Six Principles That Actually Matter Right Now on Campus

Much of the conversation about antisemitism on campus is stuck oscillating between panic and policy.

One day it’s about security.

The next day it’s about statements.

Then it’s about social media.

Then it’s about the next incident.

All of that matters, but none of it works unless it’s grounded in something deeper.

Over the past several years, and especially in the academic year following October 7th, I found myself returning to the same question again and again:

What are the non-negotiables?

What are the principles that, if they are present, make advocacy more effective… and if they’re absent, quietly undermine even the most well-intentioned efforts?

What follows is not a checklist or a playbook. It’s a set of six principles that I’ve seen through my own work on campus, that consistently shape whether Jewish student activism builds confidence and power… or burns people out while achieving very little.

They apply across campuses, contexts, and countries. And they matter now more than ever.

1. Pride Matters

As I wrote about in my earlier piece “Pride, Partnership & Power” Jewish students cannot stand up to antisemitism if they are unsure whether Jewishness itself is something worth standing up for.

This may sound obvious, but it’s often treated as secondary. Something nice to have once the “serious” advocacy work is done.

That’s backwards.

Jewish pride is not a vibe. It’s infrastructure.

Students who feel rooted in Jewish identity (culturally, historically, spiritually) are steadier under pressure. They’re less easily shaken by hostility. They don’t need to outsource their self-worth to external validation.

Without pride, advocacy becomes defensive and brittle. With it, students can speak clearly without apology.

This is why Jewish campus organisations that treat pride-building as core to their advocacy, rather than separate from it, consistently see stronger leadership and healthier activism.

You don’t defend what you’re embarrassed by.

You don’t advocate for what you don’t understand.

And you don’t sustain what you don’t love.

2. Relationships Matter

Antisemitism is not fought in isolation, and Jewish students should not be expected to do this work alone.

Relationships matter at every level:

• Between Jewish students themselves

• Between Jewish students and campus professionals

• Between Jewish organisations and administrators

• Between Jewish communities and broader campus coalitions

At Hillel, relationship-building is often described as our core competency. When applied properly to advocacy, it’s one of our greatest strategic assets.

But relationships don’t mean access.

They don’t mean proximity.

And they definitely don’t mean performative allyship.

They mean trust built over time.

They mean showing up before you need something.

They mean understanding what motivates the person across the table, not just what frustrates you.

When relationships are strong, difficult conversations become possible. When they’re weak, even justified demands land flat.

Statements don’t move institutions.

People do.

3. Agency Matters

Jewish students must be agents in decisions that affect them, not props in meetings held on their behalf.

This is one of the most common and costly mistakes in campus advocacy.

Professionally run Jewish organisations play a vital role. But when professionals meet with universities or governments without students in the room, something important is lost. Credibility, legitimacy, and power.

Students who are elected by their peers carry moral authority that cannot be replicated by appointment. Administrators know this. Officials know this. And students themselves feel the difference.

Agency builds confidence.

Confidence builds leadership.

Leadership builds outcomes.

The goal should never be to “protect” students from activism. It should be to equip them to lead it, with support, preparation, and backup when needed.

Nothing about us without us isn’t just a slogan. It’s a strategy.

4. Narratives Matter

Antisemitism today is not only about policy or prejudice. It’s about story.

And right now, antisemitic and anti-Zionist activists are often telling a story that is simpler, louder, and emotionally compelling... even when it is factually incoherent or morally distorted.

Too often, Jewish advocacy responds by correcting details instead of reframing narratives.

But people are moved by meaning before they are moved by footnotes.

We need to think more seriously about how we articulate:

• Jewish peoplehood

• Jewish history

• Jewish vulnerability and Jewish resilience

• Zionism as a story of self-determination, not perfection

This doesn’t mean dumbing things down. It means telling better stories. Stories that are honest, grounded, and capable of holding complexity without collapsing into self-flagellation.

If we don’t tell our story well, others will tell it for us.

And they already are.

5. Experiences Matter

Information changes minds slowly.

Experience changes people quickly.

High-impact immersive experiences (things like conferences, retreats, Shabbatonim, travel) consistently do more to shape confident Jewish leaders than dozens of disconnected campus events.

Any program where students are together overnight, learning, debating, and living Jewishly, creates depth that simply can’t be replicated in a one-hour slot between classes.

This is true for Jewish students.

And it is especially true for allies.

There are few things more transformative than:

• Non-Jewish students experiencing a full Shabbat

• Allies travelling with Jewish peers to Israel or Poland

• Seeing Jewish history and Jewish peoplehood come alive through lived encounter

Students who have been somewhere: whether geographically, intellectually or emotionally… speak differently when they return. Their voices are calmer, clearer, and more grounded.

If we want leaders who can hold complexity, we have to give them experiences that demand it.

6. Hope Matters

Finally, and this is not sentimental, hope matters.

If Jewish students internalise the belief that things are inevitably getting worse, advocacy turns into triage instead of stewardship.

Hope is not denial.

Hope is not naivety.

Hope is the refusal to outsource the future.

This principle is deeply informed by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’ teaching on the “politics of hope”: the idea that societies and communities flourish when they believe with complete faith that they have the power to shape what comes next for them.

I always tell students that while things may get harder before they get better… they will get better. Especially if students believe their actions matter.

Cynicism paralyses.

Hope mobilises.

And movements without hope will never build anything lasting. Nihilism is a rot that has taken root in far too many parts of the Jewish world right now and to combat that we have to provide students with an aspirational vision for a future that looks genuinely brighter than the world we live in today.

From Survival to Stewardship…

Taken together, these principles point to a larger shift Jewish life on campus still hasn’t fully made.

From survival to stewardship.

From reaction to responsibility.

From asking “How do we get through this?” to asking “What are we building?”

Pride.

Relationships.

Agency.

Narratives.

Experiences.

Hope.

None of these are optional. And none of them work in isolation.

But when they are present together, Jewish student advocacy becomes steadier, smarter, and more effective. Not just at responding to antisemitism, but at shaping a campus culture where Jewish life can actually thrive.

That’s the work now.

Not just to endure the moment, but to invest in the future.