This story was originally reported by Melissa De Witte for Stanford News.

For those who remember Sept. 11, 2001, details of the day – the confusion, chaos and collective grief – are as clear now as they were 20 years ago when the deadliest terrorist attack in U.S. history occurred.

But many college students today have no memories of 19 al-Qaida operatives hijacking four commercial airplanes and killing nearly 3,000 people in a terrorist attack on the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, the Pentagon outside Washington, D.C, and a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

Teaching this next generation about the passion and the intensity that defined that pivotal moment is difficult, says Condoleezza Rice, who was the U.S. National Security Advisor at the time of the attacks.

For the new generation of students, 9/11 is now a part of history. “It would be like people trying to convey the intensity of World War II to me,” said Rice, who went on to serve as the 66th secretary of state of the United States under President George W. Bush before returning to her professorship at Stanford in 2009.

Rice, now the Tad and Dianne Taube Director of the Hoover Institution, was in the White House on that Tuesday morning of Sept 11. When she discusses the attacks with her students, her experiences on that day inevitably come up.

She is candid in her recounting. “That helps to vivify it because it’s a personal story,” Rice said.

Rice shares how, when the first plane hit the North Tower at the World Trade Center at 8:46 a.m., she and others were uncertain about the cause of the crash. She remembers wondering whether it could have been an accident. But when the second hijacked plane hit the remaining South Tower 17 minutes later, Rice knew it had to be a terrorist attack on the United States.

Then there was the short period when Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld could not be reached because the Pentagon was also hit that morning, Rice said. She, along with other senior government leaders, were ushered into the White House bunker. She tells students that around noon that day, oxygen levels started to drop because too many people were crammed into the fortified space. “So the Secret Service was going around saying, ‘You have to leave, you are not essential; you have to leave, you are not essential.’ You would never plan for such a thing as that,” she said.

Inevitably, a student will ask her if she was afraid. Rice was so taken aback the first time she faced that question that she actually paused to think about it – and then concluded that she wasn’t. “I didn’t have time to be scared,” Rice recalled. “You can fear for your loved ones, but you are not allowed to feel personal fear. You don’t think about that in the moment.”

Rice also emphasized the importance of talking to students about how 9/11 transformed the world and that what seems routine today – such as additional airport screenings and the formation of new government institutions – didn’t even exist before the attacks.

“I try to help them understand how we are still living the effects of 9/11,” said Rice. “It isn’t an event that happened one day and then was over, but everything from the way that you go through an airport to something called ‘homeland security,’ which you didn’t have before 9/11.”

Teaching 9/11 Since 9/11

The attacks also introduced into the wider vernacular new places – like Afghanistan – and people – like Osama bin Laden – that students 20 years ago knew very little or nothing about.

Stanford scholars Amy Zegart and Martha Crenshaw experienced this firsthand on the day of the attacks when they found themselves in the surreal situation of teaching about 9/11 on 9/11. Both were so shocked by the unfolding events that they were unable to do anything except the one thing they were supposed to do that day, which was teach.

When they showed up to their respective classrooms – at the time, Crenshaw was at Wesleyan University teaching a course on decision making and foreign policy; Zegart at UCLA – they found them packed. There were more students in the lecture hall for Crenshaw’s course than were enrolled.

Students – horrified and trying to make sense of what was happening – sought clarity and comfort from their teachers, who just happened to be experts on the issues that would come to define the next two decades of U.S. domestic and foreign policy.

“When something that shocking happens, our natural inclination is to make sense of what’s going on together, right now,” said Zegart, who is a leading scholar on national security and the Central Intelligence Agency and is now a senior scholar at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies (FSI) and the Morris Arnold and Nona Jean Cox Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution.

Students wanted to know more about the terms and names they were hearing for the first time that day, like jihadism and the Taliban. Over the months that followed came more complex challenges to explain: the global war on terror, torture, rendition, Guantanamo Bay, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

This is the world that today’s students have inherited. Even the current generation’s media, as Zegart’s research has shown, has become increasingly saturated with a proliferation of “spytainment”: movies and TV shows depicting, often inaccurately, the clandestine world of intelligence and counterterrorism operations.

Like Rice, Crenshaw has also found herself having to explain that none of this was normal before 9/11.

