The relationship between American universities and military research has always been a contract of convenience wrapped in moral ambiguity. From the Manhattan Project's academic architects to today's defense contractor partnerships, elite institutions have quietly advanced national security agendas while maintaining scholarly facades.
This deliberate opacity has long shielded universities from uncomfortable questions about their role in global conflicts, until students began demanding answers.
Recently, the spotlight has turned sharply toward American universities and their involvement with Israeli military projects, prompting students to challenge the complicity of their institutions in perpetuating violence.
It has become a central issue in campus activism, fueled by the global digital media landscape that amplifies voices often suppressed within traditional academic forums.
On May 29, Megha Vemuri, president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s (MIT) Class of 2025, used her commencement platform to deliver a critique of MIT’s research partnerships with the Israeli military. Her speech did not merely condemn isolated collaborations but framed the issue as part of a broader systemic failure of the academic establishment.
“It was shameful of MIT to have collaborated with the Israeli weapons manufacturer Elbit Systems,” Vemuri stated, invoking the moral urgency that many feel has been neglected by elite institutions.
Her remarks came against the broader backdrop of free speech issues on US campuses. “Israel is trying to wipe Palestine off the face of the Earth,” she declared, a direct and uncompromising indictment that resonated deeply with many but alienated others.
Vemuri recalled the efforts of student bodies who, in the previous year, had voted overwhelmingly to sever ties with Israeli military entities, calling for a permanent ceasefire in Gaza.
“You faced threats, intimidation, and suppression from all directions, especially your own university officials,” she reminded her peers. “Right now, while we prepare to graduate and move forward with our lives, there are no universities left in Gaza.”
The moral imperative she articulated transcended campus politics. "As scientists, engineers, academics, and leaders, we have a commitment to support life," Vemuri argued, framing the issue as fundamental to academic identity. Her call for an arms embargo and continued alumni pressure represented not just a protest, but a redefinition of scholarly responsibility in an interconnected world.
To some, this moment marked a rupture in institutional decorum. But to many students watching around the world, it was a moral breakthrough. Srinidhi MK, a third-year journalism student from MOP Vaishnav College in Chennai reflected: “It was a necessary breach of institutional decorum. When we expect discipline from students, it often means we expect blind compliance without protest. Any word against authority is interpreted as dangerous and rebellious. So it is actively suppressed. Sometimes, for justice and morality, you have to break the decorum.”
The speech provoked an immediate and polarised response. Jewish and Israeli students at the ceremony loudly voiced their dissent, with many walking out, chanting “shame.”
The university’s administration responded swiftly, issuing a statement condemning Vemuri for what it called a “deliberate and repeated attempt to mislead Commencement organisers” and for disrupting the event. MIT subsequently banned her from participating in Friday’s official graduation ceremony, underscoring the tensions between institutional authority and individual expression.
The journalist-student observed that the disciplinary actions raised questions about bias and proportionality.
“It is true that any form of protest during formal ceremonies is punishable by the protocol. However, I wonder if such intense disciplinary action would've been taken if she spoke out about something other than Palestine,” she says.
The controversy spilled into the digital realm, where conservative commentator Charlie Kirk publicly denounced the speech as “remarkably narcissistic” and “filled with falsehoods and lies,” linking it to broader calls to defund universities perceived as politically biased.
On the other hand, progressive activists and many students worldwide lauded Vemuri’s bravery, seeing her as part of a growing movement demanding ethical accountability from academic institutions engaged in military research that supports contentious conflicts.
“We are witnessing a worrying wave of censorship within private universities, both in India and the US,” says H. Mahadevan, a recent Masters graduate from Ashoka University. “This isn’t merely about academic disagreement, it’s an existential anxiety. Private institutions, reliant on state funding or political goodwill, often act in tandem with national authorities. The moment political dissent emerges, whether from students, faculty, or even syllabi, it is swiftly penalised.”
Reflecting on the parallels between Ashoka and MIT, he continues: “The Ashoka controversy and the backlash against Vemuri’s speech at MIT are both symptoms of institutional censorship. Universities increasingly demand that content remain palatable to donors and political stakeholders. The result is a shrinking space for critical inquiry.”
Yet, he remains cautiously hopeful. “Historically, some institutions have become known for producing critical thought. Perhaps we are slowly entering a new era, where the credibility of a university will be measured not by its rankings or endowments, but by how fearlessly its students and scholars speak. We are not there yet, but I believe we’re moving in that direction.”
For Mahadevan, these debates are inseparable from broader democratic values. “The opposite of democracy is demagoguery,” he says. “What unsettles institutions today is critical dialogue, whether about Palestine or India-Pakistan. These issues have inspired many of us, as students and faculty, to stand in solidarity and ask difficult questions. That, in itself, is a political act.”
This incident epitomises the ongoing struggle within academia to reconcile its historic roles in scientific advancement with the moral imperatives of peace and human rights. Can a university maintain scholarly integrity while simultaneously engaging in research partnerships with military applications?
“Academic neutrality does not exist,” said Srinidhi. “Research is a political activity because it has a direct impact on society. Even developing the nuclear bomb was a ‘research activity’. Hence, it is paramount for institutions to be accountable about how their research and resources are being used. Would you rather develop a cure for cancer or a bomb with your funding?”
As institutions face mounting pressure to reconsider their research collaborations and political stances, the dialogue sparked by Vemuri’s speech may well mark a pivotal moment in redefining the social contract between academia, government, and the global community.
