They represent opposing corners at the University of Michigan, two sides of student activism that have become entrenched and rarely communicate.
Salma Hamamy is one of the most prominent faces of the pro-Palestinian movement on campus.
“One, two, three, four, open the prison doors!” he shouts, megaphone in hand, as he leads anti-Israel demonstrations in front of crowds of fellow students. “Five, six, seven, eight, Israel is a terrorist state!” Ms. Hamamy has helped lead more than 20 protests since Hamas’ deadly attacks on Israel on October 7 and the subsequent bombing of Gaza.
As he issues calls for an end to the war, or criticizes a university administration that he believes has been tone deaf to the Palestinians, he knows he can look out into the audience and find a familiar, if irritating, face: Josh Brown, a fellow student. and the opposite of Mrs. Hamamy in almost every way.
Brown is perhaps the most fervent counterprotester in Michigan. A staunch supporter of Israel and Zionism, he appears at almost every pro-Palestinian demonstration at his school, sometimes alone, always with a cell phone ready so he can record what he believes is rampant anti-Semitism.
“These are extremists,” Brown says, referring to the groups Hamamy is a part of and helps lead. “What they ask for is the destruction of my people.”
Mention it to Zionist and pro-Israel students and you might get a glare. When her name comes up among supporters of the Palestinian cause, looks of exasperation arise.
But during this painful season, with the bitterness on campus mirroring the emotions felt across the state of Michigan, a key battleground in the upcoming presidential election, one thing briefly brought them together. It took place after a heated protest, off to the side, with no one else around: a tense conversation, harsh and uncomfortable at times, but also polite.
The clash on campus
In the 1920s, when most Ivy League schools, plagued by anti-Semitism, limited annual admissions of Jewish students, Michigan opened its arms and became an alternative resource.
That legacy is clearly visible today. Hillel International Data shows the number The number of Jewish college students in Michigan now numbers nearly 5,000, one of the largest college populations in the country.
The Ann Arbor campus has also become a refuge for students of Muslim roots. A recent campus survey estimated that there were nearly 2,500 Muslim college students at Michigan.
Over the years, the high number of Jews and Muslims has led to many outreach efforts and latent stress. But the temperature on campus has never felt like this.
A network of volunteers has been created to ensure that Muslim women do not have to walk alone. There are Jewish students who are afraid to speak in class and who live with roommates whom they have long considered friends. And students of both religions are careful to wear anything that identifies their faith.
Much of the heat comes from the very different interpretations of the chants shouted, the symbols displayed and the slogans used by the protesters. Are calls for martyr veneration and intifada anti-Semitic or legitimate signs of opposition? What’s with the comparison of Israeli leaders to Hitler?
Ms. Hamamy and other activists helped lead a student takeover of the Michigan administration building, which was met with a significant show of force by police.
Citing campus-wide security fears, the administration canceled a war-related student vote that would have asked the school to recognize that Gazans were “suffering genocide.”
In January, the Faculty Senate Assembly voted to approve a measure calling for divestment from Israel, furthering campus division.
Ms. Hamamy welcomed the teachers’ vote. “Our voices are being heard,” she said.
For Mr. Brown, it was a punch in the gut.
“In the eyes of these professors, what does that do to the person who supports Israel?” she asked. “They can have their opinions,” she added, “but at what cost to people like me?”
‘A badge of honor’
Ms. Hamamy was born in 2001 and grew up in Ann Arbor during a time when racist reaction to the 9/11 terrorist attacks sparked fear among Arab and Muslim communities. Her mother advised her to keep much of her Palestinian identity hidden from her.
She did as she was told. She then entered university.
His freshman year coincided with the tumultuous attempts at racial reckoning in the United States in 2020. He began learning about the civil rights struggles of the 1960s and became active in the Black Lives Matter movement.
Social media played an important role in driving its transformation. On TikTok, X, and Instagram, she assimilated the personal narrative of Palestinians in Gaza and their demands for change.
