Image courtesy of Wikimedia creative commons via SWinxy
Early in the morning on Wednesday, April 17, Columbia students formed the “Gaza solidarity encampment” on the school’s south lawn. The occupation was organized by multiple student activism groups that call for the divestment of Columbia from “corporations that profit from Israeli apartheid, genocide, and occupation in Palestine.” This encampment violated university policy when it passed the 30-hour mark, after which New York City police arrested 108 Columbia students. In response, similar protests have erupted at other college campuses across the country, with further arrests taking place.
Prior to the formation of the encampment, the president of Columbia, Nemat Shafik, was preparing for a congressional hearing. While us here at Carnegie Mellon generally operate without grabbing the attention of Congress, the nature of Columbia’s response to antisemitism on its campus was being scrutinized in front of the nation.
This was the same congressional committee whose line of questioning led to the resignation of the presidents of Penn and Harvard. To say Shafik was under pressure is an understatement.
The experiences and safety of Jewish college students has been thrust into the national spotlight as one of the issues defining our discourse, and it must be taken seriously.
The primary argument for the arrests at Columbia is that the demonstrators created an unsafe environment. In a press conference following the arrests, New York City mayor Eric Adams claimed that the student demonstrators had the right to protest, but not to “harass others” and “spread hate.”
That Columbia students have been victims of antisemitism is undeniable.
That the rhetoric used in our conversation about Palestinian liberation lends itself to antisemitic ends is also true.
On our own campus, an individual at a pro-Palestine rally organized by Against Carceral Tech in November claimed that Israelis should “go back to Brooklyn.” (The relative seriousness of this individual’s comment is irrelevant because this is, on its face, an offensive and antisemitic thing to say. This is of course not a blanket condemnation of pro-Palestine activism; no such condemnation should be made on the basis of individual comments.)
We must also acknowledge the equally undeniable fact that the alarming, recent rise in antisemitic attacks is being instrumentalized by a group of conservative political actors to foster a culture war.
The persecution and bigotry against Jewish people in America is being exploited by individuals like Representative Elise Stefanik (R–N.Y.), who questioned president Shafik in Congress, in order to poison the well of discourse, squash conversation about the liberation of Palestine, and broadly characterize pro-Palestine activism on college campuses as inherently antisemitic. This is not to mention that Stefanik herself parrots far-right talking points and implied support for the “great replacement” theory in a campaign ad.
We have not reached a cultural consensus about what constitutes antisemitism, including the protest chant “from the river to the sea” (and its Arabic translation, which has different language that lends itself to more severe implications). This ambiguity leaves the door open for political actors to condemn an extremely broad set of activities, pushing our national discourse away from advocating for Palestinians.
We must reemphasize, however, that we cannot react to this appropriation of antisemitism by minimizing it.
Our campus is one mile from the Tree of Life synagogue, where 11 worshippers were killed by a gunman who believed that Jewish people were responsible for the politically-motivated racial replacement of white Americans by Latin American immigrants. Racism broadly, and antisemitism specifically, is deeply prevalent in our culture. Any conversation which centers the Jewish experience has to be conscious of this fact, lest the discourse lends itself to ideas with fatal implications.
We also must not lose sight of the fact that this rise in antisemitism is occuring alongside a rise in anti-Muslim and anti-Arab violence. It is imperative to discuss multiple things at once, and not act as though our discourse only has space to center one set of experiences. Furthermore, Columbia’s decision has communicated that the school can and will use the threat of police violence to suppress student dissent and protest, a dangerous precedent for a university which prides itself on its vibrant history of student activism.
The last time arrests occurred at this scale at Columbia was in 1968, when 700 students were arrested after students occupied an academic building and took a dean hostage. In comparison, Columbia’s reaction to the “Gaza solidarity encampment” feels disproportionate and inappropriate.
Bringing police to arrest student demonstrators is a gross violation of the trust students place in their university administration. President Shafik specifically requested NYPD support from the mayor’s office, a decision which undoubtedly escalated the situation by bringing the threat of police violence to these student demonstrators.
Every interaction between demonstrators and law enforcement is an opportunity for armed violence to occur, and it is unacceptable for universities to bring the potential for such violence to their own students.
It is fortunate that no physical harm came to the 108 Columbia students arrested last Thursday, but this has not been the case everywhere. At Emory University, a student encampment was formed to protest the school’s ties to Israel and “Cop City,” a massive police training facility under construction in Atlanta. They were dispersed by police officers using rubber bullets and tear gas.
If defending the safety of students is the true concern, it seems as though the cure at Emory may be worse than the disease.
There is an extremely pressing discussion to be had regarding the ways this national political narrative about colleges is encroaching onto our campuses. We cannot allow a toxic, disingenuous line of rhetoric championed by politicians in Congress to supersede the sincere conversations we must have with one another.