Spring Again: March-Chicago-COVID-April

Life is not lived in decades, years, months or days. Life is lived in moments. And it’s lived in moments when the next moment is unknown. I had my yearly mammogram mid-March and thankfully all is well. And instead of going through a simple sequence of fear-relief-joy, I was going through grief. Grief of what was and what will be, which is unknown. Grief that my mammograms will never feel like dental cleanings again (which had been my experience prior to my saga; I never had worried about it—we each have our own tailored fears). But all is well at this moment, and I was cleared to go to my first conference in two years.

Chicago was… windy. It was not my first time in the city, so there wasn’t much expectation of being outside. The conference was great. Given current events, having about three thousand people from all over the world coming together to talk about comparative international education was … healing. This was my first time flying out of town in more than two years. At the start of my cancer saga, CIES was the conference I attended in DC, in February 2023. This is the space I connect with friends, old colleagues and former students who have long become friends. This time it felt extra special. Every hug carried additional warmth, joy of reunion, celebration of being together. The hotel where the conference was held is a unique historic gem downtown: the Palmer House. Beautiful, heartfelt conversations took place there and at lunches and dinners in the surrounding area for five days. One place that stood out for me was the Ralph Lauren restaurant (until a friend suggested it, I didn’t know the company owned restaurants). It didn’t disappoint. In addition to great food and exquisite cocktails, the place has a character. A classy, timeless, fancy yet approachable, selective yet welcoming character. During our last two days it became sunny mid-afternoon, winds subsided a bit and I even ventured out to Millenium Park for a short walk along the lake. On the very last day, before our flight, my husband and I made it to the Chicago Art Institute (we visited last time 18 years ago). I obviously remembered the Chagal window and some impressionist art, but I didn’t remember (or perhaps didn’t even notice then) other gems, including a couple of paintings by John Sargent, Georgia O’Keeffe and the famous American Gothic. In many ways, this trip felt like integration, reconnecting to the very things I used to do every year, sometimes multiple times a year. A professional conference, personal conversations, good food, sightseeing, art. The most natural things for me to do, which had become unavailable for almost two years.

We came home and the next day I fell ill with covid, for the first time (I know, I’m one of the few people who miraculously had stayed away from it until now). Seeing the positive test felt shockingly normal, as if I’m joining the rest of humanity in a shared experience. While being super grateful it didn’t happen on the trip, covid has mixed reviews in my book. I had about two days of terrible body aches and fatigue that painfully reminded me of chemo. Then for four days I had dry cough and sneezing. When these symptoms subsided, my sense of taste altered, and the sense of smell completely disappeared for a few days. I was feeling significantly better by the end of the second week, testing negative about 10 days from the onset of the symptoms.  

And then there is the macro-level: in the world, in this country, and in the industry I belong to- higher education. Many of my readers are outside of Academia and many do not reside in the US. So let me provide some background information on and context for the epic battle between the US federal government and the best universities in the country. To begin with, especially for the folks outside of the US, it’s important to understand that all American universities are de facto private institutions. As opposed to Europe, Canada or Israel where the central government either completely pays for or at least significantly subsidizes higher education, this is not the case here. I’m a professor at the Pennsylvania STATE University. The state of Pennsylvania contributes 8% to our budget, that’s all. The rest comes from tuition, grants and contracts, and private donations. The proportion of each of these ingredients varies among universities, and some states may be more generous in their support, but the point is this is not a case where you can assume that if you pay for something, you should be able to control it. Yes, there are several ways the US government contributes to universities, especially in the area of research and innovation, particularly medical research —through federal grants. In addition, the federal government provides federally subsidized loans for students, so they’d be able to afford their education. So, there are significant mechanisms of influence, but it is not the only player.