“Palestinians have been trying to resist for so long, and every form of resistance they have engaged in has always been shut down,” he said, summarizing the views he formed. But, he added, “you cannot expect your oppressors to voluntarily give you your freedom.”
By early 2023, Hamamy had become a stalwart of the broad Michigan campus movement opposing Israel. She eventually became president of the Michigan chapter of Students for Justice in Palestine and helped form a coalition backed by 77 student organizations, including the anti-Zionist group Jewish Voice for Peace.
Talking and expressing himself became the only way to ease his pain.
The reaction came quickly. For the past four months, there have been calls for her to be expelled as a student. Her photo and personal information about her were posted online. She received death threats.
He took comfort in the fact that others suffered similar intimidation. “Several students have been told that they should be raped or that they don’t belong here,” she said. “That they are infiltrating this campus, that we should return to our countries. “That we are a great threat.”
When asked what it was like to be the target of such hatred, he smiled and paused.
“I take it as a badge of honor,” he said.
Put in the fray
Mr. Brown grew up in the suburbs of New York in a Jewish family, surrounded by a close-knit Jewish community. But he didn’t pay much attention to Israel and its place in the world.
Until he went to university.
Long before this school year, protests were common at the university, which he decided to attend with the vitality of its Jewish culture in mind. It was shocking, he said, walking to class, seeing groups of fellow students demonstrating, hearing speeches that, for him, showed hatred towards Jews.
“This wasn’t just, ‘We don’t like settlements,’ or even something as big as Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians,” he said. “They were clear calls for the elimination of Israel.”
“It was demonization.”
Mr. Brown began to immerse himself in the history of Israel. He devoured history books, Israeli newspapers, podcasts and YouTube presentations. He took a class on the Middle East conflict and joined a student group, Wolverine for Israel.
He came to believe that the general discord between Israel and its neighbors was much more understandable than he had thought. Yes, Israel had its flaws, he claimed. But “what I learned was that in every attempt at peace, the Palestinian leaders refused and did not do what is good for their population.”
“Their leaders have refused peace,” he added.
Like many others on campus, he felt that in the days and weeks following October 7, the suffering of Israeli citizens, not only the killings but also the mutilations and rapes, seemed to be ignored, minimized or questioned by those who opposed Israel. .
Since then, Brown has barely stopped appearing to counter a pro-Palestinian protest. He tries to stay on the outskirts or in sight of the police, keeping quiet, recording videos and hoping not to attract attention. But almost everyone there knows who he is.
Sometimes he finds himself in the fray, drawn into verbal skirmishes, surrounded by angry protesters who don’t like being recorded and see him as an intruder breaking into their space.
At times, it supports unpleasant tropes.
“Why are you here?” a protester yelled at him one day. You now own the United States! she said. “You own everything!”
Looking for a middle ground
Mrs. Hamamy is already waiting for Mr. Brown. “He Sometimes she shows up before me,” she said. “I have to hand it to him. He is above everything.”
His view of Mr. Brown is different from that of many of his counterparts. When he sees him, he smiles and greets him.
“I will say this,” Mr. Brown acknowledged with grim irony, “she is a lot more cordial than a lot of other people.”
At a demonstration last fall, Hamamy noticed some of his fellow protesters and Brown arguing. She called him and asked, “What do you want?”
As dusk approached, they walked alone to a nearby campus building and sat together on a bench. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to recognize the humanity of others.
You need to know why anti-Israel protesters have not strongly condemned the deaths of Israeli civilians.
She needed him to understand her point of view. It is a documented fact, he said: Israel is guilty of apartheid and genocide.
Seeking a middle ground, they discussed Islamophobia and anti-Semitism on campus. The unrest was so great that it seemed that violence might break out on campus.
Ms. Hamamy and Mr. Brown exchanged phone numbers. She recalled cautiously leaving the conversation, convinced that he hadn’t understood. She recalled feeling “relatively optimistic.” Perhaps, she thought, this could be the beginning of a dialogue between opposing sides.
That was months ago. Last week, after another protest, they spoke for a few seconds. Otherwise, they will no longer be in contact.
