Defending Jewish Students Is Not McCarthyism

Across American college campuses, antisemitism has erupted into a crisis of safety and trust. It is no longer a matter of overheard insults and isolated incidents; its national epidemic and the dangers are very real. At UCLA, Jewish, Israeli and Zionist students have faced harassment and physical intimidation so severe that a federal judge ordered the university to guarantee their safety and equal access to classrooms. At Sarah Lawrence College, masked protesters aligned with Students for Justice in Palestine and Unity of Fields stormed the main administrative building in the middle of the night, barricading doors and trapping student residents on the upper floors inside. Students were terrified, some afraid to return for days. Elsewhere, waves of occupations have forced Jewish students to walk a gauntlet of hostility simply to attend lectures. These are not symbolic protests or edgy theater. They are direct assaults on the rule of law and the mission of higher education.

When students are threatened, blocked from classrooms, or singled out because they are Jewish, Zionist, or Israeli, universities have a legal duty to act. Title VI of the Civil Rights Act requires any federally funded institution to protect students from discrimination and harassment. That obligation is not optional or subject to political fashion. It means investigating credible complaints, ensuring hostile environments are remedied and, when necessary, cooperating with federal civil-rights authorities. The same standard applies when victims are Black, Muslim, LGBTQ or anyone else. These procedures are the scaffolding of a just and pluralistic campus life.

Yet a recent essay in The Guardian turns this reality on its head. It claims the U.S. government is “targeting” philosopher Judith Butler because UC Berkeley provided federal officials with names connected to antisemitic incidents—likening basic civil-rights compliance to McCarthy-era blacklists. The article casts Butler as a dissident under siege and investigators as political inquisitors. The result is a distortion that misdirects moral outrage.

The truth is simpler. UC Berkeley did not hand over names in some shadowy purge; it did so because serious, documented allegations had been made. Under Title VI, refusal to cooperate would itself violate federal law and threaten the university’s funding. Providing names to investigators is not punishment, nor does it imply guilt. It begins a process designed to determine what happened and to protect all parties through due process. Confusing investigation with persecution inverts the purpose of civil-rights enforcement.

The McCarthy analogy collapses under the weight of history. In the 1950s, blacklists destroyed lives based on mere association. Today, Butler remains a tenured, globally celebrated intellectual who publishes freely and commands lecture halls worldwide. Equating a lawful federal inquiry with McCarthyism trivializes genuine past persecution and insults those who lived through it.

Because Butler has been made the centerpiece of this narrative, her record matters. She is not a neutral bystander. In 2006, during a Berkeley forum, she remarked: “Understanding Hamas, Hezbollah as social movements that are progressive, that are on the Left, that are part of a global Left, is extremely important.” Though she later clarified that she does not endorse these groups, the description was widely condemned. After Hamas’s Oct. 7 massacre in which more than 1,200 Israelis were murdered and civilians were raped, tortured and taken hostage, Butler described the attack as an “act of armed resistance” rather than terrorism. Feminist scholar Eva Illouz called Butler’s stance “indecent,” arguing that it erased the suffering of Israeli women and distorted the meaning of liberation. Butler has since offered corrective nuance, insisting she opposes violence and favors non-violent resistance. But ambiguity is no refuge when those same words are now chanted at rallies and posted on campus walls.

Butler has every right to speak, no matter how provocative her views. But defending her freedom to speak is not the same as shielding her from scrutiny. When a prominent thinker’s rhetoric echoes through mobs that harass Jewish students, it is legitimate for universities and federal officials to ask whether such language has contributed to a hostile environment. Accountability is not censorship. It binds speech to consequence.

The stakes are immense. The Anti-Defamation League recorded 9,354 antisemitic incidents in 2024—the highest total since tracking began in 1979. That is an average of twenty-five incidents every single day. Campuses have become flashpoints, with lawsuits and federal investigations proliferating. UCLA recently settled a $6 million lawsuit after admitting it “fell short” of its duty to protect Jewish students. Parents are now asking whether it is safe to send their children to elite universities. Many students hide their identities to avoid confrontation.

Against this backdrop, The Guardian’s narrative does more than misinform. It undermines the effort to restore justice. By portraying Butler as a persecuted victim and federal investigators as villains, it tells Jewish students their suffering is secondary to a professor’s earned and deserved reputation. It signals to administrators that cooperating with lawful inquiries will bring condemnation, not support, and emboldens those who use radical rhetoric as cover for intimidation.

Academic freedom and civil rights are not enemies. They rise or fall together. A campus where students are too afraid to speak, study or even sleep safely is not a campus where free inquiry can flourish. Universities must draw clear lines: Protect even harsh political speech, but act decisively when conduct becomes harassment or violence. They must defend the rights of the accused with fairness while also defending Jewish students’ right to live and learn without fear.

The Guardian essay collapses these distinctions. It substitutes melodrama for precision and ideology for fact. The real threat to academic freedom is not investigators enforcing the law; it is the silence of administrators who fear taking action, and the rhetorical fog that excuses intimidation as dissent.

Butler is not a powerless figure in need of rescue. She is one of the most influential intellectuals alive. The students barricaded in their dorms at Sarah Lawrence or trapped in UCLA buildings surrounded by mobs are the ones silenced. They are the ones whose voices must be protected.

Defending these students does not weaken free speech. It strengthens it by ensuring that every student, regardless of faith or background, can participate fully in campus life. That is the promise of Title VI. It is also the moral foundation of a free society.

The health of higher education and of our democracy depends on seeing clearly. Civil-rights enforcement is not a blacklist. It is a lifeline. To confuse the two is to abandon those most in need of protection and to betray the ideals universities are meant to uphold. In the face of fear and distortion, we must choose clarity, courage and truth.