Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Santoro 2015
Santoro 2015
doi: 10.1093/socpro/spv004
OXFORD
Article
ABSTRACT
Arab Americans have borne the greatest brunt of government and non-state repression
in the aftermath of the terrorists’ attacks on September 11, 2001. In this study, we docu
ment how post-9/11 repression affects Arab American protest at the macro and micro level.
Coding articles from the Detroit Free Press (1999-2010), we find at the macro level that
Arab American protest in the Detroit area spiked in the aftermath of 9/11 and that there is
a strong temporal relationship between anti-Arab/Muslim hate crime and protest. At the
micro level, results from the Detroit Arab American Study (2003) show that personally
experiencing repression enhances protest participation most strongly for those whose Arab
identity is not especially salient. We interpret this finding to mean that such individuals ex
perience repression as a moral shock and/or quotidian disruption and hence such encoun
ters especially motivate them to protest. This is one of the first studies to demonstrate that
repression can be especially mobilizing for those who under other circumstances would be
least likely to protest. Our study pushes theorizing about repression by highlighting that the
state is not the only actor who represses; that repression need not target protestors to affect
the possibilities of protest; and that state and non-state repression is often tightly coupled
for racial and ethnic minority populations.
K EYW ORDS: Arab American; repression; ethnic identity; protest; moral shock.
In the United States, Arab and Arab Muslims have borne the greatest brunt of government and non
state repression in the aftermath of the terrorists’ attacks on September 11, 2001 (hereafter referred
to as 9/11). Two months after 9/11 authorities requested 5,000 men from Middle Eastern countries
to submit to FBI questioning for no other reason than their country of origin (Cainkar 2009). In
areas of Arab American concentration the FBI wiretapped phones, monitored Internet activity, placed
informants inside mosques, and used agent provocateurs—a domestic surveillance mission that resur
rected aspects of the infamous COINTELPRO program (ADC 2003; Howell 2011). There were at
least 700 incidents of violence against Arab Americans within nine weeks of 9/11, and anti-Muslim
hate crime increased 1,600 percent compared to the previous year (ADC 2003; Disha, Cavendish,
The authors wish to thank Maria B. Velez and Christopher Lyons for critical feedback on earlier drafts, Social Problems s reviewers for
helpful suggestions, the collectors of the Detroit Arab American Study (Wayne Baker, Ronald Stockton, Sally Howell, Amaney Jamal,
Ann Chih Lin, Andrew Shryock, Mark Tessler), and Arlene Santoro for continued support. Direct correspondence to: Wayne
Santoro, Department of Sociology, University of New Mexico, MSC05 3080, 1 University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM 87131-
0001. E-mail: wsantoro(S)unm.edu.
© The Author 2015. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Society for the Study o f Social Problems.
For permissions, please e-mail: joumals.permissions(3)oup.com
. 219
220 • Santoro/Azab
and King 2011). Within one month of 9/11, 45 percent of Arab Americans reported that someone
they knew of Arab ethnicity had experienced discrimination (Zogby 2001). These state actions and
everyday harassment created for Arab Americans a climate of fear, anxiety, and isolation; a belief of
being watched and a dread that at any moment one could be detained without due process protec
tions (Cainkar 2008, 2009; Howell and Shryock 2003; Naber 2006).
While scholarship has documented this repression, little attention has been paid to Arab American
resistance to it. Our research examines the connection between repression and Arab American pro
test. At the macro level we use newspaper archives to assess if protest ebbed or flowed in the after
math of 9/11. At the micro level we use a probability survey to investigate whether experiencing
post-9/11 backlash motivates people to join movement causes. Our data come from metropolitan
Detroit. The Arab population in this area is unique in that it is large, roughly 220,000 in 2010, and
geographically concentrated especially in Dearborn where Arabs comprise one-third of the city’s pop
ulation (Schopmeyer 2011). These demographic factors make “Arab Detroit” highly visible and thus
render it a strategic site to examine.
Our investigation aims to make two contributions. First, few repression studies have been at the mi
cro level and most of these focus on activists (Earl 2011). Typical of this approach, Lesley Wood
(2007) examined protest against the World Trade Organization and documented how activists’ experi
ences with police repression dampened protest diffusion. But our micro-level data set is not an activist
specific survey as it represents a cross-section of the Arab community in metro Detroit. This allows us
to assess the broader question of differential recruitment, meaning who joins a protest event, rather
than asking how repression affects only those already committed to the cause. Moreover, we can inves
tigate how repression impacts people with varying levels of ethnic identity, in our case referring to peo
ple who do or do not have a strong sense of “Arabness.” Previous scholarship argues that when
activists experience repression it can further politicize them because they already have a strong sense
of collective identity and thus “righteousness joins grievance to create a potent psychological basis for
mobilization” (Bob and Nepstad 2007:1375). This implies that repression would have little effect on
activism for people with a weak ethnic identity. Yet we draw on research on moral shocks (Jasper and
Poulsen 1995) and quotidian disruption (Snow et al. 1998) to speculate that repression will especially
politically motivate people who are weakly identified. We thus envision repression to be particularly
mobilizing for those who under other circumstances would be least likely to protest.
Second, while movement scholars in the United States have taken notice of the recent protests in
the Arab World, they have paid scant attention to protest among Arab Americans. This has left rela
tively barren our knowledge of the contours of the Arab American movement.1 Our macro-level data
allow us to chart for the first time temporal variation in protest. Our micro-level level data allow us to
assess the impact of factors used to understand protest for other populations, like resources and orga
nizational connections, as well as factors specific to ethnic populations such as ethnic identity and
generation. To the extent that we uncover similarities would, we think, help demystify Arab
Americans who by popular culture are seen as inherently aberrant. This “otherness” is expressed in
popular beliefs that Arab Americans are non-civilized and non-modern because they are exploitive of
women, religiously intolerant, undemocratic, and filled with rage.
1 Exceptions include research on Arab Muslims examining indexes of political participation (Read 2007) or willingness to assert
civil rights (Jamal 2005) as well as ethnographic work on Arab American mobilization in San Francisco prior to 9/11 (Naber
2012). Using the same survey data we use, Howell and Jamal (2009b) analyzed separately the predictors of Arab Christian and
Muslim protest participation. They did not, however, assess repression effects and in general their models excluded predictors
commonly employed in the social movement literature (e.g., ethnic identity, organizational membership, biographical availability,
age, political orientation).
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade . 221
when residents harass or assault Arab Americans in public places and when the state targets Arab
Americans for greater surveillance and harsher treatment. Our approach is broader than the bulk of re
search on repression that focuses on coercive state actions that target protestors, such as how the policing
of protest affects subsequent activism (della Porta 1995) or how governments try to demobilize their
opposition (Rasler 1996). We do not question the usefulness of this more tapered approach, but we
agree with Myra Marx Ferree (2004) that non-state agents can repress (see also Bromley and Shupe
1983; Davenport 2005; Earl 2003). Likewise, we concur with Pamela Oliver (2008) that repression
need not target activists to shape the possibilities of protest (see also Earl 2004; McAdam 1982).
Anti-Arab hostility predates 9/11 but it significantly escalated afterwards in what Andrew Shryock,
Abraham Nabeel, and Sally Howell (2011) labeled the "terror decade” (p. 2). We begin with a review
of state actions. Within two years of 9/11 there were 25 security initiatives, typically emanating from
the executive branch of the federal government, which singled out Arabs in the United States
(Cainkar 2009). One of the first was a November 2001 requirement that roughly 5,000 Middle
Eastern men who had recently arrived in the United States on non-immigrant visas submit to FBI in
terviews (ADC 2003). The interviews were “voluntary” but law enforcement went to the residences
of those who did not volunteer. In the Detroit area, about 566 people were interviewed with 200
alone in Dearborn (Schaefer 2001). These interviews were feared in part because anyone who had a
visa violation was deported, even if such a violation was minor and in the past would have been han
dled leniently. Returning to practices of the COINTELPRO program used against New Left move
ments, the FBI in May of 2002 began a surveillance program of Arab Americans (ADC 2003).
