The MIT I know
Ethan Abraham: “The intellectual curiosity here is contagious, and the community thrives on open, thoughtful exchange”
As committed as we are to our technical studies at MIT, I’ve often found that the most intellectually stimulating moments happen outside the lab. A 20-minute lunch break frequently turns into 40, not because I’m avoiding work, but because I’m caught in a fascinating conversation — perhaps about Chinese history with an international student, or a spirited debate on FDA policy with a labmate. These moments remind me that at MIT, learning is not confined to lecture halls. The intellectual curiosity here is contagious, and the community thrives on open, thoughtful exchange.
As a PhD student in the applied sciences, I see my research as inherently connected to the broader world. Scientific progress does not happen in a vacuum — it is shaped by social context and ethical responsibility. And so I’ve come to value not only technical skill, but also the cultivation of a nuanced, critical worldview. What better environment for that than MIT, a community of bright minds from across the globe?
It was with this perspective that I watched the recent commencement address by MIT’s undergraduate student body president, Megha Vemuri. Her speech, which has since gone viral and garnered national attention, focused almost entirely on the Israel-Palestine conflict. What struck me was not just the topic — MIT students should absolutely grapple with global issues — but the tone and framing of it. The speech did not reference the scientific, technological, or humanitarian achievements of the graduating class. It offered sweeping political assertions without evidence, used emotionally charged terms without clarification, and suggested a moral consensus that does not reflect the diversity of views on campus.
Consider the line: “You showed the world that MIT wants a free Palestine... because the MIT I know would never tolerate a genocide.” Behind this bombastic language lies profoundly narrow tunnel vision. The world is divided into “the good guys” on one side and “Israel” on the other. Oct. 7 is not mentioned, and neither is Hamas, which, in Vemuri’s mind, is probably just an innocent bystander. What does “free Palestine” imply? What evidence supports the claim that the MIT student body speaks with one voice? And what exactly does “genocide” mean in this context? These are serious questions with historical and legal significance. If we aspire to intellectual rigor in our research, we must also apply that standard to our political discourse.
Many Jewish students I know, and others with diverse perspectives, were hurt by the address because they felt that it left no room for their lived experiences, historical knowledge, or moral reasoning. The suffering of civilians in Gaza is tragic and demands attention. But so too is the suffering of the Israeli civilians murdered or kidnapped on Oct. 7, 2023. Mature political thinking, like good science, requires us to hold multiple truths in tension. Ignoring or dismissing one side of the equation isn’t activism — it’s intellectual laziness. One can only hope that Ms. Vemuri’s science is carried on a higher level of integrity and thoughtfulness than her political rant.
MIT has long stood for rigorous thought, empirical evidence, and the exchange of ideas across boundaries. That includes boundaries of discipline, nationality, and belief. When we use graduation speeches — or any public platform — to make sweeping moral claims, we must do so with humility, clarity, and a willingness to engage opposing views. Otherwise, we risk turning our community into an echo chamber rather than a forum for learning. The speech given on Thursday inaccurately reduced MIT to a place of dogmatic insularity rather than an institution of evidence-based reason.
Unfortunately, the viral nature of this speech means that millions of people will now associate MIT with a single, highly polarizing perspective. Many of them will never experience what we do — the late-night problem sets solved by unlikely collaborators, the mentorship of faculty who are as thoughtful as they are brilliant, and the moments of spontaneous debate that stretch well beyond lunch.
This is the MIT I know. A place where disagreement is welcome, and truth is pursued not through slogans, but through dialogue. At a moment when the future of higher education as we know it is on the line, I hope we can protect that spirit and lead not just with conviction, but with intellectual integrity.
Ethan Abraham is a first year PhD student in Course V, using molecular dynamics simulations and electronic structure theory to better understand the mechanisms of electrochemical redox reactions.