The authors went on to say in academic jargon what many of us had been saying all along: when you give a bully what he wants, he only demands more. Indeed, they concluded, the settlement itself gives the administration an array of new tools to use in the service of its coercive campaign.
It makes me wonder what comes next. Flags with Trumps face on them all over campus? Forced pledges of allegiance to him? After all, Iraqs dictator Saddam Hussein did it. Why not Donald Trump?
Afflict the Comfortable and Comfort the Afflicted.
For now, however, we faculty are stuck with Columbia as it is. In my case, this means that I must teach social justice journalism not only under the cloud of the Kirk aftermath, with professors and employees being fired or chased out of the country for daring to criticize that purveyor of hate, but with the IHRA sword of Damocles dangling over my head.
Social justice journalism is essentially about covering the ways in which the powerless are oppressed by the powerful that is, a manifestation of Joseph Pulitzer's mantra that journalism should afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. This means that just about every topic my students will cover flies in the face of all that the Trump government wants to suppress and might well come up against Columbia's new rules, too.
What if one of my students should want to cover the deportation hearings for Columbia student Mohsen Mahdawi, for instance? Or a speech by our former student, the once-imprisoned Mahmoud Khalil? Will even a mention of a Palestinian activist be deemed antisemitic now? Will quoting someone who criticizes Kirk or Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu be grounds for expulsion? Can we report on Planned Parenthood or transphobia, the ICE persecution of Brown and Black immigrants, the ongoing climate catastrophe, environmental racism, violence against women, or Islamophobia? Can we talk about social justice at all?
However, the aspect of teaching that worries me the most is how Columbia's capitulation will affect my students trust in one another. I don't want anyone to be afraid that someone will snitch on them and get them punished, suspended, expelled, bullied online, deported, or otherwise silenced. I want to foster a culture of camaraderie and trust in my classroom, not suspicion and fear.
But students are afraid. Just a couple of weeks ago, I spoke on a campus panel to a group of young women undergraduates of color, several of whom are international students. They told us that (with reason) they're afraid to protest, post anything political, or speak out at all. They're afraid that their visas will be revoked, their degrees and futures whisked away. They're afraid of being kidnapped from campus and disappeared by ICE.
This makes me worry that my students, too, will censor themselves out of fear, a dangerous scenario indeed. A journalist who is afraid to publish the truth or question power cant be a journalist at all.
That said, there is nothing like sitting in a classroom full of journalism students to give one hope. Its uplifting to know that there are still young people out there who want to be reporters, who are dedicated to evidence-based facts, who have compassion for the downtrodden and still see journalism as essential to upholding democracy. Such students represent the generation that is going to have to claw back capitulations and hold onto integrity in the face of truly hard times.
So, yes, the university at large has sold out our students. But the university is not all of us. There are hundreds of faculty on this campus dedicated to the right of our students to learn, debate, protest, research, and report without fear.
The task now is to keep up their courage and our own fight.
Copyright 2025 Helen Benedict
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