“I have to go back and say, ‘All this wasn’t always here before 9/11.’ I have to trace the trajectory of policy changes,” said Crenshaw, a senior fellow at FSI and the Center for International Security and Cooperation.

Shifts in Emotion

In the first decade after the attacks, Zegart said her students were incredibly emotional about 9/11 and its aftermath, including the expansion of U.S. conflict abroad. A few years after the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq broke out, Zegart remembers one of her students, a recently returned veteran, telling her that he was taking her intelligence class because he wanted to learn more about why he had gone to Iraq, and what his friend who had deployed with him had died fighting for.

“It was a really raw, personal experience for students studying foreign policy in the first decade after 9/11 because they were living with war and uncertainty,” said Zegart. She had to push them be more analytical and objective in their class discussions of what a post 9/11 world entailed.

As the years progressed, though, 9/11 increasingly became less personal for the next generation of students. Perceptions began to shift. So much so that Zegart now finds herself in the opposite predicament: How to insert those feelings back in.

“Because they didn’t live through it, they look at it distantly and dispassionately,” Zegart said. “The challenge is, how do you help students better understand the context in which decisions were made and the raw emotion that unavoidably affects how we perceive threats and how we deal with policy responses.”

Teaching the Emotions of the Day

To evoke a visceral response to 9/11, Zegart shows a 4-minute montage of news clips. Students get a sense of how the day unfolded, from the breaking reports of the first tower being struck to a reporter’s on-air reaction as the second plane crashes live into the remaining tower. There are also scenes of people fleeing lower Manhattan amid dust, smoke and debris.

“You just cannot convey that day in a normal lecture or a book,” Zegart said. The video is effective; her students are often left with a sense of the sadness, horror and anguish that defined 9/11.

Zegart then asks her students to imagine they are policymakers at the White House and have to decide what to do next. “We often teach U.S. foreign policymaking as a sterile, Spock-like process where people weigh the pros and cons of options and make dispassionate decisions,” Zegart said. “But human emotion and searing national experiences are important and hard to convey. A key part of understanding history is empathy, and thinking about what it was like to live through something rather than only looking at an event through the distance of time. 9/11 looks inevitable in hindsight, but it was unimaginable on September 10.”

Through the exercise, students get a sense of the urgency that policymakers, like Rice, have to grapple with while making decisions amid a national emergency.

“In retrospect, everything looks quite orderly,” said Rice, who co-taught a class on global risk with Zegart at the Graduate School Business. “It looks like ‘of course that decision led to that decision.’ Political scientists are always talking about the options that were put before the president. That’s not how crisis decision making unfolds. You are dealing with really incomplete information, you are dealing with the need to act now, and you are often reacting from instinct because you don’t have time to think through things.”

Viewing the Attacks from All Sides

When political scientist Lisa Blaydes teaches 9/11 to her students, she tries to give an international perspective of the issues, particularly on how grievances can arise – both legitimately or falsely constructed – in countries abroad and how that can lead to extremism and political violence. For example, in her course Political Science 149: Middle Eastern Politics, several classes are dedicated to examining anti-American attitudes in the Islamic world and the conditions under which individuals become radicalized.

“I try to make sure that students understand both the individual motivations associated with the radicalization of political thought as well as the global context that empowers radicalized individuals to undertake violent action,” said Blaydes, a professor of political science in the School of Humanities and Sciences and a senior fellow at FSI. She asks students to read Lawrence Wright’s book The Looming Tower, which picks up on themes Blaydes covers in the course, particularly those dealing with how authoritarian regimes in the Arab world provided a backdrop for the rise of al-Qaida.

In recent years, Blaydes has found her students showing an increased interest in learning more about radical groups like ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria) and how they have terrorized communities across the Middle East. “While Sept. 11 made terrorism a salient threat for Americans living in U.S. cities, both terrorism and state-sponsored violence are unfortunately a trauma shared by people around the world,” she said.

Similarly, Crenshaw said, it is important to explain to students the conditions that lead to such extremist views. But, she added, explaining motives should not be mistaken as justifying them. “We are not trying to excuse it; we are trying to understand why something happened,” she said.

