At its core, Macalester College aspires to be a place where students engage critically with the world, where learning happens through exposure to diverse, radical perspectives and where global citizenship is not just a buzzword but a day-to-day reality.
Study away programs have long been an extension of this mission — a way for students to immerse themselves in academic and cultural contexts that challenge their assumptions and broaden their worldviews. This has never meant studying only in countries that adhere to all of our values. Some of the most profound learning experiences happen in places where systemic oppression is not history but a daily ritual — where injustice is etched into the streets, codified in courtrooms and felt in the quiet terror of those who live beneath its weight. Engagement, not avoidance, is the foundation of an international education.
However, study away does not exist in a vacuum, and Macalester’s faculty now face a deeply political decision. Mac for Palestine’s proposal, currently under faculty consideration, argues that academic engagement is a form of complicity rooted in the conviction that institutions are never neutral actors. Under this framework, education and power structures are inextricably linked, and there are moments when severing ties becomes essential; by maintaining partnerships with Israeli universities, Macalester does not stand apart from the Israeli political order, rather, it actively contributes to its legitimacy.
This argument extends from a broader intellectual tradition that sees institutions of higher learning as vehicles for social transformation. In “Orientalism” (1978), Edward Said argues that knowledge production is inseparable from power; that academic institutions have long played a crucial role in legitimizing empire, shaping how the West perceives and exerts control over the non-Western world. Similarly, in Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970), Paulo Freire insists that education must be thought of as a process of socio-political awakening through critical consciousness — a means by which students learn not just to understand systems of oppression, but to actively resist them.
It is within this intellectual tradition that Mac for Palestine situates their proposal, arguing that study away is not just an academic exercise, but a place where institutions either reinforce or resist systems of domination. Their proposal draws on both frameworks: from Said, the idea that studying at an Israeli university means participating in the reproduction of state legitimacy. From Freire comes the conviction that Macalester has a responsibility not just to present divergent perspectives, but to explicitly align itself with struggles against injustice by refusing to provide institutional pathways that could normalize oppressive systems.
This is a serious argument — one that demands our consideration because it touches on the fundamental role of study away itself. If education is inextricable from structures of power and if universities do not merely observe the world but help shape its hierarchies, then institutional neutrality becomes a severe abdication of social responsibility. Macalester must decide whether it is willing to accept this premise as the basis for architecting study away programs — not just in Israel, but anywhere academic engagement is politically fraught.
Still, American universities are bound not just by the moral imperatives of any particular moment in history, but by the necessity of maintaining open intellectual environments where competing frameworks of justice can coexist.
What makes the proposal before us distinct is not its scope, but its certainty about who gets to decide. This is made clear in the proposal authors’ own words:
“The moral requirements of the situation … outweigh the risk of backlash from the minority of pro-Israel members of Macalester’s community, some of whom defend Israel’s genocidal war in Gaza.”
This statement is striking, though perhaps not in the way its authors intended. From their perspective, this is about moral necessity. Yet in framing opposition as potential risk to be negated rather than good faith disagreement, it represents a troubling vision of how legitimacy ought to be determined within the Macalester community. Those who remain unconvinced are recast as obstacles to achieving moral clarity. Silence, in this framework, is not ambivalence or uncertainty — it is taken as express consent.
Majority support is one thing. The erasure of dissent is another. Even if we accept that moral obligations sometimes supersede institutional deliberation, declaring consensus outright sets a troubling precedent. It transforms political disagreement into moral failure, placing the power to shape future institutional policy — and thus transforming the experiences of minorities on campus — entirely in the hands of those confident enough to voice their opinions.
Unlike public institutions, which are bound by constitutional protections for speech and inquiry, private universities like Macalester have no such legal obligation. Their ability to safeguard intellectual freedom depends entirely on whether they choose to. The American Association of University Professors has long warned that academic boycotts “strike directly at the free exchange of ideas,” setting a precedent where political considerations override academic ones. Without an affirmative commitment to upholding open inquiry, nothing prevents private institutions from making academic policy decisions based on political pressure rather than principle.
This is not just history; it is a live question for Macalester today. If a study away program can be delisted at the behest of a sufficiently strong student movement, then that same logic can be applied by any coalition, to any issue, at any time. This is not a slippery slope argument in the cheap sense of the term. It is a recognition of the precedent for institutional decision-making that Mac for Palestine explicitly outlines in their proposal:
“If another coalition received such strong and active support from the campus community for the removal of a different study away program, or for any specific advocacy, we hope that Macalester would take similar steps to seriously review their proposals and pass them along to the Board of Trustees.”
This is a powerful sentiment. It is also a dangerous one.
If majoritarian support is enough to justify severing academic ties with Israel, then it becomes sufficient justification for any future campaign against any program or institution that a vocal student movement deems unworthy of engagement. Future movements will no doubt adhere to the process they prescribe. If Macalester follows this model, it will have no principled grounds to reject similar demands — whether the target is study away, hiring decisions or curriculum choices. The question before us is whether academic freedom can survive majority rule.
This is not alarmism. The proposal does not simply call for a policy change; it calls for a shift in how academic decisions are made. Universities have long operated on the principle that open inquiry cannot be subordinate to political pressure without compromising the integrity of the institution. That principle is much more than a coded rhetorical flourish — it is the foundation of how Macalester sustains itself as a place of learning rather than an instrument of imposed orthodoxy. The precedent set here will define not just this moment, but many moments that follow.
Mac for Palestine has called for any other coalition with strong community support to step forward. We are not as large, nor as loud, as Mac for Palestine. But we are here. The students and faculty at Macalester are not a monolith. They never have been. The strength of our institution lies in its capacity to hold conflicting perspectives without collapsing into ideological conformity. If Macalester intends to make student activism the arbiter of academic policy, let us be honest about what that means: academic freedom becomes subject to the whims of whoever happens to wield the largest political sledgehammer.
I am not Jewish. I have no intention of studying away in Israel. But as someone who cares deeply about the kind of institution Macalester is becoming, I feel compelled to speak up when our core principles are at stake. Universities have long resisted making academic policy contingent on political pressure, understanding that once intellectual freedom is treated as conditional, it ceases to function as freedom at all. This proposal does not just call for a policy change — it asks Macalester to break with the very principle that has safeguarded its intellectual integrity. And that is a decision our college cannot easily take back.