Believing that the Detroit area contained Al Qeda operatives, the FBI used undercover agents to infil-
tiate the community, conducted surveillance of meeting places including mosques, wiretapped
phones, monitored Internet activity, and had the IRS scrutinize Muslim charities (Audi 2002). The
FBI also used agent provocateurs, evident when newcomers to Detroit area mosques encouraged
congregants to engage in violence (Howell 2011). While unaware of the magnitude of these opera
tions, the local Arab community was well aware of the extensive use of community informants, which
created an overall sense of paranoia. One resident stated: 'Being in Dearborn now is like being in a
dark lake. You don’t see the gators, but they’re down there” (Audi 2002:Al).
In August of 2002, the Justice Department developed a program of mandatory registration. About
83.000 male visitors living in the United States from mainly Arab and Muslim-majority countries
were required to register with the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS), be fingerprinted,
photographed, and questioned (Cainkar 2009). Registers had to report in person annually and inform
INS officials of changes of residence. About 13,500 of these individuals were ordered to be deported
despite being cleared of terrorism charges. In total, law enforcement interviewed perhaps as many as
200.000 Arab Americans in their homes or workplaces after coworkers, neighbors, or strangers re
ported that they acted suspiciously (Tirman 2005), and suspicious activity might include making
phone calls at work to Arab countries, opening and closing their car trunk, praying in public, or taking
flying lessons (ADC 2003; Cainkar 2009). Practices like these resulted in the detainment of more
than 5,000 mainly Arab Americans by May of 2003, 155 from the Detroit area (Howell and Jamal
2009a). The Office of the Inspector General documented a "pattern of physical and verbal abuse” in
their treatment and the routine denial of their due process rights (Ahmad 2004:1269).
Profiling by airport personnel was well publicized and included 80 incidents within a year of 9/11
where passengers presumed to be Arab or Muslim were removed from airplanes because crew mem
bers or passengers felt uncomfortable with them on board (ADC 2003). This fear of "flying while
Arab made many more reluctant to schedule airplane trips, especially international flights because
federal authorities at times denied people reentry into the United States (Cainkar 2009). Local police
profiled. In Michigan, police pulled over a car with Arab American boy scouts and threatened to de
tain the scoutmaster as a terrorist suspect (ADC 2003); a Lebanese American and a former star run-
ning back at a Dearborn high school was charged with money laundering in support of terrorism
after police found cell phones in his car (Warikoo 2006); and three men of Palestinian heritage were
222 . Santoro/Azab
Figure 1. Number of Incidents of Anti-Muslim Hate Crime in the United States, 1995-2010
jailed on charges of terrorism surveillance after photographing the scenic Mackinac bridge (Swickard,
Warikoo, and Christoff 2006). All terrorism charges in these cases were later dropped. Detainment
followed by dropping of terrorism charges was the norm, but rather than reassure the Arab popula
tion it produced greater anxiety because it signaled how ill founded the arrests were in the first place
(Cainkar 2009).
Along with state actions, the public monitored and harassed those perceived to be Arab or
Muslim. In fact, Louise Cainkar’s (2008, 2009) interviews in Chicago and John Zogby’s (2001, 2002)
survey research revealed that the most common type of harassment that Arab Americans experienced
came from non-state actors. Within seven days of 9/11 the FBI received 96,000 tips of Arab
Americans engaging in “suspicious” behavior (Cainkar 2009). One way to quantify non-state repres
sion over time is to look at hate crime known to police that targeted Muslims or people presumed
to be Muslim. (The FBI will collect data on hate crime targeting Arabs starting in 2015
[Kaleem 2013].) While the reported numbers undercount such incidents (HRW 2002), it is useful to
indicate over time patterns. Figure 1 traces hate crime from 1995 to 2010 and shows the spike in
repression in the aftermath of 9/11: in 2000 there were 28 anti-Muslim hate crimes but 481 in 2001.2
Others documented more than 700 violent incidents targeting Arab Americans within nine weeks of
9/11 (ADC 2003). Examples include Arab children being attacked in school, Arab Muslim women
having their hijabs (Muslim headscarf) pulled off or being spat upon, vandalism against homes, mob
attacks and bombings of mosques, death threats, harassment at work, and being denied employment
and business services (ADC 2003; HRW 2002). Encountering “hate stares” in public was a near ubiq
uitous experience (Cainkar 2009). Incidents like these occurred in the Detroit area, including a busi
ness being destroyed by arson and another having its windows shot out, verbal harassment on the
street, drivers being attacked while waiting at traffic lights, threatening phone calls to community or
ganizations, employees being fired, suspended, or harassed, and attacks against students, including a
2 Disha and colleagues (2011) argued that most hate crime that the FBI listed under the “other ethnicity” category were inci
dents targeting Arab Americans, in part because hate crime directed at non-Arabs were captured in other mutually exclusive cate
gories (e.g., whites, blacks, Latinos, Asians, Native Americans, Jews). If Disha and colleagues (2011) are correct, anti-Arab and
anti-Muslim hate crime have the same temporal pattern. Anti-Arab hate crime spiked in 2001, with a 324 percent increase com
pared to 2000, and declined thereafter but with levels post-2001 remaining 30 percent higher than pre-2001. The similarity in
trends is further evident in that the bivariate correlation between anti-Arab and anti-Muslim hate crime is .914 from 1995 to
2010.
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade . 223
Dearborn high school having to be evacuated after a bomb threat (ADC 2003). Muneer Ahmad
(2004) wrote that 19 people were killed due to 9/11 backlash. One of these deaths was in the
Detroit-area where the killer told his victim that he was going to kill him for what happened in New
York City and Washington, DC. (ADC 2003:69). This hostile climate was so pervasive that in the
months following 9/11 the earnings of Arab American men fell, especially in areas with many hate
crimes, and the health outcomes of Arab American women precipitously declined, as indicated by
spikes in preterm births and low birth weights (Kaushal, Kaestner, and Reimers 2007; Lauderdale
2006). Over the remaining years of the terror decade anti-Arab harassment fell but remained substan
tially higher than prior to 9/11.
Repression produced a culture of fear, an “internment of the psyche” (Naber 2012), that made
many Arab Americans feel they were being monitored and at any moment could be incarcerated
(Cainkar 2009; Howell and Shryock 2003). Some even feared the creation of internment camps like
those experienced by Japanese Americans during World War II; unbeknownst to the community, the
INS had in fact 15 years earlier developed contingency plans to detain en masse non-citizen Arab
Americans (Akram and Johnson 2004). While far from complete, the historical record documents
well post-9/11 repression. It also makes a case for conceptualizing repression as more than just state
actions that target protestors, as that approach would exclude every example detailed above. What is
less obvious is how people responded to it. We turn now to a review of research on the repression-
mobilization nexus and the different ways we investigate this issue.
costly. Other conditional approaches include work that uncovered that repression mobilized anti
nuclear activists only if the potential activist thought that the repression was illegitimate (Opp and
Roehl 1990); that repression had short-term negative but long-term positive effects on insurgency
during the Iranian revolution (Rasler 1996); that legally sanctioned repression like court decrees
dampened protest but situational-based police repression escalated collective action for extreme right
movements in Germany (Koopmans 1997), and that Israeli arrests only diminished Palestinian pro
test if they were at high levels (Khawaja 1993) (see also Bob and Nepstad 2007; Hess and Martin
2006; Koopmans 1993; Moore 1998; Olivier 1990).
