The attacks on Dr. Rabab Abdulhadi, supported by powerful organizations that spread anti-Palestinian hate such as the Israel War Room, the National Review, Jihad Watch, and the Campus Reform Network and shamefully promoted by too many in our campus community, signal an alarming rise in Islamophobia, racism and sexism. Such rhetoric has no place in society or at our university. The social media campaign and petition against her visit were steeped in unfounded accusations and disgraceful smears that she is a supporter of terrorism and an antisemite. It’s even more tragic that our campus newspaper chose to reprint it without rigorous fact-checking and that our university administration buckled under the pressure of those voices. My efforts to alert university authorities, including campus police, events planning, and administrators in the office of the Dean of Students, Office of Diversity and Inclusion, and Campus Life to the danger of these attacks were either dismissed or ignored. These actions have made our campus more hostile, fostering an environment thick with fear, hatred and bigotry.
Oct. 7 carries deep significance, especially within Jewish communities, including my own. But we must acknowledge that this date also signifies profound loss for Palestinians who are in the midst of what has been widely considered to be a plausible genocidal attack by Israel.
Grief on this day does not belong to any single group.
Let’s confront the damaging, yet repeated, notion that the pain of Oct. 7 exclusively belongs to one community. Framed as the largest killing of Jews since the Holocaust, this statement carries heavy historical weight, yet it overlooks a vital truth: the period since Oct.7 has marked the largest killing of Palestinians in their history. We cannot separate these realities. A staggering death toll, which is now estimated to be over 40,000, encompasses not just Israeli lives but also the lives lost in Gaza, the West Bank and now Lebanon. Everyone is grieving, and all losses deserve acknowledgment.
At Wake Forest, our role is not only to provide a space for individuals to process their grief but also to empower our community to investigate and engage with contemporary tragedies. Last year, we reflected on the anniversary of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine — a war that is reshaping global politics and resulting in unimaginable suffering. If we can have those discussions, we absolutely must allow for a thoughtful exploration of the events of Oct. 7. Failing to engage with these issues simply to avoid upsetting advocates of Israeli violence contradicts the very mission of our university.
To suggest that discussing or exploring Oct. 7 somehow “celebrates” it is offensive, reductive and damaging. This argument implicitly denies the humanity of Palestinians, Muslims and Arabs on our campus, asserting that their grief is less valid. Such reasoning not only erases their voices but also treats their lived experiences as negligible. It perpetuates a dangerous narrative that dissenting perspectives are somehow a threat to the dominant story.
This misdirection also serves as a distraction from the larger problem at hand. The controversy surrounding the now-canceled Oct. 7 lecture was not just about the date but part of a concerted effort to silence Palestinian voices. Abdulhadi, a respected scholar of Palestinian society, has faced relentless opposition whenever she is invited to speak at universities. Her experiences at other campuses where similarly groundless, racist attacks have occurred make it painfully clear that, as pro-Israel factions lose the war of ideas and public opinion, they are trying to redefine the boundaries of permissible discourse.
As a scholar of the Nazi Holocaust, I staunchly believe in the power of education to foster understanding amid profound pain. Oct. 7 is a day marked by immense tragedy, but it does not belong solely to any one group. We must create an environment where everyone can mourn, reflect and engage in the difficult conversations that inevitably follow. Only then can we aspire to move forward — not as adversaries, but as a community that values the lives and losses of all its members.
If we truly uphold the ideals of academic freedom and the pursuit of knowledge, we must ensure that scholars like Abdulhadi can speak freely and that all voices, not just the loudest, are heard. The future of our campus community depends on our ability to embrace complexity, confront uncomfortable truths and acknowledge varied narratives.