As uncomfortable as it may be to compare these two events, parallels between them exist nonetheless: the immediate questions about who was responsible, the profound sadness that so many lives were ruthlessly cut short, the fear of any dangers still lurking, the recognition of acts of selfless heroism, the analysis of any signs that the events were going to occur, and the consideration of ways in which future tragedies can be avoided, including enhanced communication measures.

The Virginia Tech massacre and 9/11 are similar in another significant respect: the possibility that the incidents could lead to a backlash against individuals who resemble the perpetrators. With respect to 9/11, just four days after the attacks, a turbaned Sikh was murdered in Arizona by a self-proclaimed "patriot." Law professor Muneer Ahmad found that, in the eight weeks following 9/11, over a thousand bias incidents against Muslims, Arabs, South Asians, and Sikhs were reported, including "as many as nineteen" murders, assaults, harassment, and acts of vandalism.

On that fateful Monday in April, we fixated on our televisions and computer monitors, attempting to learn as much as possible about who committed this horrible deed. While I presume that most of us simply wanted to find out who the shooter was, others were praying for what the shooter wasn't: Muslims, Indians, and undocumented Latino immigrants, were reflexively apprehensive in the aftermath of the Virginia Tech massacre. However, they were relieved to learn that they did not share the perpetrator's identity and thus would be spared from any retaliation.

In light of this climate, it should come as no surprise that Korean- and Asian-Americans prepared for a backlash almost instantly following the news that the Virginia Tech mass murder was committed by Korean-born Cho Seung Hui. Koreans and Asians across the country were expecting additional scrutiny, maintaining low profiles in order to avoid harassment, and appealing for tolerance. For example, hours after the killer's identity came to light, an Asian-American advocacy group issued a press release announcing the organization's "strong hope that there will be no backlash against Asian Americans or Korean Americans in particular."

Animus directed towards Koreans and Asians already has materialized. Blogs and viral websites are littered with derogatory comments about Koreans and Asians. A video on YouTube, for example, places the words, "I belong in Korea," over Cho's face. According to press reports, a Korean student was spat on, Koreans and Asians have been verbally harassed and received dirty looks from others. As Virginia Tech senior and Korean Young-je Ko told salon.com, "It's like when 9/11 happened.... Arab people are victims even though they didn't do anything wrong. It's just the same to me."

More important than whether there is a sufficient link between the Virginia Tech shootings and 9/11 is the question of what we can learn from our past experiences in moments of national crisis. For starters, the internment of 120,000 Japanese-Americans during World War II provides essential guidance. The internment episode reminds us that the wholesale branding of a people as suspicious or dangerous during perilous times only serves to advance prejudice and degrade individual civil liberties. We must not be tempted to resurrect this relic of discriminatory thinking by identifying threats or unsavory people solely based on ancestry or appearance.

While emotion from the shootings is understandable, anyone interested in violently directing their anger towards Korean-Americans or those perceived to be Korean should be reminded that their actions may be legally punishable by common law torts, such as assault and battery, property offenses, such as vandalism, and by federal and state hate crimes statutes. Also, treating Koreans and Asians differently in certain contexts, such as employment or the provision of services, may result in violations of specific civil rights enactments.

Though targeting Koreans and Asians may be illegal depending on the circumstances, it is certainly un-American. On September 17, 2001, President George W. Bush noted that, "Those who feel like they can intimidate our fellow citizens to take out their anger don't represent the best of America, they represent the worst of humankind, and they should be ashamed of that kind of behavior." This statement remains as relevant today as it did days after the terrorist attacks.

Over five years after 9/11, Muslim, Arab, South Asian, and Sikh advocacy organizations are still working to combat ignorance and defend victims. Korean- and Asian-Americans groups may need to engage in extensive efforts to spread awareness of their people, engage in outreach efforts with national and local law enforcement, inform their constituency of their rights, and redress any discriminatory actions. The road ahead may be long and arduous, but it is necessary.

Finally, Korean- and Asian-Americans should know they are not alone in their efforts. After 9/11, some Muslims expressed feelings of isolation from others, especially immigrants and minorities. This should not be the case. The struggle to preserve individual rights and pluralism in the face of uncertain times implicates all identifiable groups in America. The groups impacted by the post-9/11 backlash should stand firmly with the Korean- and Asian-American communities -- as well as with the Virginia Tech campus -- in complete solidarity.

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