Moreover, the US federal laws and policies around students’ privacy are pretty serious. Early on in my career I had to complete special training that explained that I’m not allowed to share a grade a student gets in my class with their parents (even if they are the ones paying tuition) unless I have written consent from the student. Likewise, if a third party makes inquiries about whether a student was in class on a specific day, I’m not allowed to share this information unless there is a court order. This is how much the US laws (used to) care about confidentiality and privacy. And given this background, on April 11, the federal government demanded that Harvard University provide them with access to their admission data, both graduate and undergraduate; it also demanded that a third party conducts an audit for every unit—every college and department, and if need be, every faculty member. All of this is supposedly under the goal of combating antisemitism. There is no precedent in US history of such an outrageous takeover of the institutions of higher education. Ironically, as my colleague Iveta Silova says in her essay in The Conversation, there are known historic examples of such brutal censorship—Nazi Germany, fascist Italy and the USSR.

The president of Wesleyan University, Michael Roth (who is Jewish) summarized all the points I would have made on the current situation (let me know if you don’t have access to New York Times, I’d be happy to “gift” you this op-ed). It basically comes to this: combating antisemitism is a cover, a cheap excuse to enact policies that will stifle universities (and yes, the famous freedom of speech) in an unprecedented way. Roth writes: “All of these agendas — from dismantling basic government functions to crushing the independence of cultural and educational organizations to criminalizing political speech to legitimating petty presidential vendettas — endanger the principles and institutions that have actually made this country great.” After all, this is the same US President who claimed that there are good people on both sides during the neo-Nazi, white supremacist march in Charlottesville, Virginia in August 2017 when the participants carrying torches shouted ”Jews will not replace us”. More recent case in point, in my home state: On Passover night, early morning of April 13, the official residence of the Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro was set on fire. Thankfully, everyone was safe. The room targeted for arson was the very room where the Governor and his immediate and extended family, together with the members of Harrisburg Jewish community, celebrated the Seder hours prior. The police quickly arrested the suspect, and the investigation revealed that the perpetrator holds aggressive antisemitic views. He’s accused of arson, attempted homicide, terrorism and damage of public property. And where are concerns and support of the US President? He’s silent on the case, contacted the Governor privately only six days later, and is busy fighting another Jew during Passover week- the Harvard President Dr. Alan Garber.  

Most of my readers know my geographic history. I was born and raised in the capital of the Soviet Union. At age 20, I left that place and spent the next decade in Israel. I then came to the US for my doctoral studies with my husband and son. Exactly a decade ago, in 2015, we became US citizens. So, I’m that American Jew whose interests the US federal government is supposedly protecting. I’m absolutely disgusted by the ways this administration manipulates, exploits and cynically uses the tragedy of October 7^th for their own political gains. I may hold very different views from those expressed on some university campuses during encampments, but this is not a reason for mass deportations, revoked visas and blackmailing universities. If there was a crime committed or illegal activities held, there must be an investigation and due process. Not night raids to kidnap people from the streets or their homes. Moreover, hundreds of international students got their visas revoked in the last few weeks, across (by the current count) 130 universities. It has nothing to do with their political activities (at Penn State there were no encampments, and non-official information is about 50 students lost their visa). The Department of Homeland Security does not disclose to the students affected or their universities’ administrators the reasons behind the visa cancelations. They are simply informed that they must leave the country within 48 hours, disrupting their studies and research and often leaving them with a financial burden as their apartment leases still need to be paid.

I came to the US on a student visa. Many of my colleagues and friends came here as doctoral students or postdocs. More than half of doctoral students in my department are international students. This is us, and this insanity is hurting us directly. The US has long been the main beneficiary of brain drain in the world. The best minds come here for their education and further employment. The unwelcoming environment of the last few months may reverse this trend. There is enough research infrastructure in Europe, Canada or Asia that gladly would absorb scholars and scientists who no longer feel welcome in the US. America First is America’s loss.

And yet, spring is here with certainty. Mid-March was unusually warm (or should we stop calling these things unusual?). The first daffodil leaves popped up near the lilac bushes in my yard announcing yet another blooming season. By early April, our white fountain cherry in her bridal white joined the bright yellow daffodils, surrounded by dark pink rhododendron. I can’t wait for my French and white lilac to bloom. The cycle continues, life goes on.