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Katrina Lantos Swett
I graduated from Yale University in 1974. As a first-generation American, the child of Holocaust survivors, and among the first women admitted to this incredible school, it is hard to adequately express how grateful I was for this opportunity. I have enjoyed returning to campus frequently over the years, including watching two of my own children graduate from Yale.
Yet, as my 50th class reunion approaches, it is hard to summon the pride and devotion I once felt. Indeed, the university, along with other similar institutions, has lost its way to such a degree that I cannot in good conscience attend what should have been a joyful occasion.
Many embarrassing episodes have unfolded at Yale in recent years, such as students throwing tantrums about Halloween costumes or law students demonstrating their oratory skill by screaming and shouting down a visiting conservative lawyer. Like many others, these events would cause me to shake my head, but they didn’t fundamentally change my feelings of pride in being an alumnus.
I no longer feel such pride in the wake of pro-Hamas mobs occupying parts of campus and Jewish students being bullied, chased, and, in one case, stabbed in the eye with a Palestinian flag. As the daughter of the only Holocaust survivor ever elected to the U.S. Congress – but also simply as an American citizen – I feel profound disappointment at the culture that has been nurtured, normalized, and coddled at a venerable institution that should know better.
Sadly, this culture is not unique at Yale. In one sense, the fault lies with the hundreds of openly and viciously antisemitic students and professors who inhabit elite universities across the country. This is not, as some now like to say, “anti-Zionism.” Anti-Zionism, including calls for the destruction of the Jewish homeland and the never-ending demonization, de-legitimization, and application of double standards to Israel, is just the latest and more palatable strain of antisemitism.
But in another sense, the students and professors screaming about resistance and glorifying the attacks of Oct. 7 are not solely to blame; administrations at these schools bear profound responsibility. Yale leadership has shown enormous concern and solicitude for any number of minority or marginalized communities on campus and has maintained a zero-tolerance approach vis-à-vis any hatred or discrimination against them. No such visible vigilance has existed when it comes to defending the Jewish students on campus.
Though FIRE ranks Yale near the bottom of the list in terms of its free-speech climate, attacks directed at Israel somehow turn administrators into free-speech absolutists. No matter how hateful, how filled with incitement, how explicit the calls for genocide against Israeli Jews might be, Yale proves extremely mindful of the right to spew such hatred without any meaningful consequences.
Of course, one can find carefully worded statements from school leadership that manage to obscure the wrongs more than illuminate them. They often feel like AI-generated text, created in response to a prompt that asks for a statement that won’t offend the offenders. But where are the ringing and unequivocal denunciations of those who celebrate the genocidal rapists and murderers of Hamas? Where is the footage of President Salovey walking in solidarity with Jewish students as they confront the haters who have overwhelmed the campus?
My late father, Congressman Tom Lantos, saw first-hand what happened to the Jewish people during the Holocaust when they were left to the mercy of others. Today, I see echoes of this evil as university leaders and administrators stand by while outrageous libels and threats are levelled not only at the Jewish homeland and its defenders but also at anyone who happens to be Jewish.
For decades, I have looked forward to the singular milestone of my 50th college reunion. As things stand now, I cannot celebrate my beloved alma mater until it once again finds its moral compass and its voice in defence of our most precious civilizational values. This will, somewhat ironically, require university leaders to spurn the modern impulse to silence opposing views while also rejecting the false notion that the violent glorification of terror committed against Jews is “simply free speech.”
To my fellow alumni who share my alarm, I urge you to join me in refusing to support a cherished institution that has lost its way. Skip the reunion; choose not to give financially; urge your child or grandchild to look elsewhere as they apply to university. The students who occupied campus would have you believe that the only way to make your point is through violence and chaos. In fact, there are still peaceful, civil ways to express even the strongest views. I hope many of us will choose to do so at this critical moment in Yale’s history.
This article was originally published by RealClearPolitics and made available via RealClearWire.
