The moment my first semester at Harvard ended, I got on an El Al flight to Tel Aviv. After two extremely exhausting months at the university, I couldn’t stay in Boston for another minute.
Until the war, it was one of the best times of my life. I was accepted into the most prestigious university in the world, met fascinating people, studied whatever I wanted, and interacted daily with prominent global figures. I felt like just another academic, freely moving from classes on democracy and AI to migrant rights, then discussing politics in bars with colleagues from India to Argentina over too many margaritas.
But the war changed everything. From a high point in my life, it became one of the hardest. Had I a legal case, I might sue Harvard. In a sense, I signed a contract with them: I pay a ridiculously high tuition fee, and in return they provide a valuable degree, opening new doors. But arguably, the value of this degree has plummeted by at least 50%. Did I sign a bad deal?
My parents were supposed to visit me in November. I bought Harvard sweatshirts for a family photo near the famous John Harvard statue. Due to the war, they canceled their trip, and the shirts remained in my suitcase. When I excitedly showed the shirts to my family, the response was “Maybe we should wait before wearing these publicly.”
What is it like at Harvard for an Israeli?
So, what’s it really like at Harvard as an Israeli? Is it frightening? The truth is, I’m not scared. Campus antisemitism isn’t physical and in your face but hidden between the lines. It’s felt in loneliness, in how people look at you. When the war started, I wanted to leave Harvard and return home. But after two months and everything that’s happened, I realize it’s now more critical than ever to be a proud Israeli student on campus. Because it’s not just about Israel; it’s much bigger than that.
When the war began, I quickly realized that campus reality would be deeply affected. Once I saw the university’s initial response, failing to condemn Hamas’s terror decisively, I understood the war would not only be in Gaza but also on campuses across the US and the world. The university president’s embarrassing congressional hearing was a peak in Harvard’s public missteps, simultaneously claiming opposition to terrorism and antisemitism yet repeatedly failing to provide a significant leadership response. What happened on the ground in the meantime?
One of my professors, a renowned academic teaching American politics at Harvard for over 30 years, said he had never seen Harvard so tense and chaotic. I have nothing to compare it to, but my studies have been wholly disrupted since the war, barely finishing the semester. From an outstanding student spending hours in the library, I started missing classes and submitted numerous assignments late, if at all.
Emotionally, I had less time to deal with studies that seemed detached when my friends at home were joining the reserves and my family was taking shelter from missiles. Thoughts of families losing loved ones or having relatives kidnapped to Gaza kept me awake at night, unable to focus on my studies. Moreover, I decided to invest my energy in more important things: organizing the Israeli community on campus; participating in events and lectures about the war; and meeting anyone who might help release the hostages.
Socially, it became very challenging. There are definitely unpleasant protests and debates, and even professors expressing infuriating positions. I’ve attended several lectures from visiting professors with zero academic integrity. As a mature and experienced person, I can handle the lies about Israel and Zionism. But my heart breaks at the thought of a young 19-year-old student exposed to content that’s practically brainwashing.
However, the most challenging aspect is social isolation. Most people prefer to avoid conflict if they can. For the average person, every conversation with me was an active choice to engage in discussion about the war. Every time they approached me, they had to ask about my well-being and my family’s situation. I understand them; it’s emotionally taxing. I have no choice but to deal with the war daily. They do. Additionally, we also isolate ourselves. With the bit of free time I have, I prefer to speak Hebrew with my Israeli friends, leaving less space to meet new people.
I also had meaningful interactions with people who proved themselves as true partners. Some of my fellow students are disconnected individuals with an abysmal understanding of events, captivated by dogmatic conceptions portraying Israel as an illegitimate, colonial entity. I don’t waste time on them.
But it’s important to remember that they are not the majority. Most students are moderate, and even if not necessarily pro-Israel, they are willing to be part of a complex conversation based on humanist and democratic values. In the past two months, many friends who are not Jewish or Israeli went out of their way to make me feel included. As someone who isn’t afraid to express opinions publicly, I often face criticism.
After another difficult debate in my program’s WhatsApp group about president Gay’s congressional hearing, one of my friends wrote: “I just want to reassure you what I said many weeks ago: I’m here for you. You are a kind, good-hearted person trying your best and trying to do good. I can see that. Any time you feel alone or with lack of support in the class, think of these words.”
Although this touching support happens privately more than publicly, it teaches us about the many around us who can be genuine partners. They don’t necessarily want to take sides. They want to engage in honest, intelligent conversations and came to Harvard for its original purpose – to foster a critical academic learning atmosphere based on democratic values.
The events at Harvard received international attention, igniting intensive debates within and outside the Jewish community. We now understand that Israel’s war with Hamas, more than any other conflict, exposes tensions that the West would prefer to sweep under the rug. Often in the past two months, I felt that I didn’t have the energy for this and would instead return to Israel, a place where kidnapped soldiers’ signs are not torn down. I don’t have to explain every day why Israel has the right to exist. Many in Israel ask me why I continue my studies there, as we are not wanted. But that would be a mistake. Antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiment are just a symptom of a deeper phenomenon.
WHY DO students from all over the world come to study at Harvard?
Beyond potential employment opportunities, they come to soak in American ideas. Students from Shanghai and Moscow come to learn in Boston, not vice versa. The problem is that the tension around the Israel-Hamas war reveals a much deeper crisis – a lack of faith in the American project and the American Dream.
That same American Dream that allowed Jews to break admission quotas and contribute to Harvard’s academic achievements significantly. That same American Dream promised minorities equal opportunities and freedom, and delivered. Completely giving up on the dream would be a mistake instead of fighting for it.
One of Hamas’s outstanding achievements was that they managed to convince many Americans (50% of those aged 18 to 24, according to a recent Harvard-Harris Poll) to support them in the war against Israel. One way they did this was by linking the resistance against Israel with the fight for racial justice in the US. In a 2021 VICE interview, Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar said he wanted to take this opportunity to remember the racist murder of George Floyd ... The same type of racism that killed George Floyd is being used against the Palestinians.” They managed to link their struggle to a broader, internal American struggle.
This is a lesson we need to learn from Hamas. Israel’s fight for survival, as difficult as it may be, is not only ours. It is about the future of democracy. It must be a struggle deeply connected to the identity of American society as the leader of the free world.
So next month, when I return to Harvard, I can’t just think about my degree or next job. Something much bigger is at stake.
They aren’t giving up, why should we?
Barak Sella is the former director of the Reut Institute and an expert on Israel-US relations and world Jewry. He currently studies at the Harvard Kennedy School mid-career MPA program.