MSU constantly asserts its dedication to discourse and conversation on campus. Just this last Sunday at his investiture, President Kevin Guskiewicz announced a speaker series of "thinkers and doers" to continue to contribute to this atmosphere of civil discourse. 

Yet when a "concern" was privately raised in regards to an art piece, suddenly commitment to discourse and conversation wavered.

The art piece in question depicts people in an old Puerto Rican newspaper photo protesting Zionist occupation of Palestine. After receiving a concern about the piece, university administration canceled the public opening of the exhibit and several others scheduled to take place on Sept. 13. Artists, curators and collaborators (who were originally told the event was canceled due to staffing shortages) were told to come in through the side doors while wealthy donors and museum board members walked through the front doors, according to people present at the event. The exhibition’s curator, Yomaira Figueroa-Vasquez, noted these people as being "mostly white." Some people who initially received an invitation were flat out turned away.

After the softened opening, a sign popped up in front of the exhibition telling visitors that an art piece inside draws connection to the current Israeli-Palestinian conflict and that it "includes controversial content."

This is how MSU administration handles discourse. When its image or interests are actually threatened, it scrambles to do damage control with zero regard for who or what gets lost along the way.

The Office of the Provost eventually addressed the situation in an email sent out Monday that continued to assert the importance of civil discourse. The email also offered "heartfelt apologies for the hurt and distress" the incident caused.

The person or group of people who raised the initial concern remains anonymous.

In an online statement, Figueroa-Vasquez wrote that if one person can trigger this level of censorship in complete secrecy, "then there can be none of the open dialogue and communication that the MSU administration says that they so deeply desire."

This can go a step further: if a single person can trigger this level of censorship and secrecy without ever having to bear the brunt of public opinion, then it shouldn’t be hard to imagine what is allowed to take place behind the scenes. Administration employs a sweep-under-the-rug tactic when it comes to controversy, and the question of Palestine is no different. In fact, too often we see that actions MSU takes toward activists and artists seem to be an attempt to delegitimize the Palestinian struggle.

Students have been raising concerns about divestment for a year and administration has shown little to no movement. It seems MSU gives more consideration to hegemonic political ideologies than to non-mainstream ones, which shows a disregard for the university's purported desire to engage — in good faith — with all perspectives.

Now, Figueroa-Vasquez said the artist of the piece, Alia Farid, has understandably considered pulling her piece from the exhibition, showing that the administration’s censorship has led to artists feeling reluctant to show their art on campus, further limiting the conversations that MSU says it strives toward.

The content warning placed in front of the exhibition also made me think about the work of artist Samia Halaby, whose abstract painting and computer art are featured on the second level of the museum and are linked to subjects like the Palestinian right to return and her identity as a Palestinian woman. 

Where is the sign in front of this exhibit? 

If the sign on the first floor is truly there to facilitate discourse between students, then surely there would be one upstairs, unless of course the university (or the person(s) raising these concerns) missed the activism present in Halaby’s work in their assessment of what exactly sparks discourse on campus.

Only last year a table demonstration that demeaned the lives of trans people popped up at Brody with little to no content warning, yet when it comes to work that addresses the suffering of Palestinians, administration deems it necessary to warn visitors about "controversial content."

Figueroa-Vasquez also wrote in her online post that the content warning serves to "distance the museum from the work of their own curator" and "frame the piece by Farid as inherently problematic."

From a university that sends a portion of its endowment to Israel and much more to weapons manufacturers, it’s a bold decision to frame this piece of art as problematic. It’s an even bolder decision to ignore the work of protestors and activists, only to show through this incident that MSU has the capacity to take action — when it wants.

MSU does not get to pick and choose which human rights warrant action. 

I recently picked up a book titled "Except for Palestine: The Limits of Progressive Politics," which argues that liberal opposition to regressive policies often ignores the issue of Palestine. A quote by scholar and activist Yousef Munayyer included in the book says, "To ask a Palestinian not to be anti-Zionist is to ask a Palestinian not to be."

Being Palestinian is an identity. Being Puerto Rican is an identity. Expressing either of these identities through art is therefore an expression of identity and not subject to being "controversial." Zionism, on the other hand, is an ideology subject to criticism.

To ask people around the world who can relate to the Palestinian struggle to not be anti-Zionist is, as Munayyer put it, to ask that person not to be. MSU’s recent actions have asked exactly this.

"The culture of the university is set by its administrators," Figueroa-Vasquez wrote, and MSU has made it clear what kind of culture it wants on campus. 

There are no exceptions to human suffering. If MSU is truly committed to discourse, it would take accountability for who it’s hurt and not commit to hiding the identity of people who raise concerns that impact artists’ work.