My classmates at Harvard University recently erected a so-called "liberated zone" that ostensibly advocates for Palestinian liberation. Behind masks, they chanted slogans like "there is only one solution, Intifada revolution," draped a keffiyeh around John Harvard, and placed cardboard signs that said "mercy for the martyrs" alongside quotes from convicted terrorist Leila Khaled. She's known for being the first woman to hijack an airplane. Evidently, a nod to peace and reconciliation, Harvard style.
If my previous reservations aren't convincing enough, consider this: The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, officially designated as a terrorist organization by the State Department since 1997, has released a statement in support of the students and a "call for the escalation of their struggle." The nature and tone of the protests have raised serious concerns for me as a Harvard student, a proud Jewish-American, and a person who believes that everyone deserves to live with dignity.
Several weeks prior, in the more subdued setting of Harvard Hillel's basement, I sat down with Elan Carr, the former special envoy to combat and monitor antisemitism. I interviewed him for my podcast, Voices of Impact, which was created in partnership with the World Jewish Congress. Every week on the podcast, I engage with business leaders, philanthropists, academics, and activists who are making significant contributions to the Jewish world. Each conversation has expanded my awareness and appreciation for the diversity of the Jewish community.
As the son of Iraqi refugees, Elan took part in anti-terrorism operations in Iraq. He shared stories of interactions with policemen and fruit vendors on the streets of Baghdad, as well as his experience lighting a menorah in Saddam Hussein's presidential palace. This was all interesting, but what really stood out to me was the layered nature of his identity. It's one that crosses cultural, linguistic, and national boundaries and challenges simplistic misconceptions often held about Jews. By contrast, many of my classmates find it difficult to acknowledge that Jews can be people of color, come from Arab lands, or that oppression manifests in many varied forms. What does it mean when people and ideas transcend such categories?
The diversity of Jewish identity fuels my efforts to advocate for greater representation of Israel at Harvard Hillel. I've been encouraging Hillel to display an Israeli flag for several months, after discovering they can't be hung in some public spaces in the building. Whether one supports the State of Israel in its current form, advocates for the return to 1967 borders, or prefers a different arrangement entirely, I feel there must be more robust support for the Jewish state in a Jewish institution on campus.
At Hillel's year-end barbecue, a group of students hung Israeli flags, only to see them removed because the event wasn't advertised as "pro-Israel." It's shocking that some students at Ivy League schools have adopted positions that are more extreme than those in parts of the Arab world, where leaders have shown more tolerance and realism. The King Hamad Global Center for Peaceful Coexistence and the State Department signed a memorandum of understanding in 2020, marking the first time an Arab country formally partnered with the United States to combat antisemitism. It's significant because the agreement includes the demonization of Israel and the denial of Israel's right to exist as manifestations of antisemitism. This commendable step taken by his majesty contrasts sharply with the attitudes of many of my peers. These students probably don't know the Israeli flag is flown in Abu Dhabi and Manama. Kudos to the king of Bahrain for his leadership. Shame on the uninformed students who think they know better.
Back at Harvard, there has been a push at Harvard Hillel to integrate anti-Israel students into the broader Jewish community. This includes those who organized for the BDS movement and illegally occupied University Hall. I believe that embracing individuals who undermine and implicitly call for Jewish destruction is a grave mistake. There was a particularly disheartening article in The Crimson in February titled "And Then the Politics Came Into It," where the authors suggest that the Jewish community at Harvard was initially cohesive until "political" issues were introduced. Labeling support for Israel as merely a political issue is harmful and inaccurate.
The Jewish connection to the land of Israel is ancient, rooted in thousands of years of history, and reflected in religious texts and cultural narratives. I hold that support for Israel and the Israeli people is deeply woven into the fabric of Jewish identity. This was true before October 7, and it continues to be true after.
As Jews on campus and members of the American Jewish community, we too frequently find ourselves defending Israel against critics – some uninformed, some malicious, and others a combination of both. It's unfortunate that Jewish and Israeli pride often go uncelebrated. Despite its imperfections, there is immense joy to be taken in the modern state and people of Israel. The country stands as a vibrant democracy amidst monarchies, authoritarian regimes, and failed states. It boasts top-tier universities, cultural institutions, and has been a cradle for revolutionary startups and urban development in one of the most dynamic cities in the Middle East. These achievements should serve as significant grounds for pride for the Jewish people and for the world.
It's hard for me to take pride in the current state of our campus. The students who harass Jews between classes and in the library are casting a shadow on what should be a place of diversity, inclusivity, and mutual growth. These individuals are more interested in sowing discord than working toward constructive outcomes. If peace is achieved on college campuses and in the Middle East, it will be despite these students' actions. Not because of them.
Isaac Ohrenstein is a sophomore at Harvard University with a concentration in social studies and a secondary in European history, politics, and societies. In his spare time, he writes for the Harvard International Review and serves as a Lauder Fellow at the World Jewish Congress. An avid traveler, Isaac has visited over fifty countries and holds American, British, and Austrian citizenship.
