Donald Trump aims to pressure higher education institutions into compliance through financial leverage. The administration has withheld $400 million in federal funding from Columbia University and intends to impose further financial penalties if their demands are not fulfilled.
Columbia boasts an endowment of $14.8 billion and an annual operating budget of $6.6 billion. The cuts represent about 6% of its annual budget—a significant amount. To retain this funding, Columbia was ordered to implement several restrictive measures: placing its Middle East, South Asia, and Africa Studies department under academic surveillance; modifying admissions policies to lower the number of students from those regions while increasing the admission of Jewish students; and granting campus police extended powers to monitor, detain, and remove individuals from campus without adhering to standard due process. The university must also accept permanently increased limitations on campus protests and speech while complying with illegal federal directives to arrest and expel green card holders who have committed no crimes, such as Mahmoud Khalil.
I have previously emphasized, and I continue to believe, that the upheaval at Columbia University and other elite institutions over Middle East policy is largely irrelevant to those suffering in the Middle East. However, what Columbia decides is critical for the broader context of higher education in the United States due to a sociological phenomenon known as “institutional isomorphism.”
In genuinely uncertain circumstances, where competing priorities and stakes seem high, institutional leaders tend to postpone decision-making for as long as they can. Yet situations often compel someone to make the initial move. If that initial mover is an institution that is widely respected, others tend to follow quickly, operating under the assumption that a prestigious school like Harvard must know what it’s doing. Few university leaders would be criticized for mirroring Harvard’s policies. As a result, its approach often becomes the de facto standard adopted by most other institutions—starting with elite counterparts and then cascading down.
This pattern is observable in the hiring practices of universities. A couple of less prestigious state universities announced hiring freezes amid budget uncertainties, followed by Stanford’s adoption of a similar policy, which then spread across elite private universities and “public Ivies” like the UC system. We can expect similar trends in this situation as well. Other universities, keen to avoid the Trump administration’s scrutiny, are closely monitoring Columbia’s handling of these developments. This is troubling because, as reported by the Wall Street Journal, Columbia University has conceded to most of the Trump administration’s demands without resistance.
The “America First” president appears poised to effectively silence criticism of a foreign nation and its policies across the nation under the guise of combating antisemitism—a very real and harmful issue that is, in fact, considerably less prevalent or accepted on college campuses than in many other areas of American society. Antisemitism is certainly less tolerated at Columbia than, for example, in the GOP, where our sitting president brazenly asserted that Chuck Schumer is no longer Jewish because he doesn’t endorse all of Trump’s policies, labeling the Senate minority leader as “Palestinian” (a term applied derogatorily to another Semitic group).
This is not merely a partisan observation. Almost every aspect of the Trump administration’s approach is built upon the groundwork laid by the Biden administration and the Democratic party.
For example, Trump’s characterization of Gaza as a “demolition site” is grounded in the actions of his Democratic predecessor, who, under pressure from figures like Schumer, provided unlimited armaments to Israel for a campaign of destruction with few modern parallels—one that extended beyond Gaza to the West Bank, Iran, Yemen, Lebanon, and Syria. Kamala Harris, who is set to succeed Biden, and her representatives have consistently communicated to voters that these policies would persist largely unchanged under her leadership.
Even before Trump had a chance to respond, Joe Biden was quick to label the protests at Columbia as “antisemitic” and insisted that “order must prevail” on college campuses. Democratic legislators exerted intense pressure on former Columbia University president Minouche Shafik to suppress the protests, which she did with the backing of New York City’s Democratic mayor, Eric Adams (who justified his crackdown with baseless claims that the protests were predominantly instigated by “outside agitators”). Trump celebrated images and videos depicting students being forcibly subdued by the NYPD. Following Trump’s return to the White House, the Justice Department intervened on Adams’ behalf, leading to the termination of his criminal investigation—reportedly in exchange for the mayor adopting a more stringent stance on immigration, a move criticized as a quid pro quo.
Similarly, it was Biden who incorporated the IHRA definition of antisemitism into federal guidelines, despite the definition’s author stating that it was a “travesty” to employ this definition to regulate speech and conduct. Building on Biden’s introduction, Trump is set to sign a bill that would codify this same definition into federal anti-discrimination law, while pressing Columbia and other institutions to adopt this definition within their own conduct guidelines. NYU and Harvard have already taken this step, disregarding concerns from civil rights and civil liberties organizations—including the ACLU, FIRE, the AAUP, and Israeli civil rights groups—who asserted that the IHRA definition is exceptionally vague, granting considerable leeway for institutional stakeholders to silence most critical discussions regarding Israel, Zionism, or Judaism more broadly, from both Jews and non-Jews alike.
