October 17, 2025

Tough Topics

How Harpur is helping students grow with conversations about current, uncomfortable events

Donald G. Nieman, professor of history at Harpur College of Arts and Sciences, leads a discussion about 2024 election results and the students' voting experiences on Nov. 7, 2024. Donald G. Nieman, professor of history at Harpur College of Arts and Sciences, leads a discussion about 2024 election results and the students' voting experiences on Nov. 7, 2024.
Donald G. Nieman, professor of history at Harpur College of Arts and Sciences, leads a discussion about 2024 election results and the students' voting experiences on Nov. 7, 2024. Image Credit: Jonathan Cohen.

For many of us, our college years are a time to discover who we are and what we stand for. In doing so, we also learn that not everyone agrees with our opinions. Sometimes, our viewpoints are even put to the test and challenged.

While those moments can be uncomfortable or even anxiety-inducing to think about, some good can come from talking about tough topics with our peers, especially those with whom we don’t see eye-to-eye.

From the Gaza War to the most recent U.S. Presidential election, ßÙßÇÂț»­ is creating space inside and outside of the classroom for those talks to happen. Professors are helping students learn not to shy away from these conversations and create an open dialogue about real-world events as a way to help students learn and grow as individuals.

Israeli/Palestinian Conflict

One of the most divisive topics around the globe today is the war in Gaza. Shay Rabineau, the chair of Judaic studies and associate professor of Israel studies at ßÙßÇÂț»­, teaches a course on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict.

“I don’t tell students what to believe,” shares Rabineau. “Instead, I challenge them to examine their assumptions and listen deeply to perspectives they might disagree with. The idea is to take the heat out of the room and add light instead. Students may not change their views, but they leave understanding those views more clearly—and understanding others’ too.”

While the topic can be uncomfortable to talk about, Rabineau says that’s the point. He added that he’d be surprised if any student walked out of his class at the end of the semester and said they were never uncomfortable.

“We read difficult, sometimes disturbing material—primary sources from Zionists and Palestinian nationalists, each expressing painful truths. I warn students: ‘These are their words, not mine.’ But discomfort is part of the process. It’s a necessary part of grappling with complex human realities and historical grievances. Our goal is to understand—not to shield ourselves from truth, but to engage it critically and empathetically.”

Kent Schull, an associate professor of modern Middle East history and director of the Center for Middle East and North Africa Studies, teaches a Palestinian history course. When he first came to ßÙßÇÂț»­, Schull realized there were plenty of courses on Jewish Studies, Israel Studies, Israeli history — but nothing standalone about Palestinians or Palestine.

“I’m not trying to polarize or drown out other voices, but I do think both narratives deserve pride of place. You can’t tell one history without entangling it with the other. But Palestinians deserve to be studied on their own terms too — not just as ’the other side’ of a conflict,” he says.

But thanks to the arrival of Rabineau, Schull was able to create that voice for Palestinian studies at ßÙßÇÂț»­.

“Before Shay arrived, I taught the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict course,” explains Schull. “I was actually on the search committee that hired him, and from the beginning, I could tell he was open-minded and genuinely committed to humanizing both sides.”

He also made sure to help Rabineau in any way he could: “When he took over the course, I gave him all my materials — PowerPoints, readings, syllabi — whatever would help. Professors can be territorial about courses, but I wasn’t. I just wanted to support. That collaboration inspired me to create the standalone Palestinian history course, to help fill a gap in the curriculum. It’s not about competition or casting blame. It’s about ensuring voices that haven’t had a platform finally get heard.”

Just like his colleague Rabineau, Schull uses his class as an opportunity for students to learn about the facts, create open dialogues, and prepare to talk about areas that might be uncomfortable.

“On the first day of class, I lay everything out,” says Schull. “I tell my students: I am not Israeli, not Palestinian, not Jewish, not Muslim, not Christian. I don’t speak for any group — no one person can. I also tell them: I sincerely care about everyone in this room. Bring your hard questions. We all have baggage — we didn’t choose how we were raised or what ideas we were exposed to. So, if your views are challenged, that’s not an attack on you. It’s an invitation to learn and grow.”

An open invitation that both Rabineau and Schull say their students have accepted and met the challenge head-on.

“The response has been overwhelmingly positive,” says Schull. “Sure, people challenge things, and that’s good. That’s how we learn. We analyze facts, cut through the propaganda, and try to understand how people get to the positions they’re in — not to justify, but to understand.”