Using our micro-level level data, we follow this line of research by assessing the conditional rela
tionship between repression and ethnic identity. We previously noted that repression can mobilize ac
tivists, because experiencing it in conjunction with a strong collective identity acts as a motivator for
continued activism. For anti-apartheid protestors at Columbia University, Eric Hirsch (1990) found
that through face-to-face interaction participants had built a strong sense of group solidarity. When
activists subsequently experienced harassment, such as being threatened with expulsion, they became
further unified and more willing to use direct action. Hirsch believed that people who were commit
ted to the movement’s goals and each other found repression to be a polarizing experience that invig
orated their dedication to the cause. Clifford Bob and Sharon Nepstad (2007) noted that when the
state assassinates movement leaders it can create a moral outrage among adherents that empowers
them to continue with the protest cause. Jo Ann Robinson (1987) documented that when segrega
tionists in Montgomery, Alabama tried to dismantle the 1955-56 bus boycott by bombing Dr. King’s
home, ticketing boycotters, and arresting organizers it further unified people who already were pro
testing. White (1989) argued that repression mobilized IRA activists because of their strong national
Irish identity, their loyalty to their social networks, and because they saw violence as effective.
These studies leave unclear, however, how repression affects those with a weak identity because
accounts of activists only contain people committed to the cause. We can address this shortcoming
because we do not have an activist-specific sample. Any representative sample of an ethnic population
includes people who vary in the extent that they are ethnically identified. This means we can compare
how repression affects those with strong ethnic identities to those whose “Arabness” has little sa
lience, the latter indicated in our analysis by people who see little reason to maintain the Arabic lan
guage, marry within the community, participate in Arab cultural events, and the like. Drawing on
research on moral shocks and quotidian disruption, we speculate that repression will especially mobi
lize those with a weak Arab identity. The crux of our argument is that people with a weak ethnic iden
tity most likely find personal experiences with repression to be a moral shock; likewise, such
experiences should be particularly disruptive to their taken-for-granted assumptions and habituated
patterns of everyday life. James Jasper and Jane Poulsen (1995) and David Snow and colleagues
(1998) theorized that these conditions, respectively, were especially conducive to protest mobiliza
tion. We elaborate on this thesis below.
Social movement theory suggests that Arab Americans who feel little common fate with other
coethnics are likely isolated from activist networks, unaware or unconcerned about ethnic-based
grievances, and unlikely to join ethnic protests. Amaney Jamal (2005) found this to be the case for
Arab Muslims. She reported that Arab Muslims with low group consciousness tended to be uncon
nected to Arab social circles, to see America as fair and a land of opportunity, and to have never expe
rienced discrimination. But if such individuals encounter repression for no other reason than their
Arab heritage, we think they experience it as a moral shock: “an event or situation (which) raises
such a sense of outrage in people that they become inclined toward political action, even in the ab
sence of a network of contacts” (Jasper and Poulsen 1995:498). For those who cling to the ideal of
America as a land of upward mobility and a protector of civil liberties, experiencing repression is
likely so incongruent with their orientation that it acts as a moral shock that motivates protest partici
pation. Jasper and Poulsen (1995) contended that this process characterized recruitment for many
animal rights activists. They argued that many were isolated originally from protest networks and
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade . 225
may have even held derogatory views of animal rights activists. After seeing or reading about scien
tists experimenting on animals, however, they were shocked cognitively and emotionally to such an
extent that they became motivated to seek out activist organizations and join protest campaigns.
Snow and associates (1998) theorizing about the link between quotidian disruption and mobiliza
tion lead to a similar expectation. They noted that when individuals experienced a disruption to their
everyday routine, and the taken-for-granted assumptions that underlied such accustomed daily prac
tices, it served as a powerful motivator for protest. For instance, they argued that the partial nuclear
meltdown on Three Mile Island radically altered daily routines, evidenced when some had to evacu
ate their homes, as well as unquestioned beliefs like faith in government officials. These quotidian dis
ruptions, in turn, channeled many into anti-nuclear activism. This perspective is especially relevant to
Arab Americans because Snow and associates (1998) focused on disruptions to a person’s normal
routine and this is precisely where Arab Americans are most likely to experience repression. Recall
that most repression Arab Americans face occurs in such routine activities as walking on the street, in
employment contexts, and when purchasing goods. Moreover, Snow and associates (1998:9) high-
lighted disruptions where a person was violated and victimized by strangers, and repression cer
tainly classifies as such an affront. In sum, Arab Americans with low ethnic identity should find
repression to be quite disruptive to their cognitive and behavioral routine and hence it should espe
cially motivate them to protest.
Repression may mobilize those with a strong Arab identity as well. But given that such individuals
are likely already cognizant of anti-Arab bias, as Jamal’s (2005) study suggests, repression should be
less morally shocking and/or disruptive to their daily routine. As an example, we think experiencing
anti-Arab/Muslim harassment is less morally shocking and/or disruptive for those convinced that the
United States is leading an assault on the Arab World or the Muslim religion—beliefs that Nadine
Naber (2012) found commonplace among those with a strong Arab/Muslim collective identity. As
such, while repression may motivate them to protest, the magnitude of the effect should be less
pronounced.
Macro-Level Data
To document macro-level protest we search the archives of the Detroit Free Press. This paper covers
metro Detroit, is Michigan’s largest newspaper, and has online archives available during the period in
question. While not without their limitations, newspapers are widely used to track protest and large
newspapers do so relatively accurately (Earl et al. 2004). We begin the analysis in 1999, nearly three
years prior to 9/11 and the earliest year online archives are available. We end in 2010.3 We code two
types of protest events. First, we code public demonstrations by Detroit-area Arab Americans such as
marches, boycotts, pickets, and vigils that articulated an ethnic-based grievance.4 We code events that
may have spanned more than one day only once because the duration was inconsistently reported.
3 During our searches we discovered that the database was missing coverage for half of 2004 and thus we do not report data for
that year. A lesser problem occurred in 2008 where the archives were incomplete for one month.
4 Thus we exclude demonstrations whose purpose is to condemn terrorism, show support for President George W. Bush, and
other events that lack a clear ethnic-based demand.
226 . Santoro/Azab
Second, we code meetings between Detroit-area Arab Americans and authorities (e.g., police, FBI,
federal officials) where Arab Americans voiced ethnic-based grievances. These face-to-face meetings
provide a mechanism to directly communicate grievances to elites, and as such they serve as a form
of local Arab American activism (Howell and Jamal 2009a). To be coded the meeting had to be con
tentious, meaning community members expressed to authorities their displeasure at elite actions. Our
measure of protest sums events across these two types.
We employ 27 search terms to identify relevant articles using the newspaper’s online search en
gine. We began with "Arab American” and “Muslim” separately in combination with six descriptors
of mobilization (e.g., protest, rally, meeting, crowd). We select actions by Muslims if they were of
Arab descent. In the course of these searches we identified 10 community advocacy organizations
and 5 activists and we used the names of these 15 organizations/activists as a second set of search
terms. We read the abstracts of all articles that these searches produced and then downloaded (pur
chased) the full text of those that were potentially relevant. We erred on the side of caution, down
loading a total of 775 articles or eight for every one article that proved relevant. The multiple
searches and liberal downloading gave us confidence that few protests covered by the Free Press es
caped our attention.
Micro-Level Data
We use the Detroit Arab American Study (DAAS) (Baker et al. 2003), a representative sample of
self-identified people of Arab or Chaldean (Christian Iraqis) descent living in the Detroit three-
county metropolitan area in 2003. All respondents were adults (18+) and were interviewed face-to-
face. Most interviewers were of Arab background and about 40 percent of the interviews were
conducted in Arabic. Two different sampling frames were used. First, a three-stage sample design se
lected respondents from 60 census tracks that had a population of 10 percent or more Arab. These
tracks included 49 percent of all Arabs in the three-county area. Second, to locate people in tracts
with low Arab concentration, the researchers used the membership lists of 13 religious, business, edu
cational, and social organizations that serve Detroit-area Arab Americans. This produced a list of over
30,000 people but the sampling frame was reduced to 10,645 individuals with deliverable addresses
who lived in census tracks not already surveyed. A systematic random sample of these individuals was
conducted. Altogether, 1,389 eligible households were identified using both sampling frames and
1,016 were interviewed. The response rate was a healthy 74 percent. All data we present are weighted
to correct for unequal probability of household selection.
