Thursday, May 23, 2024

Welcome to the Hedge-Fund Driven Neoliberal University

 
 MAY 22, 2024
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Photograph by Nathaniel St. Clair

There can be little doubt that neoliberalism has undermined, if not crippled, the notion of higher education as a democratic public sphere—a protective and courageous space where students can speak, write, and act from a position of agency and informed judgment. This should be a space where education does the bridging work of connecting schools to the wider society, connects the self to others, and addresses important social and political issues. It should also provide conditions for students to develop a heightened sense of social responsibility, coupled with a passion for equality, justice, and freedom. Instead, as Chris Hedges notes, universities increasingly have become “a playground for corporate administrators [who] demand, like all who manage corporate systems of power, total obedience. Dissent. Freedom of expression. Critical thought. Moral outrage. These have no place in our corporate-indentured universities.”

In the spirit of ruthless equity firms and asset-stripping hedge fund managers, pedagogies of conformity, silencing, and ethical abandonment now proliferate under the guise of budget cuts or overt attempts to transform higher education into white nationalist indoctrination centers. Universities are now viewed as businesses, students as clients, and faculty as a serf-like, casual labor force. Furthermore, administrative leadership has regressed, modeling itself after hedge fund managers and embracing a market-driven ideology that believes the irrational belief that the market can solve all problems and control not only the economy but all aspects of social life. Central to this hedge-fund neoliberal ideology is a moral vacuity that separates economic activity from social costs. Central to this educational/ideological mantra is the notion that historical consciousness, critical thinking, informed faculty, and critical pedagogy are at odds with the market. Consequently, it posits that the role of government and institutions such as higher education only exists to further market interests and avoid making the power of markets and the financial elite accountable.

Pedagogies of repression now take place in the name of financial cuts, a politics of precarity, and hollow appeals to efficiency, or, as in the politics of Florida Governor Ron DeSantis, outright calls for turning higher education into white nationalist indoctrination centers. Moreover, administrative leadership now occupies a regressive state which models itself after the practice of hedge fund managers and the ruthless values of a gangster capitalism that  prioritizes the accumulation of capital over ethics, human needs, and the most basic human rights.

University leaders now follow policies that resemble the suffocating profit-driven values of Jamie Damon, CEO of JPMorgan Chase, rather than the democratic values of John Dewey. At the same time, billionaires such as Bill Ackman, Leslie Wexner, Joh Huntsman, and  Robert Kraft now exercise extraordinary influence over higher education policy, particularly at the elite universities. They wield accusations of antisemitism and leverage the power of their wealth to silence criticism of the right-wing Israeli government, call for the firing of professors who are deemed too critical and outspoken regarding genocidal crimes, and dox and punish students for their criticism of scorched earth Israeli attacks on Palestinians in Gaza. Furthermore, they advocate for silencing protests on campuses by calling in the police, effectively transforming higher education into a police state. Certainly, Trump echoes this authoritarian view, indicating his willingness to use military force to suppress student dissent if he is elected in 2024. He has referred to the protesters setting up encampments on college campuses as “radical-left lunatics” who must be vanquished, adding that “they’ve got to be stopped now.” He also described the police arresting students at Columbia University as “a beautiful thing to watch.”

Hedge-fund politics and pedagogy exemplify gangster capitalism’s destruction of institutions that champion free speech, social responsibility, and strong democracy. This influence is pernicious, echoing fascist politics of the past, and undermines free speech and the critical role of higher education. What we are witnessing is a new form of McCarthyism, cloaked in the alleged wisdom of a ruthless billionaire elite. This ideology has been normalized, perceived by the public as a permanent social formation for which there is no alternative. The education promoted by the hedge-fund crowd aims to dismantle the university as a democratic public sphere and convert democracy itself into what one of their heroes, Viktor Orbán, calls an illiberal democracy—one that, as he puts it, is free of mixed races and any vestige of liberal democracy.

In this cloning hedge-fund ideology, budget cuts become a cover for a discourse that reveals an astonishing vacancy of vision regarding the public and democratic purpose of education. Cuts are now made to valuable and critical educational programs in the name of economic expediency and fear of deficits, echoing the language of accountants in pencil factories. Under such circumstances, the liberal arts and humanities are disparaged either because they are labeled “woke”—an idiotic, self-serving label used to undermine the critical role of education–or because they do not serve the immediate interest of creating depoliticized workers for a global economy marked by staggering inequities, increasing de-regulation, and exploitative working conditions.