With her students, Crenshaw has also looked at how terrorism has been used across history. In the aftermath of 9/11, terrorism almost exclusively became associated with a particular ideology and religion. But there are other examples throughout history of how it has been used as a form of political violence, she said.

“As an instructor, one of my goals was always to show students that 9/11 was something extraordinary, but there are other instances of terrorism and it can be associated with any ideology,” Crenshaw said.

Given its elasticity, terrorism is a confusing and contentious term with no standard definition, Crenshaw said. Thus, as both the term and the acts associated with terrorism have evolved over the past two decades, so has her teaching of it. “The phenomenon that you are trying to teach is changing over time as well, so it’s really a very dynamic subject requiring constant adjustment to take into account the vast outpouring of writing on terrorism but changing terrorism and counterterrorism as well,” she said.

In addition to situating 9/11 against a global and historical backdrop, teaching the attacks also requires a critical look at the domestic challenges that led up to it, including the shortcomings in U.S. intelligence. Zegart assigns students an article she wrote about the failures within the U.S. intelligence communities to adapt to the threat of terrorism, as well as a critique against her piece. “There’s no one perfect view, and if students can realize that their professor is part of an argument and people can disagree, that’s really important,” she said.

Zegart and Crenshaw have also assigned students the 9/11 Commission Report, the official report of the events that led up to the attacks and detailed account of the circumstances surrounding it.

‘Still Hard’

Even though 20 years have passed since 9/11, it does not mean that teaching about the attacks has gotten easier.

“I still have a hard time,” Zegart said. “For years, my screensaver was a picture of the first plane hitting the World Trade Center. It was important to me not to forget. I’ve spent my career researching why our intelligence agencies failed to stop 9/11 and how they can better meet threats in the future. I think about that day every day.”

This interview was first published by the Stanford News Service.

The 2020 Summer Olympics have begun this week but public support among the Japanese public for the games has been generally low and their mood can be articulated through the succinct question: “Why are we doing this now?” says Stanford sociologist and Japan Program Director Kiyoteru Tsutsui.

The American Institute for Indonesian Studies and Michigan State University Asian Studies Center are holding the inaugural Conference on Indonesian Studies this week, June 23-26, 2021. The conference's theme is "Indonesian Studies — Paradigms and New Frontiers." On June 24, APARC's Southeast Asia Program Director Donald K. Emmerson delivered a keynote address, "Scholarship, Autonomy, and Purpose: Issues in Indonesian Studies." Watch the session below:

The Conference on Indonesian Studies seeks to expand research dissemination, activities, and collaboration on the academic study of Indonesia to better understand the archipelago's historical, cultural, linguistic, literary, artistic, economic, environmental, and political dimensions, as well as its role in the Indo-Pacific and the world. The conference connects scholars and academic communities from multiple disciplines based in Indonesia, the United States, the Asia-Pacific, and other global contexts.

Carson is mindful of the unique arc of his academic and personal life. "I grew up in Los Alamos, New Mexico where we were one of only three Black families. What I knew about Black America was mainly what I read in the newspapers. I read about these heroic figures like Martin Luther King Jr., Bob Moses, Diane Nash, and John Lewis, and I wanted to be like them. I went to the March on Washington as a nineteen-year-old and watched and listened to what these leaders were working to accomplish. One of the remarkable things about my life is that I've been able to meet and get to know so many of the people who spoke or performed at the march or were on the speaker's platform at the Lincoln Memorial."

Dr. Carson is currently completing his final year as the director of the King Institute, afterwhich he will continue his research and teaching at Stanford’s Center on Democracy, Development, and the Rule of Law of the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies.

As Carson looks towards the future, he's appreciative of the opportunities ahead. "I’m still excited about the idea of exploring little known aspects of African-American history, so that should be good preparation for studying largely forgotten 'cold cases,'" he says.

The California Department of Education adopted the Ethnic Studies Model Curriculum last March. Chapter 3 of the Model Curriculum includes a section on “Native American Studies.”

On June 18, 2021, SPICE will host a panel of three Native and Indigenous scholars to reflect on California’s new model curriculum and the state of ethnic studies in their respective regions. The panel will include Navajo, Native Hawaiian, and Ainu educators who will provide a range of educational perspectives on Native and Indigenous studies in the United States and Japan.

