So, here we are, living in a golden age of moral flexibility—where chanting openly for genocide on university campuses has somehow become a question of "context". Who knew that genocidal fantasies required nuance? But forgive me, apparently that’s ancient history—or at least that's what certain esteemed leaders of major universities would like us to believe.
Remember when university administrators justified their inaction, sounding less like leaders grappling with ethical dilemmas and more like first-year drama students forgetting their lines in a Kafkaesque play? "Context matters," they repeated solemnly, as if intifada chants are just quirky cultural expressions misunderstood by overly-sensitive Jewish students. Ah yes, context: the universal excuse trotted out when morality clashes inconveniently with institutional funding and fancy reputations.
To be clear (because evidently it needs clarifying): incitement to massacre Jews isn't political debate. It's not a diplomatic disagreement over borders or settlements. It’s a call to butcher civilians, cheered on by those who, bizarrely, believe slaughter is a legitimate form of "resistance". October 7 wasn’t some abstract exercise in international relations—it was calculated barbarity. If you missed it, check TikTok; the terrorists helpfully documented it themselves for those still needing "context."
And yet, campuses—supposed bastions of intellect and enlightenment—have turned into playgrounds for militant cosplay. Jewish students are routinely stalked, harassed, and shamed simply for existing. It’s tragically ironic: universities proclaiming inclusivity while cultivating fear and intimidation. Imagine, if you dare, similar protests calling openly for the annihilation of any other minority. The speed of condemnation would break sound barriers. But Jews? Apparently, it’s open season.
Then there's the cozy relationship between university funding and some particularly dubious foreign benefactors. It turns out, if you follow the money far enough, morality has a surprisingly flexible spine. What exactly are these institutions standing for if they can't unequivocally oppose genocidal hate speech? Their students or their donors? Spoiler alert: don’t bet on the students.
Here's a wild idea: accountability. University leaders who can't find the moral courage to clearly denounce genocide (yes, shockingly, that’s a controversial stance now) should promptly vacate their lavishly-appointed offices. Maybe a nice retirement package, complete with sensitivity training—ideally somewhere with a rich history of "contextual" excuses.
Beyond resignations, there’s a broader question: Why are we tolerating this hate under the guise of free speech or academic freedom? Because, make no mistake, that's exactly what's happening. Allowing antisemitism to fester on campuses isn't just negligent—it’s actively dangerous.
If universities can't handle basic moral clarity, perhaps it’s time to reconsider their role in society. Let them be what they claim to be: institutions of learning and inclusion, not incubators for ancient hatreds dressed up as enlightened debate. As I discovered in the making of my documentary, Mother of Hate, ignorance isn’t just bliss—it’s a weapon. And these days, too many university administrators are happily pulling the trigger.
Enough with the cowardice masked as complexity. Let’s reclaim campuses from moral relativism and stop this march into darkness. Because if there’s one lesson we should have learned by now, it's this: history has a cruel habit of repeating itself, especially when we fail to provide sufficient "context".