Advantages of the survey are numerous. The data collectors went to great lengths to solicit com
munity input. More than 20 organizations that serve the local Arab population were consulted, and
their input was used in constructing culturally sensitive questions and translating questions into
Arabic. Such organizations also publicized the survey instrument to the community, making people
feel safe in participating, a particularly important issue for a population that fears being monitored.
Moreover, the survey had as its intention to capture 9/11 impacts, and thus questions asked about
protest that took place after 9/11 or harassment stemming from 9/11 backlash.
Dependent Variable
We measure protest based on whether the respondent in the past 12 months took part in a pro
test, march, or demonstration about any social or political issue” (l = yes, 0 = otherwise). While it
might seem to some like a low bar for activism, remember that we examine protest in the immedi
ate post-9/11 climate where people knew that law enforcement could investigate them without
probable cause, misconstrue their innocuous actions as support for terrorism, and detain them with
out any assurance of their release (Cainkar 2009). Eleven percent protested. To gauge whether this
represents a high or low level of protest involvement, Figure 2 compares this finding to a 2002 na
tional sample from the General Social Survey (GSS) and the 2003 Detroit Area Survey (DAS),
which sampled the same area as the DAAS survey. Figure 2 shows that Arab Americans protested
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade . 227
110°o
4.0°o
Arab
American
(n = 1,016)
White
(n = 1,032)
I1
Black
(n = 202)
Latino
(m =115)
White
(n - 343)
Black
(n = 113)
Notes: Data on Arab Americans are from the DAAS (Baker et al. 2003) with remaining Detroit area data from the Detroit
Area Study (DAS) (Baker 2003). We exclude Latinos from the DAS sample, because only 12 were surveyed. National data
come from the 2002 General Social Survey (GSS) (Smith, Marsden, and Flout 1972—2010). Protestors participated in a
“protest, march, or demonstration” in the last 12 months for the DAAS (Baker et al. 2003) and DAS (Baker 2003) surveys
or joined a “protest rally or march” over the past five years for the GSS.
substantially more than whites, blacks, and Latinos nationally as well as compared to blacks and
whites in the Detroit area. We do not think that Arab Americans always protest at higher levels
than these other populations, but in certain historical moments they can. The data suggest that
post-9/11 was such a moment.
Independent Variables
Prior research has differentiated repression based on its severity (Earl 2003) and thus we use an index
to measure the severity of non-state repression. Respondents were first asked if they had experienced
in the past two years (post-9/11) verbal insults due to their race, ethnicity, or religion. People who
had but did not report more severe repression are coded 1. Respondents then were asked if they had
experienced in the past two years threatening words or gestures due to their race, ethnicity, or religion.
People who had been threatened are coded 2 so long as they also had not been physically attacked.
Last, respondents were asked if they had experienced in the past two years a physical attack due to
their race, ethnicity, or religion. People who had been attacked are coded 3. High scores thus indicate
greater severity of repression experiences, from insults to threats to physical attacks. Overall, 75 per
cent did not directly experience repression (coded 0), 11 percent were verbally insulted, 12 percent
were threatened, and 2 percent (18 people) were physically attacked.
We assume that non-state actors are carrying out most of this repression, a claim we can indirectly
assess. Respondents were asked if they had a “bad experience since 9/11” and those who had were asked
to “explain.” We code these open-ended responses based on whether the hostile encounter involved a
state actor, a non-state actor, or airport personnel. We separated airport personnel, because although
they are non-state actors they use airport security to enforce their treatment of passengers. Figure 3
shows these results. A handful of people, about 4 percent, report being harassed by state actors, espe
cially police officers but others mentioned federal marshalls, the U.S. Customs and Border Protection
agency, and immigration officials. But an overwhelming majority, roughly 87 percent, mentions encoun
ters with non-state actors. Common examples include harassment at work from employers, employees,
and customers; unpleasant experiences from people they encounter on the street while walking or driv
ing; as well as negative encounters when purchasing goods such as at gasoline stations and grocery
228 . Santoro/Azab
86.7%
4.1% 4.8%
stores. These post-9/11 non-state sanctions are precisely the type of repression that Christian
Davenport (2005) encouraged scholars to examine because the existent repression literature does not.
There are seemingly as many approaches to measuring “Arab identity” as there are scholars who
study it. Our Arab identity measure, influenced by Jamal’s (2005) notion of Arab American “group
consciousness,” seeks to capture respondents’ degree of ethnic attachment and presumably the soli
darity and pride that ethnic attachment entails. Respondents were asked how important it meant to
them to: (l) speak Arabic; (2) marry someone of an Arab background; (3) participate in Arab art
and cultural events; (4) support Palestine; and (5) frequently visit their family’s country of ancestry
in the Arab world. Each response ranged from 0, indicating that it was “not relevant” to 4, indicating
that it meant “a lot.” The indicators form a reliable index (a = .73) and are summed. The measure’s
criterion validity is evident in that, as we demonstrate shortly, Arab identity promotes protest as
social movement theory predicts.5
Control Variables
We incorporate 16 controls. Organizational involvement promotes protest and thus we measure it
based on whether the respondent is an active member of an ethnic or religious-based organization
(1 = yes, 0 = no). We measure socioeconomic status because it heightens political participation.
Education is a four-category variable where 1 is less than a high school degree and 4 is a master’s, pro
fessional, or doctorate degree. Family income is a ten-category variable where 1 is less than $10,000
and 10 is $200,000 or more. In general, these data have few missing values; however, the income field
is less complete than others so we use conditional mean imputation by replacing missing values with
predicted values from a regression analysis of the complete data. To capture biographical constraint
we code people who are married and have children as a 1, 0 otherwise. We reverse code age so that
high values indicate younger age: we score people 50 or older 1, those in their forties 2, thirties 3,
and younger than thirty 4. We measure liberal orientation with 1 being “very conservative” and
5 Scholars of Arab Americans may want to know if the Arab identity measure applies to the large share of Chaldeans in our sample
(22 percent). Chaldeans are mainly Iraqi Catholics whose ancestral language is Aramaic rather than Arabic; moreover, Chaldeans
do not always identify as Arab despite sharing similar cultural traits. However, Chaldeans (mean = 9.56) do not differ from non-
Chaldeans (mean = 9.65) on the Arab identity index (t = .27, p = .786).
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade . 229
5 meaning “very liberal.” Younger adults and liberals are more likely to protest than older adults or
conservatives. We control for sex and race, separately, with women and self-identified whites coded
1 and men and other racial identifications coded 0.
Generation is a crucial aspect of the ethnic experience (Telles and Ortiz 2008). People of Arab de
scent have been immigrating to the United States for more than a century and have generational
depth. Syrians and Lebanese were part of the large wave of South-Central-Eastern Europeans who
came to the United States at the turn of the twentieth century. The early settlement of some of these
immigrants in the Detroit area, in part to seek jobs in the automobile industry, helps explain contin
ued Arab immigration to the area (Schopmeyer 2011). We measure generation by coding immigrants
1, those in the first U.S.-born generation 2, respondents whose parents were both U.S. born, but not
their grandparents 3, and all others 4. Wayne Santoro and Gary Segura (2011) found that among
Mexican Americans, ethnic political activity increased from the first to the second generation but
then subsequently decreased for third and fourth-plus generations. We include a generation-squared
term to assess this non-linear pattern.
