Terror, Dissent, and Belonging Under Surveillance
Arab and Muslim Americans, Free Speech, and the U.S. National Security Imagination
Editor’s Note
This essay is part of GrayStak Media’s work on dissent, securitization, and democracy. It examines how Arab and Muslim American political expression has been reframed within the U.S. national security imagination, often treated less as free speech and more as a matter of surveillance and suspicion. By situating local cases—such as FBI monitoring of Chicago’s Arab American communities—within broader national security discourse, the piece bridges civil liberties with global security debates. The analysis is informed not only by field reporting and scholarship but also by the author’s direct engagement in national security and foreign policy debates.
Introduction
In the United States, Arab and Muslim Americans continue to live at the intersection of fear, politics, and suspicion. Their political speech—especially when it takes the form of anti-war protests, criticism of U.S. foreign policy, or support for Palestinian rights—has too often been misinterpreted not as democratic dissent but as potential sympathy for terrorism. This shifting perception is not accidental. It stems from what security theorists call the national security imagination: a mindset that views communities through the lens of risk, threat, and containment.
As Barry Buzan and the Copenhagen School remind us, securitization is not just about responding to danger—it involves declaring something a security issue so extraordinary that it justifies suspending normal democratic processes. After 9/11, Arab and Muslim Americans became securitized groups: their mosques were infiltrated, their communities monitored, and their free speech scrutinized. Today, amid ongoing wars, the global “war on terror,” and rising political polarization, this securitization remains and continues to evolve.
“Securitization is not simply about danger—it is about declaring dissent a threat so extraordinary that normal democratic rules no longer apply.”
To understand the stakes, we must ask: how does the United States view dissent? How do fear and belonging clash when Arab and Muslim Americans exercise rights that the Constitution guarantees to all? And most crucially, what does it mean for democracy when a minority group’s political expressions are reframed as a national security threat?
The Securitization of Identity
Securitization is not unique to Arab and Muslim Americans—it is a global phenomenon. In Turkey, Kurdish political organizing has long been labeled as separatism or terrorism, justifying mass arrests and bans on parties. In Iran, Kurdish calls for autonomy are viewed as existential threats to the state. Across the Middle East, Arab and Muslim populations recognize these patterns: governments use security language to discredit, silence, or violently suppress minority demands.
“In the U.S. national security imagination, Arab and Muslim identity itself has too often been cast as suspicious.”
In the United States, the same pattern has played out. The Patriot Act allowed mass surveillance of Muslim communities; the FBI infiltrated mosques and student groups; and the NYPD’s Demographics Unit mapped Muslim neighborhoods in New York and New Jersey. In Chicago, journalist Assia Boundaoui’s acclaimed documentary The Feeling of Being Watched revealed how the FBI targeted Arab American communities on the city’s southwest side with widespread surveillance for decades. Here, identity itself was seen as suspicious—Muslim, Arab, or anti-Zionist activism was viewed less as political activity and more as a possible sign of radicalization.
This process undermines the core democratic promise: that all citizens are equal before the law and free to express dissent. To securitize identity is not just to police communities; it is to redefine their sense of belonging.
National Security Priorities and the Limits of Freedom
The U.S. national security establishment concentrates on counterterrorism, great power rivalry, and cyber defense. However, in practice, minority dissent is often included within these priorities as part of efforts to combat extremism. Arab and Muslim Americans protesting U.S. wars, opposing Israeli occupation, or advocating for divestment are often suspected, with their dissent misunderstood as disloyalty.
After 9/11, programs like the National Security Entry-Exit Registration System (NSEERS) required tens of thousands of Muslim men and boys to register with authorities, effectively criminalizing identity rather than behavior. Recently, Countering Violent Extremism (CVE) initiatives have targeted Muslim communities under the guise of “partnership,” often treating legitimate political or religious expression as potential signs of radicalization.
This is not just a civil liberties issue; it is a human rights concern. When political activity becomes securitized, standard democratic procedures are suspended. People face surveillance without cause. Organizations lose funding. Communities face stigmatization. Civil rights and liberties guaranteed by the Constitution are diminished, and human rights standards recognized by the United Nations are violated.
Surveillance at Home: Assia Boundaoui and Vulgar Betrayal
If securitization is often viewed as an abstract process in international relations, filmmaker and journalist Assia Boundaoui demonstrated its human cost right here in the United States. Her documentary The Feeling of Being Watched (2018) uncovered a decades-long FBI counterterrorism investigation that shrouded her Arab American neighborhood in Bridgeview, a suburb of Chicago. Residents discovered that their phone calls were tapped, their mosques infiltrated, and their daily lives quietly monitored.
What Boundaoui captured was not just surveillance — it was a form of collective suspicion that labeled Arab and Muslim identities as security threats. Ordinary people going about their daily routines — attending prayers, running local businesses, organizing community events — were considered potential extremists simply because of who they were and where they worshipped. This was securitization applied not to actions, but to identity.
