Protests over the war between Israel and Hamas in Gaza have escalated on college campuses in the United States in recent weeks. Students are seeking to draw attention to the conflict and demand that their respective universities divest from corporate partnerships with companies with ties to and investments in Israel.
Some of these direct-action campaigns have gone largely unnoticed, while others have been met with forceful responses by university and law enforcement agencies.
Three Central Texas universities offer a microcosm for this moment in time. The University of Texas in Austin (UT), Texas A&M University (A&M) in College Station, and Baylor University in Waco are separated by 100 miles yet connected by a shared athletic past and recognition as among the nation’s elite research institutions.
After police arrested over two dozen protesters at UT on Wednesday, April 24, I wanted to better understand what was happening on the ground at each university. I have spent the past few days on each campus interviewing students, witnessing protests, and seeking to understand how the broader campus communities are responding to demands.
What follows is a snapshot in time and obviously doesn’t tell the entire story, which is still unfolding. Although I visited with several anti-Zionist Jewish protesters, my conversations did not focus on the credible reports of rising antisemitism on campuses across the nation. That is an essential story that needs to be told, but is not the focus of this report.
Since Good Faith Media provides resources and reflections on contemporary issues for people of faith, I wanted to hear from student representatives of campus religious organizations. I was particularly interested in feedback from the three Abrahamic faith communities regarding the events at UT on April 24.
I emailed almost a dozen leaders of such organizations and received only one reply. It read simply, “This is not something I will be able to help you with. Very little of our campus has very much to do with the incident.”
This offers helpful insight into the scope of what is happening around the country and the voice, or lack thereof, many of our religious institutions are giving to the conflict in the Middle East.
The response to my email was technically accurate. The narrow-angle shots and disproportionate coverage media organizations give to particular stories can inflate their importance. I’ve seen “major breaking news” play out on cable news in places across the globe, only to hear from friends in those places that the incident was small and insignificant.
But I was taken aback at the lack of (and curt) response. Although you could argue the war between Israel and Hamas is largely political, every element of the conflict is infused with religion.
Where are people of faith and their faith communities amid the uprisings? This question would help frame each of my conversations and observations.
Saturday, April 27: University of Texas at Austin
The sign on the Austin-area church that had been providing a place of safety and rest for protestors read, “Respite center is closed. We will reopen as needed.” This suggested that the temperature at UT had significantly lowered significantly since the previous week’s events. I wondered if I had made the drive from Waco in vain.
UT is an urban campus that blends almost seamlessly with downtown Austin. As I looked around for activity, I realized I had never spent any time on the campus, except for attending sporting events and concerts at venues on the edges of the university. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. I looked lost, like the parents my age walking around with their high school students on college tours or their soon-to-be graduates taking photos in their caps and gowns.
As I walked into the interior of campus, two things struck me. One was a campaign sign that read, “Vote for Democrats.” The other advertised a “Longhorns for Christ” meeting. I laughed and thought, “This may be the most liberal acre in Texas, but it is still Texas.”
Making my way toward the South Mall, I could see and hear activity. Around thirty students and community members gathered with flags, signs and tables holding literature and water bottles. I began recording on my phone and rushed toward the crowd when I saw a young man trying to take a Palestinian flag away from a protestor. As students resisted and yelled for him to leave, he flipped one of the tables over, throwing all its materials to the ground.
As he began to leave, walking toward me, I asked him on camera if he could tell me what he was doing there. He replied, “I’m here to raise awareness.” When I asked him, “Awareness of what?” he said, “Gays for Palestine.” As there was no indication that any of the students gathered were representing an LGBTQ+ student group, I took this as a slur.
Note: Because the assailant’s age is unknown, Good Faith Media has decided not to share the video publicly. We have, however, submitted the footage to UT’s Department of Investigation and Adjudication.
After he left, a young man I perceived to be a leader resumed speaking to the crowd, praising them for not responding with violence. He then continued to teach them about organizing and direct-action principles, encouraging them to know what they are working for and not just doing it to look virtuous. He and a partner talked about strategies, tactics and desired outcomes.
I quickly ascertained that whatever this was, it was different from what had occurred on Wednesday. It felt less like a protest and more like protest school.
I approached several students for interviews. Each of them expressed hesitation since they didn’t represent an organization. I also sensed an element of fear, which was understandable given the previous week’s events. This theme would reoccur over the next few days in all my student interactions. (About an hour into my time at UT, I realized many protestors wore facemasks for anonymity, not medical reasons.)
I discovered that, after the Wednesday arrests, students created an announcement board on Signal, an encrypted messaging app, to share any activities they wanted to organize on the South Lawn. From Thursday until Saturday, there had been almost continuous activity.
Student and community protesters gather at the South Mall on the UT campus.
The original protests that sparked police action had been organized by a coalition of student and Austin area Palestinian advocacy groups. Everything now was organic, with no clear leadership structure.
Sam Law, a graduate student in anthropology and the person leading the “teach-in” that was going on when I arrived, spoke with me about what had happened since Wednesday.
“In the absence of one group,” he told me, “this new structure where anyone can send announcement just kind of took off. On the first night, someone sent out a request for musicians to come, and like 15 musicians showed up. One was playing an oboe, and there were fiddle players, all improvising songs about Palestine.”
There have been walk-outs, teach-ins and hip-hop groups performing.
Law, who is Jewish, had special praise for the Austin-area church that supported students. “Students could come to this church, which provided water, air conditioning, and places to keep our things. Their pastor told us about the church’s history of fighting for justice. They have been great.”
Note: Since the relative quiet of the weekend, the need for a safe respite center for protesters has returned. For this reason, we are withholding the church’s name until later.