Arab Muslims are especially politically active because they experience hostility directed at their re
ligion (Read 2007), have heightened group consciousness emanating from mosque involvement
(Jamal 2005), and because of politicizing events in the Arab World (Naber 2012). We code religion
into three dummy variables based on whether the respondent is Muslim, Christian, or some other re
ligion/ not religious. Christians are the reference category. We use four dummy variables to capture
country of origin. Our reference category combines Syrians and Lebanese (see Ajrouch and Jamal
2007). These populations tend to be assimilated, as indicated by high rates of marrying non-Arabs
and self-identifying as white (Ajrouch and Jamal 2007; Kulczycki and Lobo 2002), and thus we ex
pect them to be unlikely to protest. We code respondents 1 if they were born in either country or, if
U.S. born, both of their parents were born in Syria/Lebanon. Following this coding technique, we
compare them separately to Iraqis and Palestinians. International developments at the time of the
DAAS survey, namely the U.S. invasion of Iraq and the second Palestinian intifada, may have politi
cized these populations. Arabs of other nationalities comprise the final dummy variable. The first col
umn in Appendix Table A1 shows means for all variables for the entire sample and the remaining
columns do so separately for protestors and non-protestors.
Method
We look for change in protest before and after 9/11 to uncover macro-level repression effects. We
also examine statistically the bivariate relationship between anti-Muslim (and anti-Arab) hate crime
and protest. Both the small sample size (n — 11) and lack of data on Arab Americans across the
years/location of our sample preclude a multivariate analysis of the macro-level data; we can nonethe
less establish the basic relationship between repression and protest. We use logistic regression for the
micro-level level data because the dependent variable is dichotomous. We report metric coefficients,
which indicate that for a unit change in the predictor variable, the log-odds of protest changes by its
respective parameter estimate holding constant all other variables. Bivariate correlations suggest that
multicolinearity is not a concern. Models are estimated in Stata 12.
FINDINGS
Figure 4 shows how protest at the macro level varied from 1999 to 2010. Protest in 2001 is shown
separately for pre- and post-9/11 events. An initial observation is that despite the attention paid to
the impact of 9/11 on the Arab community, they were protesting prior to 9/11. This is because anti-
Arab hostility predates 9/11, with scholars often linking its genesis to the backlash following the
1967 Arab-Israeli war. Examples of pre-9/11 protest include a 1999 meeting in Dearborn with the
U.S. Attorney General to criticize the use of "secret” evidence to detain non-citizen Arab Americans;
a 2000 picket of a convenience store whose manager made anti-Arab remarks; and a January 2001
230 • Santoro/Azab
20 1
1999 2000 2001 2001 2002 2003 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010
(pre-9/11) (post-9/11)
encounter where people packed a Dearborn city-council meeting where officials decided whether to
appoint a person who had authored anti-Arab statements in political campaign literature.
But Figure 4 makes clear that protest spiked after 9/11. Compared to the first nine months of
2001, protest more than tripled in the last three months of the year. Protest peaked in 2002 and was
433 percent higher than the previous year (pre-9/11). Rather than withdrawing from public space,
Arab Americans protested during a climate of repression. One of the first events we uncovered was a
November 2001 march in Dearborn protesting law enforcement targeting recent Arab immigrants for
police interviews. Other issues post-9/11 and throughout 2002 include protests over the arrest and
deportation of a Muslim activist of Lebanese heritage on charges that his charity funded terrorism,
the deportation of immigrant men of Middle Eastern background for visa violations, the freezing of
assets of Muslim charities, harassment of Arab students, and airport and police profiling. Post-9/11
protest ebbed and flowed, but levels were almost always higher than those predating 9/11. This con
clusion is in line with work that has argued that 9/11 helped solidify and at times politically mobilized
the Arab and Muslim American community (Bakalian and Bozorgmehr 2009; Cho, Gimpel, and Wu
2006).
Not all protest targeted state or private repression. Similar to other ethnic populations (Lieberson
1980), for instance, most Arab Americans have an interest in political developments in their country
of origin (Zogby 2001, 2002). In 2002, for example, 44 percent of Arab American demonstrations in
Detroit were directed at the large-scale Israeli military invasion of Palestinian cities. To account for
this, Figure 5 shows only protest that targeted repressive state or private action. These data exclude
protest directed at international concerns, such as the Iraqi war, as well as domestic issues unrelated
to state surveillance/harassment or private citizen assaults. An example of the latter, which Figure 5
excludes, is a boycott in 2000 over a store selling clothing with verses from the Qur’an. Figure 5
reveals that while the volume of protest declines by half, the general pattern remains: low levels of
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade • 231
20
15 -
10 -
(pre-9/11) (post-9/11)
pre-9/11 protest, a noticeable upswing in protest at the end of 2001 and throughout 2002, and then
a decline over time with levels remaining generally higher than pre-9/11 protest. Figure 5 further
makes clear the mobilizing effect of repression. Moreover, the bivariate relationship between anti-
Muslim hate crime (Figure l) and Arab American protest (Figure 5) is .635 (p < .05), a remarkably
robust relationship. If FBI reports of hate crime listed as targeting “other ethnicity” represent hate
crime against Arab Americans (see footnote two), the relationship between anti-Arab hate crime and
protest remains equally robust ( r = .638, p < .05).
Why does repression mobilize? Although beyond our quantitative data to demonstrate, we draw
on the historical record to speculate that factors both external and internal to the Arab community
are relevant. Externally, we find useful the “inverted-U” perspective. Recall that this approach argues
that regimes with a mixture of receptive and repressive elements are especially conducive to mobiliza
tion. We think it accurate to describe the political environment facing Arab Americans as mixed: egre
gious enough to mobilize but not so severe to make protest unthinkable or life threatening. We
already have detailed its repressive nature, but it had receptive elements as well. To illustrate,
President George W. Bush repeatedly made public statements opposed to anti-Arab/Muslim back
lash, such as during a September 17 mosque visit (ADC 2003), and 90 percent of Arab Americans
one month after 9/11 found his comments reassuring (Zogby 2001). Around the country, mayors
and governors publically condemned hate crime (HRW 2002). Many high-level federal officials trav
eled to the Detroit area to meet with Arab community leaders, including the Secretary of State, the
Treasury Secretary, and representatives from the FBI. Likewise, local police generally took hate crime
seriously. In fact, the Human Rights Watch (2002) concluded that the Dearborn police were “exem
plary” in their post-9/11 response, such as patrolling Arab neighborhoods and mosques by the early
afternoon of September 11, and that such actions made the community feel safer in Dearborn than
outside it. On a more personal level, despite the overall climate of hostility many Arab Americans
232 . Santoro/Azab
N = 1,016
a reference category Syrian/Lebanese
b reference category Christian
* p < .05 ** p < .01 (two-tailed tests)
report that since 9/11 someone from outside their community reached out to them with a gesture of
kindness (Howell and Jamal 2009a).6 Actions like these lead us to agree with researchers (Howell
and Shryock 2003), human rights organizations (HRW 2002), and Arab American advocacy organi
zations (ADC 2003) that the political context sent the Arab community mixed messages.
More internally, Arab Detroit has a wealth of mobilization structures predating 9/11. In the late
1990s, for instance, it had 43 mosques, IS Middle Eastern churches, and 65 Arab and Chaldean orga
nizations (David 1999; Howell 2011). Indigenous organizations are the backbone of mobilization.
The most prominent civil rights organization is the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee
(ADC) with a local office in Dearborn. At the local and national level, the ADC protested issues of
concern to Arab Americans before and after 9/11. For instance, it formed in 1980 to protest negative
media portrayals of Arabs and shortly after 9/11 it sponsored a meeting with Dearborn educators
to voice concern over the harassment of Arab students. In sum, we suggest that the mix of
6 In the DAAS sample, 33 percent of Arab Americans reported that in the weeks after 9/11 someone who was not of Middle
Eastern background showed them support or solidarity. We were curious if such acts of kindness affected protest participation,
but when we included this variable in Models 1 through 3 (Table l ) it never approached statistical significance. This suggests
that negative encounters mobilize more than positive ones, perhaps because people often protest what they dislike.
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade . 233
Figure 6. Predicted Effect of Repression on Likelihood of Arab American Protest Participation by Levels of
Arab Identity
receptivity/hostility characterizing the political context and strong preexisting organizations help ex
plain why repression prompted protest.
