Summer weather in New Hampshire is pretty much perfect. With the exception of the recent heatwave, it’s sunny and just warm enough to jump in the river, but not too hot that you can’t sit outside for hours enjoying the greenery. The “Dartmouth bubble” is a well-known phenomenon, but in summer it seems to transform into a strong plastic shield. You can still look at everything going on in the world, but it seems almost impossible to touch — and it seems as though none of it can touch you. There’s a heavy miasma that coats everyone in a “we’ll handle it later” mentality. Yet at some point, this apathy becomes absurd in the face of our world.
There’s so much injustice today that it’s almost impossible to keep track of it all. The mere idea that the president of the United States is extensively associated with a notorious pedophile is enough to make anyone’s stomach churn. There’s also the rising tide of authoritarianism in our country coupled with a tragedy unfolding thousands of miles away from our shores, which has only grown more alarming.
The latest numbers from the World Food Program indicate that 470,000 people in Gaza are facing catastrophic hunger. This number is completely incomprehensible. Compounding this tragedy is the fact that 116,000 metric tons of food –– enough to feed 1 million people for four months –– is ready to be brought into Gaza, yet is unable to enter because of the blockade. One hundred eleven human rights organizations recently signed on to a letter calling for action on this mass starvation, saying that “The Government of Israel’s restrictions, delays and fragmentation under its total siege have created chaos, starvation and death.”
It is heartbreaking to think about the utter magnitude of pain, and yet have no real agency to do anything about it. In these moments, we must think locally to attempt to do anything in the face of such horror. We must invoke our agency as a collective community –– as representatives of an institution. It’s important to remember that Gaza is never far from us when we’re on campus. The organizations that continue to perpetrate violence are tacitly supported by Dartmouth’s investments.
Last week, the New Yorker published an article titled “How Dartmouth Became the Ivy League’s Switzerland.” Rob Wolfe recounts the events of May 1, 2024, when local and state police were called onto the Green and arrested 89 individuals during a pro-Palestinian rally. Wolfe also describes how Dartmouth has remained blissfully quiet in the face of rising pressure from the Trump administration, and has been rewarded for doing so: aside from Yale, Dartmouth is the only Ivy that has avoided the administration’s targeted funding attacks so far. Unfortunately, that distinction should be viewed as a badge of shame, not honor.
Meanwhile, College President Sian Leah Beilock remains focused on Dartmouth’s image. This summer, she spearheaded the Dartmouth Summer Scholars program into its second year, which brings talented high school students to campus. The program is part of the Dartmouth for Life program, which aims to expand Dartmouth’s influence and reach a broader cohort of students. Don’t get me wrong –– expanding Dartmouth’s influence is part of Beilock’s job –– but her level of focus on public relations feels a little like a sick joke considering her lack of action on other fronts.
I’ve written several times already about how Dartmouth must divest from arms manufacturers and how our community must work harder to be aware of the world beyond campus, but this apathy has hit a fever pitch this summer. It feels like I’ve bought box seats to watch a slow motion, 15 car pile up.
I can’t be the only one who feels this way, yet it seems so hard to find others who share these feelings. It’s true that the summer is meant to be a more relaxed and socially-focused term. But the apathy is magnified by an administration that refuses to engage with issues poised to define our generation. Twenty years from now, when we look back at Dartmouth and Beilock’s response to everything happening right now, the narrative will not be one of tactful handling, but rather silence representing grievous injustice — and violence.
Perhaps most frustratingly, the individual power any of us have to affect change on these issues is completely dwarfed by the potential for Dartmouth’s collective action as a community and institution. The College’s immense resources and influence of its name is far more powerful than any donation I can make to an organization helping Gaza or my individual attendance at a protest. However, the stewards of this name have continued to perpetuate a culture of silence around and isolation from critical issues.
I know I’m a broken record, but if there’s ever been a time to call out the administration on the corporate muzzle they’ve fastened on our community’s face, it’s now. Thousands are dying, and thousands will continue to die. Trump will continue to chip away at the foundations of our democracy. Inaction is grave and menacing action. So Beilock, I renew the calls that so many of us have already made: divest. Stand against Trump. Do something, or admit that you are a coward forcing all of us to remain silent with you.
Opinion articles represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
Eli Moyse ’27 is an opinion editor and columnist for The Dartmouth. He studies government and creative writing. He publishes various personal work under a pen name on Substack (https://substack.com/@wesmercer), and you can find his other work in various publications.
