Editor's note: The ideas expressed in this blog are not necessarily those of the Othering & Belonging Institute or UC Berkeley, but belong to the author.
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The Free Speech Movement at UC Berkeley in the 1960s was a movement born from civil disobedience that helped reshape the nation. Students, faculty, and staff insisted their voices belonged in the debates of the day: war, civil rights, and the future of democracy itself. As Martin Luther King Jr. marched in Selma and protests against the Vietnam War spread, Berkeley’s campus community demanded the right to speak freely, to challenge injustice, and to call out poverty and racism in a nation deeply divided.
That history is etched into our campus. We still gather at Sproul Plaza. We still drink coffee in the Free Speech Café, a tribute to that era of courage.
But nearly 60 years later, our university is again being tested—not for expanding free expression, but for restricting it.
The university recently handed over the names of 160 faculty, staff, and students to the Trump administration, which claims it’s investigating reports of campus antisemitism. The list includes people accused of antisemitism, those affected by it, and even those who filed complaints—some based on anonymous allegations and without clear assurance that due process has been followed. While it is said this is the case, it appears that some people are being investigated for being critical of Israel, and even of the Trump administration.
While antisemitism is real, destructive, and must be opposed, the mere invocation of antisemitism—or any charge of bigotry—cannot be used as a reason or basis for silencing dissent, or eroding rights. The mantle of antisemitism does not obfuscate due process. It does not obfuscate the First Amendment. It does not obfuscate freedom of expression, freedom of ideas—which is what not only the Constitution is built upon, but also the university itself. And even the courts have recognized that the Trump administration has misused charges of antisemitism for political ends. To confuse that misuse with genuine accountability is dangerous.
For the people on this list, the consequences of this action are potentially devastating. They stand to lose their privacy, their livelihoods, and even their freedom. Some may be deported. Others may be fired or denied future employment. Still others could face arrest or government harassment. These are not hypotheticals—we have seen it before in our history, when suspicion and political pressure ruined lives and careers. To comply uncritically with such demands is to become complicit in that harm.
These phenomena are not entirely new. During the McCarthy era, most universities caved to demands to expose students and faculty suspected of being “un-American.” Harvard stood up more than most, but even there the record is uneven. Berkeley itself was slow to defend its own community and exposed its students, staff, and faculty to unfair treatment by moving too quickly to align with political pressure. We should remember this history as we confront what feels like a new wave of McCarthyism—this time, draped in the language of antisemitism or “national security.”
And the echoes are unmistakable.
Then, universities turned over names of suspected communists. Today, they hand over names of people accused of antisemitism. Then, loyalty oaths were demanded to prove patriotism. Today, compliance is demanded to prove one’s stance on antisemitism. Then, suspicion alone was enough to ruin lives. Today, it risks deportation, job loss, arrest, and permanent stigma. The pattern is familiar.
History, symbols of belonging are not enough
Recent data shows how far our institutions have drifted from their own commitments. The Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) just released its sixth annual College Free Speech Rankings, surveying more than 68,000 students across 257 American campuses. Out of those, 166 schools received an “F” for their free speech climate. UC Berkeley – once celebrated as the epicenter of the Free Speech Movement – was among them.
Think about that: the campus that once sparked a national wave of student activism for free expression now fails on the very value it championed. That failing grade is not just a blemish on reputation—it is a warning sign that the principle of belonging, and the very foundation of our liberal democracy is at risk.
This irony is painful. Berkeley’s Free Speech Movement linked free expression with civil rights, antiwar activism, and the broader struggle for dignity. But even this reading is too narrow. The right to dissent, to question, to challenge is not a liberal or conservative idea. It is the foundation of most liberal democracies. When law firms, corporations, and universities are scrubbing their websites, not because they have a change of heart or that they are breaking the law, but because they are afraid, then we are in a very dangerous place. Even today, in the center of campus the Free Speech Café is a daily reminder that this university once dared to say: speech and inquiry are at the heart of learning. But if Berkeley cannot live out that legacy in practice today, then the symbolism rings hollow.
The right to have differing views is not dependent on who is in office. Our constitution accords people with rights and dignity no matter who they are. The provision of due process shows up in the constitution twice, and it is not conditional. Everyone, no matter who they are, whether or not they are accused of crimes, citizens and non-citizens, the rich and the poor, are all promised due process. This means everyone, when being attacked by the government, has a right to tell their story before an impartial arbiter. It is not just our ideal as advocates of fairness and justice. It is also one of our founding constitutional principles. We must celebrate and embrace this and other expressions, even if we do not always live up to them.
These principles build on the concept we follow at the Othering and Belonging Institute that insists all people belong. And the idea of belonging is not just in our constitution, but also in many of our religious teachings. The framework of belonging without othering reminds us that dignity cannot be selectively applied. Everyone deserves due process. Everyone deserves the right to be heard. There is no exception—not for race, religion, citizenship, wealth, or ideology. To betray this principle is to betray the very promise of the university and the nation. Berkeley’s “F” is not just about free speech—it is about whether we are willing to create a culture where no one is cast out of belonging.
Fighting forward
In conversations with colleagues, I’ve heard the refrain: the university will protect its faculty and students “to the extent it can within the bounds of the law.” That sounds reasonable. But we must ask: whose law? Under McCarthyism, the law demanded loyalty oaths. Under segregation, the law enforced apartheid in our own country. Dr. King reminded us that we have a moral obligation to resist unjust laws, and that nonviolent civil disobedience is not passive—it is active resistance rooted in love and dignity.
Today, courts are pushing back on Trump-era executive orders around antisemitism and DEI, many of which are of dubious legality. Even if they were legal, they would remain deeply immoral. Universities have a duty to challenge them before exposing their people to political wrath and retribution. Legal protections alone are too narrow, and they cannot be the last word.
With that said, sometimes we must fight back, but more importantly, we must fight forward.
To fight forward means to defend rights not simply to preserve the past, but to carve out a future where belonging is real. It means standing up when our principles are under attack, even when the law is unclear, and even when the risks are high.
Dr. King once said of hardened segregationists that he would not chase them, but he would leave the light on and the door open. That posture—firm in our values, open in our humanity—is the essence of bridging. It does not mean being passive in the face of injustice. It means refusing to dehumanize even as we resist.
Berkeley—and every university—must decide whether it will cave to raw power and threats as it did in the McCarthy era, or whether it will lean into its legacy as the home of free speech, civil rights, and human dignity. Our choice today is not only about investigations or accusations. It is about the future of belonging and democracy in this country.
I am aware that standing up has risks, but I am also aware that not standing up may have greater risks.
Every institution, every individual, and every nation has blemishes on their records. We all make mistakes but hopefully we also learn and grow. As I call out this challenge to Berkeley and to our country, I am not doing it as a dispassionate observer. I am part of this institution called Berkeley and this country called the United States. And it is in the spirit of being part of these entities and caring for them that I am calling for all of us, including our leaders and decision makers, to follow our best principles, especially in difficult times.
