Minocuhe Shafik resigned last week as president of Columbia University after little more than a year. Her resignation letter began by describing her “immense sadness” in stepping down, understandable given the prestige and opportunity of an Ivy League presidency, long considered a plum role in what Shafik described as a “life dedicated to public service.”
In normal times, you would have to ask why someone would give all that up. But these are not normal times, and the answer is obvious. A glance at the jubilant and downright vicious comments noting Shafik’s departure on the official Columbia University Instagram account gives a sense of the climate in which Shafik was operating.
“A pathetic end to a feeble and embarrassing tenure,” noted one of the gentler posts. “Shame on her for not responding to antisemitism with courage and strength,” said another. “Go to hell Minouche! Free Palestine,” wrote a third. From many others, there were sounds of glee: “brat summer,” “Ding dong the witch is dead” and unprintable epithets laced with watermelon emoji.
Doubtless Shafik made mistakes during her brief tenure. A university has many stakeholders, and it is healthy and good for various parties to criticize a president’s policy decisions and positions and to work through appropriate channels to effect change. But the attacks against Shafik were not just professional, they were personal, and they were dehumanizing. The lack of civility, empathy and just plain humanity in the invective directed at her make it hard to think of the university as a welcoming or supportive environment in which to live and work.
Managing any large institution is hard, but the pressures on university presidents after the Hamas attack on Oct. 7, the Israeli military response and subsequent student protests, faculty outcry and entrenched campus encampments make it almost untenable.
Shafik frequently found herself in a no-win situation, subjected to harsh judgment from both pro-Palestinian and pro-Israel factions. She was criticized not only for the conciliatory nature of her testimony before Congress but also for agreeing to testify before Congress in the first place, even though institutions like Columbia rely on federal funding and support. It would have been fruitless for Shafik to try to please everyone, but the atmosphere on campus made it impossible for her to locate any common ground or sense of shared mission.
Shafik’s departure is nothing to celebrate, even for her critics. For now, Columbia has named an interim president, but doubtless it will be a challenge to find a permanent leader willing to assume the mantle. When running one of America’s great institutions goes from a prize position to a misery, nobody wins.
Pamela Paul is a New York Times columnist.
