The Guardian view on anti-Asian hate: not just a pandemic problem
The fear, anger and heartbreak felt when news broke that eight people had been killed in shootings in Atlanta on Wednesday, six of them women of Asian descent, was multiplied by the extraordinary response of authorities: “Yesterday was a really bad day for him,” a Georgia sheriff’s captain remarked of the suspect.
For many Asian Americans, it was further evidence that crimes against their community are not being taken seriously, even as they surge. Police said that the suspect “gave no indicators” that his actions were racially motivated, talking of a sex addiction and saying he was trying “to take out that temptation”. It is hard to think of language more dehumanising. These shootings targeted Asian-owned spa and massage facilities 30 miles apart and claimed the lives primarily of Asian women. They took place in a country which has a history of treating Asian migrants, or those of Asian descent, as undesirable or sinister, and of portraying east and south-east Asian women as hypersexualised. (The first federal anti-immigration law in the US targeted Chinese women, on a pretext of tackling prostitution, but in reality to prevent Chinese families from settling.) Wednesday’s victims were regarded as sex workers, whether or not that was the case. Bee Nguyen, a Georgia state representative, said that the shooting appeared to be at the “intersection of gender-based violence, misogyny and xenophobia”.
Anti-Asian hate crimes have been rising in the US since 2015. That seems to reflect a broader increase in bigotry, abuse and violence, as in the UK following the Brexit vote. But there is no doubt that there has been a global surge, often carried out with direct reference to Covid, since the pandemic began and Donald Trump and others began talking of “the China virus”. A spate of assaults in the US, in particular on older people, have stirred outrage. Anti-Chinese hate crime rose by a fifth in the UK in the early stages of the outbreak, while nearly one in five Chinese Australians say they have been physically threatened or attacked since it began.
Denouncing assaults and avoiding overtly racist terms such as “kung flu” is not enough. Anti-Asian hate crimes, and the failure to adequately tackle them, must be addressed within the broader context of racism, immigration and policing, but also with regard to specific factors. Politicians, the media and others must take much more care that policies, rhetoric and imagery distinguish clearly between the actions of Beijing and the lives of Chinese immigrants or those of Asian descent. There must be no loyalty tests, or sweeping bans on Chinese nationals. Valid concerns about Beijing’s handling of the virus, economic policy or covert influence should be raised in a way that recognises and reduces the dangers of scapegoating or racial profiling.
Perpetrators, of course, bear the primary responsibility for hate crimes. But those who fail to bring them to book, and those who foster a climate of suspicion, discrimination and intolerance, must be held accountable too.