This past month has been harrowing for those connected in some way to Israel or Palestine, including a large portion of Yale’s student body. 

I have one close friend whose favorite part of the week is Shabbat dinner. She adores Slifka, the center for Jewish life at Yale that hosts it. After Oct. 7, she saw peers feel so at risk that they elected to wear baseball caps atop their kippot. Deeply isolated and anxious herself, she felt vulnerable anywhere outside Slifka. Her unease came from multiple sources: the beginning of the war, concern about family friends and a campus that was hostile and indifferent to her mourning. The stress was so debilitating that she stopped attending classes and booked a last-minute flight to go home. 

Another dear friend frequently shares warm stories about the Muslim Student Association; she has always been so proud to be a part of that community. Now, she feels unsafe walking around campus in her hijab. Unsettled by increasing stares, she leaves her room less frequently. And with the fear of being doxxed online or physically harmed on her way to class, she keeps quiet. She tells me that her experiences, though difficult, do not compare to the despair of her Palestinian peers; many are grieving the loss of family members. To her and her friends, campus has never felt less welcoming.

I do not personally know the great pain and fear my peers face. I do know, however, that I have never seen our campus more hostile and confrontational than now. A large amount of our public discourse concerning Israel and Palestine has sought to anger and alienate. The messaging — often antisemitic or Islamophobic — is vitriolic and inimical to constructive engagement. 

Hateful speech is indicative of many states of hurting. Sometimes it is the product of pure hatred; other times it is born of fear, ignorance, vengeance, or a hive mentality. We have seen alienating and upsetting rhetoric across various media, including certain protest chants, writing on whiteboards, op-eds and social media posts. Countless additional examples exist, and each has its own origin, impact, and story. What unites them is their contribution to fear and hostility on campus. Making matters worse, many responses to this speech have been uncivil and antagonistic. 

Times of crisis and immense pain can make empathy for those on the “other side” incredibly difficult to attain; it may seem counterintuitive and even offensive. Though particularly challenging now, our community needs to focus on achieving empathetic coexistence. Our diversity, when accompanied by active discourse, permits us to understand peers of fundamentally different backgrounds and beliefs. The conversations we have and the bridges we build will aid us in fostering peace and trust within our multicultural campus and society. 

It has been devastating to see students feel unwelcome and alienated from our community due to the spread of hateful speech. I have also been disheartened to see so many of my peers — including friends I love — champion campaigns to intimidate those behind that speech. These campaigns, absent of righteousness, are conducted out of revenge. They often involve personal attacks that pin collective stress on a few people. Such tactics demand conformity and instill fear; they do not inform perspectives or enkindle tolerance. 

How should we respond to vitriolic speech in our community? To say “Yale must issue a statement” is insufficient. Top-down responses to grassroots issues usually achieve meager buy-in and accomplish little. We, as members and stewards of this community, need to be at the forefront of crafting grassroots mechanisms of discourse. 

Constructive dialogue builds mutual understanding. Without it, we will continue to talk past one another, getting hurt and hurting others, not fully grasping each other’s pain. To comprehend matters of tremendous complexity, and to get to know each other as people, we need an environment that fosters thoughtful conversations. Civil discourse will allow us to share — and listen to — the feelings and concerns within our community. It will encourage reflection and the reconstruction of fractured bonds. 

How do we achieve an environment conducive to healthy discourse? If we are able, we should practice civility and decency. This necessitates reflection, particularly concerning our conduct, the content of the messages we endorse and the impact our voices have. Whether acting alone or engaging in a collective effort, our words and actions touch others; it is crucial we realize that. We can also spread our impact by initiating conversations. One of the most accessible and promising vehicles for dialogue is over dinner with a few people. 

Some suggest the stakes are too high for civility. Hate crimes against affected communities — Jewish, Muslim and Arab — are on the rise. Our peers, their friends, and their families feel threatened. Intolerance and hatred are terrible diseases, but the thought behind them cannot be mended by force. Indecency is a catalyst, not a remedy, to further indecency. Our community stands to benefit from greater understanding and less fear; respectful discourse will aid us in this process. 

This is not an easy suggestion in the face of war. Many students worry that they are at risk of violence and persecution on the basis of their faith, ethnicity or heritage; to ask them to empathize can come off as tone-deaf. We cannot ask those in the most pain to assume the full burden of repairing what has been broken. We need a community-wide response that helps construct an environment where we can listen to perspectives and share our own, with the promise of kindness and without the specter of malicious reprisal.

As we work to reduce vitriol, we should take care to ensure we are not propagating it. We cannot expect everyone in our community to constructively engage with those spreading hatred, but someone has to. The project of building empathy is one we all share. Those of us who are in a position to facilitate the immensely challenging conversations needed should do so. 

Our situation is far from hopeless. I have been heartened by stories of peers who met vitriol with thoughtful questions and invitations to elaborate. The discussions did not lead to full empathy, but they did cultivate a little more understanding. Small steps forward are all we can expect right now. 

Humanity has proven capable of creating and perpetuating the most horrific hatred. The brightest moments of history have seen it overcome by the practice of uncommon empathy, while the darkest have not. For many reasons, darkness looms over us now. Let empathy be our light. 

JUSTIN CROSBY is a junior in Silliman majoring in Political Science. Contact him at justin.crosby@yale.edu