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A scholar sees a common root for antisemitism and racism: ‘Christian supremacy’
(JTA) — Magda Teter’s new book, “Christian Supremacy,” begins in Charlottesville, Virginia, on Aug. 11, 2017. Hundreds of white nationalist neo-Nazis who ostensibly gathered to protest the removal of a statue of Confederate general Robert E. Lee from a local park broke into a chant: “Jews will not replace us.”
Other writers and scholars would note how antisemitism shaped white nationalism. But Teter, professor of history and the Shvidler Chair of Judaic Studies at Fordham University, saw something else: how centuries of Christian thought and practice fed the twin evils of antisemitism and racism.
“The ideology espoused by white supremacists in the US and in Europe is rooted in Christian ideas of social and religious hierarchy,” she writes. “These ideas developed, gradually, first in the Mediterranean and Europe in respect to Jews and then in respect to people of color in European colonies and in the US, before returning transformed back to Europe.”
In the book, subtitled “Reckoning with the Roots of Antisemitism and Racism,” she traces this idea from the writings of the early church fathers like Paul the Apostle, though centuries of Catholic and Protestant debates over the status of Jews in Europe, to the hardening of racist attitudes with the rise of the trans-Atlantic slave trade.
Antisemitic laws and theology, she argues, developed within Christianity a “mental habit” of exclusion and dominance that would eventually be applied to people of color up to and including modern times.
Teter is careful to acknowledge the different forms antisemitism and racism have taken, distinguishing between the Jews’ experience of social and legal exclusion and near annihilation, and the enslavement, displacement and ongoing persecution of Black people. And yet, she writes, “that story began with Christianity’s theological relation with Jews and Judaism.”
Teter is previously the author of “Blood Libel: On The Trail of an Antisemitic Myth,” winner of the 2020 National Jewish Book Award. At Fordham, the Catholic university in the Bronx, she is helping assemble what may be the largest repository of artifacts and literature dedicated to the Jewish history of the borough.
We spoke Thursday about how groups like the Proud Boys embrace centuries-old notions of Christian superiority, how “whiteness” became a thing and how she, as a non-Jew raised in Poland, became a Jewish studies scholar.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
Your book was conceived and written during the COVID lockdown. Where did the idea for the book come from?
It’s an accidental project. I’ve been teaching the history of antisemitism for years, and I live in Harlem so questions of race and racism are very stark in my daily life. And since I grew up in Poland, and American history was not something we were taught or studied, I’ve never been satisfied with the various explanations for the strength of antisemitism and history of racism. And as I mentioned in my prologue, I watched the Raoul Peck documentary, “I Am Not Your Negro,” which has a clip with James Baldwin saying that white people have to figure out why they invented the idea of the N-word and must “embrace this stranger that they have maligned so long.” You could also say that the European Christians created the idea of “the Jew” and that sort of caricature had absolutely nothing to do with flesh and blood Jews. I kept noticing these parallels, as an outsider, reading American and African-American history.
I was also thinking about this idea of servitude that was attached to Jews in Christian theology, and then in law.
You write in your book that “Over time, white European Christians branded both Jews and people of color with ‘badges of servitude’ and inferiority.” What do you mean by servitude in this context?
In Christian theology, from the earliest Christian texts, the idea of servitude and slavery is attached to the concept of Jews and Judaism. Paul does it in his Epistles. He uses this quote from the book of Genesis that “the elder shall serve the younger,” which becomes really embedded in Christian theology. It is the Jews, the elder people, who should serve the Christians, the younger people. Later on in medieval theology and canon law, Jews are in a servile position, consigned for their sin of rejecting Jesus to perpetual servitude. So even though Jews were free people and could live mostly where they wanted to live, marry whoever they wanted to marry — nobody was sold and some even had slaves — that idea of Jews as confined to perpetual servitude to Christians created a habit of thinking of Jews as having an inferior social status.
That language became secularized in modern times, and we see the development of the [antisemitic] trope of Jewish power: that they are in places where they shouldn’t be. I worked on fleshing out the parallels between the idea and then legal status of Jewish servitude and the conceptual perception of Black people in servile and inferior positions.
Magda Teter’s new book explores how “white European Christians branded both Jews and people of color with ‘badges of servitude’ and inferiority.” (Chuck Fishman)
What other kinds of parallels did you find between racism and antisemitism?
