The Battle for Speech: Graduation, Activism, and the Price of Dissent
May 21, 2025, 5:48 pm
In the heart of America’s universities, a storm brews. Graduation ceremonies, once a time for celebration, have become battlegrounds for free speech and political expression. Two recent events at prestigious institutions—New York University (NYU) and Columbia University—highlight the tensions surrounding activism, identity, and the consequences of speaking out.
At NYU, a student named Rozos stood before his peers, a microphone in hand. He delivered a speech that echoed the cries of a beleaguered people. He spoke of Palestine, of what he termed genocide, and the complicity of the United States. The audience erupted in applause. Cheers filled the air. But the celebration was short-lived. The backlash was swift and severe. Pro-Israel groups condemned the speech, branding it as harmful rhetoric. They argued that such words created an unsafe environment for Jewish students. The Anti-Defamation League voiced its discontent, asserting that no student should endure politicized speech during a moment meant for personal triumph.
The fallout was immediate. NYU decided to withhold Rozos’s diploma. The university’s administration, under pressure, chose to silence dissent. Critics, including faculty members, expressed outrage. They saw this as a capitulation to political pressure, a failure to uphold the values of free speech. The stakes were high. With federal funding on the line, universities felt the heat. They were caught in a vice, squeezed between the demands of the administration and the voices of their students.
Meanwhile, at Columbia University, another story unfolded. Mohsen Mahdawi, a Palestinian activist, graduated amidst cheers. But his victory was bittersweet. He had spent time in ICE custody, a victim of a system that seemed to conspire against him. He accused Columbia’s administration of betrayal, claiming they had sold out to the Trump administration. He felt abandoned, left to fend for himself while the university turned a blind eye to his plight.
Mahdawi’s journey began in a refugee camp in the West Bank. He arrived in the U.S. in 2014, seeking a better life. At Columbia, he became a voice for the voiceless, organizing protests and advocating for Palestinian rights. Yet, his graduation was overshadowed by the absence of his friend Khalil, who remained imprisoned, awaiting a decision on his fate. Mahdawi’s future was uncertain. He had plans for further studies, but financial aid was denied. Still, he stood tall, buoyed by the support of his peers. His message was clear: the fight for justice would continue, undeterred by the obstacles in his path.
These two narratives are not isolated incidents. They reflect a broader trend across American campuses. Universities, once bastions of free thought, are grappling with the implications of political activism. The climate is charged. Students are passionate, and their voices are rising. But with passion comes conflict. The administration often finds itself in a precarious position, trying to balance free speech with the safety and comfort of its diverse student body.
The tension is palpable. On one side, there are students like Rozos and Mahdawi, unafraid to speak their truth. They challenge the status quo, demanding attention to issues that many would prefer to ignore. On the other side, there are institutions that fear the repercussions of dissent. They worry about funding, reputation, and the potential fallout from political statements. The result is a tug-of-war that leaves students feeling unheard and administrators feeling cornered.
As graduation ceremonies unfold across the nation, the stakes are higher than ever. Universities are bracing for potential disruptions. The fear of backlash looms large. Yet, students continue to push boundaries. They refuse to be silenced. They are determined to make their voices heard, even if it means facing the consequences.
In this landscape, the question remains: what is the price of dissent? For some, it may be a diploma withheld. For others, it could mean a future filled with uncertainty. But for many, the fight for justice and equality is worth the risk. They see their activism as a moral obligation, a duty to those who cannot speak for themselves.
As the dust settles on these graduation ceremonies, one thing is clear: the battle for free speech is far from over. The voices of students will continue to rise, echoing through the halls of academia. They will challenge, provoke, and inspire. And in doing so, they will redefine what it means to be a student in America today. The journey is fraught with challenges, but the pursuit of truth and justice remains unwavering. The fight continues, and the world is watching.
At NYU, a student named Rozos stood before his peers, a microphone in hand. He delivered a speech that echoed the cries of a beleaguered people. He spoke of Palestine, of what he termed genocide, and the complicity of the United States. The audience erupted in applause. Cheers filled the air. But the celebration was short-lived. The backlash was swift and severe. Pro-Israel groups condemned the speech, branding it as harmful rhetoric. They argued that such words created an unsafe environment for Jewish students. The Anti-Defamation League voiced its discontent, asserting that no student should endure politicized speech during a moment meant for personal triumph.
The fallout was immediate. NYU decided to withhold Rozos’s diploma. The university’s administration, under pressure, chose to silence dissent. Critics, including faculty members, expressed outrage. They saw this as a capitulation to political pressure, a failure to uphold the values of free speech. The stakes were high. With federal funding on the line, universities felt the heat. They were caught in a vice, squeezed between the demands of the administration and the voices of their students.
Meanwhile, at Columbia University, another story unfolded. Mohsen Mahdawi, a Palestinian activist, graduated amidst cheers. But his victory was bittersweet. He had spent time in ICE custody, a victim of a system that seemed to conspire against him. He accused Columbia’s administration of betrayal, claiming they had sold out to the Trump administration. He felt abandoned, left to fend for himself while the university turned a blind eye to his plight.
Mahdawi’s journey began in a refugee camp in the West Bank. He arrived in the U.S. in 2014, seeking a better life. At Columbia, he became a voice for the voiceless, organizing protests and advocating for Palestinian rights. Yet, his graduation was overshadowed by the absence of his friend Khalil, who remained imprisoned, awaiting a decision on his fate. Mahdawi’s future was uncertain. He had plans for further studies, but financial aid was denied. Still, he stood tall, buoyed by the support of his peers. His message was clear: the fight for justice would continue, undeterred by the obstacles in his path.
These two narratives are not isolated incidents. They reflect a broader trend across American campuses. Universities, once bastions of free thought, are grappling with the implications of political activism. The climate is charged. Students are passionate, and their voices are rising. But with passion comes conflict. The administration often finds itself in a precarious position, trying to balance free speech with the safety and comfort of its diverse student body.
The tension is palpable. On one side, there are students like Rozos and Mahdawi, unafraid to speak their truth. They challenge the status quo, demanding attention to issues that many would prefer to ignore. On the other side, there are institutions that fear the repercussions of dissent. They worry about funding, reputation, and the potential fallout from political statements. The result is a tug-of-war that leaves students feeling unheard and administrators feeling cornered.
As graduation ceremonies unfold across the nation, the stakes are higher than ever. Universities are bracing for potential disruptions. The fear of backlash looms large. Yet, students continue to push boundaries. They refuse to be silenced. They are determined to make their voices heard, even if it means facing the consequences.
In this landscape, the question remains: what is the price of dissent? For some, it may be a diploma withheld. For others, it could mean a future filled with uncertainty. But for many, the fight for justice and equality is worth the risk. They see their activism as a moral obligation, a duty to those who cannot speak for themselves.
As the dust settles on these graduation ceremonies, one thing is clear: the battle for free speech is far from over. The voices of students will continue to rise, echoing through the halls of academia. They will challenge, provoke, and inspire. And in doing so, they will redefine what it means to be a student in America today. The journey is fraught with challenges, but the pursuit of truth and justice remains unwavering. The fight continues, and the world is watching.