The Benefits of Religious Colleges

By Tevi Troy

When I stepped into the classroom at Yeshiva University almost a year ago, little did I know that I would be contributing to a mission that has become essential for Jews and for our nation. As a new professor, I had hoped to be part of a multi-year effort to enhance the secular education at Yeshiva. But barely a month after my arrival, the horrors of October 7 unleashed antisemitic harassment and campus protests across America, showing the critical importance of training students and reinvigorating authentic liberal education at places like YU.

When I went to school in the 1980s, elite universities welcomed their Jewish students and, while politically progressive, were tolerant of heterodox positions. Unfortunately, times have changed.

Although I attended Jewish schools for my K-12 studies, I did not pursue Jewish education beyond high school. I was fully committed to the secular secondary education system in this country—until recently. In the past few years, what I have seen of college campuses has been extremely disturbing: stifling free speech, anti-Americanism indoctrination and antisemitism. When I attended Cornell University in the 1980s, I was certainly a distinct minority as a conservative. But I always felt like dialogue was possible. I never felt threatened with cancellation or boycotts or antisemitism for stating what I believed, even if it was contrary to the dominant ideology at the time.

One of my most inspirational teachers at Cornell was Jeremy Rabkin, well known as the only conservative in the government department. Politically liberal students would enter his class loaded for bear, ready to throw their hottest arguments at him, and he’d respond with ease, disposing of their charges in quick, eloquent strokes. A few years ago, I mentioned to Professor Rabkin, with whom I am now privileged to be friends, how meaningful his class was to me as a lonely—but not harassed—conservative on a mostly liberal campus. In response, he joked that he took no pride in being able to defeat 18-year-olds at argument. But even controlling for that intellectual humility, he was inspiring to me then and now.

Following my time at Cornell, I went to the University of Texas at Austin for my Ph.D., where I was once again swimming against the current as a conservative. One day a fellow student asked me if I had indeed written for National Review. Girding for an argument, I told him I had and asked if he had a problem with that. The student leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “I’m a conservative, too; don’t tell anybody.” As this story shows, there were disadvantages to being conservative on campus back then, but revealing oneself as a conservative was still a viable option.

I did not try to hide my conservatism; my friend did. Eventually, he got tenure at a major state university. Knowing tenure was unlikely for me as an out-of-the-closet conservative, I went instead into the world of government and think tanks. Still, I did not feel that I had been abused as a conservative, and I learned a great deal from my time at mainstream educational institutions.

Given my experience, I wanted to see not only my own children but the next generation of children educated at America’s once-elite secular universities. I wanted them to be able to benefit from the intellectual diversity and challenge that I got at Cornell, in both the classroom and their own preparation for life in the wide world. Unfortunately, that does not appear to be an option today. Today, both my friend and I would have to remain in the closet as conservatives, if we were even accepted at mainstream schools at all.

Given my concerns with what is happening on campus today, I decided to help the next generation in a different way. At the start of the 2023-24 academic year, I enlisted with Yeshiva University to help bolster its own secular educational offerings, joining a college faculty for the first time since getting my Ph.D. almost 30 years ago. It was an instructive year.

Yeshiva University is located in Manhattan and has over 3,000 undergraduate students divided between two campuses. The men’s campus is in Washington Heights—an area of New York City with which I was previously unfamiliar—and the women’s campus is in midtown Manhattan; the entire university comprises over 6,000 students. The undergraduates at Yeshiva College are mostly, but not exclusively, Orthodox Jews, and the school combines a regular, rigorous secular education with religious studies for students who want to continue their Jewish learning even as they prepare themselves for professional careers.

This serious mission of combining outstanding secular education with Jewish studies continues to rise in importance. In fact, I had no idea when I started teaching at Yeshiva that the situation for Jews at the expensive secular universities would deteriorate so rapidly, with Jewish students being hounded, surrounded and pursued. Even Jewish professors have felt increasingly unsafe on campuses.

In contrast to the anti-American disruptors we have been seeing at the secular colleges, the students at Yeshiva have been remarkably impressive—a reminder of the hope and possibilities of early adulthood. They are a reason for optimism. They are exceedingly polite—something about which several guest lecturers have commented—and conscientious. They do the reading and care about learning. They also have incredibly busy schedules, with the mornings filled up with Jewish learning and secular classes taking place only in the afternoon. If your view of today’s college students is the masked Hamas supporters taking over buildings and threatening those who dare disagree with them, come to Washington Heights to see a heartwarming contrast.

This past year, I taught two traditional classes and conducted two reading groups. The classes were about health policy and the American presidency, both on the Washington Heights campus. The reading groups, conducted for students in YU’s elite Straus Scholars Program, were on the women’s campus in midtown. (This upcoming year I plan to switch and teach the classes on the women’s campus and the Straus reading groups on the men’s campus.)

The health policy course allowed me to use my health expertise from my time in government, and we covered an array of topics, including pandemics, health coverage, the cost of the system and preparing for bioterror attacks. The culmination of the class was a mock presidential briefing, in which students took on the roles of top government officials and had to brief the “president” in the “Situation Room” about a national health crisis.

The presidency class covered all aspects of the presidency, including elections, transitions, staffing, scandals, foreign policy, the courts, Congress and dealing with disasters. I co-taught it with the very talented political scientist Matt Incantalupo, a fellow Queens resident and Knicks fan, both of which quickly solidified our bond. That class also culminated in a mock presidential briefing; in this case the students had to address an international crisis. I found the students to be thoughtful, well-read and, perhaps most surprisingly, grateful. In contrast to the tear-it-down crowd we see on the so-called elite campuses, these students appreciated the opportunity to learn.

My students sense this contrast as well, and multiple students—and parents—have asked me where to go to school in the current environment. Students have asked me if it was safe for them to pursue graduate studies at the so-called elite universities. I was not sure what to tell them, as those schools have made it clear they will not keep Jewish students safe.

At YU, though, this was not a problem. A robust security team was active and visible on the Washington Heights campus. The classrooms were open learning environments where no one felt scared or intimidated to speak up, challenge ideas or share unpopular opinions. And for my part, I was pleased that I did not feel like I had to walk on eggshells in front of students looking for a reason to cancel me. In short, it felt like an environment for learning, something the once-elite schools in this country should try to replicate. I look forward to going back to do it again next year.

Mercatus Visiting Fellow Tevi Troy spent the past academic year as a senior scholar at Yeshiva University’s Straus Center. He is the author of five books, including the forthcoming “The Power and the Money: Epic Clashes Between Commanders in Chief and Titans of Industry.”