The AEPi chapter at Stanford. Photo: Stanford.edu

The night was cold and tense. A group of Jewish students huddled together outside their campus Hillel, clutching backpacks and phones, waiting for the chants to die down. Across the quad, a crowd surged and shouted, voices rising in anger: “From the river to the sea….” It was loud, aggressive, and deeply personal. Inside the building, someone had just taped over a mezuzah. Social media was aflame with threats and photos of students’ names and faces. The administration sent a carefully worded email urging “dialogue,” but Jewish students knew what it really meant: you’re on your own tonight.

This scene is not from a single campus, nor is it isolated. It is a composite of what Jewish students have faced across the country over the past two years, and is a story that I have been told countless times.

The fact of the matter today is that October 7 did not create campus antisemitism, but it stripped away any illusion that hostility toward Jews was sporadic or manageable. In the weeks following Hamas’ brutal attacks on Israel, Jewish students experienced not only anger but organized efforts to intimidate and silence them. College, a place meant for exploration and growth along with viewpoint diversity, became for many young Jews a place of fear, retreat, and calculation. They were forced to figure out when to speak up, when to hide, and when to walk quickly in the other direction.

University leaders, caught between competing pressures, have largely been reactive. After a crisis, they issue statements, create task forces, and hope the problem subsides. National Jewish organizations provide important advocacy from afar, but they are often too distant and too slow to respond to fast-moving campus dynamics. The result is a dangerous vacuum, one in which Jewish students feel abandoned and vulnerable.

Into that vacuum has stepped an unexpected but powerful actor: Alpha Epsilon Pi (AEPi), the international Jewish fraternity. Long known for promoting Jewish leadership and philanthropy, AEPi has developed something more ambitious: a comprehensive plan to confront campus antisemitism head-on.

It is not simply another task force or symbolic statement. It is a living system that empowers students, engages administrators, and builds networks of allies. At a time when so many institutions seem paralyzed, AEPi offers clarity, action, and hope.

A New Model for a New Challenge

The brilliance of AEPi’s approach lies in its refusal to wait. Most campus responses to antisemitism are reactive: they begin after damage has already been done. AEPi’s plan is different. It begins with the students themselves and builds outward, creating a network that connects local action to national coordination. It rests on three pillars: leadership development, community building, and proactive advocacy.

The first and most foundational pillar is leadership. Jewish students are too often cast only as victims to be protected by others. AEPi rejects this passivity. Its chapters operate as training grounds where students learn to organize, negotiate, and lead. Brothers are taught to plan events, run meetings with university officials, and navigate moments of crisis. A public Shabbat dinner isn’t just a meal, for instance. Rather, it is an act of visibility and courage. When a chapter hosts “Shabbat Across AEPi,” bringing together hundreds of students in a visible celebration of Jewish life, it sends a clear message: we are here, and we will not hide.

These experiences prepare young Jews to lead far beyond the walls of their fraternity houses. In my own writing, I’ve argued that fraternities can serve as vital mediating institutions. When done well, they provide structure, mentorship, and purpose — things that many young adults desperately need but rarely find in today’s higher education landscape. AEPi is a case study in this potential. Its chapters don’t just offer friendship or social activities. They cultivate citizens who understand that leadership is not about privilege, but about responsibility.

Building Bridges, Breaking Isolation

Antisemitism thrives in ignorance. When non-Jewish students have little meaningful contact with Jewish peers, they are more vulnerable to caricatures and conspiracy theories. AEPi tackles this directly by making outreach a central part of its mission. Its chapters host thousands of events each year that bring together students of all backgrounds: cultural exchanges, interfaith dialogues, philanthropy drives, and service projects.

These aren’t box-checking diversity or outreach programs. They are sustained, face-to-face encounters that foster trust and understanding. A non-Jewish student who helps plan a Passover meal or joins a community service event alongside AEPi brothers sees Jews not as abstract symbols in a political debate, but as friends and peers. That personal connection is one of the most powerful antidotes to hatred.

The scale of this outreach is remarkable. According to AEPi’s own reporting, its chapters created nearly three million individual “touchpoints” with students last year through engagement efforts. These numbers are more than statistics: they represent countless small moments of human connection that slowly transform campus culture.

Preventing the Next Crisis

The third pillar of AEPi’s strategy is what makes it truly novel: proactive advocacy. Too often, administrators are blindsided by crises and scramble to respond once headlines hit. AEPi flips this dynamic by emphasizing preparation and early intervention.

Before the academic year begins, AEPi sends advocacy letters to hundreds of college presidents, diversity offices, and campus security teams. These letters don’t just call for dialogue. They outline concrete steps universities can take: adopt the IHRA working definition of antisemitism, enforce codes of conduct fairly across all groups, monitor for harassment, and visibly affirm Jewish students’ right to safety and belonging.

This groundwork matters. When tensions escalate, administrators already know whom to call and what steps to take. In the days after October 7, as campuses erupted, AEPi provided private briefings and real-time intelligence to university leaders. In one case, a chapter learned that outside agitators planned to infiltrate a protest near a Jewish student center. With that advance warning, administrators deployed security and defused the situation before it turned violent. The incident never made headlines because the crisis was prevented rather than merely managed.

This kind of quiet, behind-the-scenes engagement is invaluable. It builds trust, establishes clear lines of communication, and demonstrates that Jewish students are not simply petitioners begging for protection. They are partners in creating safe, pluralistic campus environments.

Why This Model Matters

To see why AEPi’s model is so powerful, consider what it replaces. The old model of campus engagement was fragmented and reactive. Universities would issue statements after an incident, form committees, and hope for the best. National Jewish organizations would provide legal help or public advocacy, often at a distance. Students were left to navigate a hostile environment largely on their own.

