By Mimi Chapman
Please note, the Coalition for Carolina does not have a stand on the on-going war in the Middle East. We are concerned for the well-being of all on our campus and recognize the complicated factors at play in the choices campus leadership makes in such unsettling times. The post below is meant to share reflections, not to criticize or support any particular group or position.
Perhaps a year or so ago, I saw a quote from President Biden in response to a letter he had received asking him what was needed to have a good life. He replied; “Something to do. Someone to love. And something to hope for.” So beautiful in its simplicity and truth. I wrote it down and have it tacked on my bulletin board above my office desk — a reminder of what is important in the midst of the daily churn.
On campuses across the country, there are questions about how to handle student protests, their calls for divestment, and, what to do when protests cross a line into vandalism or violence. The answers are more complex now than they were when the conflict in the Middle East started. Indeed, university presidents have lost their jobs and/or the confidence of their campus constituencies in the wake of the on-going conflict.
In reading the coverage of protests on campus, a common theme seems to be that faculty and administrators have moved into an adversarial role with their students suggesting an attitude of: “Don’t violate our policies lest you be sanctioned, expelled, or arrested.” And yet, the protests continue — just as the conflict overseas continues.
Recently on our campus, students entered buildings with bullhorns, spray painted buildings, and disrupted classes. This weekend, in anticipation of the October 7th anniversary, students put out warnings telling peers how to stay safe from an increased police presence. I will say unequivocally that I don’t like tactics that include disruptions to teaching, red paint on buildings, etc. They frighten and alienate people more than raise anyone’s consciousness. Noone needs to be scared when they are in class. I’m glad I wasn’t in those buildings on that day. For me it would have been jarring. For others, it was likely traumatizing.
At the same time, the Israeli-Hamas war is bleak and spreading. Bombs fly. Tanks roll. Bullets ricochet. Hostages suffer and die. Palestinian civilians suffer and die. And now Lebanese civilians are under fire. The death and destruction is inconceivable. Do you believe the conflict is justified? Do you call it genocide, a war crime, or a defensible war under international law? In some ways it hardly matters. The images on the nightly news tell the story, with or without a label.
I am no expert in peace, war, and defense. I’ve never traveled to that area of the world and know little besides what I read in the papers. But I do remember what it is like to be 18, 19, and 20 years old. I remember the issues I was outraged about at the time. I remember my disgust with people who sought to downplay those problems. I remember my strident arguments with people many years my senior who saw me as bold, but naïve, someone to be patted on the head until I got too loud. Then, I was to be squashed.
Perhaps our students feel the same way.
Even as I get frustrated with their tactics, most days I hurt for student protesters and, indeed, all of our students in these stormy days. And I find myself wondering what their dramatic actions may represent. They are seeing something horrible unfold. They feel powerless to make it stop. They need something to do. They need something to hope for.
As a campus, I wonder if we’ve given them all that we can. Have we had enough teach-ins to help those that don’t understand the contested histories behind the current conflict? Have we tapped into the deep and wide expertise of our campus? Have we brought in outside experts that can speak to what diplomatic efforts look like in these situations? And what about the day after? How do places wracked by intractable conflicts such as what we see in the Middle East change? How do people decide they don’t want to fight anymore, that they want to find a way toward peace? What levers help bring peoples and governments to such a decision? What happens the day after such a decision and what can we do to be ready to help?
Please note that what I am asking is not about teaching debate or “civil discourse.” It is about giving our students knowledge, a wider lens, more possibilities for how to think about the conflict and about how to engage with it.
Perhaps it is too late for these kinds of conversations. I don’t know. But without something to do and something to hope for, perhaps all there is – at least for a contingent of our students – is to yell their grief, outrage, and anger. In so doing, they alienate some, frighten others, and put their own educational progress at risk. Even as rules and policies are stated and enforced, perhaps faculty and administrators together could all take a moment to think about what else we could be doing. We probably can’t help our students with the “someone to love” part of President Biden’s advice. But I bet we can do better providing something to do and something to hope for.
Mimi Chapman, Ph.D. is a co-founder of the Coalition for Carolina. She is a Carolina alum – Ph.D. 1997, a Carolina Parent of a 2021 grad, and a Distinguished Professor in the School of Social Work.