Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik is often presented as a great 20th century rabbinic philosopher, but in reality, his logic was solidly based on Talmudic methodology, and his most profound insights reflect that tradition.

Here’s one: “To sacrifice the permanent on the altar of the immediate is the greatest sin a scholar can commit.” This aligns with the Talmudic dictum: “Who is wise? One who foresees the consequences” (Tamid 32a).

One of the great Talmudic sages, Rabbi Eleazar, son of Rabbi Yosei, warns that a judge must never rule based on immediate concerns alone, as doing so can undermine the very system he is meant to uphold.

A judge who prioritizes expediency over principle, seeking to compromise rather than uphold justice, does not bring peace — instead he ensures corruption and decay (Sanhedrin 6b). Short-term expediency often leads to long-term destruction, and those who fail to see beyond the moment are not fit to lead.

Which brings me to this week’s events at Barnard College in New York. I have always loved the idea of a university as a temple of learning — a sanctuary where young minds expand, ideas are sharpened, and the pursuit of truth is sacrosanct. But it has become painfully clear that something has gone terribly wrong, and the long-term negative repercussions simply can’t be overstated.

At Barnard College, a group of masked students — wrapped in keffiyehs, banging drums, and shouting slogans — stormed a campus building, physically assaulting a college employee in the process. They treated the halls of learning like a street corner rally, drowning out any semblance of reason with crude theatrics and belligerence.

Instead of engaging in thoughtful discourse, they resorted to intimidation, disrupting dozens of classes and the lives of thousands of other students, all in pursuit of a self-righteous spectacle.

And how did the college respond? With deference and indulgence. After hours of petulant refusals to engage with kindly university officials desperately attempting to reason with them, the protesters were eventually granted precisely what they wanted — no consequences, no accountability, and no responsibility for the havoc they had generated.

It was an exercise in spineless appeasement, reinforcing the already obvious lesson that on today’s college campuses, brute force and outrage are far more effective than dialogue and debate.

The protest itself was staged in response to the recent expulsion of two students who had aggressively disrupted a History of Israel class, turning what should have been an environment of learning into a battleground of political agitation.

But the mob was not content with mere protest. They demanded the impossible: immediate reinstatement of the expelled students, amnesty for all disciplinary action against so-called “pro-Palestine thought,” and a public meeting with the college president — essentially, the right to disrupt at will, without any consequences. In their world, free speech means their speech alone, and any opposition is silenced not with ideas, but with brute force.

As I watched clips of the protest on X, I found myself shaking my head in disbelief. Once, universities were temples of knowledge, where scholarship reigned supreme, debate was rigorous yet respectful, and the classroom was a sanctuary for intellectual exploration.

Now, they are being hijacked by mob rule – reduced to platforms for megaphone politics, virtue signaling, and performative outrage. The very institutions that should champion reason and discourse have become breeding grounds for hysteria and intimidation. There is a term for this: sacrilege.

In Parshat Terumah, we find the first recorded reference to a sacred space: “And they shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8). Notice the phrasing: “among them,” not “in it.”

The implication is profound. A space is not holy simply because of its walls or its grandeur. It is holy because of the people who treat it with reverence, and because of the impact that reverence will have on broader society.

When a place of learning is built on respect, intellectual rigor, and the humble pursuit of truth, that sacred spirit spreads. It lifts up all those who enter, elevating not just the institution, but society itself.

But the reverse is also true. When places of learning are hijacked by mob rule, when violence and intimidation replace scholarship and discourse, that corruption does not stay contained — it spreads like a contagion.

If universities become places of shouting rather than thinking, of bullying rather than reasoning, of destruction rather than construction, we should not be surprised when wider society begins to mirror that same decay.

Today’s students who shriek down dissent, storm buildings, and revel in chaos will be tomorrow’s professionals, policymakers, and leaders. If they are taught that force wins arguments, that disruption yields rewards, and that entitlement trumps effort, that is the world they will build — and the world we will be forced to inherit. Their ugly behavior will spill out well beyond the halls of learning.

Which is why university leadership cannot afford to appease the chaos-makers. They must be dealt with firmly, swiftly, and without hesitation.

A university that refuses to uphold its own rules — rules designed to protect the very foundation of learning — ceases to be an institution of higher education. It becomes a playground for the loudest and most aggressive, where intimidation replaces intellect, where noise drowns out knowledge, and where sacred spaces are reduced to battlegrounds of division and disorder.

To be clear, students are entitled to their opinions. They have every right to debate, to discuss, and to challenge ideas they find objectionable. But they do not have the right to storm buildings, assault staff, disrupt classes, and then demand immunity from consequences. That is not free speech. That is anarchy.

Barnard College’s administration was totally right to expel the two students who disrupted the class. They would be even more right to stand their ground and refuse to be bullied into reversing that decision. If universities are to reclaim their place as temples of learning, they must set clear boundaries and enforce them decisively.

If we allow our sanctuaries of knowledge to be overrun, we should not be surprised when the entire edifice of civilization begins to crumble. As C.S. Lewis warned: “Education without values, as useful as it is, seems rather to make man a more clever devil.”

And in the end, the real question is this: Do we want our future shaped by reason and discipline, or by chaos and destruction? Because, as Margaret Thatcher so bluntly put it: “You can’t have education without discipline. You can’t have freedom without order.”

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