When Princeton President Christopher Eisgruber turned on his fellow university leaders at an April panel discussion, all but accusing Vanderbilt and Washington University chancellors of “carrying water for the Trump administration,” he revealed the dangerous delusion gripping elite academia. His outburst at the Association of American Universities (AAU) meeting wasn’t just poor form; it was a symptom of institutional rot: the inability to acknowledge that federal intervention became necessary precisely because universities failed their most basic obligations.
The scene at the Washington, D.C., meeting was telling. Eisgruber, as AAU chair, publicly confronted Andrew Martin and Daniel Diermeier for daring to suggest that universities bore responsibility for their current predicament. The Atlantic reports that the argument dragged on for 15 minutes while other presidents shifted uncomfortably, staring at phones. Three public university presidents on the panel sat in “bewildered silence.” The awkwardness wasn’t about breached decorum; it was about watching the leader of one of America’s most prestigious institutions attack colleagues for acknowledging reality while his own campus remains under federal investigation for anti-Semitism.
This wasn’t a debate about abstract principles. It was Eisgruber’s desperate attempt to maintain the fiction that elite universities are victims rather than perpetrators, that accountability is oppression, and that denial can substitute for leadership.
The Princeton Failures Eisgruber Won’t Face
Here’s what Eisgruber won’t admit: what I see regularly, being a professor with close to two decades of experience in the academy, is that universities created the conditions that invited government oversight. At Princeton itself, the failures are glaring, specific, and documented.
On October 25, 2023, hundreds of Princeton students gathered for a walkout “in solidarity with Palestine.” What happened next should have triggered immediate disciplinary action. Students chanted “Intifada, intifada, long live the intifada,” explicitly glorifying periods when over 1,000 Israeli civilians were murdered in suicide bombings at pizzerias, on buses, and at nightclubs. They chanted “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” a call for Israel’s elimination that every Jewish student understands as threatening their people’s existence.
When an Israeli postdoctoral student stood wrapped in his country’s flag at Nassau Hall, protesters drowned him out. He later wrote: “When you are chanting ‘long live the intifada,’ you only need to go back 20 years to see the intifada that you want to continue. This intifada includes suicide bombers in restaurants, buses, and clubs, and mass shootings in the streets of Israel.”
Where were the suspensions? Where was the disciplinary action Princeton would surely have taken if students had chanted for violence against any other ethnic group?
The failures continued. Hezbollah flags flew on campus. Anti-Israel groups pulled fire alarms to disrupt events featuring Israeli officials. Jewish students reported being excluded from activities and faced harassment for their identity. Yet, Princeton’s response was bureaucratic hedging and appeals to “free expression”—as if calls for ethnic violence constitute protected speech.
Princeton is now among 60 universities under federal investigation for Title VI violations related to anti-Semitism. The complaint that triggered Princeton’s investigation came from outside, because those on campus knew speaking up would mark them as targets.
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The Data Eisgruber Ignores
The numbers tell a story Eisgruber refuses to acknowledge. According to Brandeis University research, about one-third of non-Jewish college students embraced patterns of ideas hostile to Jews or Israel during the 2023-24 academic year, with 15 percent believing Israel has no right to exist. The ADL/Hillel survey found that 83 percent of Jewish students experienced or witnessed anti-Semitism at their schools since October 7, with 41 percent feeling the need to hide their Jewish identity.
Columbia’s own internal survey revealed devastating findings: 53 percent of Jewish students reported discrimination because they’re Jewish, 59 percent believed they’d be “better off by conforming their beliefs,” and only 34 percent reported positive feelings of belonging. Columbia’s acting president called these results proof of “the undeniable and painful reality that we failed.”
These aren’t abstract statistics—they’re evidence of systematic institutional failure. Title VI of the Civil Rights Act explicitly prohibits harassment based on shared ancestry, including anti-Semitism. When universities fail to enforce their own policies, when they respond with bureaucratic hedging rather than decisive action, they don’t just fail their students; they break federal law.
The Staggering Hypocrisy of Eisgruber’s Stance
The irony is particularly acute—and damning—given Eisgruber’s own identity. He discovered his Jewish heritage as an adult when helping his son with a school project about Ellis Island. His Berlin-born mother, who fled Nazi Germany as an eight-year-old refugee, had hidden her Jewish identity so thoroughly that Eisgruber was raised Catholic and only learned the truth by accident. He’s since participated in Passover seders, visited Israel twice, and identified as a “nontheist Jew.”
Yet as a Jewish university president—one whose own family fled anti-Semitic persecution—Eisgruber deflects concerns about campus anti-Semitism while hiding behind “academic freedom.” As a constitutional scholar who has written extensively about religious freedom, he knows the difference between protected speech and harassment. His stance represents not just institutional failure but personal abdication of the most cynical kind.