In the Christian theology, Black people, like Jews, will be seen as cursed by God. Jews were [portrayed as] lazy because they didn’t work physically — they made money and exploited Christians. Black people were [portrayed as] lazy because they were trying to avoid physical labor at the expense of white men. Both people were seen as carnal, both as sexually dangerous, and so on.
I was struck by the fact that the racist turn of Christian supremacy — justifying the enslavement of Black people on theological grounds — is a fairly late development, taking hold in the early modern period when Europeans established slaveholding empires.
That’s right. In the summer of 2020, the summer of George Floyd and Black Lives Matter, we were all thinking about these issues of race and racism and America. And as I was in the middle of writing the article that became the book, I felt that there was a deeper history that needed to be told, and that slavery is not bound by color until the enslavement of Black Africans by Europeans during the colonial expansion of Europe.
After the French Revolution, when Jews were offered “emancipation” in much of Europe, there were deep debates about whether they could be citizens and be entitled to the same rights and protections as Christian citizens of France and England and other countries. How was that debate informed by Christianity?
In pre-modern Europe, there was obviously both a religious and legal framework under which Jews existed. They had their place in a social hierarchy. After the French Revolution, people are creating a new political reality. The idea of equality obviously challenged the social hierarchies that existed, including the idea that Christians were the superior religion. And that begins to play a role on two levels. One is the level of, well, “how can you be equal and be our judges and make decisions about us?” It’s fear of power — political power and political equality. That challenges the habit of thinking that sees Jews as inferior, in servitude and otherwise insolent and arrogant.
The other level comes from Enlightenment scholars who begin to place Jews in the Middle East and in the Holy Land, in Palestine. Jews are no longer seen as European. They are seen as “Oriental,” and they are compared to the non-European religions and practices that these Enlightenment scholars have been studying. Their differences are now also racialized. “They are not like us, they can’t assimilate. They can never be Frenchmen, they can never be Germans.”
And I guess it’s a short step from that to regarding people with dark skin as inferior and subordinate.
That’s right. Enlightenment scholars are also trying to to understand why it is justified to enslave Black Africans and they do it through “scientific” and other means. They classify Africans as inferior intellectually and they create this idea of race.
I began to think about these European politicians and intellectuals in terms of creating their identities, and what I ended up arguing is what we saw in Charlottesville, what we’re seeing in Europe. It’s not necessarily just about hate, but it’s about exclusion and rejection of Jews and people of color from equality, from citizenship.
And the common thread here is that whiteness and Christianity become inseparable. You write that “freedom and liberty now came to be linked not only to Christianity, but to whiteness, and servitude and enslavement to blackness.”
That’s right. White Christian “liberty” becomes embedded and embodied in law.
Did you see any pitfalls in drawing parallels between the Black and Jewish experiences? I am thinking of those in either community who might say, “How dare you compare our suffering to theirs!”
Yes, I was tempered. I think what some call “comparative victimhood” has paralyzed conversations about this subject, and I kept it in my mind all the time. What I hope comes through is that there’s incredible value in a comparative approach. Coming from Jewish studies as my primary field, the comparison with the Black experience gave me clarity on the nature of antisemitism as well as on the nature of the Jewish experience, and vice versa: The Jewish experience can also give clarity to some of the aspects of anti-Black racism.
What’s an example?
So, for instance, questions like, “Are Jews white? Are they not white? When did they become white?” That’s a whole genre of scholarship. And when you look at it through the lens of law and ideology, you begin to see that from a legal perspective, Jews were considered white in the United States because they could immigrate and they could be naturalized according to law. They did not have to go to court to become American. Their rights to vote were not challenged. There was discrimination, they couldn’t stay in hotels and in some places they couldn’t find employment, but by law, they were considered citizens. The debate about the whiteness of Jews is creating a fog of misunderstanding.
Black Americans were targeted by specific legal statutes from the very beginning in the Constitution and then in naturalization law and so on. And then there was the backlash even after the Civil War to the 13th, 14th and 15th amendments [aimed at establishing political equality for Americans of all races].
