Antisemitism, Anomie, and the Need for Campus Communities

This month, college students have returned to campuses for a year of learning and fun with friends. Unfortunately, some of them appear equally eager to resume last semester’s extremist protests over the war in Gaza. What many hoped was a shameful blip in our history was the beginning of a larger trend as students grasp for connection and meaning through political extremism.

As a result, nearly half of Jewish students feel unsafe on campus.

There are legitimate and necessary conversations about the war in Gaza. However, many protests are eschewing political dialogue in favor of hateful demonstrations led by young protestors whose fervor can not make up for their lack of basic knowledge. For those on the extremist fringes, it is not justice they seek but belonging. Educating students about antisemitism and limiting protestors’ ability to wreak havoc are important bandaids, but alleviating widespread loneliness is the real medicine. 

Without a renewed focus on community and student development, campus extremism will persist, and Jews will not be its only victims.

It was Jewish political theorist Hannah Arendt who first wrote about the connection between loneliness and political radicalization after she fled Germany in 1933. Arendt wrote in the wake of WWII: “What prepares men for totalitarian domination in the non-totalitarian world is the fact that loneliness, once a borderline experience usually suffered in certain marginal social conditions like old age, has become an everyday experience of the ever-growing masses of our century.”

Modern research on radicalization reinforces Arendt’s insights, suggesting that “the enduring appeal of extremist movements seems to lie in attending to fundamental human needs,” particularly, loneliness and lack of purpose. Americans' current reality — a post-COVID-19, chronically online, increasingly socially disconnected society — looks similar to the post-influenza 1930s where people emerged from quarantine with a diminished ability to connect. U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy describes it as an “epidemic”: 25% of adults report suffering from extreme loneliness.

One way people combat loneliness is by joining social movements organized around controversial topics, from gun control to abortion to climate change to the war in Gaza. Joining such movements allows individuals to superficially fight loneliness by feeling like they are part of a collective. Participation compensates for lack of purpose and self-worth — even when protestors are neither geographically nor personally connected to the issue at hand.

This explains why so many protestors allegedly trying to “Free Palestine” are neither Jewish nor Muslim, but instead privileged upper Middle-Class Americans who are shockingly ignorant about the conflict they are protesting. Bright students with the world at their feet are nonetheless willing to risk their diplomas, relationships, and possible arrest marching for a listed terrorist group.

One need only see photos of young Americans marching with “We are Hamas” signs to see how powerful such illusory purpose can be.

It doesn’t have to be this way. Higher Education's unique privilege and responsibility is to create communities of learning that provide students with purpose, chances for growth, and an opportunity to form a community. When universities fail to create these environments, they leave students vulnerable to using performative activism as a substitute for genuine social connection.

The outrage driving most anti-Israel protests is what author and researcher Brené Brown calls “self-enhancing anger.” This emotion boosts our self-esteem and sense of moral superiority, offering a quick sense of righteousness at the expense of meaningful change.  Self-enhancing anger harms our ability to empathize with others, blinds us to violations of our own beliefs and values, and makes us perceive others as approving of our behavior when they find it off-putting or scary. It also fosters a form of shared narcissism where people assert their moral superiority over others by expressing rage and creating conflict as group members continue to up the ante. This artificial intimacy encourages fanaticism and moves individuals further and further away from the vulnerability and authenticity necessary for genuine social connection.

In an environment where “activists” seek self-validation by keeping their anger alight, anyone can serve as potential tinder – even another protestor who isn’t boycotting the right company or isn’t taking an extreme enough position. Take, for example, the numerous Black individuals who report ostracization from the movement when they fail to meet the demands of the most extreme wings of the pro-Palestinian movement. Similarly, consider how Alexandria Occasio Cortez—infamous for crying over continued U.S. support of the Iron Dome, Israel’s anti-missile defense system,—was repudiated by the Democratic Socialists of America for “Zionist collusion” by hosting an antisemitism summit.

Many of these protests have strayed far from any coherent message and have become more about rage and anger than genuine advocacy. Unlike the Civil Rights sit-ins that inspired national sympathy, these demonstrations disrupt classes, block traffic, threaten to murder “Zionists,” and wave the flags of terrorist organizations like Hamas and Hezbollah. Many of these protests are also funded and supported by oppressive regimes like Iran, meaning that universities’ failure to develop their students has allowed America's future leaders to be manipulated by hostile foreign powers.

Such tactics might generate online attention, but they fail to persuade others or foster meaningful dialogue. At best, they pressure peers into a superficial agreement for the sake of social acceptance, while those with the power to enact change remain largely unreached and unconvinced. These protests certainly do not address their participants’ loneliness, or help them develop into individuals able to make a meaningful difference in the world around them.

If universities genuinely want to address campus extremism, they need to do more than just target specific manifestations of antisemitism. By embracing the missions of student development and community-building, higher education can help create a future where outrage no longer serves as a counterfeit form of social connection. The cost is too great not to try.