Despite all the coverage of the protests over Israel’s war in Gaza, it can be remarkably difficult to understand what the players are actually saying. On social media, partisans on both sides cherry-pick extreme comments or incidents as a way to suggest that their opponents are comprehensively rotten. Others invoke broadly held values—free speech, peaceful protest, human rights—without explaining how they apply in specific circumstances. And many of the media stories have only worsened the confusion, by employing imprecise and euphemistic language that obscures more than it illuminates.
As a result, the American public remains badly informed about both the war itself and the movement against it, a dynamic that has steadily grown worse as campus protests—and the rate of (sometimes violent) arrests—has intensified. This lack of clarity may be especially damaging to people who both oppose Israel’s actions in Gaza and want to see long-term peace—a group long marginalized by Israel hawks and expansionists—but who may also find themselves surprised and troubled by the stated objectives of many of the groups leading the protests. And there is a growing risk, as the backlash to the protests grows both more violent and more litigious, that the extreme claims, demands for ideological purity, and rejection of nonviolence advanced by some of the protest leaders will undermine a movement that many liberals agree is morally urgent.
Here is a sadly typical example of the phenomenon I’m seeing: The Washington Post recently published an article headlined “They Criticized Israel. This Twitter Account Upended Their Lives.” The story, by the reporter Pranshu Verma, looked at the organization StopAntisemitism, which, according to the Post’s summary, “has flagged hundreds of people who have criticized Israel’s actions in Gaza. Many were swiftly fired.”
But that’s not actually an accurate description of the reality that the Post is reporting. The people featured in this article did not simply criticize Israel or its actions in Gaza. One woman was fired from her job at a branding firm for a video in which she declared that “radical solidarity with Palestine means … not apologizing for Hamas.” (Refusing to say a bad word about a U.S.-designated foreign-terrorist group is undoubtedly not the way her firm wanted to be branded.) Another person, a therapist, was caught on video ripping down a poster of Israeli hostages. She subsequently promoted the conspiracy theory that the Israelis taken by Hamas on October 7 were actually kidnapped by their own country. (She said later that she hadn’t meant what she’d said, but that she’d torn down the poster because it used the term “Hamas terrorists,” which undermined the Palestinian cause. Her clinic, the Post reported, fired her.)
[Iddo Gefen: What ‘Intifada Revolution’ looks like]
The story mentions just two other people whose lives were “upended” because they “criticized Israel.” StopAntisemitism “has flagged people for a variety of statements the organization considers antisemitic,” the Post reported, “including a college instructor who called Israelis ‘pigs’ and a high school basketball coach who wore a shirt with a watermelon, a symbol of solidarity with the Palestinian cause, to a game.” The coach is the most sympathetic person in the story, although the Post fails to mention that he wore the shirt to a game in which his team was playing a Jewish school. Those who were—in my opinion, unjustifiably—angry about the shirt seem to feel that the symbol wasn’t a general expression of support for Palestinians, but targeted at a group of Jewish high schoolers. Either way, the coach was suspended, and apologized. The college instructor, who is no longer employed by her school, did not, but “called Israelis ‘pigs’” does not quite capture her comments, which included, “Israelis are pigs. Savages. Very very bad people. Irredeemable excrement,” and, “May they rot in hell.”
The Post story raises important questions: Should these people, or others whose views are unpopular in a particular community or workplace, have been fired from their job? What are the ethics of reposting their social-media comments or footage of their public acts on an account devoted to making private citizens face personal or professional consequences? How much do we want to rely on viral social-media posts to police ugly behaviors and comments? But these questions are much more difficult to answer when the situations that gave rise to them are fundamentally mischaracterized.
News outlets have a duty to both accurately report the news and include the context necessary for readers to understand it. The Post article not only casts the whitewashing of Hamas and the murders it committed as “criticism” of Israel; it also fails to explain Hamas’s aims—which include the complete destruction of Israel by any means, including the mass murder of innocent civilians. What happens to public discourse around the most controversial issues when media outlets don’t talk about what we’re actually talking about?
Campuses across the country are seething over Gaza. On social media, in Congress, and in the media, debates rage over whether these protests are admirable, gatherings of idealistic young people voicing their dissent over a war that has reportedly killed more than 30,000 Palestinians, many of them innocent children and women, or whether the protesters are entitled, terrorism-excusing rule-breakers who should face consequences when they intentionally flout the law.
Much of this conversation has been carried out in bad faith, such as when grandstanding Republicans decided to haul university presidents before Congress for a public dressing-down. And the decision of administrators at several schools—including Columbia University, NYU, UCLA, and the University of Texas at Austin—to ask law enforcement to break up student encampments and demonstrations represented a dramatic, and inflammatory, escalation.
