As a Jewish student, I worry about the upheaval of campus life arising from pro-Palestinian protests. I know I am not alone in my concerns — and my fears are not wholly unwarranted. Whether passing graffiti demanding “pigs off campus” — a seeming reference to the cops who arrested 89 individuals at a pro-Palestinian protest on May 1 and a phrase that recalls medieval antisemitic tropes — or being accused of complicity in genocide, Jewish and pro-Israel students on campus have dealt with months of hardship. While these actions have been painful for many students to see and hear, I believe the true damage of many protests lies in their broader illiberal, unwelcoming and coercive nature.
A prime example occurred during the May 5 student government vote of confidence in President Sian Leah Beilock. The public vote, in which protesters crowded the room, passed 13 - 2 - 3. However, when DSG conducted a second, private vote, it failed 8 - 9 - 2.
To be clear, I do not criticize the majority of student protesters. Indeed, many have noble intentions. Instead, I would like to focus on the broader effect of the pro-Palestinian movement on campus: it has created an environment where many Jewish and pro-Israel students hesitate to publicly engage with issues concerning conflict in the Middle East. Moreover, I hope to give pro-Palestinian protesters some practical advice. They are likely to influence far more students by engaging with disagreeing voices in good faith, rather than treating us as though we’re bigots.
My argument stems largely from my experience discussing the Israel-Hamas war on campus. My views on the conflict hardened after witnessing campus demonstrations after Oct. 7. To me, pro-Palestinian demonstrations at Dartmouth lack nuance, confirming many of my deepest fears about the larger anti-Zionist movement. In the protests, I perceive students who seem to empathize more with terrorists than with their victims — students who possibly even support Hamas and want to see more atrocities like Oct. 7. I respond by avoiding spaces hostile to Israel, only talking about the war with my Jewish or pro-Israel friends, and even hiding aspects of my Jewish identity. For example, last year I chose not to affix a mezuzah to my door.
I am not the only one avoiding anti-Israel spaces. Following Oct. 7 and ensuing pro-Palestinian protests on campus, I noticed a withdrawal of Jewish students from certain extracurriculars, particularly those with a liberal alignment, and a flooding into Hillel at Dartmouth and the Rohr Chabad Center at Dartmouth. In my conversations with others at Hillel and Chabad, students have said they have pretended to be more critical of Israel than they actually are in order to gain acceptance by their peers. Others have said they have had to hide their Jewishness. For these students, Jewish spaces have provided a unique safe place to express themselves freely.
In contrast, many of my views have moderated in conversations outside of the context of protests; I have had productive conversations about the conflict at late night dining, after lectures and panels, at meetings for Bridge USA’s Dartmouth Chapter — a multi-partisan student movement that champions viewpoint diversity, responsible discourse and a solution-oriented political culture — and in GOVT 40.09, “Politics of Israel and Palestine,”, a class covering the conflict taught by professors Avishai and Fishere. In these spaces, I have been able to participate in forthright conversations with fellow students about their concerns. I, in turn, have come to better understand their perspectives. While we may never fully agree, I have been introduced to much more nuanced and thoughtful criticism concerning the Israel-Hamas war than before.
To have these forthright and meaningful conversations about the Israel-Hamas war, we must not create echo chambers — as I believe some protesters at Dartmouth tend to do by alienating anyone who might disagree with them. Rather than create antagonistic environments for those with whom we disagree, labeling them as complicit in genocide or approaching their questions with condescension, we must seek understanding. We must read sources with which we might disagree and listen to perspectives with which we do not identify. I am worried that some protesters, convinced of their self-righteousness, will refuse to do this. They have created, and likely will maintain, spaces that I find openly hostile to those with whom they disagree.
I find it rather ironic that students and faculty for whom inclusivity and belonging are significant priorities have abandoned such values when it comes to Israel. It tells me a lot about the movement: that students have built their identities around hating Israel to such an extent that they are unable to risk challenging their beliefs. This unwillingness to meaningfully engage is a fundamental barrier to productive conversation and the protesters’ own goals of trying to raise awareness of the plight of Palestinians. They only raise awareness among themselves. If pro-Israel students are leaving spaces they deem hostile, the pursuit of awareness falls flat.
Taking in opposing voices, meaningfully engaging with them and being open to changing your views in response are all fundamental tenets of a liberal education. In my mind, this approach should drive campus engagement with the Israel-Hamas war. Having open conversation and discussion promotes critical thinking and mutual understanding — which are necessary for any workable solution — and is likely to influence far more students and administrators than sign-waving and name-calling ever could.
Jacob Markman is a member of the Class of 2027. Opinion articles represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