Statues at the Strasbourg Cathedral depict Ecclesia and Synagoga, representing the triumph of the church, at left, and the servitude of Judaism, which is represented by a blindfolded figure, drooping and carrying a broken lance. (Edelseider/Wikimedia Commons)
How much do modern-day white supremacists, like the Oath Keepers or the Proud Boys, see themselves as Christian? Or is this a kind of white supremacy that doesn’t name itself Christian but doesn’t even realize how many of its ideas are based in theology?
I think they might not be conscious of this legacy, but neo-Nazis take from the legacy of the Nazis who themselves were not thinking of themselves as Christian necessarily. But what I argue in the book is that white Christian supremacy becomes white supremacy. It never discards the Christian sense of domination and superiority that emerges from its early relationship with Jews and Judaism.
In the United States, Black people serve as contrast figures to whiteness, in the law and in the culture. You cannot have whiteness without Blackness. For Christians, Jews serve as that contrast figure. Consciously or unconsciously, the Proud Boys are embracing that. They talk of “God-given” freedoms for white people. That is the Christian legacy.
You said that the Nazis didn’t necessarily see themselves as a Christian movement. But I must ask, even though it is not the scope of your book, was the Holocaust a culmination of white Christian supremacy? Because I think many Christian theologians would want to say that Nazism was godless, and a perversion of the true faith.
I’ll say that when exclusionary ideology is coupled with the power of the state, that’s where it can lead.
In the years since the Holocaust especially, there have been many efforts by Christian leaders to address the ideological failings of the past. You write about Nostra Aetate, the 1965 declaration by the Catholic Church absolving Jews of collective guilt in the death of Jesus and some Protestant documents of contrition. But I got the feeling you were disappointed that many denominations haven’t gone far enough in reckoning with the past.
There was a sort of a moral sense that something needs to be addressed after the Holocaust. But then it is not fully addressed. I don’t think anybody has addressed the issue of power — the roots of hate, yes, but not the dynamics of power. We’ll see where the book goes, but maybe theologians will begin to grapple with this legacy of superiority and domination, and the way hierarchical habits of thinking have been developed through theology and through religious culture.
What other impact do you hope the book may have?
White supremacy is very much in the air. We need to speak up against it, and make connections and allyships. I hope that maybe because the book deals with law and power, it may create bridges among people who care about “We the People” as a vision of people who are diverse, respectful and equal, and not the exclusionary vision offered by white and Christian supremacy.
A cross burns at a Ku Klux Klan rally on Aug. 8, 1925. (National Photo Company Collection)
I’d love to talk about your background. You’re not Jewish but you are chair of Jewish Studies at Fordham, a Catholic university. What drew you to the study of Judaism and the Jews?
I grew up in Poland with a father who from the time I was a little girl would point out to me that there had been Jews in Poland. We would drive through the countryside, and he’d say, “This used to be a Jewish town and there used to be a synagogue and there was the Jewish cemetery.” I grew up being very conscious of the past’s presence and this kind of stark absence of Jews in Poland, where in the 1970s when I grew up Jewish history was taboo.
As soon as Jewish books on Jewish subjects began to be published, including those that dealt with antisemitism, we would read it together. We would talk about it. He wouldn’t just shift the destruction and murder of Jews in Poland on to the Nazis.
There was no Jewish studies program in Poland when I was applying to universities, so I studied Hebrew in Israel, and then studied Yiddish in New York at YIVO. I came to Columbia University to get my PhD in Jewish history and my career went in the direction it did. I was a professor of history and director of the Jewish and Israel studies program at Wesleyan University. I came to Fordham eight years ago and created a program in Jewish studies.
Your previous book was about the blood libel, the historic canard that Jews murdered Christian children to use their blood. This one’s about antisemitism. I don’t want to presume, but is your interest in these subjects in any way an act of contrition?
I grew up in a very secular household. I did not grow up Catholic. But I think growing up in Poland made me very, very aware of antisemitism and the history of antisemitism. I got my PhD from Columbia University in Jewish history, which did not emphasize Jewish suffering, but Jewish life, and I have studied Jewish life and teach about Jewish life — not just about Jewish suffering.
However, in the last few years, antisemitism has certainly been on the minds of many of us. I also am committed to the idea of shared history, and therefore all my scholarship, as much as it is about Jews, it is also about the church and Poland and the law. Jews are an integral part of that history and culture. And, as such, I’m committed to that, to teaching about the vibrancy of Jewish life as much as the dynamics of what made that life difficult over the centuries.
