Fast-forward to 2024 to a presidential debate when former President Donald Trump attempted to insult his opponent by claiming he had “become like a Palestinian.” At a rally, Trump took it further, accusing Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) of having “become a Palestinian because they have a couple more votes or something.”
Unlike during McCain’s era, however, today’s rhetoric faces even less pushback, marking a disturbing shift in how Muslims and Arabs are discussed in American politics.
But is this shift a surprise or a shift at all? Two truths have persisted throughout America’s history: Muslims have always been part of society in the Americas since even before our nation’s inception (the first Muslims arrived as early as the 1500s), and politicians have “otherized” Muslims in their rhetoric.
Thomas Jefferson, for instance, is often lauded for his recognition of religious diversity and familiarity with Islam. Yet, Jefferson and other Founders also spoke about Muslims as inherently foreign or alien people (referring to Muslims as Mahometans or Mohammadens), reflecting a broader historical pattern where the ideals of inclusion were marred by exclusion and suspicion.
This duality—acknowledging inclusion while otherizing—has shaped political discourse about Muslims through modern times. An especially stark example involves Muhammad Ali, who famously championed his Islamic principles when denouncing the Vietnam War and refusing to participate in it. Politicians and media figures alike portrayed his anti-war stance as antithetical to American values, and they used his Muslim identity to paint him as un-American—a tactic of othering that has been repeatedly used against Muslims who oppose U.S. military action in Iraq and Afghanistan, for example, branding them as unpatriotic or sympathetic to terrorism.
Today, these dynamics persist and are as troubling as ever, particularly against the backdrop of normalized anti-Islamic and anti-Palestinian political rhetoric in the post–October 7, 2023, war in Gaza era. Criticism of Israel’s military action and allegations of human rights abuses in Gaza, for instance, are often met with accusations of antisemitism or support for groups like Hamas.
This dichotomy—normalized by political rhetoric painting a “good Muslim” as one who sheds his or her Islamic values to seem patriotic and unprejudiced, even when those values compel a Muslim to speak out about atrocities perpetrated against innocent civilians—perpetuates the notion that Muslims must affirmatively dispel presumptions of anti-American or anti-Jewish bias. Recall past statements from President George W. Bush: “The face of terror is not the true faith of Islam,” or from President Obama: “Muslims embrace Islam as a source of peace. It is undeniable that a small fraction of Muslims propagate a perverted interpretation of Islam.”
While both statements were intended to express that Muslims are part of the American community, the rhetorical angle requires proving that Muslims are peace-loving folk who are against extremism. So, in effect, even these seemingly positive statements reinforce the narrative that Muslims are some “other” group which lives among, rather than integrated within, American society. When speaking about Muslims, political rhetoric comes from a lens that deems it necessary to disabuse the notion that Islamic and American values are at odds with each other.
This persistent problem with otherizing Muslims and engaging in anti-Islamic political rhetoric is multifaceted. It can directly result in violence and hate crimes and, at a minimum, fuels the flames of hatred, manifesting in violence both abroad and domestically. According to a 2024 report by the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR), 1,221 anti-Muslim incidents were reported in 2023, including 237 physical assaults, 307 cases of discrimination, and 128 acts of vandalism against mosques and other Islamic institutions. The report noted that the “primary force behind this wave of heightened Islamophobia was the escalation of violence in Israel and Palestine in October 2023.”
Similarly, a Pew Research Center survey conducted in 2024 revealed that 56 percent of U.S. Muslims reported experiencing discrimination due to their religion, highlighting the prevalence of Islamophobia in America.
Concrete examples also show the dangers when anti-Islamic and anti-Palestinian rhetoric is normalized and weaponized to vilify “others.” In New Jersey, for instance, the Rutgers University Islamic Center was defaced with graffiti in an apparent hate crime committed on April 10, 2024, the morning of the Muslim holiday Eid al-Fitr. This ugly incident occurred as members of both the House of Representatives and Senate Judiciary Committees launched investigations into the Rutgers Law School’s Center for Security, Race and Rights, claiming the center promotes terrorist sympathizers.
