Universitas Indonesia takes steps toward stronger solidarity with Palestine

Only a month ago, Universitas Indonesia (UI) stood accused of moral collapse. At its graduate orientation, the nation’s premier university handed its stage to Peter Berkowitz — a man who has spent his career justifying Israel’s occupation and mocking those who stand with Palestine. I called it what it was: a betrayal.

But this week, something remarkable happened. On the very same campus where Berkowitz lectured, UI unveiled the Palestine Center — a permanent space for advocacy, scholarship, and solidarity with the Palestinian people.

It would be easy to dismiss this as damage control, a cosmetic gesture to erase last month’s outrage. But that would be too cynical. The truth is more complicated, and more promising. For all its missteps, UI seems to have learned from its blunder. And if it continues down this path, the university may yet transform betrayal into leadership.

The soft launch of the UI-Palestine Center took place in the Masjid Ukhuwah Islamiyah, the campus mosque. The symbolism was clear: Palestine is not an afterthought but central to the university’s moral imagination. Rector Heri Hermansyah spoke of moving beyond words to “concrete action.” He was joined by hundreds of professors from across Indonesia who signed a declaration backing the country’s foreign policy commitment to Palestinian independence.

This is not mere rhetoric. The center, co-managed by UI Students for Justice in Palestine and faculty experts in Middle Eastern studies, geopolitics, and geo-economics, promises to be more than a student club with lofty slogans. It is designed to orchestrate research, education, and policy engagement. Scholars will publish findings, convene seminars, and issue recommendations to policymakers. In short, UI has committed itself to making Palestine a subject of rigorous academic and political concern.

At the same time, UI has opened its doors in ways that cut deeper than conferences. Three Palestinian doctors are now enrolled in its medical specialization programs, funded by partnerships with Indonesian institutions and aid agencies. One trains in thoracic surgery, another in plastic surgery, and a third — still trapped in Gaza by war — hopes to begin pulmonology. When these doctors return home, they will carry more than diplomas; they will bring expertise desperately needed in a society where hospitals are bombed as often as they are built.

Education, as Rector Heri put it, is “a bridge of solidarity.” That bridge runs both ways: Palestinian students gain tools of survival and service, while UI reminds its own students what global citizenship looks like.

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So, what changed?

The outrage over Berkowitz was not a passing storm. It revealed a profound disconnect between UI’s values and its choices. Students immediately mobilized, civil society groups denounced the invitation, and the public demanded accountability. That backlash seems to have jolted the university awake.

This is a story Indonesians know well. National institutions stumble, sometimes badly. But when they confront their failures and correct course, they do more than save face — they grow stronger. UI’s establishment of the Palestine Center is not an act of charity; it is an act of repair.

Skeptics will ask whether the center’s independence can survive political pressures, or whether it will fall into tokenism. That is a fair concern. But there are reasons for cautious optimism. UI has tied the center to both grassroots student activism and formal academic expertise, ensuring it cannot easily be sidelined. It has linked its work to Indonesia’s own constitutional commitment to oppose colonialism. And it has opened the door to collaboration across universities nationwide.

For Palestine, symbolic gestures matter — but structures matter more. A lecture is forgotten in a week. A center, with programs, funding, and people, endures.

The lesson here is not that UI redeemed itself overnight. It is that institutions can learn when they are forced to reckon with their betrayals. The Palestine Center and the scholarships for Palestinian doctors do not erase Berkowitz’s speech, nor should they. But they do signal that UI has absorbed the backlash, recognized its failure, and chosen a different trajectory.

This should set a precedent. Indonesian universities must understand that neutrality in the face of occupation is not neutrality at all. It is complicity. And when they falter, they must be pushed — by students, faculty, and the public — to return to the anti-colonial principles written into Indonesia’s founding.

One month ago, UI normalized genocide by offering its stage to a Zionist apologist. Today, it is building platforms for Palestinians themselves — as scholars, as doctors, as partners in a global struggle for justice. That pivot does not erase the betrayal, but it does prove that betrayal is not the final word.

If UI sustains this momentum, its Palestine Center could become not only a hub for research but also a moral compass for Indonesia’s academic world. It could model how universities transform outrage into solidarity, and how they ensure that “never again” means something concrete.

In Depok this week, the chants of protest gave way to the hum of a new institution. For Palestinians, and for Indonesians who see their own reflection in the struggle against colonialism, that is progress worth defending.

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The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.