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The post A scholar sees a common root for antisemitism and racism: ‘Christian supremacy’ appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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In the Social Media Age, What the Torah Teaches About Gossip Is More Relevant Than Ever
Social media apps on a smart phone. Photo: Jonathan Raa/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” This often-quoted line is usually attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt, although ironically, there’s no proof she actually said it. This makes it a fitting introduction to a discussion on gossip, truth, and our tendency to repeat irresistible stories — real or not.
Modern psychology has devoted a surprising amount of attention to the study of gossip, and its conclusions are rather more nuanced than one might expect. Far from being merely idle chatter or malicious whispering, gossip turns out to serve a meaningful social function. It helps people bond and creates the kind of informal networks that allow individuals to navigate the complexities of social life.
In other words, when people engage in what we dismissively call tittle-tattle, they are often doing something constructive — strengthening connections and quietly laying the foundations of lasting social relationships.
And yet, research underscores a vital caveat: While gossip can build social bonds, its malicious form erodes trust and achieves the opposite effect. When gossip sours, it distorts reality, encourages harsh, often unjustified judgments, and breeds suspicion.
What starts as a seemingly harmless exchange — “Did you hear what happened with so-and-so?” — can swiftly become a narrative with far-reaching consequences, echoing widely and lingering long after the original words.
That has always been the case. But recently, the scale, speed, and stakes have increased. Social media has supercharged gossip, making it far more potent and dangerous. What once occurred in private circles now unfolds publicly, amplified by algorithms favoring outrage and sensationalism. Gossip isn’t just local — it fuels widespread conspiracy and can fracture societies.
The wave of conspiracy theories proliferating online in recent years — claims about hidden forces manipulating events, and viral rumors about public figures spreading faster than corrections — has seeped into mainstream conversation. News of public shootings or assassination attempts quickly sparks theories of “false flag” operations or that those arrested are merely patsies.
Such narratives start on the fringes but spread quickly because they tap into a deeply human urge: to feel privy to hidden knowledge, to believe we see what others do not. By the time facts emerge, the damage is done — and facts are dismissed as cover-ups. Reputations inevitably suffer, and the harmful consequences outlast the true facts.
What all of these examples have in common is not merely their inaccuracy, but their emotional appeal. Gossip, whether ancient or modern, thrives on a particular kind of pleasure — the satisfaction of being “in the know,” coupled with the subtle reinforcement of one’s own worldview.
In a polarized environment, that pleasure is intensified. We are far more inclined to believe, and to repeat, information that confirms what we already think, especially when it casts the “other side” in a negative light.
All this signals a broader societal shift. Modern, digitized gossip now powerfully drives polarization. It is no longer just people speaking ill of each other; it has become a process where entire communities build parallel realities, each sustained by its own ecosystem of rumors, half-truths, and falsehoods.
Given these developments, the Torah’s treatment of gossip in Parshat Tazria–Metzora feels less like an ancient curiosity and more like a strikingly relevant corrective. The metzora — one afflicted with tzara’at, a discoloration that appears on skin, clothing, or walls — is traditionally seen by Chazal as suffering the consequences of lashon hara, harmful speech.
Remarkably, it is not just about the harmful speech producing a physical manifestation, but also the response to the condition: The metzora is isolated (Lev. 13:46): בָּדָד יֵשֵׁב מִחוּץ לַמַּחֲנֶה מוֹשָׁבוֹ – “he must sit alone, outside the camp.” The social fabric once woven by innocuous gossip is now withdrawn; the result of malicious speech is, quite literally, social isolation.
Lashon hara does more than harm its immediate target; it undermines the integrity of the entire community. It distorts reality, erodes trust, and creates divisions where cohesion should prevail. In a society built on shared values and mutual responsibility, that kind of corrosion cannot simply be ignored.
But the Torah does not merely punish — it educates. The isolation of the metzora is not an act of rejection, but an opportunity for reflection. Removed from the constant chatter and the endless exchange of words, the metzora is forced to confront the true power of speech — what it can build, and what it can so easily destroy.
In our world, we rarely experience that kind of enforced pause, especially in an age of addictive smartphone use. We scroll endlessly through emails, messages, videos, and social media, caught in a relentless information stream.
