Why should anthropologists support the motion to suspend collaborations with Israeli academic institutions? And why did a group of EASA members concerned about the ongoing genocide in Gaza decided to write such a motion in the first place?
Maybe
you don’t know
therefore
find out.
Standing straight
where you are
might be
the first thing.
Then once you know
where you stand
stand there.
Ric Hudgens
For over eight months, the world has witnessed the harrowing violence inflicted upon Palestinians by Israel, relentless destruction and suffering vividly broadcast across our screens and social media. This extreme escalation is, as we know, part of a much longer history of settler-colonialism, conflict and suffering. While European leaders long focused on condemning Hamas and defending Israel’s right to “self-defence,” the full extent of Israel’s actions has now become unmistakably clear.
Since January, the International Court of Justice has been investigating these assaults as plausible acts of genocide, and an ICC prosecutor has identified them as war crimes and crimes against humanity. Even traditionally conservative bodies like the UN have called for a ceasefire and branded Israel as an apartheid regime. Yet, these calls and condemnations have been non-performative. As we write this piece, the ethnic cleansing and genocide of Palestinians continues unabated.
After receiving the Rafto Prize in Bergen in May this year, Secretary-General of Defense for Children–Palestine, Khaled Quzmar, asked in exasperation: “How many thousands more children will have to die before the world demands Israel to stop?” Another sobering question is what will remain of Gaza after the war, as the Israeli assaults have not merely demolished people’s homes and other civilian infrastructure like roads and hospitals; they have also systematically destroyed Palestinian cultural heritage sites, education and knowledge systems and olive groves and farmlands, with detrimental effects on Gaza’s fragile ecosystems and biodiversity.
As many Europeans enjoy their summer holidays and turn their attention to the Olympic Games in France, Palestinian men, women, and children continue to suffer and die—not only from Israeli bombs, some of which are designed, produced, and exported by our own governments, but also from the slow deaths caused by hunger (used as a weapon of war), dehydration, and disease.
Another sobering question is what will remain of Gaza after the war, as the Israeli assaults have not merely demolished people’s homes and other civilian infrastructure like roads and hospitals; they have also systematically destroyed Palestinian cultural heritage sites, education and knowledge systems and olive groves and farmlands, with detrimental effects on Gaza’s fragile ecosystems and biodiversity.
In this moment of profound suffering and devastation, we must confront two intertwined questions. First, what are our responsibilities as educators, scholars, and fellow human beings? Second, how can we act to end these atrocities within our scholarly communities and institutions? While the answers, of course, reveal that our responsibilities are vast and multifaceted, we firmly believe it is our duty to speak out and take a decisive stand as members of Europe’s largest anthropological association. To echo Toni Morrison’s call for artists to “go to work” in 2015 “There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear.” It is time for us, this community of anthropologists, to refuse genocide and academic complicity.
The motion
At the EASA conference in Barcelona this July 2024, we presented a motion to ‘suspend collaborations with Israeli academic institutions’ on behalf of the 23 concerned EASA members who had signed it. We want to stress that several of the scholars who have been involved in discussing and drafting this motion did not want to sign it due to fear of sanctions and reprisals. This includes scholars in precarious positions, but also senior scholars who have been marginalised or intimidated at their universities or in their departments because of their Palestinian rights activism. And this is telling, not only of the broader tendency to exceptionalise the Israel-Palestine issue, but of the increasing repression of Palestinian and pro-Palestinian voices and attacks on academic freedom taking place in many European institutions and societies (see, for example, here and here).
Our motion proposes that EASA:
- Does not collaborate with Israeli academic institutions until Israel complies with International Law and International Humanitarian Law and ends the occupation of the Occupied Palestinian Territory.
- Directs the EASA Executive Committee to work in consultation with the Working Group on Human Rights and Academic Freedom to give effect to the spirit and intent of this motion, in a manner consistent with EASA’s bylaws as well as the relevant national laws of its members.
- Encourages EASA members not to enter into institutional arrangements, e.g. through common research projects and grants, with Israeli academic institutions.
On our website, you can read the full motion, which includes a detailed explanation of why we believe it is urgent and important. There, we also provide links and references to scholarly publications and reports that substantiate our claims and refute frequent myths and misperceptions about academic boycotts and this motion specifically (several of which were reiterated by a small minority of EASA members expressing resistance towards the motion in Barcelona). We encourage everyone to read the information on our website carefully and educate yourself before voting.
Supporting this motion is, therefore, not just about ceasing collaboration; it is also an act of solidarity, which actively supports the rights and voices of Palestinians.
Here, we want to highlight three key reasons why we believe EASA members should support this motion:
First, suspending collaborations with Israeli academic institutions is a non-violent means to pressure Israel into complying with international law and ending its unlawful assaults and occupation whilst showing solidarity with the Palestinian people, including fellow scholars and students. Palestinian scholars and civil society have long advocated for a halt in collaboration with Israeli academic institutions as a means to pressure Israel to stop violating Palestinian rights. Supporting this motion is, therefore, not just about ceasing collaboration; it is also an act of solidarity, which actively supports the rights and voices of Palestinians.