Examples like this illustrate how close-to-home acts of Islamophobia can strike when politicians lean into anti-Islamic rhetoric and tropes without leaving room for nuanced discourse. Similarly, the tragic death of Hind Rajab, a young girl from Gaza, in an airstrike in late January 2024 serves as a stark reminder of how global conflicts exacerbated by Islamophobia can lead to devastating real-world consequences abroad.
But perhaps the normalization of otherizing and anti-Islamic rhetoric has had a more insidious consequence—one that undermines our democracy: it fosters hate, shuts down debate, and entrenches the idea that Muslims are inherently “others” who must prove their patriotism and tolerance for their voices to be heard. The reality, of course, is far more nuanced.
For instance, speaking out about atrocities occurring in Gaza does not equate to antisemitism or rejection of the right of Israel’s existence. Rhetoric that seeks to equate those ideas serves only to silence legitimate concerns raised about human rights abuses being inflicted on the Palestinian civilian population. Likewise, criticizing a group like Hamas and the tactics it uses does not equate to rejecting the right of Palestinians’ self-determination or supporting Israel’s military operation in Gaza.
In other words, just because you criticize Israel doesn’t make you antisemitic or anti-Israel. Conversely, criticizing Hamas does not make you anti-Muslim or anti-Palestinian. Indeed, even within Israel and Gaza, public opinion about their respective governments’ actions is not monolithic. While some strongly support their leaders, others criticize them for their policies and resort to violence as a means to a political end. This complexity is often ignored in U.S. discourse, which tends to paint the situation in black-and-white terms and Muslims as being on one side of the equation based solely on identity.
But as the example of Muhammad Ali or other anti-war advocates shows, it is possible simply to oppose violence based on shared values—whether derived from an Islamic foundation or rooted in another religious or personal morality valuing human life. Opposition to the war in Gaza, therefore, is not diminished as simply a “Muslim view” or impacting Muslims only; it is a viewpoint shared by many Muslims and other individuals based on shared values and beliefs.
After all, the commonalities among Islamic, Christian, and Jewish values far exceed the differences. So, it should come as no shock that those who find their moral compass from these shared religious foundations might agree about the use of violence against innocent civilians.
Even so, when politicians engage in rhetoric that casts Muslims as “others” or equate being Muslim, Palestinian, or Arab as inherently un-American, their rhetoric fuels binary choices that degrade our public discourse and further alienate Muslims and their sense of belonging to the American political system. The challenge before us, therefore, is to move beyond the binary of “good versus bad” Muslims and the pervasive othering that has defined much of American political rhetoric.
Whether Muslim or not, people should be free to discuss and criticize government policies, uphold human rights, and stand by their principles without fear of being labeled un-American, antisemitic, or pro-terrorism.
When politicians otherize Muslims, they undermine the very essence of American democracy—the freedom to critique, debate, and judge ideas on their merits rather than through the lens of identity. Indeed, the most American thing we can do is to engage with ideas on their merit without quashing dissent based on identity or qualifying opinions as “Muslim” views. Being a Muslim should not be used as a proxy to denigrate or insult, nor should it require constant qualifying simply to push back on tired stereotypes of Muslims supporting terrorism.
As we move forward, we should strive for two new truths: Muslims are and have been integral to American society, and politicians must stop speaking of them as others. Only by embracing this duality can we hope to set an example for a more inclusive and democratic society and elevate our public discourse, which would enrich us all.
Please note: The views expressed herein have not been approved by the House of Delegates, the Board of Governors, the Section of Civil Rights and Social Justice or the Human Rights Editorial Board of the American Bar Association and, accordingly, should not be construed as representing the policy of the American Bar Association. They are the views of the individual authors themselves in their personal capacities.