The pressure to respond is immediate, and the urge to share something that is particularly evocative or provocative is ever-present. There’s always another headline, a salacious rumor, or some kind of “inside information” demanding attention and ready to be passed along.
The medium may have changed, but the core dynamic remains. Words still shape reality; they influence how we see others, interpret events, and position ourselves in society. The only real difference is that the ripple effects are now far greater.
Our goal shouldn’t be to eliminate social chatter — which is neither possible nor desirable — but to act with more responsibility. The fleeting satisfaction of spreading sensational news is often outweighed by the long-term cost to truth and trust.
One should certainly resist being the first to repeat a story; instead, be the person who ensures accuracy and fairness. This discipline, difficult in a culture favoring speed over nuance, is what the Torah seeks to instill.
Millennia before social media and modern polarization, the Torah revealed a simple truth: Speech is not neutral. It leaves a mark and, when misused, can fracture people and communities.
Every time we want to share that intriguing, unverified detail, we aren’t just making harmless conversation. We are shaping the world we and others live in. That’s a responsibility to take seriously.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
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Europe’s Counterterrorism Strategy: How Laws and Intelligence Cooperation Strengthened Security
French police and members of French special police forces of Research and Intervention Brigade (BRI) secure the area near Iran’s consulate where a man was threatening to blow himself up, in Paris, France, April 19, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Benoit Tessier
Over the past two decades, Europe has faced evolving terrorist threats that required a comprehensive and coordinated response. From lone-wolf attacks to transnational extremist networks, European states have been compelled to rethink their security frameworks. In response, the European Union and its member states have developed a multi-layered counterterrorism strategy centered on legislation, intelligence cooperation, and institutional coordination. This approach has significantly enhanced Europe’s ability to prevent and respond to terrorism, although challenges remain.
At the core of Europe’s counterterrorism efforts lies a robust legal framework. European countries have introduced extensive legislation aimed at criminalizing terrorism-related activities, including recruitment, financing, incitement, and travel for extremist purposes. These laws are designed not only to punish acts of terrorism but also to prevent them before they occur. By harmonizing legal standards across member states, the European Union has reduced legal loopholes that previously allowed suspects to exploit differences between national systems.
One of the most important aspects of this legal evolution is the emphasis on preventive measures. Authorities now have greater powers to monitor suspects, disrupt networks, and intervene at earlier stages of radicalization. This proactive approach reflects a shift from reactive policing to anticipatory security, where the focus is on identifying threats before they materialize.
However, legislation alone is not sufficient. Intelligence cooperation has become a cornerstone of Europe’s counterterrorism strategy. Given the transnational nature of modern terrorist networks, no single country can effectively combat terrorism in isolation. European intelligence agencies have therefore intensified their collaboration through formal and informal mechanisms that facilitate the exchange of information.
A key platform in this regard is the Counter Terrorism Group (CTG), which brings together intelligence services from EU member states to share assessments and coordinate responses. In parallel, agencies such as Europol and Eurojust play a crucial role in operational coordination and judicial cooperation. Europol supports law enforcement by providing intelligence analysis, while Eurojust facilitates cross-border prosecutions and legal coordination.
The importance of information sharing cannot be overstated. Timely and accurate intelligence allows authorities to track suspects across borders, identify emerging threats, and prevent attacks. Systems such as the Schengen Information System (SIS) enable member states to share alerts on individuals suspected of involvement in terrorism, enhancing border security and law enforcement effectiveness.
In addition to intra-European cooperation, transatlantic collaboration has also been a key component of counterterrorism efforts. The United States and European countries have worked closely to exchange intelligence, track foreign fighters, and dismantle terrorist networks. For example, data sharing initiatives have enabled European authorities to identify individuals returning from conflict zones and assess the risks they pose.
Another critical dimension of Europe’s counterterrorism strategy is the effort to cut off funding for extremist groups. Terrorist organizations rely on financial resources to operate, recruit, and carry out attacks. European governments have implemented strict measures to combat money laundering and terrorist financing, including enhanced financial surveillance, regulatory oversight, and international cooperation. These efforts aim to disrupt the financial lifelines of extremist networks and reduce their operational capabilities.
Despite these advancements, Europe continues to face significant challenges. One of the most pressing issues is the phenomenon of radicalization, particularly among individuals who are born and raised in Europe. Online platforms have become a major tool for extremist propaganda, making it easier for groups to recruit and indoctrinate individuals. Addressing this challenge requires not only security measures but also social and ideological interventions that tackle the root causes of extremism.