In an age when the landscape of tyranny casts a dark shadow across the globe, the weight of conscience carries both a burden and the potential for a profound moral and political awakening. This courageous generation of students exemplifies that when social responsibility is guided by the demands of moral witnessing, politics can effectively challenge the pervasive influence and grasp of an emerging authoritarianism. In such times, conscience emerges as an unwavering force, compelling individuals to stand firm and resist the rising tides of ultra-nationalism, racism, state violence, and militarism. It urges them to resist the encroachment of oppression upon those individuals and groups, who in their struggle for freedom, are too often deemed disposable.

Students across the country and globe are making it clear that if we wish to talk about democracy in the United States and other countries, we must confront the rise of authoritarianism. Only by awakening the stirrings of morality and embracing an emancipatory notion of politics can we envision a strong democracy that ignites, inspires, and energizes the public imagination, galvanizing the burden of conscience to action. Today’s student protesters recognize that the military-industrial-academic complex, aligned with gangster capitalism, is writing them out of the script of democracy, while engaging in the slow cancelation of the future. Instead of vilifying campus protesters, as so many liberals and conservatives are doing, we need to acknowledge that they represent the moral conscience of a new generation—one that is on the right side of history.

Henry A. Giroux currently holds the McMaster University Chair for Scholarship in the Public Interest in the English and Cultural Studies Department and is the Paulo Freire Distinguished Scholar in Critical Pedagogy. His most recent books are America’s Education Deficit and the War on Youth (Monthly Review Press, 2013), Neoliberalism’s War on Higher Education (Haymarket Press, 2014), The Public in Peril: Trump and the Menace of American Authoritarianism (Routledge, 2018), and the American Nightmare: Facing the Challenge of Fascism (City Lights, 2018), On Critical Pedagogy, 2nd edition (Bloomsbury), and Race, Politics, and Pandemic Pedagogy: Education in a Time of Crisis (Bloomsbury 2021). His website is www. henryagiroux.com.         

For Many American Jews Protesting for Palestinians, Activism is a Journey Rooted in Their Jewish Values


 
 MAY 23, 2024
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Photograph by Nathaniel St. Clair

In April 2024, during Passover, a group of American rabbis approached a border crossing in Israel. Affiliated with Rabbis for Ceasefire, the group joined Jewish Israeli activists attempting to deliver food to Gazans.

It had been seven months since Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack and Israel’s subsequent assault on Gaza.

One of the American rabbis told reporters at Democracy Now! that this was the only way she could imagine marking Passover, a holiday that celebrates the story of liberation from oppression and slavery. Marching to the gates of Gaza with food for starving Palestinians was consistent with Passover’s imperative to invite the hungry to every table.

As of April 2, 62% of American Jews believe Israel has responded to Hamas’ attack in an “acceptable” way. Yet that support drops to 52% among U.S. Jews ages 18-34, with 42% saying Israel’s response has been “unacceptable,” according to Pew Research Center polling.

Many of those young people are involved in the variety of Jewish organizations that have mobilized for a cease-fire since October, such as IfNotNow and Jewish Voice for Peace. Public attention has focused on campus protests, which included many Jewish students – I am a member of Faculty for Justice in Palestine, which formed in response to concerns about freedom of speech for U.S. students mobilizing for Palestinian rights.

But as a peace and religion scholar, I know that some U.S. Jews’ involvement in Palestinian solidarity movements began years before the current war. In my ethnographic research, which included in-depth interviews and participant observation work, activists emphasized that they were inspired to act because of their Jewish identity and values, not in spite of them.

Journey toward activism

Many interviewees came to activism for Palestinian rights after wrestling with how to square their beliefs and ideals with the reality of Israeli policies they do not support – policies that they feel are often invoked in their name.

My 2019 book, “Days of Awe,” examines American Jewish critics of Israeli policy and Zionism – support for a Jewish state in the Middle East. Some activists focused on the Palestinian territories Israel has occupied since 1967, which they consider a departure from the country’s ideals as a Jewish democracy. Others found themselves in complete disagreement with the idea of Zionism, given how the creation of the new state necessitated Palestinian displacement.

