How academic antisemitism became mainstream

TL;DR: Academic antisemitism has moved from the margins to the mainstream, especially after October 7, when universities across Europe tolerated or enabled protests that singled out Israel while ignoring real abuses elsewhere. Under the guise of anti-Zionism, prejudice is obscured in moral language, projecting Western crimes of persecution and colonialism onto Jews and Israel. Hate speech is excused, Jewish and Israeli students face intimidation, and academics themselves misuse legal terms like “genocide” or “apartheid,” producing politicized scholarship that spreads to NGOs and international institutions, distorting priorities and neglecting genuine crises. For publicly funded universities, this is not only discrimination but also a betrayal of their mission, demanding real accountability from both academic leaders and policymakers.

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Shifting currents of antisemitism

Antisemitism has always mutated into the politics of its time, adapting to prevailing ideologies. Nationalist movements portrayed Jews as racial threats or as hidden manipulators of power. Islamist ideologies, by contrast, base their hostility on religion and politics, portraying Jews as eternal enemies and rejecting the very existence of a Jewish state. Since the end of World War II, Islamist antisemitism has been the deadliest form, repeatedly translating ideology into terror and mass violence.

After the war, antisemitism also reemerged in the West, increasingly couched in political language. It intensified during the 1970s with the spread of post-colonial discourse, later receded, and then resurfaced on parts of the radical left. Here, it appears under the guise of anti-Zionism, intensifying dramatically after October 7. The word “Jew” is avoided; instead, “Israelis” or “Zionists” are invoked, usually with the ritual qualification that “not all are Jews.” This is no accident. It is a deliberate tactic designed to obscure prejudice while making it appear morally legitimate. Projection is central: crimes long committed by the West, persecution of Jews, colonial conquest, racial domination, are recast as Israel’s essence, thereby turning victims into perpetrators.

Campus protests and university responses

The Hamas massacre of October 7 was beyond precedent in recent history: over 1,200 people slaughtered, more than 250 kidnapped, many mutilated or raped. These were acts of barbarism. Yet the expected academic sobriety, careful language, moral seriousness, and clarity of judgment never came. Some administrations issued statements calling on both sides, the perpetrator and the victim, to avoid escalation, equating the two morally. Others went further, shamefully rationalizing the attacks as a form of resistance.

Protests spread quickly across European campuses. Though presented as grassroots, they were highly coordinated: identical tents, pre-printed posters, orchestrated logistics, and evident funding. Universities did not initiate these movements, but they tolerated them and often enabled them. Seeking calm, administrators conceded to demands targeting Israel, while ignoring genuine human rights violations elsewhere.

Dutch universities illustrate the trend most clearly. They established “ethics committees” tasked exclusively with reviewing ties to Israel, predictably recommending boycotts. No such scrutiny was applied to partnerships with institutions in China, Iran, or Saudi Arabia. This is antisemitism in practice. Universities were warned, but with little real accountability, they allowed themselves to persist, calculating that Jewish voices were weaker and less disruptive than pro-Hamas activism.

Discrimination in practice

This permissiveness has tangible effects. Material that would be considered incitement propaganda elsewhere is circulated freely on campuses. At Maastricht University, a student group distributed a song calling to “kill all Zionists.” Tolerated under the banner of free expression, it was in fact hate speech, emboldening those who seek to intimidate Jewish and Israeli students.

The same disregard appeared in the case of Dr. Amit Frenkel, head of intensive care and trauma at Soroka Medical Center in Beersheba. He treated victims of Hamas atrocities on October 7, as well as patients from Gaza. Invited to Radboud University Medical Center in Nijmegen to lecture on medical responses to terror attacks, including cooperation between Arab and Jewish doctors, he was barred. The university claimed the topic “cannot be approached from a politically neutral perspective.” Professional expertise and lived experience were subordinated to ideology, silencing a vital voice in crisis response.

Moral failures and misuse of authority

This is not neutrality. It masquerades as neutrality while enabling harassment. Universities deserted their duty of care, ignored calls for help from Jewish and Israeli students and staff, and when they did act, their responses were symbolic gestures with no intention of addressing root causes.

The problem originates not only in institutional statements but also with academics themselves. Faculty misuse terms such as “genocide,” “apartheid,” and “ethnic cleansing.” These have precise legal definitions, yet are redefined through circular arguments that erase context and intent. Such redefinitions are deceitful, stripping words of meaning and undermining international law. And while these publications may pass peer review, it is often because peers in this field share the same ideological assumptions, reinforcing an echo chamber. Consensus replaces scrutiny. Politics replaces scholarship.

Video from the opening of the academic year at Radboud University, Nijmegen, Netherlands. The speaker is University President Alexandra van Hoepelen, who spearheaded the boycott of Tel Aviv and Hebrew institutions, though her stance has faced significant criticism. Source: @nijmegenencampment (Instagram)

International implications and corrosion of integrity

Once framed as scholarship, these polemics travel quickly. NGOs, human rights groups, and international institutions cite them, and politicians amplify them. The repeated use of these sources creates a false sense of consensus, distorting humanitarian priorities and inflaming public opinion.

The consequences are concrete. False claims misdirect aid, weaken the rules of war, and place Jews and Israelis at risk simply for who they are. Meanwhile, genuine crises, famine in Sudan, Iran’s regional aggression in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, and Yemen, are neglected. The pattern echoes what has already happened in international institutions like the UN Human Rights Council and UNESCO, which squandered credibility through obsessive focus on Israel while ignoring real abuses elsewhere. Universities risk the same fate: undermining their legitimacy by allowing antisemitism to dictate priorities.

For publicly funded institutions, this failure is particularly serious. Universities defend their budgets by stressing their essential role in training professionals and advancing knowledge. When they tolerate antisemitism, enable intimidation, and distort scholarship, they undermine their own case for public investment and provide ammunition to those eager to cut resources.

Accountability is essential

October 7 should have been a moral reckoning. Instead, universities equivocated, enabling intimidation, adopting double standards, and normalizing antisemitism as debate. The result is not only the betrayal of Jewish and Israeli students and staff, but the decomposition of academia’s own integrity.

This is not a problem for universities alone. Lawmakers and policymakers must apply accountability. Academic freedom is conditioned on ensuring that all members of the community have a voice, and protecting them from discrimination. When these conditions are not met, the public interest demands corrective mechanisms.

Here, the contrast with the United States is instructive. American universities face legal and financial accountability under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act, litigation risks, and donor pressure, which make antisemitism costly. Lawsuits by students and scrutiny from Congress have forced universities to respond where they otherwise might not. Even controversial measures, such as the Trump administration’s threat to withhold federal research funding from elite universities over their handling of antisemitism cases, reinforced the message: when accountability is real, university leadership cannot afford to treat antisemitism as a low-priority issue. European universities, by contrast, enjoy public funding with little oversight, face no real reputational consequences, and encounter fragmented Jewish advocacy. Lacking pressure, they see no urgency to act.

Final thought

If universities in Europe are to retain credibility, that dynamic must change. Academic leaders cannot continue to hide behind autonomy while abandoning students to harassment and intimidation. Lawmakers and policymakers must apply real mechanisms of accountability, making clear that academic freedom does not mean freedom from responsibility. Universities funded by the public owe a duty of care to all members of their community; when they fail, public oversight must intervene. Accountability would not only protect Jewish students but also restore universities’ role as engines of knowledge, integrity, and public trust.