I walked out of my quantitative analysis class on April 21 and headed to my usual spot in Butler Library, only to find a pro-Palestine protest obstructing one of the two main entrances onto campus. Like many (Jewish) students at Columbia, I am used to this sort of spectacle by now, so I was mostly unperturbed.
This changed, however, as I approached the entrance—the Columbia gates on Amsterdam Avenue—only to find that I was not allowed to pass. In fact, no student was allowed to access the campus through that entrance. To be frank, I was livid.
The protestors have already made it so that Columbia’s gates are closed, requiring students who want to enter their campus to pass through checkpoints to do so. Apparently, that is not enough for those commanding the University to “free Palestine,” to “free Mahmoud,” and to “free Mohsen.” So that Monday, they took things another step further, and an abnormal situation became even more abnormal. The result was that Columbia students, once again, could not experience their own school in the way they—as admitted, tuition-paying community members—rightfully expect.
Why are pro-Palestine protests allowed to shut down campuses?
In a student committee meeting a few days later, I asked a panel of administrators why this was permitted. One panelist explained to me that, because the protestors were demonstrating on Amsterdam Avenue just outside the gates, they were under the jurisdiction of the NYPD and not the university. Importantly, at least one protester, a Columbia alumnus, was arrested. Multiple individuals were also taken into NYPD custody after the protestors chained themselves to the campus gates “to demand the release of Mahmoud Khalil and Mohsen Mahdawi,” according to reporting from the Columbia Spectator.
Still, it remains unclear to me why the protestors were allowed to bar campus access yet again. If a group (what looked to me to be around 30 people) of masked individuals gathered and prevented Columbia students from entering their own campus, surely we would be able to find a solution; but this is precisely what happened, and yet the perpetrators remained there well into the evening.
Even so, there has certainly been an effort to improve the climate on campus. During the same week of the Monday protest at Columbia, pro-Palestine protestors at Yale erected eight tents in an effort to revive the encampment movement. Reporting indicates that the situation was handled swiftly at Yale.
It was soon thereafter learned, however, that Columbia protestors planned to revive the encampment at our university as well. Such a prospect spurred Columbia’s administration into action: On the day the encampments were planned, the university facilitated what appeared to be a spontaneous carnival, or spring celebration, including an inflatable rock-climbing wall, at least one bouncy-house, and various games, on the main lawns where the encampment would have been (again).
While this was an effective strategy to circumvent a potential problem and ameliorate campus climate, at least temporarily, in the process, we must still remember and acknowledge the reality:
Yes, students (and Jewish students in particular, as I’ve noticed) are resilient. We know how to have fun at school, even if there are disruptions. Just because we have adapted and normalized the situation, however, does not make it one bit more acceptable. The April 21 protest reminded me of this.
As I mentioned, the gates are already closed. There is already restricted access to the campus. Yet every student was effectively told that, because a handful of students and alumni want to protest, we have to adapt further. This is neither normal nor acceptable. When it comes to the pro-Palestine protests (and protestors) on campus, though, people seem to forget the severity of the situation the longer it is tolerated.
While I am still just a student, my experience at Columbia University over the past two years—the first two years since October 7—has suggested to me that we are at a critical inflection point in American history. I still go to school with people who, to this day, defend the October 7th attacks. We have reasoned with ourselves that this population is loud but ultimately a minority. My experience has left me with good reason to believe, however, that the majority of the people at school are in some way (if not outright) sympathetic to this alleged minority population—if only because they do not speak out to say otherwise.
Despite how clearly the virus of antisemitism has revealed itself—and been promulgated by the pro-Palestine movement—since October 7th, I am seeing signs that society is forgetting what we have learned. The pro-Palestine movement overtook American university campuses last academic year to support a terrorist attack on civilians. In fact, the movement has time and again shouted their support for the terrorist organization itself and others like it. The movement has insisted on the destruction of Western civilization, and has indeed attempted to physically destroy my school on more than one occasion—the most significant example being the Hamilton Hall break-in, although the University accumulated tens of thousands of dollars worth of property damage in this semester alone (the Milbank Hall incident at Barnard and vandalism at SIPA, for example).
We have a chance now, however, to reverse the rhetorical and ideological damage that has been done. Certainly, we may intervene to prevent further damage. This is the inflection point to which I refer. The trajectory of this movement and its efforts against the Jewish people is inextricably linked with the fate of the United States, and that of the West generally—if only because the same movement advocating death to the Jewish state also advocates for death to the West. It will be a problem, then, if we—as a secular society; as Americans—lose sight of the fight against this antisemitic, anti-Western, and anti-American movement. If we do not tend to the problem, it will fester and re-emerge when the Jew- and America-hating students graduating from institutions like Columbia are in positions of power, legislative or otherwise; and this is the point at which it will be too late.
I came across a Voltaire quote recently, and was struck by its applicability to the current climate. He noted that “those who can be made to believe absurdities can be made to commit atrocities.” While we have—thankfully—not arrived at this point, the meaning of Voltaire’s observation can be seen in any of the aforementioned break-ins and occupations.
Still, there is time, as I mentioned, to reverse the damage—or at the very least prevent further harm. I have gotten a mere taste of what is to come should we allow the current climate across American academia to persist, and it is enough for me to know that anything more will be truly disastrous. For my people: the Jews. For my school: Columbia. For my country: America. I love each of these entities: my people, my school, and my country. I wish only to see each of them recuperate from this mutual time of crisis and thrive.