tweeted a well-known anchor on Iranian state television. Hezbollah, some regional analysts grumbled, was being held back by Iranians consumed by their own narrow interests.

In April, Israel attacked an Iranian consular building in Damascus, and Iran finally did what it had not done in its entire history: It fired missiles and drones directly at Israel. Far from being deterred, Benjamin Netanyahu’s government has since only upped the pressure on the Islamic Republic, killing Iranian and Axis commanders wherever it can and intensifying the war in Lebanon. It is pummeling Hezbollah with special intensity, killing dozens of its top commanders, including its leader, Hassan Nasrallah, and, most probably, his would-be successor, Hashem Safieddine. After much reticence, Khamenei launched another round of missile attacks on October 1. And Israel has vowed to retaliate.

[Read: Iran is not ready for war with Israel]

Khamenei has thus brought his country to the brink of a war that he has long sought to simultaneously suggest and avoid. Mostafa Najafi, a Tehran-based security expert who supported the Iranian attacks in April and October, assured me that Iran was prepared for whatever force Israel might bring to bear. The country has readied itself with “all of its defense capabilities” on alert, he said; it has invested in domestic air defenses and acquired Russian-made S300 surface-to-air missile systems. Still, Najafi conceded that Iran’s size will make it difficult to defend. Other experts I spoke with took a bleaker view. “It is not clear how Tehran can climb out of this situation,” Mojtaba Dehghani, an Iranian expert with a close understanding of the regime elites, told me. “They are not ready for this war.”

Many in the Iranian opposition argue that Tehran should stop stoking hostilities with Israel and the United States and prioritize economic development instead. The stipulation is found in most opposition political platforms, including those of leftist groups, many of which support a two-state solution for Israel and Palestine. Dehghani agrees with the demand and thinks that some in the regime leadership might concur. But he says that such a big “paradigm shift” will be difficult to pull off with Khamenei still in power. The leader is 85, and no one really knows who will succeed him, or whether that succession will bring in new outlooks and commitments; such uncertainty complicates planning for anything beyond the visible horizon.

In the meantime, Khamenei holds his nation hostage to a doctrine that courts the conflict it also seeks to avoid. Iran needs to make a historic shift if it is to avert a disastrous war that few Iranians want—and begin building a better future instead.

Hezbollah Waged War Against the People of Syria

The Atlantic

www.theatlantic.com › international › archive › 2024 › 10 › hezbollah-war-against-syria › 680212

When Hezbollah’s leader, Hassan Nasrallah, was killed last month, my social-media feeds lit up with images and videos from Syria, my home country. In some areas, including Idlib and the suburbs of Aleppo, residents celebrated late into the night, blasting music and raising banners calling for Bashar al-Assad, the Syrian dictator, to be next. People handed out sweets; celebratory messages, memes, and phone calls flooded my WhatsApp. But the news channels broadcasting from just across the border captured something else: a wave of grief sweeping southern Lebanon.

The jubilation on one side of the line and the mourning on the other reflect our region’s deep complexity. For several years, Hezbollah ravaged the Syrian opposition on behalf of the autocratic Assad government. Its intervention left deep scars—displacement, destruction, and trauma, especially in the Damascus suburbs and Homs, which Hezbollah besieged. The Syrians who welcomed Nasrallah’s assassination were not exactly celebrating the Israelis who carried it out. But many of us felt that for once, the world had tipped in our favor.

Assad—and his father, the dictator Hafez al-Assad, before him—had made Syria the crucial geographical and political link between Iran and Hezbollah. The Lebanese Shiite militia could not have survived without the weapons, fighters, and funds that Tehran supplied by way of Syria. But in 2011, circumstances in Syria threatened this arrangement. Peaceful protests challenged the country’s autocracy; Assad met them brutally, and the country’s opposition transformed into an armed rebellion. Nasrallah saw little choice but to defend his supply line and political network. Hezbollah justified this intervention by framing it as a war against extremists, a fight against chaos, and a defense of Syria’s sovereignty against Western-backed militants. But on the ground, Hezbollah wasn’t just fighting armed factions; it was waging a war against the Syrian people.

[Read: Nasrallah’s folly]

Madaya, a small town near the Lebanese border, lay along Hezbollah’s supply route to Syria. Armed rebel fighters reached that town in 2015, and Hezbollah, together with Assad’s forces, encircled it, cutting off food and medical supplies. Within weeks, the people of Madaya were starving. A border town once home to markets for smuggled electronics and clothes transformed into a fortress of suffering. Some civilians resorted to eating leaves, grass, or stray animals. People foraging for food were shot by snipers or killed by land mines. At least 23 people, six of them babies younger than 1, died from starvation in Madaya in a little over a month, in December 2015 and January 2016. An international outcry did nothing to stop Hezbollah from continuing to enforce its siege.

