Colleges and universities are reopening for their fall semesters and I continue to hear real worries about persistent, though often less overt, antisemitism on many campuses.
Even after two years of sustained pressure to stop so much hate, I sadly see that hostility toward Jews, and especially toward students who identify with Israel, has not disappeared. The American Jewish Committee’s State of Antisemitism in America 2025 report found that four in 10 (42 percent) current and recent Jewish college students experienced antisemitism during their time in school, and among those students, 55 percent say they have felt uncomfortable or unsafe at a campus event because of their Jewish identity.
From big universities to small liberal arts colleges nationwide, I hear a remarkably consistent set of questions from Jewish and Zionist students. Where should I go to find support? Whom can I trust? What am I supposed to do when something happens? And sometimes the question is much simpler than any of those: Is there actually an adult here I can call for advice and support?
The Jewish community has real work to do here, and it is not the work we have mostly been doing. There have been lawsuits and effective Title VI complaints, Congressional hearings, donor efforts, and pressure on presidents and boards. Some of these large-scale efforts have produced real change, such as at Haverford College, which admitted its antisemitism problem in a settlement, and that is certainly progress.
What we have built in this post-October 7 world, however, are institutional responses to what is a very personal problem for many. Title VI investigations may matter six months from now, and the spate of Congressional hearings may change a university’s behavior and has toppled a handful of college presidents. But none of these macro institutional changes answers the phone at 10:30 at night when a 19-year-old has just had an awful encounter, is deeply scared and confused, and is sitting in a dorm room shaking, wondering what to do next and needing some support and a shoulder.
What is missing is far simpler and far more local: an effort to make sure that Jewish and Zionist students who want and need support have actual people nearby whom they can call. Our students need a person—a direct, real, authentic relationship—and not an office in New York or Washington. That person might be a rabbi, a synagogue member, an alumnus, a Jewish family in town, or a volunteer known to the local Jewish federation.
It is a mistake to think that colleges and universities are walled off campuses, isolated from real-world Jewish communities. So many college campuses are near Jewish communities and there may be a synagogue or a Jewish communal organization only minutes away, families nearby, alumni in town, and community members who would gladly have a student over for dinner or answer a phone call. The scared college student, however, may have no idea who any of those people are. That is the gap. We as a Jewish community should make introductions now, before something happens, and not after a student is already frightened and trying to figure out where to turn.
It is a mistake to think that colleges and universities are walled off campuses, isolated from real-world Jewish communities.
I have visited many campuses and have heard hundreds of stories, so consider what these Jewish students are being asked to navigate: a student hears in class that Zionism is inherently racist; a new friend suddenly wants an explanation for something Israel has done; a late-night conversation in a dorm or dining hall goes badly; or a professor says something and the student starts wondering whether speaking up is worth whatever might follow, and students have seen horrible outcomes.
Students need a supportive and safe sounding board, and I have found myself playing this role regularly since October 7 as I visit campuses around the country. I have given my phone number to more students than I can even remember, telling them that they can call, text, or reach out at any time. I have received calls and texts at odd hours, and always try to take them and respond because sometimes what a student most needs is somebody older who knows a bit of this world and will pick up the phone.
I have had students come to me with all sorts of questions, from whether or not to write to a dean to whether a recent encounter that felt antisemitic really was as bad as it seemed. Sometimes there is no practical problem to solve at all, and the anxiety and frustration of feeling attacked and unwelcome has simply boiled over, and the student has had a miserable day and wants to talk to somebody who understands why.
With Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur approaching, the timing seems especially appropriate. This is a season when we think about obligations and about what we owe one another. Here is a communal obligation, arvut hadadit, that we can actually meet.
So, before the semester gets fully underway, synagogues and Jewish communal organizations near colleges should identify a few people willing to be available to students and begin making those connections. For those schools that are not near Jewish communities, federations can still reach out to a school’s Jewish alumni and other members of Jewish communities in different geographic areas who can help create social ties and support.
Creating a real support network for our nation’s Jewish college students will not solve campus antisemitism or substitute for confronting hatred directly. But a local, on-the-ground network of real relationships is something that we as a Jewish community can actually organize and execute, and do so fairly quickly. The lawsuits, the investigations, alumni and donor engagement, and Congressional oversight all still matter and other forms of organizing should continue. However, creating a network for students is practical and possible and does not require huge amounts of funding.
The Jewish community already has the infrastructure and people. Ideally, by the time students are settled into their dorms this fall, every Jewish student who wants this kind of connection ought to have two or three local names in his or her phone. We know how to connect; we just have to do it.
Samuel J. Abrams is a Professor of Politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a Nonresident Senior Fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
