Yesterday marked thirty years since one of Jerusalem’s darkest days: a suicide bombing on a city bus that tore through downtown life and left dozens dead. It wasn’t an isolated episode. It was part of a pattern—an era—and it became a preview of what Israelis would face again and again: mass-casualty attacks aimed not at soldiers on a battlefield, but at ordinary people trying to live ordinary days.

I’ve spent time looking at a spreadsheet we compiled of major terror incidents across roughly the last three decades. It’s not an exhaustive list. It’s a list of major attacks—some of the worst—and even then it’s sobering how quickly the entries stack up.

Buses. Cafes. City centers. Nightlife. Families. Teenagers.

One entry that still jolts the conscience is the 2001 Dolphinarium discotheque attack in Tel Aviv—young people out for a night by the Mediterranean, and then tragedy. If you want college students to understand what “civilian targeting” means in real life, start there. Not as a talking point. As a human event. A reminder that terrorism isn’t a theory—it’s an assault on daily life.

The campus problem isn’t “caring.” It’s context.

Many students who protest today do so because they believe they are standing for justice, dignity, or liberation. I’m not questioning that impulse. I’m questioning the information diet behind it.

On campuses around the world, “Palestine” is often presented as a single, simplified moral identity—oppressed and therefore automatically righteous. Israel is framed as a single, simplified villain—powerful and therefore automatically guilty. That binary collapses history, turns real victims into background noise.

It also creates a space where people repeat slogans that sound poetic but carry implications they don’t want to own. “From the river to the sea” is one of those phrases. Many who chant it insist it’s only a call for freedom. Many Israelis hear it as a demand for a future without a Jewish state—because that’s exactly how militant groups and maximalist movements have used it.

If you want to talk about peace, talk about peace. If you want to talk about rights, talk about rights. But if you’re going to chant, at least know what you’re echoing—and who has historically driven the most extreme interpretations.

When protest becomes fashion

Another dynamic is generational: activism has become, in many places, a kind of social identity. A “cause” can function like a club—something to belong to, something to perform, something to post.

The problem with that is obvious: when activism is mainly performative, it resists facts that complicate the performance. That’s how you end up with students refusing to engage speakers, disrupting events, and treating discussion as contamination rather than opportunity.

Universities should teach students how to think, not what to chant. Too often, the loudest slogans win and honest questions get treated like betrayal.

Concrete steps universities should take

If a university president actually wanted to reduce antisemitism and restore a culture of inquiry, it would look like this:

A clear line between protest and intimidation.Protesting a policy is legitimate. Harassing students, celebrating violence, or creating “no-go zones” is not.

A clear line between protest and intimidation.Protesting a policy is legitimate. Harassing students, celebrating violence, or creating “no-go zones” is not.

Structured dialogue with real enforcement.Free speech doesn’t mean “free to shut others down.” Make room for debate—and apply harsh consequences to disruption consistently.

Structured dialogue with real enforcement.Free speech doesn’t mean “free to shut others down.” Make room for debate—and apply harsh consequences to disruption consistently.

Mandatory literacy on antisemitism and extremist propaganda.Not as a checkbox training, but as historical education: what antisemitism looks like, how it mutates, and how it travels through activist spaces.

Mandatory literacy on antisemitism and extremist propaganda.Not as a checkbox training, but as historical education: what antisemitism looks like, how it mutates, and how it travels through activist spaces.

The most important point: leadership has to lead. If a school’s values only exist when they’re easy, they aren’t values. They’re slogans.

A word about “unlikely alliances”

There’s another contradiction I can’t ignore: some activists in Western cities frame their protests as the front line of “human rights” while aligning emotionally with movements that reject basic freedoms in practice.

It’s one thing to advocate for Palestinian civilians—something many Israelis also want, because a better life for Palestinians is part of any stable future. It’s another thing to glamorize armed groups or to ignore how extremist governance can crush dissent, minorities, and women. Moral consistency matters.

The point of this episode

This is not an argument against compassion. It’s an argument against ignorance—especially the confident, viral kind.

If college students want to march, fine. But before they chant, they should learn. Before they accuse, they should read. And before they treat Israel as a cartoon villain, they should look at what Israelis have lived through for decades.

Terror didn’t begin on October 7. And it didn’t begin yesterday either. It has a history. And history matters.

Want to see the data behind this episode?I’m making the spreadsheet I referenced available to readers: “Major Terror Attacks in Israel (1996–2025)” — a curated list of major incidents, locations, perpetrators, and source links.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)