I Was a Jewish Student at Columbia in the '80s—Nothing Has Changed

In my house, I have a special shelf dedicated to pictures that capture the most precious of my memories. The display is dominated by photos taken at Columbia University. There is a picture of a little me sitting on my late father's lap, next to my wonderful aunt and uncle, visiting from Israel in the late '70s—they are now a fabulous 90 and 92, living near Tel Aviv.

We are sitting at the foot of Alma Mater. There is a collage of my graduation from the Business School, on top of my husband's graduation two years later from the same, in alternating cornflower blue robes.

Columbia University is irrefutably part of who I am. Arguably, it is the reason why I am, as the Institution brought my father to the U.S. from Israel.

This is why I have spent an unreasonable number of irretrievable hours scrolling and gasping and shaking my head in dismay as I consumed video after video of malignant hate mobs calling for my immolation—demanding the death of my children—and rallying for the destruction of society as we know it, clearly and directly, without nuance or metaphor, all on my beautiful campus.

My first thought was that I'm grateful to live in Israel. I am blessed that I can send my children to service, for their country, to bear the profound responsibility that comes with the privilege of living in the Jewish national homeland, with all its complexity and disrepair, and not send them to college in America.

I also thought about our unlosable fight to protect Israel from the existential dangers from within our political leadership, failing public systems, and deep societal divisions. I thought this while slightly drowsy as, like most Israelis, I have not slept normally since October 7th.

But somehow, even compared to Israel, the broken at Columbia University seems harder to fix.

I put my phone aside and admired the pictures on my shelf. Then, I started pulling out album after yellowing album and searching for years of digital folders.

Antisemitism and hate of Israel are not new to Columbia. I walked through my share of pro-violence protestors during the first Intifada in the late '80s.

I was vilified by my share of openly antisemitic, racist professors and unapologetically biased deans, even as the Oslo Accords attempted reconciliation.

I was also always pro-peace, always anti-occupation, and, of course, proudly Jewish. Mine are complex and deeply compatible belief systems. But that last bit—especially the "proudly" part—compounded by my plans to move to Israel, often served to discredit my voice as a Middle East Studies undergrad, and as a master candidate in International Human Rights Law debates.

Still, I was not silenced back then, and I was never afraid.

My Business School experience at Columbia was wonderfully different. The amazing Palestinian-Jordanian Vice Dean of the School actively encouraged me to set up my first investment fund, a cross-border Israeli/Jordanian venture, inspired by the newly minted Jordanian-Israeli peace agreements. The Dean even helped me raise capital from contacts in Jordan.

Today, it seems the Business School has also fallen, as an outspoken Israeli Jewish professor there has been barred from campus by the administration, and collegial outrage is, at best, muted.

Notwithstanding the appropriated symbols, this sinister campus movement with its jingoistic flags and oxymoronic slogans, has little, if anything, to do with helping Palestinians or fighting for "final solutions"—at least not the good and constructive ones. If it did, I would not only be in favor—I would join in.

The fury unleashed at Columbia University is not about destroying injustice. It is about destroying Jews.

Antisemites at Columbia are like the rats of the NYC subway. There were lots of them, always, everywhere. They were a part of the scenery, a shadowy mascot. It was never any strain to see them. And, although direct encounters were always unpleasant, they were also generally avoidable.

But now, just like the rats in NYC, thriving since COVID and seemingly unchecked, the infestation of antisemites at Columbia is rampant and threatening. They have spawned a scourge of uninformed, self-righteous neonates. They run across campus fearlessly and they bite. The diseases of fear and hate they carry target and harm the Jews first. But the spread won't stop there.

It is a dark and ugly picture. If we don't see it for what it is, it will soon be the only picture left on the shelf.

Calanit Valfer is the Founding and Managing Partner of the Elah Funds. She was recognized on the 2024 Forbes 50 Over 50 List of women leaders in Europe. Previously, Calanit was a Founding Partner at Nexus Israel, a strategic advisory firm. Calanit received her BA in Arabic and Middle East Studies, MIA (Honors) in International Human Rights Law and MBA in Finance, all from Columbia University.

All views expressed are the author's own.

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