We turn now to our micro-level data. Table 1 predicts who joined a protest event after 9/11.
Model 1 is a baseline model and Model 2 adds the index of the severity of repression experiences.
Model 2 shows that repression has no effect on protest participation, although the positive coefficient
just misses being significant at conventional levels ( t = 1.89, p — .060). But our focus is on uncover
ing if the effect of repression is moderated by Arab identity, and Model 3 tests this by adding the
product term repression * Arab identity. The product term is significant and Figure 6 presents this in
teraction graphically. Three slopes are shown corresponding to the effect of repression on protest for
those with high levels of Arab identity (scores one standard deviation above the mean on identity),
average levels of identity, and low identity (one standard deviation below the mean).
Repression heightens protest and its effect is especially strong for those with low Arab identity.
We think these people are unlikely to protest absent repression experiences. Models 1 and 2 suggest
this by showing that low Arab identity corresponds to less protest. Moreover, we find that those with
a weak Arab identity are unlikely to be an active member of an ethnic or religious-based organization:
28 percent of respondents with low identity are organizationally connected compared to 43 percent
of those with high identity. Jamal (2005) found that Arab Muslims who lacked organizational ties
had less ethnic solidarity and because of this were unlikely to interpret police mistreatment of coeth
nics as a form of injustice. Altogether, these observations paint a picture of low-identity Arab
Americans as isolated from activist networks, unaware or unconcerned about anti-Arab hostility, and
hence unlikely candidates to join ethnic-based protests. But when they personally encounter repres
sion we suspect that it is experienced as a moral shock and/or a quotidian disruption. In line with
234 . Santoro/Azab
-1.5
-2
-2.5
-3
-3.5
-A
Jasper and Poulsen (1995) and Snow and associates (1998), we find this condition to be conducive
to joining protest events.
For these low-identity individuals, ethnographic work would be most informative to unpack the
sequence of events that link repression to protest via processes of quotidian disruption and moral
shocks. From the quotidian disruption perspective, we would expect that repression had altered nor
mal routines. Interviews with Arab Americans uncovered that some in the post-9/11 environment
changed daily practices like where they went shopping, willingness to travel and make donations to
Muslim charities, and interactions among friends and strangers (Beitin and Allen 2005; Cainkar
2009). We also would expect disruptions in cognitive routines. This might register, for instance, with
repression causing these individuals to become apprehensive when encountering non-Arabs in public
or fear being in large crowds. From the moral shock perspective, for repression to mobilize low-
identity Arabs we would expect them to hold some of the sentiments Jamal (2005) identified among
low-identity Arab Muslims: the belief that America is a protector of civil liberties, that only those
who misbehave encounter hostility, and that complaining about mistreatment only worsens stereo
types. With beliefs like these as background, their subsequent repression experience for no other rea
son than their ethnic heritage or creed should have been quite shocking. More than merely a
cognitive reaction, it should have been felt at the “gut level” (Jasper 1997:154), a visceral reaction,
and we would look for ethnographers to uncover their frustration, anger, fear, and other like-minded
intense emotions.
Repression also mobilizes those with average levels of identity. The size of the effect is lessened
compared to low-identity coethnics, but across most values of repression the probability of protesting
is nonetheless higher for those with average levels of identity. The slope of repression remains posi
tive for people with high levels of identity, but its effect reduces in magnitude to the point of losing
statistical significance. One explanation for these findings is that average and high Arab-identity indi
viduals simply do not experience repression to be as morally shocking or as disruptive to their daily
routines as is the case for their low identity coethnics. Among those highly ethnically identified, two
other possibilities exist. First, these people are likely already motivated to join protest causes and they
therefore do not need the added incentive of repression to be willing to protest. Second, perhaps re
pression does not affect their probability of protesting but it might affect the intensity of their
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade . 235
activism, such as what Eric Hirsch (1990) uncovered. While repression does not enhance mobiliza
tion across the entire sample, it is noteworthy that more than two-thirds (68 percent) of respondents
have either low or average levels of Arab identity meaning that the mobilization effect of repression is
more the norm than the exception.
In terms of controls, the correlates of protest participation established for other constituencies
work as expected. Protestors tend to be liberal, organizationally connected, have resources (educa
tion), and be biographically available. While not technically a control, we also find that ethnic identity
mobilizes respondents independent of repression experiences (Model 2) and even for those who
have not experienced repression personally (Model 3). This finding is in line with traditional move
ment theory that sees in-group solidarity as inspiring protest participation and shaping everyday be
havior. Given that dominant-group hostility can act as a catalyst for ethnic identity (Santoro, Velez,
and Keogh 2012), Arab identity likely was heightened by the post-9/11 national climate and personal
repression experiences. If true, then our models would underestimate the indirect effect that repres
sion can have on protest participation. Gender is unrelated to the likelihood of protesting, a finding
consistent with studies on non-Arab populations (Schussman and Soule 2005). Perhaps the only real
surprise is that age has no effect. Yet even here young age is related to protest at the bivariate level
(see Appendix Table A l), suggesting that the age effect is simply mediated by other variables. In fact,
in supplemental analysis younger Arab Americans are better educated, more ethnically identified, and
experience more repression—factors that promote protest. Muslims protest more than Christians,
not surprisingly given their greater awareness of anti-Muslim bias and involvement in mosques that
builds a sense of linked fate.
Lastly, generation has a concave curvilinear effect on protest. Figure 7 presents a graphic depiction
of this relationship. If we take the first derivative of the quadratic curve as estimated, we find the peak
(where the slope of the first derivative AY/AX = 0) at 2.09, meaning that once we move past the sec
ond generation the effect of increasing generations is to decrease protest participation. This relation
ship mirrors what Santoro and Segura (2011) found for Mexican Americans. They noted that
second-generation Mexican Americans protest more than the first because they had greater organiza
tional involvement, more resources, and more awareness of anti-Mexican prejudice. We find evidence
of similar processes. Compared to Arab immigrants, the second generation are more involved in reli
gious/ethnic-based organizations (56 vs. 32 percent), more likely to have a bachelor’s degree (27 vs.
20 percent), and more likely to experience repression (41 vs. 20 percent). Santoro and Segura
(2011) explained the drop-off in protest among generationally distant Mexican Americans by noting
that such individuals had a weak ethnic identity and little exposure to targeted mobilization efforts.
Again, similar processes operate for Arab Americans: compared to the second generation, the third-
plus generation has less Arab identity (5.4 vs. 8.8 on the identity scale), perhaps because they encoun
ter less repression (27 vs. 41 percent), and they are less likely to be Muslim (11 vs. 26 percent),
which makes them less likely to be a part of a network that is exposed to targeted recruitment ap
peals. In short, despite the important differences between Arab and Mexican Americans, generation
operates in a substantively similar way.
such, it is particularly mobilizing. If we are correct, this is one of the first studies to demonstrate that
repression can be especially mobilizing for those who under other circumstances would be unlikely
to protest. The central caveat to our observations about Arab Americans is that they are based on
people living in metro Detroit. It is very possible that the processes we uncover would differ in other
areas, particularly locations that lack vibrant coethnic networks and strong Arab advocacy organiza
tions. Finally, we are not in a position to test whether our claims regarding repression at the micro
level apply to non-Arabs. Certainly, if one lesson is to be gleaned from the repression literature it is
that no single causal relationship characterizes the link between repression and mobilization.
Nonetheless, our argument is inspired by Jasper and Poulsen (1995) and Snow and associates
(1998) who focused on constituencies that differ greatly from our sample, such as animal rights activ
ists and the homeless, suggesting a degree of generalizability beyond the Arab community.