Baylor University
Because Baylor is a private Baptist university, the administration can exercise more control over what happens on its campus. Because its demographics are far less racially and economically diverse than larger public universities, it has never had a reputation as a hotbed of social activism.
Attempts to raise awareness of social issues usually come from one of two sources–students from marginalized communities or the Garland School of Social Work (GSW). For the former, it is a matter of survival. For the latter, it is required.
The National Association of Social Workers code of ethics recognizes advocacy for oppressed individuals and communities as a core pillar of the profession. This provides an island on campus (the GSW is located in downtown Waco) for justice-minded students to thrive and, at times, a headache for stakeholders who prefer the illusion of “keeping the peace” over the more difficult work of “making peace.”
Brynn Eaton, who will graduate this month with a bachelor’s degree in social work, has worked since the war began to raise awareness of the situation in Gaza.
In October, she and other students hosted an informational table near the Student Union Building. They shared literature that provided a timeline of the history between Israel and Palestinians and offered ways to get involved. Although Student Activities, the department on campus that manages “expressive activities,” approved some of what they wanted to share, much of it was heavily censored.
They were forbidden to share a handout that listed the demands of the people of Gaza and two photos, one with a timeline and count of the number of Palestinians killed by Israel, the other with an image of a Palestinian father kissing the forehead of his dead child. When the students asked why these were forbidden, Eaton says they were told the images were “too emotional.”
Posters submitted to Baylor University for approval at information table. The poster on the left was rejected by university officials.
An image submitted and rejected by Baylor University officials for use in the information table.
In February, Eaton and others held a cultural demonstration and vigil for Palestine. The event showcased art from the community and included an open mic where local Palestinians spoke. Eaton said, “This was such a beautiful and moving event, and I am so glad we had the opportunity to do it.”
There are discussions about future activities at Baylor and the Waco community, including peace walks, interfaith marches, and teach-ins. Eaton says students hope to have spiritual leaders “give prayers and talks at different spiritual locations around town.”
Monday, April 29: Texas A&M University
Although their influence would significantly diminish, Austin and Waco would survive as cities without their universities. It is difficult to imagine College Station and its neighboring Bryan existing without Texas A&M.
From all directions, “Aggieland” emerges from the farmland of the Brazos Valley, and can shock the system. Founded as the “Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas,” it is the largest university in a state that values largeness above all else.
Aside from Aggie jokes and an obsession with the University of Texas–their hatred for the school in Austin is baked right into the Aggie War Hymn–they are most known for their connection to the U.S. military. (Which should surprise no one after learning their fight song is a “War Hymn.”) Except for service academies, no other institution in the U.S. is more aligned with the military than A&M.
Because of this, I was almost as surprised to learn about the protests at A&M, organized by the Palestine Solidarity Committee, as I would have if I had learned the same thing was occurring at Baylor.
Like UT, my only previous foray into the heart of the A&M campus had been for events at the massive Kyle Field. As I walked around campus looking for the Academic Plaza, I passed an old man in a cowboy hat, preaching to the air about society’s ills. Students walked by unfazed, as if he were a daily fixture.
With the image I have always had of Aggies, I watched him and thought to myself, “That tracks.”
What created some dissonance for me, however, was the makeup of students I saw walking all around me. The demographics were far less homogenous than what you might expect from one of the most conservative public universities in the nation. The campus felt far more diverse than what I had experienced in Austin just a few days earlier.
Another difference from the Saturday protests in Austin is that I felt a sense of calmness and order when I approached the gathering.
One trait I should add to the list of things Aggies are known for is friendliness. It is extremely annoying when they brag about it, and they brag about it often. But when you experience Aggie friendliness, it is endearing and disarming. It would mark the next two hours.
When I asked a student if anyone had been deputized to speak with the media, I was told they wouldn’t speak to the press. But she gave a written statement and invited me to take photos and video. She also provided me with a bottle of water and sunscreen.
Every leader’s request for attention began with the signature Aggie, “Howdy!” The response, in unison, was “Howdy!”
But just because they were friendly doesn’t mean they weren’t determined and passionate about their cause. Everyone I spoke with seemed exceptionally informed about all the details of the history of Israel and Palestine. There were chants, recitations of demands and a march around the academic plaza.
One student waved a Palestinian flag painted with the words, “This Jew is for a Free Palestine.”
All this occurred under the shadow of the statue of Lawrence Sullivan “Sul” Ross, the 19th Governor of Texas and a general in the Confederate Army.
Protesters gather on the Academic Plaza at Texas A&M.
Although none of the students would speak on the record, one of them did comment about how religion plays a part in the courage it took for many of the protestors to show up in the middle of a school like A&M, where there would be hecklers and gawkers. And there were some of those. But for the most part, the day was one of peaceful resistance and resolve.
Standing Up For Something
Walking back toward my truck to drive back to Waco, I passed a white male student wearing a cross and a T-shirt that read, “Warrior for Christ.” I thought about how I was that student in high school and college. I reflected on all the ways I was lauded and elevated in my religious communities for simply wearing messages like that.
Adults told other students to be like me because I “stood up for my beliefs, even though they were unpopular.” The reality, however, was that my beliefs were the dominant ones in my community.
Are those same adults praising the students around the country now who are standing up for their beliefs, despite how unpopular they are?
This story is incomplete and, to use a word many are too weary of, complicated.
For every student protest demanding freedom for the people of Palestine, there are Jewish students worried about their safety. For every self-professed Christian walking by and heckling, there are other followers of Jesus standing between them and the crowds, acting as a shield. There are Arab students worried that the protests are becoming too violent and Jewish students furious at the gatekeepers of their faith who demand unwavering support for Zionism.
And mostly, there are people in power doing people-in-power things: Dictating the terms of debate and refusing to listen.
It may get too loud for them to do that much longer.
Senior editor at Good Faith Media.