Furthermore, prior to Trump’s demand for Columbia to place its Middle East studies programs into receivership, New York’s Democratic governor, Kathy Hochul, shockingly insisted that the City University of New York rescind a job posting for scholars focusing on Palestine. This mirrors Trump’s overreach at Columbia—politicians dictating what can be taught and who can be hired, all justified on the same grounds.
The Democrats will not rescue colleges and universities. They have been instrumental partners and innovators of all the actions currently endorsed by the Trump administration in this realm.
If institutions of higher education are to be protected, they must do so on their own. If the desire to preserve academic freedom and institutional autonomy isn’t sufficient motivation for Columbia University’s leadership, they should consider their recent history to understand the consequences of compliance.
Shafik acquiesced to all the demands of the hardliners: she disavowed her faculty during a congressional hearing, offering no defense of her institution or its mission. She suspended student organizations like Jewish Voice for Peace and Students for Justice in Palestine. She imposed administrative punishments on protesters and then directed law enforcement to intervene. The campus has become a veritable fortress—more secure than a typical military installation, as I experienced firsthand during a series of recent talks there (as someone with a military background).
What did all this capitulation achieve? More demands for further submissions! Shafik was ultimately forced out. The demonization of the campus continued unabated, and punitive measures intensified. Similar fates await all who adopt a subservient approach. University leaders should recognize that there is no point at which their compliance will be deemed “sufficient.” The Trump administration is resolved to impose a series of penalties on colleges and universities while promoting specific narratives about these institutions, regardless of what colleges and universities do or say in the meantime. Institutions can humiliate and betray themselves endlessly and still face the same ramifications as if they took no action at all. Indeed, even though Columbia has conceded to all of Trump’s demands without contest, the administration has yet to release any funds, and officials indicate that additional demands will be imposed on Columbia and other universities in the near future.
I have seen analogous trends unfold following my dismissal from the University of Arizona due to a Fox News smear campaign. I was far from the only scholar who lost their position because of such witch hunts. Whether the attacks originated from the left or the right, university leaders often believe that if they simply give in to public outcry, it will dissipate. In reality, this behavior only encourages further demands from increasingly aggressive factions. Demonstrating to these groups that their tactics yield results is a sure way to invite more pressure campaigns.
This yearning for peace, stability, and avoidance of confrontation is prevalent in academia. Higher education institutions generally comprise individuals who tend to be risk-averse and conformist. Those who assume “leadership” roles often display the most passivity, allowing themselves to be unduly influenced by public relations teams and legal advisors into subservient positions, offering weak and half-hearted defenses of the academy and its mission, if any such defenses are made at all. To their credit, universities acknowledge this self-awareness: most university presidents recognize they have struggled to respond effectively to diminishing public trust in their institutions and the ensuing attempts to impose changes from external sources.
It’s no wonder the public harbors mistrust toward academia. Not only are we seemingly unable or unwilling to address their concerns, but we also appear incapable of effectively communicating our societal value amidst adversaries intent on undermining our institutions.
Now is the moment to confront both tendencies directly. We need to be forthright about how our institutions are not adequately representing and serving broad segments of the U.S. population. Simultaneously, we must adopt a more assertive stance against false narratives, affirming our value to society and defending our institutions from unwarranted political interference.
Institutional neutrality, currently in vogue, is no excuse for cowardice. The Kalven Report, the cornerstone of this institutional neutrality movement, emphasizes: “From time to time, instances arise when society or segments of it threaten the very mission of the university and its commitment to free inquiry. In such a crisis, it becomes the university’s obligation as an institution to oppose such measures and actively defend its interests and values.”
We find ourselves in such a moment now.
If, during this pivotal time, faculty members refuse to exercise the rights and freedoms we possess, it will not matter if they are stripped away—they will be. If organizations advocating for “academic freedom,” “free speech,” and “viewpoint diversity” remain silent in the face of this illiberalism or even support these actions, they are worse than ineffective. If university leaders cannot summon the resolve to reject unlawful and unethical directives and challenge these actions through legal avenues, they should resign in disgrace or be removed. If we collectively cannot and will not oppose this overreach and publicly defend ourselves, then we deserve the outcomes we face. However, others do not deserve to suffer as a consequence of our failure, and we must not falter.
Importantly, any resistance to the administration’s illiberal policies, or defense of our institutions and their missions, must not be framed in simplistic partisan terms. This is not merely a strategic concern (to prevent further polarization and resentment); it’s also about respecting the truth. We arrived at this juncture through bipartisan political actions. Furthermore, our profession’s chronic failures and those of institutional leaders have fueled the “populist” forces now opposed to us. We will only escape this predicament by engaging with those who are currently skeptical of or disenfranchised from our institutions.