Our findings speak to theorizing about repression. Repression typically is seen as state actions tar
geting protestors. Yet we agree with Pamela Oliver (2008) that repression need not target protestors
to alter the possibilities of protest. She wrote that the policing of blacks in the 1980s led to the mass
surveillance and incarceration of large segments of the population and thus eroded the demographic
base needed to generate protest. Likewise, we agree with Ferree (2004) that the state is not the only
actor who represses. She noted that the women’s movement typically has not targeted the state and
thus the repression that feminists experienced when challenging institutional practices or cultural un
derstandings come from non-state actors. A focus on Arab Americans brings these often-neglected
types of repressive actions to the foreground. The twin cornerstones of repression facing Arab
Americans are state actions that do not target protestors and the repressive actions of the coworkers,
customers, neighbors, or strangers that Arab Americans encounter in their everyday lives. As we dem
onstrate, these actions impact protest. Just as the movement literature over time has broadened the
conceptualization of movement activity, our study underscores the need for a broader conceptualiza
tion of repression.
Our study pushes theorizing in another direction. While Jennifer Earl (2003) highlighted repres
sion by private agents, she saw such actors by definition as being unconnected to the state. Actions of
parents opposed to their children’s involvement in the Sun Myung Moon religious movement, for in
stance, occurred with the state being uninvolved in the conflict (Bromley and Shupe 1983). But for
Arab Americans, the policies and rhetoric of authorities shaped the repressive actions of non-state ac
tors. President Bush, for instance, constructed in speeches an image of the new American enemy as
Muslim and Arab (Merskin 2004). Attorney General John Ashcroft warned that terrorists were hiding
in our communities and asked the public to help the federal government find them (Cainkar 2009).
The Justice Department and the FBI in Detroit actively encouraged the public to “voluntarily” offer
terrorism-related tips, among other ways by offering money for such information on a local Arabic-
language television channel (Audi 2002; Howell and Jamal 2009a). Repressive actions by private
agents did not merely parallel state actions; they were inspired by state actions. When law enforce
ment target and politicians demonize Arab Americans this gives legitimacy for citizens to monitor
and harass them. Thus, in our case state and non-state actions were coupled. We think this is typically
the case for racial and ethnic minority populations in the United States. The U.S. state structures ra
cial hierarchies and identities in innumerable ways (Omi and Winant 1994), and in doing so shapes
how non-state actors interact and at times repress minority populations. Future scholarship should be
sensitive to the linking of non-state and state actions. When so connected, non-state repression may
be particularly mobilizing or pernicious in its effect.
We think our results also challenge popular perceptions of Arab Americans. Beginning in the late
1960s and reinvigorated after 9/11, the public views Arab Americans as intrinsically aberrant. This
may be manifested in beliefs such as Arab culture is exploitative of women, that Islam is fundamen
tally at odds with Christianity, or that Arab Americans are either terrorists or supporters of terrorism.
The core premise underlying such attitudes is that Arab Americans are simply the “other.” Our study
undermines this premise because the correlates of Arab American protest mirror those of other U.S.
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade • 237
populations. Like other constituencies, protestors tend to have more resources and organizational
connections, a liberal orientation, and are biographically available. Despite the view that Arab women
are relegated to the private sphere by a patriarchal culture, they protest at the same levels as men.
And perhaps most telling of the dynamics of the ethnic experience, generation operates in a near
identical way as it does for Mexican Americans. In short, the correlates of protest for Arab Americans
are decidedly common. For a population seen as deviating from normative practices, these findings
are distinctly counter-hegemonic.
APPENDIX
Significantly different than protestors: + p < .075 * p < .05 (two-tailed tests)
238 . Santoro/Azab
REFERENCES
Ahmad, Muneer I. 2004. “A Rage Shared by Law.” California Law Review 92:1259-1330.
Ajrouch, Kristine J. and Amaney Jamal. 2007. “Assimilating to a White Identity.” International Migration Review 41:
860-79.
Akram, Susan M. and Kevin R. Johnson. 2004. “Race and Civil Rights Pre-September 11, 2001.” Pp. 9-25 in Civil
Rights in Peril. Chicago, IL: Haymarket Books.
American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee (ADC). 2003. Report on Hate Crimes and Discrimination Against Arab
Americans. Washington, DC: ADC Research Institute.
Audi, Tamara. 2002. “Terror War Hits Home Secret Sweep.” Detroit Free Press, November 12, p. A1.
Bakalian, Anny and Medhi Bozorgmehr. 2009. Backlash 9/11. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Baker, Wayne. 2003. Detroit Area Study [MRDF]. Ann Arbor, MI: Inter-University Consortium for Political and Social
Research [distributor].
Baker, Wayne, Ronald Stockton, Sally Howell, Amaney Jamal, Ann Chih Lin, Andrew Shryock, and Mark Tessler.
2003. Detroit Arab American Study (DAAS) [MRDF]. Ann Arbor, MI: Inter-University Consortium for Political and
Social Research [distributor].
Beitin, Ben K. and Katherine R. Allen. 2005. “Resilience in Arab American Couples after September 11, 2001.” Journal
of Marital and Family Therapy 31:251-67.
Bob, Clifford and Sharon Erickson Nepstad. 2007. “Kill a Leader, Murder a Movement?” American Behavioral Scientist
50:1370-94.
Bromley, David G. and Anson D. Shupe, Jr. 1983. “Repression and the Decline of Social Movements.” Pp. 335-47 in
Social Movements of the Sixties and Seventies, edited by Jo Freeman. New York: Longman.
Cainkar, Louise A 2008. “Thinking Outside the Box.” Pp. 46-80 in Race and Arab Americans Before and After 9/11,
edited by Amaney Jamal and Nadine Naber. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press.
------. 2009. Homeland Insecurity. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
Carley, Michael. 1997. “Defining Forms of Successful State Repression of Social Movement Organizations.” Research in
Social Movements, Conflicts, and Change 20:151-76.
Cho, Wendy K. Tam, James G. Gimpel, and Tony Wu. 2006. “Clarifying the Role of SES in Political Participation.”
Journal of Politics 68:977-91.
Davenport, Christian. 2005. “Repression and Mobilization.” Pp. vii-xli in Repression and Mobilization, edited by
Christian Davenport, Hank Johnston, and Carol Mueller. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
David, Gary C. 1999. The Mosaic of Middle Eastern Communities in Metropolitan Detroit. Detroit, MI: Information and
Research Services, United Way Community Services.
della Porta, Donatella. 1995. Social Movements, Political Violence, and the State. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Disha, Ilir, James C. Cavendish, and Ryan D. King. 2011. “Historical Events and Spaces of Hate.” Social Problems 58:
21-46.
Earl, Jennifer. 2003. “Tanks, Tear Gas, and Taxes.” Sociological Theory 21:44-68.
------. 2004. “Controlling Protest.” Research in Social Movements, Conflicts, and Change 25:55-83.
------. 2011. “Political Repression.” Annual Review of Sociology 37:261-84.
Earl, Jennifer, Andrew Martin, John D. McCarthy, and Sarah A. Soule. 2004. “The Use of Newspaper Data in the Study
of Collective Action.” Annual Review of Sociology 30:65-80.
Eisinger, Peter K. 1973. “The Conditions of Protest Behavior in American Cities.” American Political Science Review 67:
11-28.
Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). 1995-2010. Uniform Crime Reports. Retrieved February 7, 2013 (www.fbi.gov/
about-us/cjis/ucr/ucr-publications#Hate).
Ferree, Myra Marx. 2004. “Soft Repression.” Research in Social Movements, Conflicts, and Change 25:85-101.
Hegre, Havard, Tanja Ellingsen, Scott Gates, and Nils Petter Gleditsch. 2001. “Toward a Democratic Civil Peace?”
American Political Science Review 95:33-48.
Hess, David and Brian Martin. 2006. “Repression, Backfire, and the Theory of Transformative Events.” Mobilization 11:
249-67.
Hirsch, Eric L. 1990. “Sacrifice for the Cause.” American Sociological Review 55:243-54.
Howell, Sally. 2011. “Muslims as Moving Targets.” Pp. 151-85 in Arab Detroit 9/11, edited by Nabeel Abraham, Sally
Howell, and Andrew Shryock. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press.
