Anti-Semitism: to ban, or not to ban?
With pro-Gaza encampments now a feature of university life, arguments for student safety and well-being are being used to curtail free speech
The fury prompted by education secretary Bridget Phillipson’s decision to halt commencement of the provisions of the Higher Education (Freedom of Speech) Act shows little sign of abating. The Free Speech Union has sent a pre-action protocol letter threatening a judicial review if Phillipson does not reverse her decision to stop commencement. Over 200 academics have signed an open letter urging the implementation of the remaining provisions of the Act.
We’ll need to await developments on legal actions and legislative outcomes. But what is certainly now clear in the opening weeks of a new administration is its determination to double down on the argument that free speech is ‘damaging to the welfare of students’. The argument against the Act is well worn - that it could lead to providers ‘overlooking the safety and well-being of minority groups’ and that therefore students could be exposed to ‘harm and appalling hate speech on campus’. These are simply contemporary versions of well-established arguments justifying why free speech should be a distinctly secondary priority.
As Claire Fox argued recently on this Substack, in the name of keeping minorities ‘safe’ from views labelled harmful, universities have effectively been given a green light to clamp down on speech by rebranding it as hateful.
One problem for those interested in defending campus freedoms is that university life has increasingly been reorganised around student wellbeing and harm. The default assumption is that young people are likely to lack the moral and the psychological means to deal with encountering difficult or conflictual ideas. Consequently, when Labour-government sources claimed that the decision to halt the Act was, in part, to protect ‘vulnerable groups and Jewish students’, few challenged the assertion that welfare and safety might be valid reasons to clamp down on campus freedoms.
At the Living Freedom summer school last month, organised by Ideas Matter, the discussion ‘Tolerate it or ban it? Anti-Semitism on campus’ set out to explore important questions about where the boundaries lie in supporting free speech.
There’s no doubt that support for the Palestinian cause has been accompanied by a rise in expressions of anti-Semitism, and that, in some instances, this has been apparent at the ‘Gaza solidarity’ camps that are now a feature of campus life. But are we too quick to conclude that students are imperilled by protests and discussion on the situation in Gaza? Where do the boundaries lie in terms of concerns over protesters and supporting free speech? And what lessons can those keen to promote toleration of different views and free speech more broadly learn from the recent protests on campus?
Here we publish an edited version of the talk given at Living Freedom by Sam Rubinstein, a writer and postgraduate historian at Oxford.
Tolerate it or ban it? Anti-Semitism on campus
The greatest Jewish historian of the twentieth century, Salo Baron, used to criticise what he called the 'lachrymose' conception of Jewish history. According to the lachrymose view, Jewish history proceeds from one sorrowful episode to the next: Egyptian bondage, Babylonian exile, the Jewish War, forced conversions, crusades, blood libels, expulsions, the Spanish Inquisition, pogroms, and so on. All seemingly marching inexorably to Auschwitz.
One of the many problems with the lachrymose conception of Jewish history is that it primes Jews, post-Auschwitz, to be marked constantly by paranoia and fear, always on the lookout for a return to such horrors. Baron rightly argued that Jewish history is far more nuanced. It's not all about suffering; there are good times as well as bad ones.
Like Baron, I don't find the lachrymose conception helpful or healthy for our community. Yes, there's been a rise in anti-Semitism since 7 October, and it's understandable that many Jews feel anxious about this. But it's important to cool down the rhetoric and maintain some perspective. Jewish life in Britain has been flourishing for a long time, and we should recognise and celebrate that instead of succumbing to fear.
For that reason, I don't like to adopt a particularly shrill tone when looking at university encampments or the Palestine marches. I see them as obstacles that can, and will, be overcome by a community that's faced much worse. For example, I am encouraged by Josh Glancy of The Sunday Times, who has taken to attending London's Palestine protests wearing a kippah, visibly Jewish: he's never been intimidated or assaulted.
This brings me to the encampments. Many of us at this Living Freedom summer school are students who've seen these encampments at our universities, some of us as reporters or activists. I visited the one at Oxford out of curiosity. Like Glancy at the London protests, I felt relatively assured. Despite being visibly Jewish and not aligning with their political objectives, I did not feel intimidated in the slightest. Everyone was courteous and polite.
So, allow me to share some impressions and reflections.
First of all, there's a bit of a Potemkin village vibe: far more tents than people, which was eyebrow-raising. There's also a weird puritanical streak. At the entrance to the Oxford camp, there's a big sign: no alcohol, no drugs. This isn't 1968 Paris; it's a much tamer affair. Everyone wears face masks - which I initially thought was to conceal identity, but it turns out they're still freaked out about Covid. They want to make the camp as inclusive as possible, especially for 'immunocompromised folks'. I also found a lot (a disproportionate number) of humanities postgrads – like myself – which I found... telling.
The American journalist Matthew Yglesias has a theory on why the encampments have taken off so much this year: universities just aren't as hard as they used to be. Students don't work as much and have lots of free time. Fifty years ago, it's hard to imagine that they would have been able to get away with this, especially during exam season.
The point I'm trying to make is that the case against the encampments isn't really about Jewish feelings or upsetting students in general. I'm always cautious about dictating policy based on how people feel. Many of my Jewish friends have felt uncomfortable at university, but this shouldn't be a reason to prohibit certain types of speech.
However, some of the behaviour at the encampments has crossed the line. At Oxford, a group disrupted exams - which I find unjustifiable. I hope the proctor threw the book at them. I have confidence that such behaviour is, anyway, counterproductive, alienating many students who might have been sympathetic to their cause.
Encampments are just a small part of the pro-Palestinian movement in universities, probably the most extreme wing. This makes them off-putting to others who might otherwise share their beliefs. If we're to critique the encampments, it should be because they interfere with the university's true purpose: learning and study. These appeals to students’ feelings are infantilising.
There's also a paradox of protest at play here. Protests are compelling and effective when participants face consequences. If protesters act with total impunity – as clearly they are in the present context – it weakens their impact. In a strange, perverse way, I almost wished they had faced pushback from the university, that they had all been disciplined. It would have made their acts seem more noble or heroic.
The most impressive person I met at the Oxford encampments was a final-year law student. She was wearing a mask, so I didn't get to speak to her properly, but I asked if she was worried about her forthcoming exams. She said: 'I'm gonna get a third, I don't care. I would never forgive myself if I spent time in the library getting a 2:1 or a first, knowing I wasn't at the encampment and making a difference.' I respected her for that. She accepted the sacrifice, and it was impressive. In a certain sense, these activists are often denied the chance to be truly impactful because universities let them trespass without consequence.
The final point to note is that there has been a sharp split within free-speech advocates at universities since 7 October. In each of the four universities I've been a part of, the pro-free speech community has been divided. Some remain principled in defending the free speech of pro-Palestinian students at the encampments, while others have compromised their principles. This is a crucial litmus test for those of us who consider ourselves liberals and strong proponents of free speech. It's a chance to show that we support freedom of speech universally, not just for those we agree with. Aside from anything else, over the past few months it's been telling, and sometimes disappointing, to see who has stayed true and who has started hedging their advocacy and activism with: 'I support free speech, but...'.
Samuel Rubinstein is a postgraduate historian and writer. Follow him on X/Twitter.