Their activism has taken different shapes: from protests in the West Bank against the occupation, to forming anti-Zionist synagogues in the U.S., to rewriting Jewish liturgy to reflect solidarity with Palestinians and other oppressed people.

For example, one interviewee in his mid-20s shared an experience from a 2008 Birthright trip to Israel, a free tour designed to strengthen young Americans’ connection with the country. The trip coincided with Operation Cast Lead in Gaza, which lasted about three weeks and resulted in about a dozen Israeli deaths, approximately 1,400 Palestinian deaths and thousands of people displaced.

A tour guide was reluctant to respond to the young man’s questions about the conflict. This prompted the student, upon his return to campus in the U.S., to read about the Palestinian experiences of the Nakba – meaning “Catastrophe” in Arabic – of 1948, the year the state of Israel was established, when hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were forced off their lands or fled.

This interviewee and others say their journeys toward activism began because their understanding of Jewish values was inconsistent with what Israel was doing in the name of Jews’ safety. It was also a journey of “unlearning” or critique – challenging narratives that emphasize the concept of Jewish return to Israel or that downplay Palestinian displacement.

They were tapping into Jewish tradition in new ways – what I refer to as “critical caretaking.”

A group of protesters in coats hold white signs as they congregate on a sidewalk outside a city building.
IfNotNow protesting the American-Israel Political Action Committee’s 2017 conference in Washington, D.C. IfNotNow Movement/Wikimedia CommonsCC BY-SA

Take IfNotNow, an American Jewish group opposed to Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories. The movement was born during the 2014 Israel-Hamas War, when a group of young Jews organized a public recitation of the mourner’s kaddish, the Jewish prayer for the dead. By reciting both Jewish and Palestinian victims’ names, they hoped to use Jewish tradition to challenge the devaluation of Palestinian lives.

When I asked Rebekah – a pseudonym for a college student in the American South whom I interviewed for my book – how she understood her Jewishness, she told me: “I have always maintained that the basis for my activism was my Jewish ideals, the radical equality I had absorbed at home.”

Shadow of history

For Rebekah and many other American Jews, the cultural memory of the Holocaust, and the common refrain “Never Again,” inspires their activism for Palestinian rights.

“Growing up in Hebrew schools, you grow up with the nightmarish Holocaust films,” she stressed. “The conclusion of this education should have been clear: ‘You can’t do it to another group of people!’”

This lesson is reflected in the cry “Never again to anyone,” heard at demonstrations over the past few months.

Another interviewee likewise asserted that her solidarity with Palestinians is grounded in the legacy of the Holocaust: “For me, understanding the Holocaust was hard because of the enormity of it – it happened because masses of people made a conscious decision to do nothing. I didn’t want to do nothing.”

For these interviewees, discriminatory or violent policies contradict their understanding of Jewish values, which they assert by standing in solidarity with Palestinians.

Another interviewee told me: “I consider myself a spiritual Jew. I am able to separate Zionism from Judaism and I believe in equality. Because I am Jewish, I protest – I am informed by values of humanism, which is the main framework for organizing. The experience of doing solidarity work actually strengthened my Jewish identity. … My Judaism translates into my commitment to uphold universal humanist values.”

Here and now

In 2017, several dozen Americans gathered with other activists in the southern hills of Hebron, in the West Bank. They established what they called a “sumud” camp – a Palestinian concept denoting steadfastness – to protest the Israeli military’s decision to declare the area a “closed military zone,” meaning Palestinians must leave.

The activists wore shirts exclaiming “Occupation is Not My Judaism.” Occupation, they say, dehumanizes Palestinians and Jews alike – so they are seeking their own liberation, too. Therefore, their “critical caretaking” is not just about underscoring what Judaism is not. It is also about rewriting what they believe Judaism is.

For example, many of these organizations decenter Zionism’s role in Jewish texts and liturgies. Rather than emphasizing the idea that the “Jewish home” is in the historical region of Palestine and Israel, some emphasize “doykayt,” Yiddish for “hereness”: the concept that Jews’ true home is wherever they are in the world.

Doykayt is just one example of how these activists embrace often-overlooked aspects of Jewish history, including marginalized voices such as Arab Jews and Ethiopian Jews, as they discover new ways to live their Jewish values. Through their activism, they are trying to convey their understanding that Jews cannot be free until Palestinians are free.The Conversation

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.