As a Jewish-Israeli scholar, I feel compelled to voice my moral and political dissent from the agreement that Brown University signed with the federal government on July 30. While I recognize the extraordinary pressure our leadership faced, I cannot remain silent about the implications of what has been conceded with respect to Jewish members of the community. Far from singling out Jewish community members for special protection, the agreement imposes an assumption of unitary identity that conflates diverse Jewish experiences into a single, undifferentiated category. The agreement does not simply resolve a financial emergency. It redefines Jewish identity in ways that are historically fraught and politically dangerous. First, through a biological or racial categorization that reduces Jewish identity to ancestry or descent. Second, through an expectation of compliance with ideological surveillance.
The use of the category “shared Jewish ancestry,” as mentioned in President Christina Paxson’s P ’19 P’M’20 letter, is problematic. And indeed, the apparently benevolent intention to “collect information on the climate for students” with this ancestral connection strikes a wrong note, as well. Both phrases carry disturbing historical echoes of Jewish identity determined not by self-understanding but by descent. In Germany in 1935, the Nuremberg Laws identified Jews by the religion of their grandparents, not their own practices or convictions. The shared assumption is that, once identified, all Jews are somehow alike. To see a contemporary American university adopt similar logic under government pressure is profoundly disturbing.
Narrowing Jewish identity to a nationalist, ethnically defined model delegitimizes Jewish traditions that are diasporic, progressive and justice-oriented. It misrepresents our community and feeds longstanding antisemitic tropes about Jewish influence and separateness. When accusations of antisemitism are used to silence critics of Israeli policy, the result is a hollowing out of both academic freedom and the moral seriousness required to confront real antisemitism when it appears.
The irony is stark on campuses like Brown, where Jewish life is vibrant, diverse and politically engaged. Many Jewish students advocate for Palestinian rights and approach Israeli policies with critical engagement. Under the definitions now being embedded in federal agreements, such students themselves could be labeled antisemitic.
Jewish students, faculty and staff are not the only ones affected. Palestinian, Arab and Muslim members of the community — already subject to suspicion and smear campaigns — are especially vulnerable. The racialization of Jewish identity creates a double standard: Jews are defined as a protected class by bloodline, while Palestinians are framed as political threats by association.
In recent years, politically motivated groups have conflated criticism of Israel with antisemitism, compiling watchlists and pressuring universities to discipline faculty and students. When this dynamic is embedded in a federally monitored framework, it takes on a more dangerous, institutionalized form: Jewish identity is now tied to compliance with a prescribed political ideology.
If a student believes that a statement is critical of Israel — whether in a lecture, discussion or assigned reading — any disciplinary action can now be fed directly to the federal government. Even a single remark, stripped of context, could become part of an official record that influences internal reviews, faculty promotion decisions or the renewal of contracts. In such an environment, professors may self-censor to avoid triggering complaints, impoverishing academic discourse for everyone.
Brown has long been a place for critical inquiry and courageous debate. We must remain so. That means defending the right to criticize state power, including Israel’s. It means resisting the misuse of antisemitism as a political weapon. And it means rejecting any effort that defines and totalizes Jews according to bloodline or grants protection at the expense of others.
My father survived Auschwitz. My family’s story is a Jewish story, but also a warning. When identity becomes the basis for surveillance and control, no community is truly safe. We must not allow the language of protection to become a cloak for censorship and fear.
Katharina Galor PhD’96 is the Hirschfeld Associate Teaching Professor of Judaic Studies and serves as Director of Undergraduate Studies in the Judaic Studies program. She can be reached at katharina_galor@brown.edu. Please send responses to this op-ed to letters@browndailyherald.com and other op-eds to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