“A big part of why this conversation works on our campus is the students,” shares Rabineau. “I’ve been really impressed by how ßÙßÇÂț»­ students handle this topic—they come in with opinions, sure, but most are genuinely curious. They want to know what they don’t know. They don’t spiral into shouting matches or factionalism. Instead, they help create an atmosphere where we can actually talk, evaluate sources, and wrestle with difficult questions. That makes teaching a topic like this possible—and honestly, meaningful.”

U.S. Presidential Election

American citizens don’t have to go far to find another tough topic to talk about. For the last decade, American politics have seemed to hit a new point of animosity between parties—or have they? Is this hostility really something new or is it just recency bias? Donald Nieman, a professor of history and Provost emeritus at ßÙßÇÂț»­, believes it’s the latter.

“I emphasized to students that elections have always been messy,” explains Neiman. “We looked at the election of 1828, where Jackson supporters accused John Quincy Adams of literally being a pimp—it’s absurd, but it happened. That kind of scurrilous mudslinging didn’t start in the 21st century. I wanted students to see how much continuity there is across American history when it comes to political conflict.”

Just like any topic, students come in with their own opinions, political alignment and ideas. Leading up to the 2024 presidential election, Nieman knew just how heated political views were. He also knew that on a college campus particularly conservative students sometimes feel that their voices aren’t respected and they hold back.

“I didn’t want that,” explains Nieman. “I wanted students from across the spectrum to honestly but respectfully express their perspectives. So I put language in the syllabus from day one: I expect civility, I expect respect and I value a wide range of viewpoints. When things started to get tense, I worked hard to redirect the conversation constructively—and students responded to that. I really believe students want that kind of environment. They want the space to speak and be heard, without fear of being shouted down.”

Leigh Ann Wheeler, a professor of history at ßÙßÇÂț»­, teaches Social Movements in the Modern U.S., a course designed to cover movements across the political spectrum.

“I wanted students to see that social movements aren’t inherently good or bad; they’re tools that people use to push for change, sometimes in troubling ways,” she says. “My goal was to make sure students were thinking critically, even when the material made them uncomfortable. That discomfort can be a really valuable part of learning, as long as it’s handled with care and openness.”

Wheeler added that handling that discomfort with care and openness is extremely important, especially when emotions are running high, such as following the 2020 presidential election.

“Some students were scared, others were angry or energized — and all of that came into the classroom,” shares Wheeler. “One day after class, a student came up to me in tears, just overwhelmed by what we’d talked about. That moment made me realize how much the classroom can be a space of emotional processing, not just intellectual engagement. And I think that’s especially true when we’re talking about movements that students might see themselves reflected in.”

Fast forward to the 2024 Presidential election, Nieman knew emotions would be running high once again. So he created time for a class discussion following the results. Around a dozen students thanked him for making space for that conversation, he says.

“That kind of reaction is really gratifying. It reminds me that higher education isn’t just about job training; it’s about helping students become informed, thoughtful citizens,” he reflects. “And that means learning how to evaluate information, talk to people with different views and understand how democracy works—even when it’s messy.”

While these types of conversations start in the classroom, they’re of course happening outside of it. That’s why Wheeler took her students on a “field trip” of sorts.

She assigned students to have a ‘Braver Angels’ conversation. Braver Angels is an organization that encourages people to talk across tough differences. The students sign up for one-on-one conversations with a person — a stranger – on the other side of the divides. The goal is for each participant to approach the conversation with an open heart and mind, to discover shared values and experiences, and to come away with a better understanding of their own and the other person’s positions.

“It’s all about creating a structured, respectful dialogue,” shares Wheeler. “Some students were skeptical at first, even angry or scared, but many came away saying it helped them humanize the other side. One student even said, ‘I want to spend more time with this person.’ It was powerful—for them and for me.”

Either way, inside or outside of the classroom, the point remains the same: These conversations need to happen to see growth and progress, even if it makes us uncomfortable.

“One of the purposes of higher education that we sometimes forget is helping students become good citizens at a high level,” Nieman explains. “That doesn’t mean telling them what to think, but showing them how to engage with political and civic issues intelligently and respectfully. If we can’t have those kinds of conversations in our classrooms — if we can’t model civil discourse — then where will it happen? Why would we expect the broader society to do any better? I think it’s our responsibility to give students those tools, and the space to practice using them. That’s part of what makes democracy sustainable.”

Nieman adds that while some of his students lean very progressive, he also has students with more conservative or libertarian views, and wants all of them to feel like their perspectives matter.

“It’s not about agreeing with everyone; it’s about listening, asking good questions and staying curious. I tell them: the goal isn’t to win an argument, it’s to understand where people are coming from. That mindset makes it possible to have real dialogue, even when we disagree. And it models the kind of citizenship we really need right now.”

Posted in: Harpur