It is June 12th. Western University hosts graduation convocations. Families fill the halls. Names reverberate. Students traverse the stage; gowns billow, tassels sway, and degrees are photographed. There is warmth, nostalgia, glee, cheer, and peace.
Among the tents and human rights slogans forming the student encampments, another graduation convocation unfolds.
This convocation is cheerless. This convocation is filled with tears and red eyes. This convocation is a vigil. It is called “Honouring those who will never graduate” – a title strung on a banner facing rows of chairs. No students sit here. Each chair holds only a candle, a rose, a graduation cap, and a sign.
The sign reads:
“Diploma of graduation: An honorary degree for the students in Gaza who hold steadfast in their vision of a free Palestine and were not able to graduate in Gaza this year. The Western Divestment Coalition recognizes these students as graduates with the highest distinction. From Turtle Island to Palestine, liberation in our lifetime.”
It is 7:30 pm. Vigil attendees encircle the chairs. The silence is pregnant with impending grief.
“These students are not just numbers,” an encampment attendee opens the vigil. “They had dreams and aspirations, just like all of us here today.”
Statistics pound the air. More than 5,479 students were killed by Israel. More than 261 teachers were killed by Israel. More than 95 university professors were killed by Israel. Over 7,819 students and 756 teachers were injured by Israel. Over 90,000 university students’ studies have been disrupted.
Israel has destroyed every single university in Gaza: The Islamic University of Gaza; Al-Azhar University; Al-Israa University; the Gazan branch of Al-Quds Open University; Dar al-Kalima University: Gaza Training Center; the University of Palestine; Palestine Technical College; University College of Applied Sciences; Al-Aqsa University; Hassan II University of Agriculture and Environmental Sciences; Gaza University.
“Today, we gather to tell their stories, to remember, and to pray for our martyrs.”
***
David Heap, professor of linguistics, speaks at a podium facing the empty chairs. He wears a red and black graduation gown. A scarf bearing the Palestinian flag and the letters “IUG” – Islamic University of Gaza – is around his shoulders.
“I’m wearing, today, a scarf that I got at the Islamic University of Gaza. I have a very happy memory of attending there,” says Heap. “The university welcomed us with these scarves. I did not realize at the time that this would become a memorial scarf.”
Heap reminisces about the university students he met in Gaza – “amazing young people” who were well-educated, keen to see the world, and denied any travel outside Gaza due to the land, air, and sea blockade imposed by Israel since 2007. He reminisces about the lessons he learned from Palestinians: they regrow olive trees after uprootings; they rebuild after bombings; a teacher made the streets her classroom, laying out a mat for her students with a vow to continue educating.
In the wake of such resilience, Heap says allies “do not have the luxury of despair”.
***
Sociology professor Jess Notwell describes the relentlessness of Palestinian students. They study through electricity blackouts, hunger, bombs; they lead clubs, win competitions, fight for liberation. They studied through the Israeli attacks of 2008 to 2009, 2012, 2014, 2021, and 2022, which collectively killed over 3,700 Palestinians.
She tells the story of a graduate student who defended his Master’s thesis online while displaced inside a tent.
She tells the story of a student who earned a 99.3 GPA in high school, embarked on English literature studies in university, saw her university destroyed, and was thrust into a life defined by survival.
“Because of the occupation, we’ve lost our right to study and we’ve lost our right to live a decent life,” recites Notwell from the student’s writing. “There is no end in sight to this aggression, we’re counting days one by one and nothing changes. Even if it ends, what can we do? There are neither schools nor universities left to finish our education. Is it possible to study in the rubble of destroyed buildings? This is a huge insult to our massive abilities and minds. It’s a total catastrophe for my whole generation.”
***
Sociology professor Derek Silva discusses scholasticide.
The United Nations (UN) defines scholasticide as the “systemic obliteration of education through the arrest, detention, or killing of teachers, students, and staff; and the destruction of educational infrastructure”.
“The folks most impacted by (scholasticide) will never get to graduate,” Silva says. “They will never get to do research or conduct inquiry for the betterment of society. Those systems of knowledge housed in libraries, archives, cultural centers, museums, bookstores, and publishing companies will not make it to future generations. Scholasticide is a weapon of genocide that runs counter to the mission of any university – including our own.”
Silva quotes directly from Western University’s “principles” : Western University “aspires to play a significant role in improving the quality of life… in London, in the region, in the province of Ontario, in Canada, and abroad”.
“Does supporting scholasticide serve the mission of this university? Is it socially responsible? Does complicity in a genocide that has taken the lives of thousands of students, teachers, and professors serve the mission of this university?”
Western University currently invests over 33.6 million in companies that directly or indirectly aid the genocide, and invests 1.16 million dollars in Lockheed Martin, a military contractor that has facilitated Israel’s war crimes against the Palestinian people.
***
A Palestinian community member asks the mourners: How long has Palestine been occupied? What is the literacy rate in Gaza? How long has Gaza been under siege?