Part of the debate turns on whether the protests are anti-Semitic. And it has been easy to find examples of blatant anti-Semitism, some of it from standard-fare lunatics and much of it from actual pro-Palestinian protesters; some of it on college campuses, and much of it part of other protests held off-campus and comprising many people who are not students. One problem, though, is that campus higher-ups and the broader public can’t agree on what anti-Semitism is. There are obvious examples: Yelling at Jews to “go back to Poland,” for instance. But the waters get murkier when it comes to anti-Zionism: Are chants calling for the destruction of Israel anti-Semitic, or merely anti-Zionist? What about chants cheering on Hamas? Who gets to draw the line: Jewish students who say they feel threatened, observers who are upset and offended, protesters (some of them Jewish), or critics who say feelings aren’t facts and even stringent anti-Zionism isn’t anti-Semitism?
The question of anti-Semitism is an important one, especially because colleges and universities have long made it their business to police on-campus bias and discrimination (and are obligated under federal law to ensure that all of their students can access an education). But it is not the only relevant question. More salient, and less explored even by major media outlets, is this: What do the protesters actually stand for?
According to some news outlets, the protests are best characterized as “anti-war.” And that’s true insofar as the groups leading the protests do oppose Israel’s war in Gaza, and no doubt many of the demonstrators show up because they’ve watched horror after horror unfold, sympathize with a long-oppressed population that is now being killed by the thousands, and want to voice their desire for the violence to cease. But the protests—both on college campuses and those led by broader, noncampus groups—have articulated demands and ideologies. News outlets have a responsibility to report what those are, and are largely failing.
Many of the protest groups agree with that critique of the coverage. National Students for Justice in Palestine posted on Instagram, “Do not cover our protests if you will not cover what we are fighting for.” On-campus demands vary from college to college, but generally include that the university divest from companies doing business with Israel, cut ties with Israeli universities and academics, offer amnesty to all student and faculty protesters who have broken laws or campus rules, and implement total transparency for all university investments and holdings.
[Michael Powell: ‘We want all of it’]
But those demands are not the sum total of the protest groups’ aims. Two of the student groups coordinating the encampments at Columbia, for example, published a guide answering the question “What principles must one align with in order to sign onto our coalition?” and clarifying “the cause we are fighting for.” The core principles include the Thawabit, originally published in 1977 and characterized as nonnegotiable Palestinian “red lines” (albeit ones from which many advocates for peace and statehood who actually live in Palestine have since deviated). Those include a right to Palestinian statehood, making Jerusalem the capital of Palestine, the right of return, and the right to resistance, even armed resistance, or “struggle by all available means.”
These groups have also routinely refused to condemn the Hamas attacks of October 7 that led to the Israeli incursion, even while they have found time to condemn far less egregious acts. (An October 12 statement from Columbia Students for Justice in Palestine and Columbia Jewish Voices for Peace lambasted those calling for peace and issued five separation condemnations of Columbia, including two for emails that voiced sympathy for Israelis without sufficient recognition of Palestinian suffering.) Some protest leaders and professors have explicitly said that they will not condemn Hamas, or that requests to do so are a distraction; others have overtly embraced the organization.
Similar ideologies and goals have taken center stage at off-campus protests as well, with banners pledging to secure Palestinian freedom By Any Means Necessary and chants cheering on Hamas and rejecting a two-state solution in favor of the end of Israel (“We want all of ’48”). Protesters should be free to gather and make their demands, of course, but these particular demands are not, by any reasonable definition, “anti-war.” Protesters who endorse these ideas are against Israel’s war in Gaza, but do not seem to be opposed to bloodshed if it’s in the service of extinguishing the world’s only Jewish state. (What else does “by any means necessary” connote if not an embrace of any means necessary, no matter how vicious?) These groups are not calling for all combat to end. Too many support any self-styled “resistance” group that, like Hamas, uses violence against civilians to achieve its ideological and theological aims.
This does not make every protester a terrorist or terrorist sympathizer, as some have claimed. Contrary to what National Students for Justice in Palestine itself argues, showing up at a protest does not and should not require pledging allegiance to the maximal demands of its organizers. Nor do those demands, in my view, negate the moral urgency of the protests, which in the aggregate—if not at their organizational core—are about ending a bloody war. And although there are no polls or data on what the many protesters who are not aligned with the major pro-Palestinian groups think, my personal sense is that the majority are horrified by the brutality they see Palestinians enduring and believe this war is a moral atrocity. They protest because they want to see it end—not because they have any sophisticated understanding of the “intifada revolution” that the organizers often champion, or because they are “pro-Hamas,” as so many conservative outlets claim.
If the public is to understand the protests, then journalists need to give a sense of proportion, and at least attempt to cover what average demonstrators think and why they show up. But they also need to do exactly what protest organizers ask, which is to clearly articulate those organizers’ demands and positions. And for people who are horrified by the war but do not support Hamas or like-minded groups and who do not champion the destruction of Israel (or the mass expulsion and murder of millions of Jews that they fear would come with the end of the state), it’s especially important to understand and take seriously what protest leaders are saying.
If you disagree with the organizers—and I imagine a lot of people who oppose this war, including many who are protesting, do—then the decision becomes whether to participate anyway because the stakes are so high, sit it out because the disagreements run so deep, attempt to wrest control and put forward goals that are much more popular with the American public, or attempt to make the existing movement a big-enough tent to allow in “Zionists” who oppose violence of all kinds and support an independent Palestinian state alongside an Israeli one.
