“Under the rubble of our dreams”: Vigil honours university students killed by Israeli forces, as Western University graduation ceremonies unfold
Published in the NB Media Co-op
(*artwork: ‘Under the rubble of our dreams’ by Incé Husain)
It is June 12th. Western University is in the midst of graduation convocations. Families flood the halls and fill the chairs. Speeches reverberate, names are announced. Students walk across the stage; gowns billow, tassels on caps sway, degrees are held and photographed. Camera shutters are erratic and commemorative. There are flowers thrown and gifted. 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 that faces 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 7:30pm. The sky is still bright. There is birdsong and a slight chill in the air. Vigil attendees quietly 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.
Israeli forces have destroyed every single university in Gaza: The Islamic University of Gaza founded in 1978; Al-Azhar University founded in 1991; Al-Israa University founded in 2014; the Gazan branch of Al-Quds Open University, the first open learning institute in Palestine; Dar al-Kalima University: Gaza Training Center, a nurturer of leaders and artists; the University of Palestine, established by investors, academics, and researchers; 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, Western University 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 incredibly 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 young teacher made the streets her classroom, laying out a mat for her students with a vow to continue their education.
In the wake of such resilience, Heap says allies “do not have the luxury of despair”.
“Victims of scholasticide - the deliberate destruction of education and educational institutions, and the destruction of the hope that’s represented by these young people who had so much to teach us. They are a loss to all of us.”
***
Sociology professor Jess Notwell describes the relentlessness of Palestinian students amidst the Israeli occupation. They study through electricity blackouts, hunger, bombs; they lead clubs, win competitions, fight for liberation, dream of freedom. They studied through the Israeli attacks of 2008 to 2009, 2012, 2014, 2021, and 2022, which collectively killed over 3,700 Palestinians. They hope to resume their studies as soon as a ceasefire holds and to establish new educational centers while they rebuild universities.
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.”
The faculty member quotes directly from Western University’s “principles”. One principle, termed “societal responsibility”, states that 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.
Silva condemns this.
“Any support for an ongoing genocide that has killed thousands of students and hundreds of teachers and faculty has no place in any university. Those students that were honoured here today will never graduate. Those faculty will never have the chance to engage in free and creative inquiry ever again. Support for that is nothing that I want to be a part of.”
***
“I’m going to speak from experience, from numbers, from the heart, because I think this is what matters at this point,” a Palestinian community member begins.
She asks the mourners questions: 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. It forced him to work under the harshest of conditions without proper training. It forced him to bear the killings of many of his colleagues.
One of her cousins left Gaza to pursue a higher education in the United States on a scholarship. In November, her cousin’s family’s building was bombed; that single airstrike killed her father, mother, and siblings.
“That’s one Palestinian that went out to get the proper education so she can come back and build,” she says of her cousin. “Because, you know, us Palestinians, we build. I visited Gaza in 2010. It was beautiful. No matter how many wars, destruction - we always rebuild.”
An article written by a Palestinian medical student who was meant to graduate this year shares letters that she and her classmates wrote three years ago to their graduated “future selves”. The messages were a symbol of their ambitions, accompanied by celebrations and gleefully-taken photos.
“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 and her rage towards Israel’s violence. She describes what “Jewishness” means to her, completely severing it from Zionism.
“As a teacher, I’ve been spending most of the day thinking about how we have to bear witness to the loss of these children and students and professors and futures. And the anger that it brings me as a member of IJV,” she says. “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. 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 “Gaza-dictorian” is invited to give a speech. She is a Western University student who is graduating this year.
Her speech is lyrical. Her words paint a scene of a familiar morning lush with birdsong, breakfast, and family chatter. It is an immersive second-person narration of graduation day.
“You walk up the stage with your heart racing and your steps clumsy. You’re thinking: one foot in front of the other, I’m not going to fall on stage today. 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 see their beautiful smiles that fill your heart with bliss. 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, rings through the night.
“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. Your bodies are in pieces, decomposing in some shallow unmarked grave, snatched at by starving animals. In a blink of an eye, you are obliterated into pieces of unrecognizable flesh and blood. You are murdered in cold blood by an entity that knows no mercy, stops at no boundaries, and bears no morals. You didn't get a chance to bid your mother farewell. She identified you by your necklace, your favourite jewelry, your favourite outfit you put on at the beginning of the day. She gathered what was left of you and she hugged you tight for one last time.”
The applause is fierce.
More poets share their original poetry, voices wavering in strength. One recites:
“What does it mean to wait for your son to graduate? To get a degree, endless meals, and extra time teaching after school, throughout the years, awaiting a flying cap in the crowd - that's my son, that's my daughter, that’s my brother, that's my sister. But there is no crowd or cap, only decapitated bodies on the concrete - that’s my sister, I can tell by her tooth gap.”
***
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.”
One of his professors was Refaat Alareer. Alareer’s poem “If I must die” has gone viral since it was posted in November 2023, garnering 33.5 million views and shared widely as a resistance poem. Alareer was murdered by Israeli forces in December 2023.
Struggling to hold 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.”
***
The evening ends with brief accounts of student stories from Gaza, and three songs of prayer - one Muslim, one Jewish, and one Christian.
“Today we gather in sorrow,” an encampment attendee closes the vigil. “We stand here not just as witnesses but we are mourners (for the) students who will never graduate. They had dreams woven in the fabric of their being. They were not soldiers on a battlefield, but seekers of knowledge. Let us pledge to carry on their memory. Let us be inspired by their unfulfilled potential. Today, we weep for the students who will never graduate because they were martyrs in Gaza. Tomorrow, let us stand united in our commitment to stand for a free Palestine, to build a future where their sacrifice was not in vain. Gaza’s spirit is strong and will heal.”
***
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 be devoid of “call(ing) attention to world issues”.
From June 10th to June 21st, encampment attendees have been disrupting Western University’s graduation convocations. They march across London streets brandishing banners; traffic and buses have been rerouted. Some graduating students wore keffiyehs to their ceremony or raised human rights banners on stage. Footage of these students was largely cut from official videos of graduation, 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 says that the demonstrations are “largely a result of Alan Shepard’s refusal to meet with the 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 - all of our graduates and all of our guests - and to please refrain from disrupting the ceremony to call attention to world issues.” ♦
Written using videos and files received from encampment attendees. The names of all student encampment attendees have been excluded for their safety.
A modified version of this article appeared in The NB Media Co-op on June 29th, 2024:
*NOTE: on June 25th, 2024, the following sentence was changed:
A Palestinian community member who survived 107 days of genocide speaks of loss.
The sentence was changed to:
A Palestinian community member who survived 170 days of genocide speaks of loss.