Last month, the House voted on what ought to have been the easiest resolution in recent memory.
Introduced by Rep. Tom McClintock (R-Calif.), the No Immigration Benefits for Hamas Terrorists Act sought to achieve one simple goal: keep any terrorist who participated in or facilitated the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre of thousands of innocent Israelis from entering the U.S.
You would think that even in an American political landscape as highly partisan and divisive as our own, you’d find no one who disagrees with the premise that we shouldn’t welcome terrorists who have raped women, beheaded children and executed entire families.
You’d be wrong.
Reps. Rashida Tlaib (D-Mich.) and Cori Bush (D-Mo.) voted against the bill. Why? Because, according to the two, keeping America safe by keeping convicted terrorists out is merely a bit of “GOP messaging” intended solely “to incite anti-Arab, anti-Palestinian, and anti-Muslim hatred that makes communities like ours unsafe.”
Once upon a time in America, not so long ago, we understood that it was terrorists, not unsubstantiated accusations of alleged bias, that made us unsafe. And judging by the rampant violence against Jews and others everywhere, from our college campuses to our city centers, it’s high time we reminded ourselves of what the real threat is and how to handle it.
We could hardly ask for a better primer on this issue than considering the case of Mousa Abu Marzook.
Born in the Gaza Strip, Abu Marzook was educated in Cairo and found work in the United Arab Emirates. But his sights were set on the United States; before too long, he was admitted to Colorado State University, where he received a master’s degree, and then to Louisiana Tech University, from which he graduated with a doctorate in industrial engineering.
But building things wasn’t Abu Marzook’s chief priority. From his home in Falls Church, Va., he fundraised for the organization he helped create: Hamas. Abu Marzook repeatedly stated that none of the money he was sending to his colleagues in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip was used to pay for terrorist attacks, but the U.S. Treasury Department had its doubts. In 1995, Abu Marzook was listed as a Specially Designated Terrorist, and was swiftly detained at Kennedy Airport in New York.
Abu Marzook remained in detention for 22 months. While he was incarcerated, David Boim, an American teenager living in Israel, was waiting at a bus stop when two Hamas terrorists drove by and murdered him in cold blood, making Boim the first American ever slain by Hamas. Boim’s parents, Stanley and Joyce, sued a host of individuals — Abu Marzook included, whom they held responsible for their son’s murder.
Eventually, Abu Marzook accepted the terrorism charges against him and agreed to relinquish his green card. In return, he was deported to Jordan, where he became one of Hamas’s top leaders. In 2004, he was indicted by the United States for knowingly providing and attempting to provide material support and resources to a foreign terrorist organization.
After the Oct. 7 massacre, Abu Marzook made headlines once again, preposterously arguing that none of his men knowingly massacred innocent civilians. Instead, he told reporters that the terrorist who slaughtered hundreds of innocent party-goers at the Nova music festival did so merely because they mistook them all for “resting soldiers.”
As we ask ourselves what to do about the kaffiyeh-clad protestors who block airports and cancer hospitals, tear down photos of kidnapped Jewish babies and pummel visibly Jewish neighbors, we would do well to revisit Abu Marzook’s case, as it offers an important precedent for anyone concerned with offering viable, impactful courses of action to meet our current — and considerable — challenge.
As we face those who wish to use the bounties of our democracy against us, we must find new and creative ways to safeguard our most valuable institutions. Some measures are easy and obvious, like making sure our police officers keep the peace, or that college administrators do not protect foreign students who break federal laws and express support for terrorist groups like Hamas. But some, like the measure used to toss out Abu Marzook, are more sensitive.
Expatriation, or the revoking of an American’s citizenship or permanent resident status, is an extreme measure. Section 1481 of Title 8 of the U.S. Code, originally passed in 1952 and revised routinely since, argues that treason is the foremost reason to deny someone their citizenship status. And treason is hard to qualify, especially when it comes to terror groups, which aren’t state actors, and which are increasingly more adept at hiding their intentions and resources alike. So, while we’ve much work ahead of us trying to figure out precisely when and how to use this potent tool, we mustn’t shy away from considering its viability.
In the case of Musa Abu Marzook, at least, it helped make America a safer and more just place. Here’s hoping we’re wise enough to continue and keep the terrorists out, by any means necessary.
Asaf Romirowsky, Ph.D., is the executive director of Scholars for Peace in the Middle East and the Association for the Study of the Middle East and Africa. He is also a senior nonresident research fellow at the Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies and a professor [affiliate] at the University of Haifa.