Minouche Shafik, the president of Columbia University, has resigned. She follows Claudine Gay of Harvard and Liz Magill of UPenn, both of whom stepped down after they failed to effectively handle a series of antisemitic protests on campus — among other issues.
In her resignation letter, Shafik said that “it has been difficult to overcome divergent views across our community.” But that was not, in fact, the problem that she faced. The problem Shafik faced was that she was transparently sympathetic toward the protesters — even after they had started shouting in support of “intifada,” declaring “death to Zionists,” demanding “Jews out,” and threatening Jewish students that “the 7th of October is going to be every day for you.” Asked in Congress whether she believed that there had been any antisemitism on campus, Shafik replied that she had seen none. Faced with an extended occupation of the university’s grounds and buildings, Shafik did nothing. Told unequivocally that the atmosphere at Columbia was hostile, Shafik equivocated — until the anarchy escalated to the point that the university had no choice but to call in the NYPD. Had she so wished, she could have enforced the college’s property rights and denounced the hatred on display from the start. Instead, she said: “We are a caring, mature, thoughtful and engaged community. Let’s remind ourselves of our common values of honoring learning, mutual respect, and kindness that have been the bedrock of Columbia.” That was nonsense.
Announcing her decision to leave Columbia, Shafik reported that “over the summer, I have been able to reflect and have decided that my moving on at this point would best enable Columbia to traverse the challenges ahead.” That much, at least, is true. But the word she used — “enable” — is the correct one. With Shafik gone, Columbia has an opportunity to behave like an elite American college, but it will not be guaranteed. Free speech represents a crucial part of any liberal education, and yet, for free speech to thrive, two conditions have to be met. First, the protection of that speech has to be applied universally, not solely to those of whom faculty approve. Second, a distinction has to be drawn between speech and action. Arguing one’s case without anyone’s thumbs being placed on the scale is speech. Creating encampments and occupying buildings is not. One hopes that Shafik’s successors will understand this better than she did.
In all likelihood, however, they will not. Shafik’s behavior may have been egregious, but it was not unique. On the contrary: It was symptomatic of a pernicious ideology that has taken hold in academia, within which one’s right to speak is contingent upon one’s position within the hierarchy of oppression, within which words are treated as violence and violence is treated as words, and in which all of the customary hypersensitivity is disregarded the moment the target is a Jew. If Columbia genuinely wishes to “traverse the challenges ahead,” it will look to the model laid out by Ben Sasse at the University of Florida. Getting ahead of the game, Sasse published a comprehensible explanation of what the First Amendment protected and what it did not, laid out clear rules as to what would yield punishment and what would not, and then followed through on his vow. Good riddance to Shafik. Jury’s out on what comes next.