Students, Stop Protesting and Start Caring

Students, Stop Protesting and Start Caring
Pro-Palestinian demonstrations won’t achieve half as much as informed discussions.

(Pro-Palestinian stickers placed on light poles across W&L’s campus after Spring Break. Source: The Spectator)

While the ongoing conflict in Gaza and the Middle East has seemed like a distant inconvenience to many Americans, now more than ever the war is affecting the nation’s domestic activities. 

Pro-Palestinian protests are growing at colleges across the country, forcing legislators and law enforcement to intervene in ways that will undoubtably provoke one side or another: if university and government officials allow pro-Palestinian encampments to remain, they would protect rights of expression for one student group while endangering the safety and rights of their Jewish peers. 

On the other hand, if they forcibly shut down the protests — as Governor Greg Abbott did at UT Austin — Jewish safety is guaranteed, but student expression is not. Though the issue is not nearly such a simple dichotomy, Americans need to quickly overcome this domestic crisis before tensions expand beyond college campuses.

But if Americans truly want to calm the tensions overwhelming their institutions of higher learning, they should seek a greater resolution of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict that began on October 7, 2023. Granted, that conflict has complex origins: it is the product of both Jewish and Palestinian diasporas, and is frequently traced back to antiquity. It would be quixotic to propose a straightforward solution.

Unfortunately, the “solutions” overwhelming both sides of the conversation — especially in America — show little regard for both Palestine and Israel. And if you don’t think that Palestinians and Israelis deserve the same rights and dignity, you’re part of the problem. However, if you recognize their shared humanity, the question before us is how our local communities and campuses can mitigate a very complicated conflict.

An easy excuse, though perhaps not always a morally justifiable one, for political inaction is that certain issues are too institutionalized or widespread for one person to have any impact. This excuse is overused and quite detrimental to a democratically-minded society. But at the same time, it is often ignored by impassioned political activists. 

Consider the protests currently occurring at Columbia and other universities. As large as these protests (and counterprotests) have become, not everyone has taken a public stance on the issue. As one student honestly admitted to reporters, “I’m kinda confused because I mean, being here at Columbia I have so much work.”

Should he value political activism over personal academics? Perhaps. Or maybe colleges like W&L — where there are no protests or demonstrations — should initiate protests of their own.

But at the same time, there is a superficial display to these protests. Many students join just because they perceive it as “the proper response” to combat social injustice in a culture where social media demands “a more heightened degree of performance,” as Columbia professor John McWhorter observes.

And as interviews with some protestors show, not everyone even knows who or what they’re supposed to be protesting. The leaders of Columbia’s protests have themselves admitted that their efforts to convince the college to cut financial ties with Israeli institutions are “at an impasse with administrators.”

Even if they were successful, there is no reason to believe that financial withdrawals would convince a warring nation to suspend their offensive. So if the concern is genuinely for Palestinian well-being, is there a more effective way for ordinary Americans to improve their livelihood?

As simple as it may sound, the best step that local communities can take is to educate themselves on the current conflict and the historic harms influencing both Israel and Palestine. Social media feeds are insufficient sources of education, as is political commentary by world leaders and news personalities. 

To really understand the issue, people need to engage with multiple perspectives and mediums. I don’t have a perfect formula or syllabus on the subject, nor do I expect busy individuals to take time out of their day to read the United Nations’ 1948 resolution to create Israel, or Hamas’ 1988 founding covenant.

But surely many people — especially those who are currently holding signs and camping out on front lawns — can find the time to read those documents (and others). Then instead of chanting one-liner mottos through a megaphone, they could discuss in smaller groups the sources and articles that they read. 

These conversations would also need to include conflicting opinions and voices. The pro-Palestinian student should speak with the pro-Israeli student. The pro-Palestinian employee should speak with their pro-Israeli colleague. And so on.

Civil discourse is a critical component to truly understand the interests and concerns of two separate peoples, and it would be haughty to assume that your political opponent has absolutely nothing worth hearing. And unlike the deadly battlegrounds in Israel and Gaza, American communities have the security to safely communicate with one another without the expectation that their well-being would be threatened.

Of course, the ultimate goal that these conversations seek is the same: to protect the dignity and well-being of the Israeli and Palestinian people. Some random student’s engagement with the conflict’s background will not actually save a Gazan child any more than holding a sign in a crowd will.

But a respectful and learned group would certainly gain more traction with authority figures who have actual influence on the Israeli government. And if they work with people of different perspectives, they may find common causes and will certainly attract a wider, bipartisan audience. America is defined by its astonishing ability to harbor a pluralistic society. Even though my college experience — beginning with the 2020 name-change debate — has chipped away at this comradery, it is time my generation put down their pickets and adopt a constructive approach.

[This article is the first of two opinions adopted from the author’s Winter 2024 capstone for the Poverty Studies and Human Capabilities minor. The project focused on the dignity of diaspora and the different harms and social structures that come from forced diasporas. If you would like to learn more about that research, please contact editor@wluspectator.com.]

[The opinions expressed in this magazine are the author's own and do not reflect the official policy or position of The Spectator, or any students or other contributors associated with the magazine. It is the intention of The Spectator to promote student thought and civil discourse, and it is our hope to maintain that civility in all discussions.]