• Dr. Harold Begay, Superintendent of Schools, Navajo Nation
• Dr. Sachi Edwards, Faculty Member at Soka University in Tokyo, Japan
• Dr. Ronda Māpuana Shizuko Hayashi-Simpliciano, Vice Principal, Ke Kula Kaiapuni ʻo Ānuenue, Honolulu, Hawaiʻi

The webinar, titled “Indigenous Voices: Educational Perspectives from Navajo, Native Hawaiian, and Ainu Scholars in the Diaspora,” will address several additional topics, such as the various academic field names of the study of Native and Indigenous people, the complexity and diversity of Native and Indigenous people’s experiences, and recommended resources for K–12 educators.

These topics are not only relevant to teachers in California but to educators in other states as well. K–12 educators and administrators are encouraged to attend. Register in advance at https://bit.ly/3z4kxtc.

This webinar is a joint collaboration with the National Consortium for Teaching about Asia (NCTA) and the Center for East Asian Studies at Stanford University.

To stay informed of SPICE news, join our email list and follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

1. Can you give us an overview of your research and the topics you’re investigating?

My research addresses the following question: Why are some authoritarian regimes more responsive to social unrest than others? While it might seem counterintuitive to think of authoritarian regimes in this light, repression and responsiveness often occur in tandem under authoritarian rule. Centered on a comparison between Vietnam and China, I document the steps that each has taken to address social discontent fueled by pervasive government seizures of rural land. In response to societal input between 2003 and 2017, Vietnam enacted comprehensive and programmatic reforms to reduce the permissible scope for government land expropriation whereas those enacted by China were relatively marginal and piecemeal. At the subnational level, this difference has had important implications for land rights and the security of villagers in both countries. In summary, despite their many similarities, the manner and degree of their responsiveness have varied. My research then traces the historical origins that undergird the political development and institutional character of Vietnam and China’s divergent responsiveness to social unrest. 

2. How did you first become interested in these topics?

My interest in the repressive-responsive character of authoritarian regimes stems from my preoccupation with questions of political legitimacy, societal resistance, and institutional dynamics in authoritarian contexts. One particular experience that stoked my interest was my visit to Wukan, Guangdong in 2016. Wukan was once hailed as an emblematic case of grassroots democracy and accommodation by the Chinese state, when villagers’ outcries against the local government’s seizure of their land resulted in the re-election of the village committee in 2012. Yet, when I visited in 2016, villagers expressed that nothing had changed, and that “everything that could be done has already been done.” This experience led me to question what responsiveness means in authoritarian contexts.

3. During the last year, the world has changed significantly because of the pandemic and fluctuating politics in many nations. Have these changing global situations given you any new insights into your research?

The pandemic has underscored the need for a nuanced and contextual understanding of democracies and non-democracies. For instance, the variation in state responses to COVID-19 suggests that there is no clear correlation between responsiveness or the effectiveness of government responses to COVID-19 and regime types. Consider Vietnam’s proactive approach and success at containing the pandemic as opposed to the US. Other recent developments such as the crackdowns on pro-democracy protests in Thailand and mass protests against the recent military coup in Myanmar showcase how quickly state responsiveness to social demands can erode, even in multi-party states.

4. What has your experience as one of our Shorenstein Fellows been like during this unusual period of time when we haven’t physically been together at APARC?

My fellowship has been remote, and I have therefore needed to be much more proactive to stay as engaged as possible. I have consulted with my mentor often over Zoom, and reached out to other scholars for their feedback and advice on my research. I have also especially appreciated the chance to participate in the China Social Science Workshop, where I've shared my work and learned from other presenters. Other postdoctoral fellows at APARC and I have also gotten together virtually to exchange stories and to share our experiences from this unusual year.  

5. What are some of the things you've done during this past year to give yourself a break from work and have some fun?

Due to the pandemic, I have been living back home to Austin, Texas, since March of last year. The last time that I was home for this long must have been after I graduated from college. So, for the first time in a long time, I've planted tomatoes, eggplants, and sunflowers in our garden, and I've really enjoyed watching them bloom and ripen. With everything growing, it feels like I've spent most of my break in our backyard defending our flowers, fruits, and vegetables from squirrels and bunnies! But luckily I also have our two dogs, Wishie and Sushi, to help me!