Syrians tried to expose these horrors by posting stories and photos from Madaya on social media. But before long, supporters of Hezbollah and the Syrian government sadistically  adopted the hashtag “in solidarity with the siege of Madaya” and posted photos of tables laden with grilled meat and fish, along with selfies in front of overloaded fridges. Despite numerous human-rights groups’ reports to the contrary, the government and Hezbollah claimed that the photos of starvation were fake, and that no civilians remained in Madaya anyway—just foreign agents and traitors whose deaths were necessary to save Syria.

Madaya remained under blockade until 2017, when Qatar, representing the rebel forces, and Iran, representing the Syrian government, brokered an evacuation deal relocating the survivors of the siege to opposition-held areas, such as Idlib. Worn down by hunger and bombardment, the evacuees were told to pack only one small bag each, and leave everything else behind.

Hezbollah was not kinder to other Syrian cities. In Aleppo, a relentless bombing campaign that was the joint work of the Syrian government, Russian forces, and Hezbollah destroyed neighborhoods, killed thousands of people, and wrecked infrastructure. Nasrallah called the contest for Aleppo the “greatest battle” of the Syrian war. He deployed additional fighters there to tighten the regime’s hold. Civilians were forced to evacuate—and as they did so, Hosein Mortada, one of the founders of the Iranian news channel Al-Alam and a propagandist embedded with Hezbollah, stood by and mocked them.

Mortada was already infamous among Syrians for turning media coverage into a weapon of psychological warfare. With his thick Lebanese accent and brutal livestreams from the battlefield, Mortada cheered missile strikes and referred to opposition figures as “sheep.” In one YouTube video, he sits in a big bulldozer and praises its power, then squats in the dirt with a toy truck, saying gleefully, “This bulldozer is better for some of you, because you don’t have anything.”

Many who endured the siege of their cities, only to have Hezbollah agents mock and question their suffering before international eyes, have little ambivalence about celebrating Nasrallah’s death. They view the Hezbollah leader’s fate with a tragic sense of justice: Finally, someone whose hands were stained with blood, and who seemed untouchable, was killed.

But as the prominent Syrian intellectual and dissident Yassin Al Haj Saleh often admonished, looking at the world solely through a Syrian lens only isolates us. For many of us Syrians who were active in the uprising and now live in exile, that warning has resonated since Nasrallah’s death. Both on social media and in private conversations, we question whether the justice felt in Nasrallah’s demise should be tempered with concern for the broader regional suffering. We ask: Is it moral to welcome Nasrallah’s killing if the cost is the destruction of Lebanon—a country already reeling from economic collapse, political mismanagement, and the Beirut port explosion just a few years ago? Nasrallah is dead—but for many Syrians who oppose Israel’s war in Gaza, which has killed thousands of civilians, the manner of his death made the event hard to celebrate. Dara Abdallah, a Syrian writer and poet exiled in Berlin, wrote on social media that he could not condone Nasrallah’s assassination, because the means—what appears to have been multiple 2,000-pound bombs rather than, say, a sniper’s bullet—demonstrated that “Israel has no problem eliminating an entire group of people in order to kill just one person.”

[Read: How Beirut is responding to Hassan Nasrallah’s death]

I worry that when the parties, memes, and trays of sweets are finished, Syria will be all the more isolated. Our country’s anguish has been pushed to the margins of global consciousness. Its regime has committed atrocities detailed in thousands of pages of documents that have yielded nothing but distant, largely symbolic trials in European courts. To live through all of this is to understand, in the deepest sense, that the world’s moral compass does not always point toward justice.

When the news of Nasrallah’s death broke, many Syrians felt, for a brief moment, that an elusive dream had taken material shape—that eliminating a figure like Nasrallah would somehow move us closer to peace, closer to righting the wrongs done to us. But the rising death toll in Lebanon also suggests a bitter truth. I am reminded of other moments in our region’s history—the deaths of Saddam Hussein and Muammar Qaddafi, for example—that seemed at first to render justice but only perpetuated the cycle of violence.

In our region, we sometimes feel as though accountability is destined to be followed by more destruction and bloodshed—as though we can never say that the scales have tipped in our favor without questioning the cost.