Jeffrey Blutinger, California State University, Long Beach

After October 7th, I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of antisemitic rhetoric on my campus (California State University, Long Beach), and the situation only worsened for myself and my Jewish colleagues as the year continued. We made the news when a student group posted flyers featuring a paraglider image just one day after the massacres, and followed it up with a pro-Hamas rally a few days later. 

We never had a moment to catch our breath. If we put up flyers calling attention to hostages, they were immediately torn down. My Jewish Studies bulletin board was vandalized five times. In November, I learned that our campus chapter of the faculty union was secretly planning to vote on a viciously antisemitic resolution, so I did my best to call the membership’s attention to it. As a result, I was accused of launching a “hate campaign” against the union, and at least one colleague went to the campus police to try to charge me with harassment. 

I had hoped spring semester would be better, but it turned out to be far worse. I had funding to bring in Israel-related speakers, so I reached out to the two departments that had been cosponsoring many of the anti-Israel talks for their support. The chair of Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies replied that they had adopted a new rule saying they would only cosponsor events for which they had been involved in the planning. The chair of International Studies did not reply at all. I emailed her multiple times with no response. Only after I copied the dean on the fourth email and asked if she was boycotting me did she explain that all my messages had been “inadvertently” sent to her spam folder. She never did respond to my requests.

The university and college administrators held some “listening sessions” to discuss our concerns about campus climate, but when we suggested policy changes, they replied that they saw these meetings as opportunities for them to listen to us, not for them to respond to us. The provost and dean repeatedly asked me if I would sit down on camera with them and one of the anti-Israel professors to answer questions about the conflict. I declined (as did all other Jewish faculty they approached) and told them “I don’t do disputations.”

The lowest point of the year came when I was invited to give a talk to a class at San José State University (SJSU) on how to achieve peace between Israelis and Palestinians. When I arrived, I learned that some radical groups were posting my image on campus and social media and calling on their supporters to “shut it down for Palestine.” The campus police had asked them to move my talk from the library to the classroom as it was more defendable. Only the students were informed of the new location.

Unfortunately, protestors found out where we were meeting. Since it wasn’t safe for me on or near campus, I was picked up by the campus police and escorted to the classroom. There, I had to walk a gauntlet of about 50 screaming protesters, who included not only a professor of Justice Studies, but the associate dean for the SJSU College of Education.

As soon as the head of the SJSU Jewish Studies Program stood up to introduce me, the protesters started chanting and pounding on the floors and walls. As I started my talk, protesters kept trying to break into the room and had to be pushed out by policemen. After about fifteen minutes, a policeman appeared behind me and told me they were evacuating me from the classroom. With officers on all four sides of me, they escorted me out of the building and then off of the campus.

Even that wasn’t the worst, though. Two days later, facilitators from the campus DEI office came to the class to lead them in a restorative justice workshop for the students. The instructor wasn’t permitted to remain, but some of her students left early telling her that they felt the facilitators were trying to get them to blame the instructor for what had happened. The instructor told me that she was afraid the university was going to take the course away from her. A few days later, she had a massive heart attack and underwent emergency surgery. While she has since fully recovered, she had to retire for medical reasons. 

For the first time in my career, I no longer feel safe on my campus. I’m by no means the only one. So many Jewish faculty I know are looking at the exits, wondering how soon they can retire or go someplace else. I no longer feel that I have a home in academia.