“Harvard’s run by millionaires, and Yale is run by booze, Cornell is run by farmers’ sons, Columbia’s run by Jews.” That ditty sung by Ivy League elites at the turn of the twentieth century foreshadowed the force Jews would face in their forays into higher education over the ensuing 125 years: anti-Semitism. Jumping from the creation of this song to modern struggles faced by Jewish students in the wake of the Israel-Hamas War, religion scholar and author Mark Oppenheimer gave a comprehensive overview of anti-Semitism in American higher education in his lecture “Jews In College: A Contentious Century of Jews on Campus.” Speaking as this year’s Davidson Jewish Student Union Binah Lecturer, Oppenheimer helps promote justice on this campus by shining a light on issues too often omitted from the historical record.
Oppenheimer’s testimony first exposes listeners to the very different conditions in higher education 125 years ago. Back then, Columbia, today a selective and expensive institution, would “admit anyone who’s plausibly qualified and could pay the small amount of money.” Neither cost nor selectivity served as major barriers, leading many Jewish students in New York City—the global hub for Jewish immigrants—to attend Columbia because it was “prettier and had more resources and had a better faculty” than the public alternatives in the city. In revealing this history, Oppenheimer stirs unexpected nostalgia for this forgotten era of higher education, free from the commodification, competitiveness, and exorbitant prices that define it today.
However, things take a dark turn from here. Oppenheimer reveals the extent to which even current admissions policies are shaped by the backlash against that period of Jewish flourishing in higher education. Upset that their sons did not want to attend Columbia due to anti-Semitic tropes like the one depicted in the ditty, alumni pushed for policies that would insidiously exclude Jews. These included standardized tests, interviews, legacy preferences, age requirements and geographic diversity. Their success in reducing their Jewish student population led to copycat efforts from most other universities looking for “solutions to their Jewish problem.” In depicting this trend, Oppenheimer arrives at one of the key purposes of his talk: exposing the prevalence of “uncontroversial” modern admissions practices that are relics of an anti-Semitic past.
After World War II, Oppenheimer turns the narrative 180 degrees, and ushers in a “golden era of Jews in college.” Oppenheimer identifies many causes for this post-1945 shift, including “after the Holocaust… few admissions officials [being] interested in the project of excluding Jews” and “trying to get the most qualified students regardless of ethnicity… because of the Cold War.” Shame over the horrors of the Holocaust, coupled with ambition to make technological advancements to defeat the Soviet Union, drove the dismantling of anti-Semitic exclusionary admissions policies. With many Jews on college campuses, Jewish culture naturally flourished, featuring “thriving Jewish fraternities” and “packed Shabbat services.” Oppenheimer recognizes it is far easier to be Jewish on a college campus when you can experience such an institutional embrace and see myriad fellow Jews.
In a conscious rhetorical choice, Oppenheimer does not end the lecture with this “happily ever after.” Instead, he integrates the new wave of challenges facing Jewish students to subvert the traditional narrative structure. After the outbreak of war in Gaza, a new wave of anti-Semitism has formed, encompassing both the “physically uncomfortable” incidents of violence and harassment and softer anti-Semitism incidents of social ostracization or “being denied from campus organizations.” Oppenheimer takes these incidents as part of “the idea that somehow [Jews’] existence is contested, is contested and contestable, rather than just taken for granted.” A relaxed speaker for most of the talk, Oppenheimer’s indignance speaks volumes here. The idea that a particular cleavage of society’s existence is contestable is every bit as reprehensible as Oppenheimer makes it out to be.
Right before he concludes his prepared remarks, Oppenheimer poses a question for the students, faculty, and community members in the audience. He says, “I want to ask not just if a group can survive, but can they thrive?” This question should drive the way we view future steps towards justice for Jews on college campuses. Oppenheimer took us through the steps Jews took to overcome admissions barriers and get into colleges. Now that they are clearly successful in surviving an admissions process once targeted against them, the next question is about thriving within these campuses they have gained entry to.
This question and its implications drive Oppenheimer’s purpose for the lecture. He shifts the onus onto us—the students and faculty listening who help determine the culture of Davidson College—to be outspoken advocates against anti-Semitism and in favor of Jewish flourishing on college campuses. In this regard, he was clearly successful. Exiting the Lilly Gallery, I felt galvanized—not only by my personal connection to the topic, but by Oppenheimer’s universal ideals of justice—to do my part to contribute to Jewish thriving on campus and help defeat an ascendant wave of anti-Semitism.