6. As the state of the pandemic changes and things in academia and our communities, what are some things you are looking forward to both professionally and personally?

I'm certainly looking forward to having conferences in person again! I'm also still not sure when it will be possible and safe for me to visit Asia again, especially Vietnam and China, but I have missed these places. I'm also learning Khmer this summer, and I'm excited to eventually visit Cambodia to pursue my research there.

A Long History of Hate

Like many racialized groups, Asians often face a variety of overt and covert attacks. As identified in the 2021 Stop AAPI Hate National report, overt violence and harassment of Asians includes acts such as yelling, bullying, physical attacks, and the use of racial slurs. Physical assaults increased from 10.2% of the total hate incidents reported in 2020 to 16.7% in 2021, while online hate incidents increased from 5.6% in 2020 to 10.2% in 2021.

For Min Zhou, these numbers are the most current evidence of a reoccurring cycle of violence and antagonism against Asians that reaches back to the earliest history of Asian communities in the United States.

“Historically, Asians have been considered an existential danger to the Western world and to American culture,” she explains. “They have been seen as a threat to the American working class and their struggle for labor dignity and rights.”

The first large migration of Asians into America was in the mid-1800s when workers from China joined laborers in the western United States in the booming mining and railroad building sectors. Initially praised as “useful workers” for their work ethic and willingness to endure backbreaking hours, Asian immigrants were quickly scapegoated as sources of vice and division when work became scarcer in the post-boom, contracting economy. Labor movements successfully codified discrimination against Asians in the 1875 Page Laws and 1882 federal Chinese Exclusion Act, and continued codifying systemic discriminatory practices in the Immigration Act of 1917.

Zhou explains that this kind of targeted discrimination against Asians resurfaces whenever Western society has felt cultural or economic competition with Eastern countries, citing the internment of Japanese Americans between 1942 and 1945 and the increase of violence against Asians following rising economic competition between East Asian and American auto manufacturers in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

“Anti-Asian racism today is nothing new,” cautions Zhou. “It is part of a longstanding history of systemic racism in the U.S.”

Understanding the Current Moment

But history is only one context for understanding violence against Asians. As Gabrielle Hecht, the chair of the REDI Task Force reiterates, “[There is] a tremendous variety of racists tropes, practices, and violence that run through American society that need to be addressed specifically as well as systemically.”

In the case of Asian discrimination, this includes dismantling the perceptions of the Asian American community as either a “model minority” or conversely as “perpetual foreigners.” As Eujin Park explains, both of these characterizations circumscribe Asian experiences into a framework of white supremacy and institutional violence.

Being seen as perpetual foreigners creates a narrative in which it is impossible for Asians to be authentically American or fully assimilate. The perception of being a model minority both upholds the myth that the U.S. is a race-neutral meritocracy and often fuels the perception that violence against Asians is limited to discrete personal experiences rather than part of a pattern of systemic and intersectional problems.

Examining how racialization intersects with sexualization, classism, ageism, and the broader Black-white paradigm of American race relations is crucial to understanding the very different experiences and varying types of discrimination within the Asian American experience. As a group, Asians are incredibly diverse, representing over 30 distinct countries of origin and innumerable cultural and ethnic groups. Over 60 and sometimes upwards of 70 percent of Asian communities in the U.S. are immigrants.

Looking to the Future

These overlapping and complicated realities of demographics, experience, and history mean that truly impactful advocacy against anti-Asian American violence will require equally interconnected and thoughtful partnerships and proactivity.

“This current moment is a significant opportunity for Asian Americans and our allies to expand our understanding of the violence that shapes Asian American lives and to turn our attention toward state and institutional violence,” says Eujin Park.

As for the particular responsibilities the Stanford community has in countering rising anti-Asian hate and violence, APARC Director Gi-Wook Shin, the moderator for the discussion counsels:

“It is not easy to participate in rational and constructive conversations, particularly those that are politically sensitive and involve many emotional components. Still, it is our duty as an academic community to confront these uncomfortable realities and engage ourselves in dialogue and discussions.”