Matthew Continetti: The Lawless Left and Its Liberal Camp Followers
Then came October 7. Within hours of the attack on Israel, pro-Hamas protests spread on college campuses. Liberal administrators did nothing. They barely lifted a finger to protect Jewish students and guarantee that every student could study without harassment from keffiyeh-wearing thugs. University presidents found themselves unable to condemn calls for genocide. They lost their jobs—justly.The War Against the War Against the Jews
The Biden administration denounced anti-Semitism and pledged support for Israel. But, as the war continued, Israel became a liability within the Democratic Party. Hamas sympathizers grew in number and intensity. Biden slow-walked military aid and pressured Israel to make a deal with Hamas. Harris refused to appear with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. When hecklers accused her of supporting genocide, she could only respond, “If you want Donald Trump to win, then say that. Otherwise, I’m speaking.”
She spoke. And Trump won. The Democrats’ inability to confront and contain anti-Semitism on America’s campuses and city streets was a preview of things to come during Trump’s second term. The cause may change—Gaza one day, ICE the next. The spineless liberal response to radicalism does not.
Republicans fell into a similar trap in the years after the January 6, 2021, riot at the U.S. Capitol. Trump supporters who soft-pedal the events of that day run the same risk as liberals who succumb to tribalism and dogma. At the same time, January 6 also exposed the hollowness of the liberal position: They found a riot they wouldn’t call “mostly peaceful” and brought down the heavy hand of government on everyone involved.
The pattern holds. On June 12, Mayor Bass imposed a curfew on downtown Los Angeles. The protests diminished. Yet she still held Trump responsible for the mess, not the actual criminals. “Every time you do something like this,” she said, referring to Trump’s bringing in the National Guard, “you provoke the population.”
Madame Mayor needs a refresher course in cause and effect. Democrats who wink at violent protest don’t just risk their electoral future. They guarantee more chaos.
But there is a problem beyond objections to the method, means, and motivation of Trump officials in fighting anti-Semitism. Any sustained response—even one less assertive than Trump’s—to anti-Semitism in America must be grounded in law. And while some of the administration’s actions will likely be sustained in court rulings, particularly those regarding the almost unassailable executive authority over immigration, others will go by the wayside instantaneously when another party takes the White House, and perhaps before. It is for this reason that Congress is so critical.I Taught My Students the ‘Iliad.’ Then They Went to War.
Unfortunately, on this question, as on so many others, Congress has embraced rhetoric over action.
In 2023–24 as the anti-Semitic conflagration swept through academia, many on Capitol Hill recognized the characteristic role of TikTok in fanning the flames. The Chinese social media company played a critical role in popularizing anti-Semitic tropes and in organizing anti-Semitic gatherings. And Congress did act, if admittedly for reasons going well beyond TikTok’s promotion of anti-Semitism. It required the president to shut down or force the sale of TikTok. Donald Trump has done neither, choosing not to enforce the letter of the law. Congress has done nothing, effectively undercutting its own legislative power. One can at least take some solace in the fact that this law was passed; not so, most others.
Like the Antisemitism Awareness Act, there have been several important pieces of legislation introduced relating to foreign donations to universities, including additional restrictions for so-called countries of concern; support for terrorism by nonprofits and organizations such as Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP); additional reporting requirements for student-visa holders engaging in anti-Semitic or pro-terror activities; and more.
One bill, the DETERRENT Act, introduced by Representative Michael Baumgartner (R-WA-5) and a bipartisan group of co-sponsors, would lower the financial threshold for universities on reporting foreign gifts and contracts, particularly from countries of concern. It would also require colleges and universities to disclose detailed information about all substantial foreign donations and partnerships. Institutions that fail to comply with new transparency standards would face the risk of losing access to federal student-aid programs. The act also directs the Department of Education to create a publicly accessible database of reported foreign gifts, and it authorizes new penalties for noncompliance. It has gone nowhere in the Senate.