None of that is possible when conservative news outlets tar all of the protesters as pro-Hamas, while more liberal ones suggest they are merely anti-war.
This same failure has emerged in the coverage of the counterprotests. Just outside the Columbia gates, well-known Trump-affiliated Christian nationalists were among the organizers of a pro-Israel rally—if you can call a group whose apocalyptic religious aims require the return of Jews to Israel so that they might all convert or die when Christ returns “pro-Israel.” And there has been remarkably little reporting on the ideologies, affiliations, and goals of the counterprotesters, despite reports that they have also been making threats and shouting bigoted comments, including “go back to Gaza.” At UCLA, counterprotesters are widely reported to have fomented serious violence against the pro-Palestinian activists in an encampment and to have brutalized student journalists. Are these demonstrators, who seem to have grown more aggressive in recent days, really merely “pro-Israel”? Or are their more expansive ideologies, and perhaps other connections, at play?
[Conor Friedersdorf: Columbia University’s impossible position]
Although many observers and commentators invoke the right to protest or the right to free speech, the student protesters seem disinclined to make free-speech or assembly claims to justify their actions, perhaps realizing that many of the tactics they are using are outside the First Amendment’s protections. And even as student protesters stand accused of making their fellow students feel unsafe with their anti-Zionism and with their allegedly anti-Semitic behaviors, those same protesters do not shy away from claims that their safety is being threatened by people whose ideas they oppose, or from demands that those people be removed from campus. To try to parse the protests using generally applicable standards of free speech or content-neutral campus rules is to misunderstand what many of the protesters are asserting, which is less about any particular norm and more about moral clarity. Israel, many protesters argue, is conducting a genocide, and they need to stand in opposition. It could not be clearer.
The protesters’ simple argument is that their cause is righteous and should therefore be supported, and that their schools should enable their protests. These schools are communities, as administrators continuously remind them. Non-righteous causes and individuals, the protesters believe, should not be allowed. A community’s norms are set not only by the law, but by what that community deems acceptable, moral, and desirable. But, from the other perspective, college campuses that receive federal dollars are required to ensure that all students can access an education safely and without discrimination—an obligation that some Jewish students and political leaders say is being compromised by anti-Israel protesters.
And so the protests also raise a question of content, not just one of content-neutral norms. Or at least, this has been the position of the protesters, who do not believe that content-neutral time-place-manner restrictions on protest should apply to them. If these protests were about a less popular campus cause—say, in opposition to Donald Trump’s criminal trials, or to petition their schools to end affirmative action, or to demand that their school do more to support Israel’s war in Gaza—it is hard to imagine such a full-throated demand that students be permitted to violate generally applicable protest rules. But the rules seem to be considered broadly irrelevant here, in light of the stark moral claims.
In the protesters’ defense, they do have a stark moral claim in their generalized opposition to a grotesque ongoing war. And their actions echo those of Vietnam War protesters, who also took up a righteous cause, shook the nation, used unpopular and disruptive tactics, and were widely criticized, before being ultimately vindicated in their belief that the deployment of U.S. troops to Vietnam was tragic, immoral, and unnecessary. One has to wonder if that movement, and the leftist movements that developed in its aftermath, would have been more successful in achieving a variety of goals had it not devolved into the maximalism of chanting “One side’s right, one side’s wrong, victory to the Vietcong,” engaging in bombings, and offering support for the murderous Khmer Rouge.
Of course, one does not have to wonder if college administrators feel proud of their decision to call in law enforcement. In the Vietnam era, when they did so, some students were killed, many were arrested, and schools, including Columbia, have for decades considered their response a badge of shame.
Today, a clear line of argument has emerged from many progressive commentators: First, the overwhelming majority of the protesters are peaceful and not anti-Semitic. Second, it undermines and mischaracterizes a vital movement to focus on a few bad actors who spout anti-Semitic vitriol, or to emphasize a few chants that glorify Hamas or call for the destruction of Israel. Third, the obsessive coverage of these protests is coming at the expense of the much more important story, which is the war itself. And in many respects, this is a sensible position. A war costing tens of thousands of lives, conducted by a key U.S. ally following a horrific terrorist attack, is a much more important story than whatever college students are doing in the United States. The violent crackdowns on these protests strike many, myself included, as far more troubling than the protests themselves. And it isn’t fair to conflate what a handful of protesters do or say with a much broader movement.
But again, many news outlets, journalists, and commentators are sidestepping the content of the protests and the demands of the protesters, both on and off college campuses. The content and demands shouldn’t have any bearing on whether the police are called in (or on whether the National Guard should be called in—an appalling and deeply illiberal and authoritarian suggestion). But progressives who oppose violence on all sides should have a clear sense of what those who claim to speak for this movement are advocating, so they can decide where to participate and where to push back—protest movements are dynamic things, and can be reshaped by those invested in their outcome. And the public should understand protesters’ demands and aims, as well as those of the counterprotesters. The only way that happens is if media outlets forgo euphemism and are clear on what individuals and leaders actually say. And on that much, at least, even the protest organizers seem to agree.