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Counter-protesters hold Israeli flags across from pro-Palestinian protesters at Tulane University in New Orleans on April 29. Chris Granger/The Associated Press
Gus Carlson is a US-based columnist for The Globe and Mail.
As thousands of graduates and their families gathered at Tulane University's commencement ceremony in New Orleans last weekend, the sense of trouble hung in the air like thick bayou humidity.
On benches beneath the moss-draped oak trees on campus, or at the Boot, where parents and alumni enjoyed the eve of sipping “Boot Bombs,” a mix of Jägermeister and root beer, at the student watering hole known as the Boot, the question on many people's minds was whether the anti-Israel protests that have rocked Tulane for months would flare up again and disrupt the high-profile event.
It was no small matter: A significant percentage of Tulane's student body is Jewish, the highest of any U.S. university not explicitly considered a Jewish institution.
But no unrest ensued. Tulane officials had preempted any attempts by protesters to repeat their misdeeds: heavy police presence was deployed throughout campus, danger zones were cordoned off with 20-foot-tall chain-link fences, and visitors were repeatedly warned that freedom of speech does not mean the right to interfere with the freedom of others, and that violators would be punished.
Is this a sad comment on the state of campus life? Maybe it is, but Tulane's hardline stance serves as a lesson to many ivory tower and corporate C-suite top administrators across academia.
Unlike many other universities that have allowed and even encouraged protests that have disrupted campuses and workplaces, Tulane's leaders understand that academic institutions are essentially businesses. Their customers are the students and their families who buy their products, and their investors are the donors and taxpayers who fund their operations. Freedom of expression may be a guiding principle, but when it threatens the survival of the enterprise, it's not a one-way street. At least not at Tulane.
In many ways, Tulane's commencement ceremony was the equivalent of a company's annual meeting: a chance for university officials to demonstrate the school's skill in preparing talented young people — its core product — and its stability in the face of the winds of current events — after all, this is a university that has endured Hurricane Katrina and survived for 150 years.
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For more than 2,000 alumni who experienced the devastation of Hurricane Ida and COVID-19 in 2021, the message from Tulane University leaders in responding to the protests sparked by the Gaza conflict was clear: “We will respond.”
Tulane's stance is one that any leader, academic or corporate, should take to heart. As the presidents of Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania learned firsthand, protests of any kind can and should be grounds for removal if they endanger business. In these instances where leaders failed to condemn pro-Palestinian protests, super-rich donors withdrew their support.
Columbia University canceled its flagship graduation ceremony this month after weeks of disruptive protests on campus that culminated in police raids to remove protesters who had occupied buildings on the Manhattan campus.
Columbia's leaders' inability or unwillingness to lead has had a major impact on the university's financial health. Donors are withdrawing funds, students are hesitant to enroll, and parents are hesitant to pay tuition. There are also moves in the U.S. Congress to end public funding for universities like Columbia, which received more than $1.2 billion in taxpayer funding last year in addition to more than $13.6 billion in private endowments.
Tulane University was an early adopter of that trend after violent clashes broke out between students and masked protesters in pickup trucks carrying large Palestinian flags after the Gaza conflict began on Oct. 7. The university suspended students, faculty and staff who were causing trouble, shut down campus organizations that were stoking opposition, and worked with police to remove professional protesters from the edge of campus. In a way, it was protecting its business.
The atmosphere was the same at the graduation ceremony, where Tulane University's position was reiterated over the public address system and on giant digital billboards inside and outside Yulman Stadium, where the ceremony was held.
“Tulane University promotes and protects the free exchange of ideas,” the message reads. “Freedom of expression includes the right to participate or not participate in the exchange, consideration, and discussion of ideas. It does not include the right to interfere with the freedom of others.”
Tulane University's commencement speaker was also a smart choice: Presidential historian Jon Meacham delivered a nonpartisan keynote address, urging graduates to pursue civil debate rather than insubordination.
There were brief glimpses of the issue: One graduate wore a stole in the colors of the Palestinian flag, which was lost in a sea of brightly colored Tulane-themed umbrellas carried by graduates, a school tradition; and a small plane towing an Israeli flag flew over the stadium early in the ceremony, eliciting no reaction, positive or negative, from the crowd.
The most visible display of emotion during the program was the crowd's reaction to Yolanda Winsey's soulful rendition of the jazz favorite “Reasons I Miss New Orleans.” Many were moved to tears. But their tears were tears of joy and gratitude for the graduates, not tears of sadness or anguish that the moment had been marred by protests. It was a testament to Tulane's leadership putting the interests of key stakeholders first.