The second bill passed the House in 2024: Introduced by Representative Claudia Tenney (R-NY), the Stop Terror-Financing and Tax Penalties on American Hostages Act legislated tax relief for hostages and, more important, established a process by which the secretary of the Treasury could designate a nonprofit as a “terrorist supporting organization” if, within the previous three years, it has provided material support to a designated foreign terrorist organization. That provision in the Tenney bill made it largely intact into this year’s HR 1, the “Big Beautiful Bill Act,” before it was quietly stripped out in committee.
Other bills relating to punishing compliance with BDS, requiring greater transparency regarding foreign donations to both NGOs and universities, requiring public disclosure of donors to nonprofits receiving federal funding, and demanding disclosure of university rules regarding anti-Semitism have been introduced, only to wither on the committee vine.
Congress’s failure to enact laws to address the proliferation of anti-Semitic activities in the United States, on and off campus, means that, just as was the case during the Trump-Biden transition in 2021, any future cross-party transitions will see a slew of reversals of executive branch executive orders, as well as rules and regulations promulgated while Donald Trump was in office. And the policies enacted therein will simply cease to exist.
Nonetheless, Congress has not been entirely supine. Investigations into organizations such as American Muslims for Palestine (AMP) and its subsidiary groups continue in the Senate Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions Committee. Even more encouraging, the State of Virginia, where AMP is headquartered, is digging aggressively into AMP’s and Students for Justice in Palestine’s possible ties to terrorism. That probe began with a formal request for documents and information from AMP in late 2023, citing potential violations of state charity laws and links to the national SJP movement. AMP challenged the request in court, but, in mid-2024, a Richmond court rejected its arguments and ordered AMP to comply with the state’s inquiry. After further legal back-and-forth, the court reaffirmed in May 2025 that AMP must turn over the requested materials. The investigation is still underway.
So, yes, there is movement forward, but it is halting and confusing, and the enemies of Israel are still working relentlessly. The voices of Jew-hatred still screech. And the physical danger in which Jews on American soil find themselves is growing. This all contributes to a dispiriting feeling of failure for advocates of stronger measures to fight Jew-hatred. And there have been failures. But we cannot sink into despair, because that would lead to inaction. We must be as relentless as our foes. Congress must be pressured to cement into law the necessary safeguards ensuring that U.S. tax law, schools, and media do not become instruments of an increasingly anti-Semitic agenda. The critical initial steps require awareness and transparency, and fortunately, we now have much more of that than was the case just two years ago.
Before October 7, the malign agenda of foreign agitators and anti-Semites at home was largely obscured from view. Jews believed that the era of overt Jew-hatred was in the past. There is no one who believes that today. We know what the problem is, we know what needs to be done, and, while it will take time to institutionalize the kinds of protections imperative to keeping Jews safe in America, it will happen if we have perseverance and courage. We have seen anti-Semitism weaponized to murder and harass Jews around the world and at home. The time has come to turn the tables, and to weaponize anti-Semitism against its perpetrators and sponsors.
My student was well trained for combat but was never trained to recognize what war might do to his soul. He had learned the high moral values of the IDF—such as “the purity of arms,” meaning that soldiers should use their weapons and force only to the necessary extent and must maintain their humanity even during combat. But he learned nothing about the shocking violence required in combat situations. The Iliad gave him a deeper understanding of what human beings are capable of. The Illiad’s ending, with Achilles and Priam mourning together, gave him an opening for hope. Even from these depths, one can return to humanity.
Reading Homer After October 7
We spent eight classes on the Iliad, and when we had completed it, I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought the difficult part was behind us. The Odyssey, which came next, had generally been less traumatic for the students: It deals with a man returning home to his wife and son. A simple story, right? His trip home from the Trojan War takes 10 years, and the first half of the book primarily deals with Odysseus’s adventures during his journey. But then Odysseus arrives at his island, Ithaca, and the pace of events slows down substantially. The rest of the book is dedicated to describing the week that begins with his arrival on the island’s shores and ends with his full recognition as its king. In these pages, Homer devotes considerable space to describing his meetings with his wife, Penelope, who waited for him for 20 years.