In his PBS interview, Eisgruber claimed to be “deeply concerned about antisemitism” and noted, “I’m Jewish myself.” But concern without action is meaningless. He admits government intervention can be “legitimate” when addressing discrimination, then condemns that very intervention when it comes to his own institution. He wants moral credit for his identity and stated concerns without institutional responsibility for protecting Jewish students.
One Princeton professor told journalist Christopher Rufo: “To me, again, the bottom line is this: he’s bought into the ideology that certain people are victims and certain people are oppressors.”
The Ideological Homogeneity that Enables Denial
I’ve spent years studying campus culture and administrative behavior. My research shows that only a small minority of student-facing administrators identify as conservative—and even fewer regularly engage with views different from their own. This ideological homogeneity directly shapes which concerns get recognized and which groups receive protection.
When antisemitism aligns with political causes administrators sympathize with, it’s minimized or excused. When it comes wrapped in the language of anti-colonialism or social justice, it gets a pass. This isn’t speculation, it’s an observable pattern. At Columbia, faculty justified violence and dismissed student fears. “Diversity, equity, and inclusion” (DEI) offices designed to foster inclusion remained silent when Jewish students needed them most. The American Anthropological Association declared its scholarship should be placed “in service of dismantling institutions of colonization,” abandoning academic neutrality for activism.
This ideological capture explains why Princeton can simultaneously claim to oppose discrimination while tolerating chants for ethnic violence. In their worldview, Jews are coded as oppressors, making violence against them not just acceptable but righteous “resistance.”
The False Binary of Resistance vs. Reform
Eisgruber and his allies, including Wesleyan’s Michael Roth, frame this as a binary choice: resist Trump or surrender academic freedom. This framing serves their interests but obscures reality. The reformist camp, led by Martin and Diermeier, understands what Eisgruber won’t acknowledge: Reform isn’t capitulation—it’s survival.
Their Statement of Principles, adopted before the election, doesn’t genuflect to political power. It returns to educational fundamentals: “If research universities are to pursue the truth wherever it lies, they cannot have a political ideology or pursue a particular vision of social change.” That’s not radical; that’s what universities claimed to believe all along, and that is the actual telos of higher education.
When Martin observes that “you can’t look at what happened on many university campuses last academic year and conclude that everything is just fine,” he’s stating what should be obvious to anyone not trapped in denial. When Diermeier warns that universities must reform or be reformed, he’s acknowledging reality. As he wrote in the Atlantic: “Once you’ve been portrayed as the villain, that creates a job description for the hero. Many people want that job.”
The reformers, many in red or purple states, understand what Eisgruber doesn’t: public confidence in higher education has cratered. When universities are seen as irredeemably biased, as hostile to half the country’s values, as places where certain identities are protected while others are targeted, the entire enterprise loses legitimacy.
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The Catastrophic Price of Princeton’s Denial
The costs are mounting by the day. Princeton has had $210 million in research grants suspended—funding for everything from climate research to medical breakthroughs. The university implemented a hiring freeze in March, with the provost warning of “considerable uncertainty and risk.” Faculty can’t hire postdocs. Labs may close. Student research opportunities are evaporating.
This isn’t abstract. It’s cancer research interrupted. It’s climate science halted. It’s the next generation of scholars being told there’s no funding for their work. All because Eisgruber would rather attack reformers than reform.
Columbia agreed to pay more than $200 million and accept sweeping federal oversight—independent monitors, reformed disciplinary procedures, new protest policies. Harvard risks losing $1 billion. Cornell faces a $1 billion freeze. Northwestern, $790 million. Brown, $510 million.
These aren’t political stunts; these are consequences of institutional failure that Eisgruber refuses to acknowledge. Yet, in his Atlantic essay, Eisgruber calls government action “the greatest threat to American universities since the Red Scare of the 1950s.” No—the greatest threat is university presidents who think civil rights law doesn’t apply to them.
Where Is Princeton’s Board?
Eisgruber serves at the pleasure of Princeton’s Board of Trustees. Where are they? Why haven’t they demanded accountability? Their silence while Princeton hemorrhages funding and reputation represents another layer of institutional failure.
These aren’t passive observers. They have a fiduciary duty to protect the institution. When Princeton loses hundreds of millions in federal funding, when it faces federal investigation for civil rights violations, when Jewish students report feeling unsafe on campus—that’s a board-level crisis requiring board-level action.
Yet they remain silent while their president picks fights with reformers, alienates peer institutions, and frames accountability as oppression. They enable Eisgruber’s denialism while faculty research collapses and Princeton’s reputation craters.
When a university president attacks colleagues for acknowledging problems while his own campus faces federal sanctions, while his institution loses critical funding, while students report discrimination—and the board does nothing—that’s not oversight. It’s abdication.
The Stakes for Jewish Students Are Life and Death
Behind these statistics are real students facing real hatred. The Israeli postdoc who stood alone at Nassau Hall while hundreds chanted for his country’s destruction. Jewish students who watched their peers glorify the intifadas that murdered children in pizza shops. The 22 percent who report being excluded from activities because of their identity. The 41 percent who hide their Jewishness to avoid becoming targets.