The documentary’s strength lies in how it makes the abstract visible: children grew up feeling constantly watched; families changed their behavior out of fear; civic trust eroded under continuous suspicion. Boundaoui’s work was later highlighted at the United Nations Human Rights Council, where her story resonated with communities worldwide that have also faced stigmatization and surveillance under the guise of “national security.”
Her film underscores what civil rights advocates have long argued: surveillance of Muslim and Arab communities in the U.S. is not merely a law enforcement tactic but a fundamental violation of civil liberties. And as Boundaoui’s neighborhood learned, the line between foreign policy and domestic policy blurs when the very identities securitized abroad are treated as suspicious at home.
Free Speech, Minority Rights, and the Burden of Belonging
Arab and Muslim Americans should not bear the sole responsibility for defending their right to dissent. The duty also rests with the American public and policymakers to ensure that Arab and Muslim communities are fully included in the nation’s political and social life. The same rights given to all American citizens—most importantly, free speech—apply here.
Suppressing minority speech is not new in U.S. history. Black activists during the Civil Rights Movement were labeled subversives or communists. Japanese Americans were interned during World War II on the grounds of national security. Today, Arab and Muslim Americans face a similar logic: dissent seen as disloyalty, critique viewed as a threat.
“Dissent is not terrorism. It is democracy.”
In each case, the suppression of minority speech not only hurt those communities—it also weakened American democracy itself.
BDS and the Legacy of Liberation Movements
The boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement, which aims to pressure Israel over its treatment of Palestinians, is perhaps the clearest example of this dynamic today. Supporters argue it is a nonviolent form of protest rooted in the same traditions that fueled the Civil Rights Movement and the struggle against apartheid in South Africa. Its opponents insist it delegitimizes Israel and veers into antisemitism.
Regardless of where one stands, what matters for democracy is that the movement exists within the protected sphere of free speech. To outlaw or criminalize BDS—as several states have attempted—is to weaken the right to dissent. Rosa Parks’ refusal to give up her seat, or Black sharecroppers organizing boycotts in the Jim Crow South, were also disruptive, unpopular, and threatening to the status quo. Yet history now recognizes them as essential acts of liberation.
BDS must be debated, critiqued, or opposed politically—but it cannot be securitized out of existence without betraying democratic principles.
The Global Lens: Human Rights and the United Nations
The suppression of Arab and Muslim American speech is both a domestic and an international issue. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights guarantees freedom of expression and political participation. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which the U.S. has ratified, requires countries to protect minority rights. When Arab and Muslim Americans are silenced, these international commitments are violated.
“From Kurds in Turkey and Iran to Muslims in America, minorities worldwide are too often made into ‘security problems.’”
International stakeholders—including the United Nations, human rights NGOs, and global civil society—must see this as a warning. Democracies are not immune to the temptations of securitization. The international community must understand that what happens in the U.S. resonates outward, shaping norms and justifying repression elsewhere.
Conclusion
The story of Arab and Muslim Americans in the U.S. isn't just about communities under suspicion; it also reflects the health of American democracy. Surveillance of mosques in Chicago, the FBI’s infiltration of Muslim student groups, and smear campaigns against activists supporting Palestinian liberation aren’t isolated acts. They reveal a deeper trend where dissenting voices are seen as threats rather than respected viewpoints.
However, this struggle is not solely the burden of Arab and Muslim Americans. It is also the responsibility of the American public and policymakers to affirm that the same rights granted to everyone—especially free speech—must also extend to minority communities. Suppressing dissent erodes the core principles of democracy. Allowing dissent to thrive, even when it makes us uncomfortable, strengthens the republic.
“The responsibility is not just on Arab and Muslim American activists—it is on all Americans to defend free expression as the cornerstone of democracy.”
This lesson is twofold: for the national security community, securitizing identity damages civil rights, destroys trust, and weakens the democratic legitimacy that the U.S. seeks to project globally. For the broader world, this American example reminds us that the securitization of minorities—from Kurds in Turkey and Iran to dissident journalists worldwide—is an ongoing human rights issue. The United Nations and international stakeholders have a duty to ensure that human rights commitments are not sacrificed in the name of security.
Like the boycotts of apartheid South Africa or Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat, the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement illustrates how marginalized voices can mobilize dissent as a force for justice. Whether one agrees or disagrees with its goals, the core principle remains: dissent is not terrorism. It is a form of democracy.
Defending Arab and Muslim Americans’ right to dissent is defending democracy itself. Recognizing their belonging not as a security concern but as a democratic reality helps uphold the best of the American experiment. Ensuring their voices are heard without suspicion reminds the world that in the United States, freedom of speech is a right for everyone, not just the majority.
About the Author
Christopher Sweat is the co-founder of GrayStak Media, a cross-platform outlet analyzing the intersection of protest, political risk, and power. He ran for Congress in Colorado’s Fifth District in 2024, a hub of aerospace and defense, and became known for his outspoken positions on national security, foreign policy, and human rights. Sweat traverses Wall Street trading floors, Washington’s corridors of power, and Chicago’s protest front lines—bringing together finance, policy, and movement realities in a way few others can.