When Odysseus enters his home, he is disguised as a beggar. His wife is surrounded by dozens of violent young men who seek to conquer her heart and inherit their home. In the evening, after the suitors have left, Penelope and Odysseus speak intimately. She tells him openly about her pain in having her husband away for two decades, but he continues to pretend he is someone else. At this point in my class, the students are angry with him: “Why doesn’t he tell her the truth? How can he deceive her after everything she has suffered for him?” But one student who served in the war and was married understood Odysseus’s actions. “Even when I return home from Gaza and my wife asks me how it was, I lie,” he said. “I can’t tell her what I really went through and I’m not sure she’s capable of hearing it.”
The second time Odysseus and Penelope meet, he has revealed his identity and eliminated all the suitors. Penelope comes out to meet him joyfully, but upon seeing him she isn’t sure whether to approach him. Their son, Telemachus, cannot bear the standoff and scolds her. In the past, my students would always agree with Telemachus: “Why is she hardening her heart now?” This year they sided with Penelope. One of the students shared: “When my husband went on leave from Gaza for the first time, he sent me a text message and my heart burst with joy. He sent another text when he got off the bus and I suddenly felt distrust. When he stood at the doorway I froze. Is this the man I said goodbye to two months ago?”
Another student, who got married during the war, suggested that Penelope is consciously examining the returned Odysseus. In her own way, she too has been fighting for the past 20 years: initially raising a child alone and in recent years preserving the home and maintaining her independence against the pressure of suitors. Penelope wonders if the man who has now returned is worthy of her efforts?
Reading Homer After October 7
“This thought occupied me during the war,” said my student. “I tried to act in a way that would justify my return, the worry and anxieties my wife experiences while waiting at home. I tried to see where, within my framework as a warrior on the battlefield, I could care for the person I would be the day after the war.”
At the course’s concluding session, one of the students said: “I always thought the Iliad was the difficult story. Only when I returned home from the war did I understand that The Odyssey is the real challenge. War is just preparation for the return.”
Coleman Ruiz, a former Tier One U.S. Navy SEAL joint task force commander, recounts that the tool that helped him cope with the process of returning to civilian life comes from Joseph Campbell’s formula for all great stories: the “hero’s journey.” The journey has three stages, each challenging in its own right: departure, initiation, and return. The journey begins with a crisis in society that causes the hero to embark on the path of trials. After successfully completing his initiation, he is called to return to society with the wisdom he has gained in order to contribute to its healing and growth. For many years I taught these ideas in my fantasy literature course, but I never thought about them in the context of warriors who left their homes to defend their country. The thought of our returning warriors as the third part of the hero’s journey significantly changed my perspective: The returnees need our help, but we need them no less.
Jonathan Shay, an American psychiatrist who treated Vietnam War veterans, argues that there are certain aspects of war’s impact on fighters’ psyches that Homer identifies better than today’s mental health professionals. I am not an expert on war or mental therapy, but teaching the Iliad and The Odyssey during the war made clear to me the unique ability of this ancient literature to give expression and framework, meaning and significance, to the experience of war and the return from it.
Reading Homer After October 7Reading Homer After October 7
I always took pride in learning from my students, but honestly, how much could young people in their twenties really teach me about a book I’d read more than a dozen times? The war reversed the roles: Now they were truly teachers and I was the student.
In the past two years I learned things about the Iliad and The Odyssey that before the war I never understood. My students taught me so much more: They taught me about fear and love, courage and sacrifice, about personal coping and about the ability to act together despite disagreements. The journey of return is not only for the soldiers and their families but for all of Israeli society: We sent this generation into battle and we must ensure their return. Moreover, we have much to learn from them. The ancient stories provide a language that can help us all complete the journey.
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