When Rabbi Gil Steinlauf says “extremist thinking is largely marginalized” at Princeton, he’s being diplomatic to the point of dishonesty. When students can chant for ethnic violence without consequence, extremism isn’t marginalized—it’s mainstreamed. When Jewish students must hide their identity to feel safe, the campus has already failed them.
This isn’t about hurt feelings or microaggressions. It’s about students being told, explicitly and repeatedly, that violence against their people is not just acceptable but praiseworthy. It’s about creating an environment so hostile that Jewish students must choose between their identity and their education.
What Real Leadership Would Look Like
Real leadership would start with truth. Yes, Princeton allowed anti-Semitism to fester under political cover. Yes, the October 25 walkout, where students chanted for intifada, should have resulted in immediate suspensions. Yes, when protests target Jewish students specifically, that’s not free expression, that’s harassment that violates federal law.
Real leadership would mean implementing specific, measurable reforms:
- Immediate suspension for any student calling for violence against any ethnic or religious group
- Clear enforcement of time, place, and manner restrictions that prevent targeted harassment
- Transparent reporting of all bias incidents with public accountability for responses
- Disciplinary action for faculty who contribute to hostile environments
- Genuine viewpoint diversity in hiring, programming, and curriculum
- Regular third-party audits of campus climate with published results
The Columbia settlement offers a model. Independent oversight isn’t capitulation, it’s accountability. Reformed disciplinary procedures aren’t surrender—they’re justice. When institutions prove they can’t police themselves, external oversight becomes necessary.
The Choice That Will Define Princeton’s Future
Princeton and its peer institutions face a defining choice. They can continue down Eisgruber’s path—denying problems, attacking reformers, framing accountability as oppression, bleeding funding and credibility until they become irrelevant finishing schools for the privileged. Or they can acknowledge their failures and commit to genuine change.
If they choose denial, they’ll accelerate their own destruction. Every month of resistance means more lost funding, more faculty departures, more reputational damage. They’ll confirm that elite higher education cares more about ideological conformity than inclusive excellence, more about institutional privilege than student protection.
The reformers understand what Eisgruber doesn’t: this isn’t a temporary crisis that will pass when Trump leaves office. It’s a reckoning decades in the making. Universities have lost public trust through their own actions. They can earn it back through reform, or they can lose everything through resistance.
Bottom Line
Princeton’s Board of Trustees has one last chance to save its institution. They can continue enabling Eisgruber’s catastrophic denialism, or they can demand the leadership Princeton deserves. Because when a university president—himself Jewish and a constitutional scholar—attacks colleagues for acknowledging reality, even as his campus is under federal investigation for anti-Semitism, hemorrhaging hundreds of millions in funding, and leaving Jewish students feeling unsafe, that’s not principled resistance. It’s moral cowardice. It’s institutional malpractice. It’s a betrayal of everything universities claim to represent.
Eisgruber wrote in his Atlantic essay that universities must “speak up and litigate forcefully to protect their rights.” But universities don’t have the right to violate civil rights law. They don’t have the right to create hostile environments for Jewish students. They don’t have the right to tolerate calls for ethnic violence.
Universities do have responsibilities: to protect all students, to enforce their own policies, and to maintain environments where education can occur without intimidation. When they fail these responsibilities, when they choose ideology over safety, when they attack those acknowledging problems rather than solving them, they forfeit their claim to public support.
Princeton can still choose differently. The Board can demand Eisgruber’s resignation and bring in leadership committed to reform. The administration can implement real changes that protect Jewish students. The institution can acknowledge its failures and work to rebuild trust.
But time is running out. Every day of denial deepens the damage. Every attack on reformers isolates Princeton further. Every failure to protect Jewish students validates federal intervention.
The question isn’t whether Princeton will reform. It’s whether it will reform itself or be reformed by others. Eisgruber has made his choice clear: denial, deflection, and attacks on those telling the truth. If Princeton’s Board allows this to continue, they’re not protecting academic freedom—they’re destroying their institution.
And when Princeton falls, when it loses federal funding permanently, when Jewish students abandon it for schools that protect them, when faculty flee to institutions that can fund research, when its reputation lies in ruins, members of the Board will have no one to blame but themselves. They had every warning. They saw every sign. They chose complicity over courage.
That’s not just a failure of leadership. It’s a betrayal of Princeton’s mission, its values, and most of all, its students. When institutions forget their purpose, when they abandon those they’re meant to protect, when they choose ideology over humanity, they deserve to fail.
And unless Princeton changes course immediately, dramatically, and sincerely, that’s exactly what will happen. The only question is whether anyone will mourn its demise.
Image: “Princeton University President Christopher L. Eisgruber ’83 at Virtual Class Day 2021 Kick-Off” by Ron Cogswell on Flickr