“Seventeen years (of siege) and over 200 years (of occupation), and Palestinians still have a 97% literacy rate,” she answers. “It’s one of the highest literacy rates in the world…Palestinians have more to live for, to fight for. Education for Palestinians is not just a luxury. It’s a right, it’s a must. In order for you to survive as a Palestinian, you need to be well-educated.”
She shares stories of graduates in her family and beyond. In summer 2023, her nephew graduated as a doctor in Gaza and hoped to begin practicing later that year. Instead, he was thrust into an impending genocide, forced to work under the harshest of conditions and bear the killings of his colleagues.
One of her cousins left Gaza to pursue higher education in the US. In November, her cousin’s family’s building was bombed; the airstrike killed her entire immediate family.
Nada Almadhoun, a Palestinian medical student, in the blog, We Are Not Numbers, shares letters of ambition that she and her classmates wrote three years ago to their graduated “future selves.”
“The notes are now lost amidst the debris,” the community member recites from the article. “Our messages to ourselves, once filled with promise, are buried under the rubble of our dreams. How will I pursue my dream? When will I stop saying “I’m a med student in my final year?” Is it a crime to want to be a doctor? These questions never leave my mind; they have been floating in my head for the last seven months.”
***
A representative from Independent Jewish Voices – London (IJV) states solidarity with the Palestinian people. She completely severs “Jewishness” from Zionism.
“We are Jews of conscience who are in solidarity with the Palestinian people. We oppose all forms of racism and advocate for peace and justice. We believe Israel’s war crimes of collective punishment, ethnic cleansing, forced migration, and genocide are unconscionable,” she says. “We are an anti-Zionist organization. Our Jewishness is not defined by loyalty to Israel. Our defense of human rights, justice, and peace defines our Jewishness. Our work to resist Israel’s unrelenting violence and insistence on white supremacy defines our Jewishness. Our commitment to work with the Palestinian people to secure an ongoing ceasefire and Palestine’s right to self-determination defines our Jewishness.”
***
The vigil’s designated “Gaza-dictorian” gives a lyrical speech.
Her words illustrate an immersive second-person narration of graduation day.
“You walk up the stage with your heart racing and your steps clumsy… They call your name, you walk across the stage waving at your loved ones; you look at them with warmth, and you see the tears of pride and joy in their eyes… You close your eyes slowly, hoping they will snap a picture of this moment and keep it frozen in your memory forever,” she recites. “Blink – tears of joy. Blink – overwhelming pride. Blink – sadness. You open your eyes – something is wrong.”
Her voice shifts.
“It’s too quiet. The silence is deafening. There’s no stage for you to walk on. There’s no university for you to graduate from. There is no class of 2024 graduating year. There are no professors to graduate you, no faculty to hand you your diploma, no chairs for your loved ones to sit in. There are no loved ones. There is no you,” she says. “You are martyred. Most of your loved ones and classmates are martyred. Most of your professors are martyred. Your university, your house, are in ruins.”
***
A Palestinian community member who survived 170 days of genocide speaks of loss.
He lost colleagues and professors. He lost his graduation by a few credits; he had hoped to “gift” it to his mother, father, wife, daughter, relatives, and friends.
“My colleagues have died,” he says. “My friends that I buried with my hands, friends that I used to go to university with.”
Refaat Alareer was his professor. Alareer’s poem “If I must die” has gone viral, garnering 33.5 million views since November 2023. Alareer was murdered by Israeli forces in December 2023.
Holding back tears, he shares that Alareer was like a father figure.
“I still remember him standing,” he says. “I still remember him holding that marker on the board explaining to us those poems, trying to make us, the students, write poems. I still remember on Wednesday, it was my last class with Refaat Alareer right before October 7th. I still remember his eyes. I remember the way he spoke. I still don’t believe that he’s gone.”
***
Western University’s President and Vice-Chancellor Alan Shepard did not attend the vigil.
In a speech at Western University’s graduation convocations, Shepard acknowledged that Western University values freedom, free speech, and diversity, but that the ceremony should not “call attention to world issues.”
From June 10th to June 21st, encampment attendees disrupted Western University’s convocations. They marched across London streets brandishing banners; traffic was rerouted. Some graduating students wore keffiyehs or raised human rights banners on stage. Footage of these students was largely cut from official graduation videos, their human rights symbols were confiscated, and they had to visit Western University’s Special Constable’s office afterwards to retrieve them.
An encampment attendee calls the demonstration “a result of Alan Shepard’s refusal to meet with student organizers.” They emphasize the “bravery and tenacity” of students who wielded their graduation ceremony as a resistance act for human rights.
“(Western University) is a place of freedom, peace, and free speech. And we’re proud of the diversity in our country and at our university,” said Shepard at the graduation convocation. “I would like to encourage everyone to be respectful of one another… and to please refrain from disrupting the ceremony to call attention to world issues.” ♦
With files from encampment attendees. The names of all student encampment attendees and community members have been excluded for their safety.
Incé Husain is a neuroscience graduate student and journalist who writes for the NB Media Co-op. She pursues local stories independently at The Unprecedented Times. She is based in London, Ontario.
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