Howell, Sally and Amaney Jamal. 2009a. “The Aftermath of the 9/11 Attacks.” Pp. 69-100 in Citizenship and Crisis,
edited by the Detroit Arab American Study Team. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
------. 2009b. “Belief and Belong.” Pp. 103-34 in Citizenship and Crisis, edited by the Detroit Arab American Study
Team. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
Arab American Protest in the Terror Decade • 239
Howell, Sally and Andrew Shryock. 2003. “Cracking Down on Diaspora.” Anthropological Quarterly 76:443-62.
Human Rights Watch. 2002. “We are Not the Enemy.” Human Rights Watch 14(6G):37.
Jamal, Amaney. 2005. “Mosques, Collective Identity, and Gender Differences among Arab American Muslims.” Journal
of Middle East Women's Studies 1:53-78.
Jasper, James M. 1997. The Art of Moral Protest. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Jasper, James M. and Jane D. Poulsen. 1995. “Recruiting Strangers and Friends.” Social Problems 42:493-512.
Jenkins, J. Craig and Kurt Schock. 2004. “Political Process, International Dependence, and Mass Political Conflict.”
International Journal of Sociology 33:41-63.
Jones, Charles E. 1988. “The Political Repression of the Black Panther Party.” Journal of Black Studies 18:415-34.
Kaleem, Jaweed. 2013. “FBI to Start Tracking Hate Crimes against Sikhs, Hindus and Arabs.” Huffngton Post, June 5.
Retrieved September 1, 2013 (www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/05/hate-crimes-sikhs-hindus-arabs-fbi_n_
3392760.html).
Kaushal, Neeraj, Robert Kaestner, and Cordelia Reimers. 2007. “Labor Market Effects of September 11th on Arab and
Muslim Residents of the United States .’’Journal of Human Resources 42:275-308.
Khawaja, Marwan. 1993. “Repression and Popular Collective Action.” Sociological Forum 8:47-71.
Koopmans, Ruud. 1993. “The Dynamics of Protest Waves.” American Sociological Review 58:637-58.
------. 1997. “The Dynamics of Repression and Mobilization.” Mobilization 2:149-65.
Kulczycki, Andrzej and Arun Peter Lobo. 2002. “Patterns, Determinants, and Implications of Intermarriage among
Arab Americans.” Journal of Marriage and the Family 64:202-10.
Lauderdale, Diane S. 2006. “Birth Outcomes for Arabic-Named Women in California Before and After September 11.”
Demography 43:185-201.
Lieberson, Stanley. 1980. A Piece of the Pie. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press.
Linden, Amnette and Bert Klandermans. 2006. "Stigmatization and Repression of Extreme Right Activism in the
Netherlands.” Mobilization 11:213-28.
Marin, Marguerite V. 1991. Social Protest in an Urban Barrio. Lanham, MD: University Press of America.
McAdam, Doug. 1982. Political Process and the Development of Black Insurgency, 1930-1970. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Merskin, Debra. 2004. “The Construction of Arabs as Enemies.” Mass Communication and Society 7:157-75.
Moore, Will. 1998. “Repression and Dissent.” American Journal of Political Science 42:851-73.
Muller, Edward and Erich Weede. 1990. “Cross-National Variation in Political Violence.” Journal of Conflict Resolution
34:624-51.
Naber, Nadine. 2006. “The Rules of Forced Engagement.” Cultural Dynamics 18:235-67.
----- . 2012. Arab America. New York: New York University Press.
O’Hearn, Denis. 2009. “Repression and Solidarity Cultures of Resistance.” American Journal of Sociology 115:491-526.
Olivier, Johan L. 1990. “Causes of Ethnic Collective Action in the Pretoria-Witwatersrand Triangle, 1970 to 1984."
South African Sociological Review 2:89-108.
Oliver, Pamela E. 2008. “Repression and Crime.” Mobilization 13:1-24.
Omi, Michael and Howard Winant. 1994. Racial Formation in the United States. 2d ed. New York: Routledge.
Ondetti, Gabriel. 2006. “Repression, Opportunity, and Protest.” Latin American Politics and Society 48:61-94.
Opp, Karl-Dieter. 1994. “Repression and Revolutionary Action.” Rationality and Society 6:101-38.
Opp, Karl-Dieter and Wolfgang Roehl. 1990. “Repression, Micromobilization, and Political Protest.” Social Forces 69:
521-47.
Rasler, Karen. 1996. “Concessions, Repression, and Political Protest in the Iranian Revolution.” American Sociological
Review 61:132-52.
Read, Jen’nan Ghazal. 2007. “More of a Bridge than a Gap.” Social Science Quarterly 88:1072-91.
Robinson, Jo Ann Gibson. 1987. The Montgomery Bus Boycott and the Women Who Started It. Knoxville: University of
Tennessee Press.
Santoro, Wayne A. and Gary M. Segura. 2011. “Generational Status and Mexican American Political-Participation.”
Political Research Quarterly 64:172-84.
Santoro, Wayne A., Maria B. Velez, and Stacy Keogh. 2012. “Mexican American Protest, Ethnic Resiliency, and Social
Capital.” Social Forces 91:209-31.
Schaefer, Jim. 2001. “U.S. Softens Tactics in Terror Questioning Request Letters to Men From Mideast.” Detroit Free
Press, November 27, p. Al.
Schopmeyer, Kim. 2011. “Arab Detroit after 9/11.” Pp. 29-63 in Arab Detroit 9/11, edited by Nabeel Abraham, Sally
Howell, and Andrew Shryock. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press.
Schussman, Alan and Sarah Soule. 2005. “Process and Protest.” Social Forces 84:1083-1108.
240 . Santoro/Azab
Shryock, Andrew, Abraham Nabeel, and Sally Howell. 2011. "The Terror Decade in Arab Detroit.” Pp. 1-25 in Arab
Detroit 9/11, edited by Abraham Nabeel, Sally Howell, and Andrew Shryock. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University
Press.
Smith, Tom W., Peter V. Marsden, and Michael Hout. General Social Survey, 1972-2010 [Cumulative file], Storrs, CT:
Roper Center for Public Opinion Research, University of Connecticut [producer]. Ann Arbor, MI: Inter-University
Consortium for Political and Social Research [distributor].
Snow, David A., Daniel M. Cress, Liam Downey, and Andrew W. Jones. 1998. “Disrupting the ‘Quotidian.’”
Mobilization 3:1-22.
Swickard, Joe, Niraj Warikoo, and Chris Christoff. 2006. “Terror Charges Tied to Phones are Crumbling.” Detroit Free
Press, August 15, p. Al.
T elles, Edward E. and Vilma Ortiz. 2008. Generations of Exclusion. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
Tilly, Charles. 1978. From Mobilization to Revolution. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Tirman, John. 2005. “Security the Progressive Way.” The Nation, April 11, p. 27.
Warikoo, Niraj. 2006. “2 Dearborn Men Linked to Terrorism.” Detroit Free Press, August 10, p. Bl.
White, Robert W. 1989. “From Peaceful Protest to Guerilla War.” American Journal of Sociology 94:1277-1302.
Williams, Jean Calterone. 2005. “The Politics of Homelessness.” Political Research Quarterly 58:497-509.
Wood, Lesley J. 2007. “Breaking the Wave.” Mobilization 12:377-88.
Zogby, John. 2001. A Poll of Arab-Americans since the Terrorist Attacks on the United States. Arab American Institute,
Washington, DC. Retrieved January 1, 2014 (www.aaiusa.org/index_ee.php/reports/arab-american-attitudes-the-
september-11 -attacks).
----- . 2002. Profiling and Pride. Arab American Institute, Washington, DC. Retrieved January 1, 2014 (www.aaiusa.org/
index_ee.php/reports/profiling-and-pride-arab-american-attitudes-and-behavior-since-september-11).
Copyright of Social Problems is the property of Oxford University Press / USA and its
content may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the
copyright holder's express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email
articles for individual use.