Another challenge is balancing security with civil liberties. Expanding surveillance powers and preventive measures has raised concerns about privacy and human rights. European governments must navigate this delicate balance to ensure that counterterrorism efforts do not undermine the democratic values they seek to protect.
Moreover, the return of foreign fighters from conflict zones such as Syria and Iraq poses an ongoing security risk. European countries must decide how to handle these individuals, whether through prosecution, rehabilitation, or monitoring. This issue highlights the complexity of modern counterterrorism, where legal, ethical, and security considerations intersect.
In conclusion, Europe’s counterterrorism strategy has evolved into a comprehensive system that combines legislation, intelligence cooperation, and financial controls. By strengthening legal frameworks, enhancing information sharing, and fostering international collaboration, European countries have significantly improved their ability to combat terrorism. However, the dynamic nature of the threat means that these efforts must continue to adapt. Future success will depend on maintaining this balance between security, cooperation, and the protection of fundamental freedoms.
The author is a political analyst specializing in Middle East affairs, with a focus on political Islam, regional security, and minority rights.
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Gen Z Canceled Critical Thinking
Illustrative: Thousands of anti-Israel demonstrators from the Midwest gather in support of Palestinians and hold a rally and march through the Loop in Chicago on Oct. 21, 2023. Photo: Alexandra Buxbaum/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
As a society, we haven’t reckoned with the impact that cancel culture has had on Gen Z, and we need to.
Starting in 2020, cancel culture was implemented through social ostracization, major media campaigns, online bullying, and toxic one-sided debates used to demean individuals for their perspectives. For developing brains, cancel culture created a very real fear in their life: the fear of social death.
Because cancel culture doesn’t care about your morals or values, it is used as a form of social control that latches on to anything different from the dominant political ideologies. Social death will be performed through ostracization.
For Gen Z, cancel culture taught us not to share our own perspectives, not to post our own ideas on social media, and, saddest of all, to stop talking with one another about conflicting ideas. Cancel culture has led to a form of self-suppression, effectively silencing ourselves. This in turn has led to the decline of critical thinking and allowed for a mental void to take the spot of a once-busy analytical brain.
Critical thinking has become dangerous in a society that platforms specific ideologies above democratic debate.
As a society, we have not truly realized what cancel culture has done to our generation, starting in 2020. Professors and teachers continue to ask students, “What do you think about this?” and expect an authentic answer, not realizing the student can only give them a safe answer from within the accepted ideological bubble. Because if a student steps outside of what has been deemed “moral” by the virtue-signaling police, they will be shunned and a social death will ensue.
I’ve experienced this firsthand at the University of British Columbia (UBC), a university with over 60,000 students but no room for different views.
The dominant social justice warrior ideology on campus has become anti-Israel, and wearing my IDF hoodie draws vicious UBC Reddit and social media attacks. When I discussed a translation assignment with an English professor and said I’d like to translate a Hebrew prayer, I was pulled aside and asked if I “work for Zionist entities?” Through social isolation, my peers and professors alike have shunned me for my support of Israel, simply because it doesn’t align with the dominant woke ideologies of our generation.
Unless we reckon with cancel culture, which has been branded as a purity test for moral clarity, we can’t begin to discuss how to get children to think critically again.
As a society, we allowed this disease to affect the brains of my generation. Unless we do something about it, we will become Generation Zombie, and the mental apocalypse will be upon us.
I used to feel afraid to share my own opinions when I started university, because for a while, cancel culture won, and I muzzled myself. But this is anti-democratic; intimidation of thought has become a tool to control our young, impressionable generation. We must reckon with this before moving forward and taking accountability for a solution.
My solution to this disease is to ask questions. We have to revert back to our pre-school cognitive development stages, when we asked, “why, what, when, where, and how.” We have to revert back to searching for answers and hearing a difference of opinion.
This sounds simple at its core. However, to Generation Zombie, we have to reteach these fundamental cognitive capacities. I say this as a Gen Zer who has lived experience inside our Canadian university system since 2020 and can attest that academic rigor and the ability to grapple with complex ideas are going the way of the dodo bird.
Be curious. Ask questions.