Second, theIsraeli assaults include what the Palestinian Professor Karma Nabulsi, and later a host of other legal experts, describe as scholasticide: the systematic and wilful destruction of Palestinian education and knowledge systems, including universities, schools, libraries and archives. In April, more than 5, 479 students, 261 teachers and 95 university professors had been killed, and the last university in Gaza was demolished by the Israeli military in January.
However, the effects of scholasticide extend far beyond immediate destruction. Scholasticide is a calculated tactic within the broader scope of genocide. By targeting schools, universities, libraries, and archives, the aim is to dismantle the intellectual and cultural foundations of a community. This obliteration of educational infrastructure not only disrupts learning but also erases historical memory and cultural identity, leaving future generations deprived of knowledge and resources. Such actions ensure the systematic erasure of a community’s identity and resilience, aligning with the genocidal intent to obliterate a group’s cultural and intellectual existence.
As scholars, researchers and teachers, we cannot remain silent and passive in the face of these attacks on our Palestinian colleagues and their students and institutions. As academics and educators in Europe, the concept of scholasticide should also resonate deeply with us. From Nazi book burnings to intellectual purges during various political upheavals, Europe has witnessed the catastrophic effects of cultural and intellectual destruction. These historical traumas underscore the critical importance of safeguarding education and cultural heritage.
Third, as scholars and members of a professional association, we bear a unique responsibility to confront and address academic complicity. As carefully documented by scholars like Maya Wind (and many others), Israeli universities are deeply complicit in Israel’s violations of international law and human rights in Palestine. For instance, Israeli universities have long been involved in developing military technologies and strategies used in the occupation of Palestinian territories, conducting archaeological digs that displace Palestinian communities, and engaging in research that supports state policies of segregation and discrimination. Today, they actively support the genocide in Gaza through the provision of direct assistance to the Israeli military and intelligence establishments and by providing moral justifications for Israeli war crimes. This unethical misuse of research violates the basic ethical principle of ensuring that our research ‘does no harm’ and warrants ethical refusal and resistance from the anthropological community. The motion sends a clear message that EASA does not condone such unethical research misuse.
Academic freedom for whom?
We further want to question the widespread idea that motions like this one undermines academic freedom. To begin with, academic freedom includes the right to engage in political activities and express views, including support for motions like this. Moreover, the motion targets explicitly Israeli academic institutions rather than individual scholars. It holds these institutions accountable for their complicity or involvement in Israel’s systematic violations of human rights and international law, and encourages them to consider their roles and responsibilities and make efforts to align their actions with universal principles of justice and human dignity.
When we discuss academic freedom we need to ask freedom for whom? Israeli policies violate the academic freedom of Palestinians by restricting access to education and international academic collaboration and through the destruction of Palestinian universities. Furthermore, academic freedom for Israeli scholars critical of the Israeli government and war in Gaza is increasingly restrained and research on sensitive themes such as the Nakba of 1948 is undermined. Rather than undermining academic freedom, this motion therefore calls for academic freedom for all.
As scholars, researchers and teachers, we cannot remain silent and passive in the face of these attacks on our Palestinian colleagues and their students and institutions.
Know where you stand, and stand there
As Albert Einstein noted, “The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.” As anthropologists, we therefore stand at a critical juncture. Will we remain silent? Will we remain complicit in these ongoing atrocities? Or will we stand, use our voices, and confront the Israeli atrocities and culture of impunity?
Alongside our dear colleagues involved in drafting and supporting this motion, we firmly believe it is an important and necessary step to refuse genocide and academic complicity. As Indigenous feminist researchers have argued, refusal is both an act of resistance and a life-force that creates and sustains space for community and love. This motion is thus not merely a political statement; it is a plea to our collective conscience as a community of anthropologists. By supporting this motion, we align ourselves with the principles of non-violence, justice, human rights, and the core tenets of our discipline, which many of us inhabit in our professional work and daily lives. Our yes vote is a stand against complicity, a challenge to silencing, and a step towards fostering a deeper and more principled ethics of care within our community of anthropologists.
In considering our stance, we might reflect on Daniel Berrigan –a well-known advocate for peace and nuclear disarmament, who once advised a high school graduating class in an infamously short convocation speech to: “Know where you stand, and stand there.” This advice encapsulates two critical elements: understanding and action.
To ‘know where we stand’ is to have a deep awareness of our ethical convictions and understand the values that underpin our research, teaching and engagement with the world. It means recognising the power and responsibility that comes with our knowledge and voices, especially when addressing critical issues such as conflict and genocide. To ‘stand there’ is to be unwavering in our commitment to these values, even when faced with the shifting sands of circumstance or the enticing whispers of convenience. It entails actively occupying a space, asserting our community’s presence –and taking action by addressing complicity –whilst also moulding the future of our discipline and our relationship to this world in crisis that we inhabit. It is to act with integrity, advocate with tenacity, and engage with compassion.
In voting for this motion, we stand firm in our belief that ethical principles must guide our professional collaborations and academic endeavours. So, as we prepare to vote on this crucial motion, let us take with us the weight and the inspiration of Berrigan’s words. May they guide us in our decision, remind us of our purpose, and serve as a call to action:
Know where you stand, and stand there.
Read, reflect, and vote to suspend collaborations with Israeli academic institutions.