AEPi bridges these divides. It empowers students at the grassroots level while connecting them to parents, alumni, administrators, and national organizations. Everyone has a role, and the pieces work together. It is operational, not performative.

The stakes could not be higher. A 2021 survey of Jewish students in Greek life found that 65 percent had experienced or witnessed antisemitism on campus, and half reported hiding their Jewish identity at some point to avoid harassment. These numbers reveal more than a safety issue. They speak to a profound crisis of belonging. When young adults feel they must erase themselves to fit in, the university has failed at its most basic purpose.

Leadership as the Missing Ingredient

The deeper truth here is about leadership. Campuses today are awash in expression but starved for formation. Students are encouraged to “speak their truth,” but they are rarely taught how to organize others, resolve conflicts, or build enduring institutions. In this vacuum, the loudest and most extreme voices dominate.

Fraternities, when structured well, fill this gap. They teach accountability and mutual responsibility. They train young adults to govern themselves and to serve others. These mediating institutions are essential to rebuilding trust and civic life.

AEPi is doing this work for Jewish students at a moment of acute need. Its toolkit is not just about defending Jewish life today. It is about cultivating the leaders who will sustain Jewish communities and contribute to the broader civic fabric for decades to come.

Scaling the Blueprint

For all its success, AEPi cannot do this alone. Its approach should be a template for others. Hillel, Chabad, and independent Jewish student groups can adapt its leadership training for all Jewish students, not just fraternity members. National organizations should integrate AEPi’s early-warning strategies into their own reporting systems.

Universities must move beyond symbolism. They should formalize the kinds of proactive partnerships AEPi has pioneered, and treat Jewish student safety as a core responsibility. Alumni and donors can provide the resources and accountability needed to sustain these efforts. And non-Jewish allies — students, faculty, administrators — should be systematically engaged and trained, not just thanked for attending a vigil once a year.

In a world where a viral TikTok can shape perceptions more quickly than any campus event, digital advocacy must also become a priority. Jewish leaders need the tools to counter misinformation online and to tell their own stories with clarity and confidence.

A Vision for Renewal

Campus antisemitism will not disappear on its own. It will only be defeated by organized, principled leadership; the kind AEPi has demonstrated. Jewish life on campus must no longer be defined by fear and retreat. With courage, preparation, and solidarity, it can instead be marked by pride, resilience, and unshakable belonging.

Fraternities are often caricatured as outdated or insular. AEPi proves the opposite. When rooted in mission and values, they can be among the most powerful engines of civic formation we have. AEPi has taken the bonds of brotherhood and turned them into a shield. Now it falls to the rest of us — students, parents, administrators, allies, public intellectuals — to take up that shield and build the future that our campuses so desperately need.

Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.

Jacob Pinto, center right, during the chuppah ceremony at his wedding in Jerusalem this past summer. Photo: Instagram/Carrie Nachmani

Six people were murdered in a Palestinian terrorist attack at a bus stop in Jerusalem on Monday, and one victim was a young newlywed who recently immigrated to Israel from Spain.

“He was a most noble, honorable, religious, kind young man … We waited all our lives for him to marry our niece. She waited for the man of her dreams,” Carrie Nachmani told The Algemeiner on Monday about 25-year-old Jacob Pinto. He married Nachmani’s niece in Jerusalem this summer.

Nachmani, a cookbook author and the mother of Instagram influencer Ariella Charnas, shared on Instagram a video from Pinto’s wedding to her niece, and it showed the couple during the chuppah ceremony. Nachmani wrote in the caption of the video that Pinto, a Spanish citizen and resident of Jerusalem, was heading to his teaching job on Monday when two Palestinian gunmen opened fire at his bus stop at Ramot Junction in northern Jerusalem, killing six people before the attackers were shot dead by a soldier and an armed civilian. She said Pinto was already onboard when the terrorists “stormed his bus and shot him.”

“He immediately called my niece to say how much he loved her, his family and their new life he had waited for,” Nachmani wrote. “There are not enough words for this evil that exists … Unbearable, inconsolable, unimaginable … life ended before it began … may his memory be a blessing.”

On Monday, Charnas shared on her Instagram Story a screenshot of her mother’s Instagram post and tribute to Pinto.

Pinto’s murder took place the same morning that Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar announced sanctions against both Spanish Minister of Childhood and Youth Sira Rego and Deputy Prime Minister and Labor Minister Yolanda Díaz. The two are banned from entering Israel, and the country has ended all official contacts with them because of their antisemitic statements and criticism of Israel’s military actions in Gaza.

Others who were killed in Monday’s terrorist attack include Sarah Mendelson, 60; Rabbi Israel Matzner, 28; Rabbi Yosef David, 43; Rabbi Mordechai Steintzag, 79; and Rabbi Levi Yitzhak Pash. Eleven others were reportedly injured in the attack, including a pregnant woman and six who were in critical condition with gunshot wounds.

Sa’ar said the gunmen were Palestinians from the West Bank. Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas released a statement condemning “any targeting of Palestinian and Israeli civilians,” but the Palestinian terrorist organizations Hamas and Islamic Jihad praised the shooting, with Hamas calling the two gunman “resistance fighters.” Neither terrorist group has claimed responsibility for the shooting.

Several guns, ammunition, and a knife used by the attackers were found at the scene of the shooting, and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said authorities were looking for suspects who might have helped the attackers. The deadly shooting took place amid a nearly two-year war between Israel and Hamas terrorists in the Gaza Strip who orchestrated the deadly massacre in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.