Antisemitism on UK campuses is reaching record highs, and a curious paradox has emerged. The Union of Jewish Students describe Jewish students as “thriving”. On paper, the evidence appears to support this: high academic attainment, strong continuation rates, and vibrant engagement within Jewish societies. Yet this narrow definition of success tells only part of the story. Behind the language of thriving lies a quieter reality: one where Jewish students may succeed academically but feel increasingly excluded from the spaces where influence and institutional direction are shaped.

This gap is most visible in student governance. Jewish students remain underrepresented in high-profile student union leadership roles, particularly in Sabbatical Officer positions.

While many Jewish students feel confident leading within Jewish spaces, stepping into university-wide leadership can feel like entering a political arena charged with risk. Leading a JSoc is widely understood as community-building. Running for SU President can feel like inviting scrutiny that extends far beyond manifestos.

This absence is not rooted in disinterest but in a “chilling effect”, where the personal cost of visibility feels too high. Recent national and local controversies have left a lasting impression on Jewish students’ sense of safety within the student movement.

The “Not My NUS” campaign marked a breakdown in trust between Jewish students and the national body meant to represent them. This alienation was reinforced by the Tuck Report, which identified institutional antisemitism within the NUS and called for cultural reform.

The removal of former NUS President Shaima Dallali, was an important step in accountability. For Jewish students, the episode became a cautionary tale about the scrutiny that can accompany national student leadership. The lesson many took away was not simply that leadership is demanding, but that for Jewish students it may involve an added layer of identity-based judgment.

Students considering a run for office often describe an unspoken ‘political litmus test’. Jewish candidates can find themselves navigating questions that other candidates rarely face. Their identities, family histories, or religious affiliations may be treated as proxies for the actions of a foreign state. This creates a double burden: to lead as a student representative while also being expected to explain or defend a complex geopolitical conflict.

Some students have described stepping away from leadership opportunities for this reason. One Jewish student considering a Students’ Union officer role decided not to run after being warned their Jewish identity could become the focus of campaign debates rather than their policies. Another recalled that expressing a Jewish perspective on Israel and Palestine would immediately position them as politically suspect.

Faced with this reality, many Jewish students choose what feels like the safer option: remaining within Jewish spaces where leadership can be expressed without constant political interrogation. These spaces are often vibrant and supportive. However, this withdrawal has wider consequences. When Jewish students step back from mainstream student governance, the diversity of decision-making spaces is diminished.

SU’s frequently emphasize representation as a core value. Without Jewish students and other underrepresented groups in any influential roles, inclusion risks becoming something performative and superficial.

Universities generally recognize that students should not be excluded based on nationality. Chinese students are not collectively scrutinized because of the actions of the Chinese state. Freedom of speech allows individuals to hold diverse or undefined political positions. This principle shifts in practice for Israeli and Zionist students, who can find themselves navigating a different set of expectations, raising questions about equity and the diversity institutions claim to uphold.

This representation gap matters beyond symbolism. SU’s are a training ground for future civic, political, and professional leadership. When one group feels unable to participate fully at this level, the pipeline of voices shaping public life becomes narrower. Without Jewish students present in executive committees or policy forums, responses to antisemitism are more likely to be reactive, delayed, or disconnected from lived experience.

The problem, then, is not that Jewish students are failing to thrive academically. It is that the current metrics, such as grades and societal participation, are incomplete. True thriving encompasses both academic achievement and meaningful participation in leadership roles, where students feel safe to express their identities. Recognizing this broader definition can help institutions foster a genuinely inclusive environment that values diverse forms of success.

If universities and student bodies are serious about change, they must look beyond participation in societies and examine who holds influence. Leadership participation should be treated as a meaningful indicator of equality, and institutions should develop transparent metrics for tracking Jewish students’ representation in governance and leadership roles. Including such data in their Equality, Diversity, and Inclusion reports can enhance accountability and demonstrate commitment to genuine inclusion.

Practical support also matters. Universities and unions should implement clear election rules that prohibit targeting candidates based on religion or ethnicity, establish protocols for addressing harassment, and publicly endorse Jewish students running for leadership roles. These measures would signal a strong institutional commitment to safeguarding Jewish students and encouraging their participation without fear of discrimination or political intimidation.

Ultimately, thriving should mean more than doing well in exams or finding community in familiar spaces. It should mean having the confidence and institutional backing to step into leadership without fearing that your identity will become a point of contention rather than a source of perspective. True inclusion is not measured by how well institutions market their diversity, but by who feels safe enough to lead within them.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)