As controversy and tension from the Israel-Palestine conflict have proliferated on campus, so has art. Protest art at Harvard is nothing new—political buttons on display at the Harvard Kennedy School show how button art has been used to spread political and social messages. From installations to creative imagery, the Yard in particular has historically been a stage for such art, reaching both Harvard students and tourists alike. This art adds a new dimension to protests on campus from various perspectives, uniquely provoking emotion and response in a visual way that words cannot. It becomes both a galvanizing and peaceful means of protest.
In an environment full of hostility and tension, art provides an important method to spread a message or garner activist support. The art on campus surrounding the Israel-Palestine conflict reveals just how powerful art is as a tool—diverse viewpoints can be expressed both visually and emotionally, fostering dialogue and engagement where more traditional forms of activism might falter. Art’s real power lies in its emotion and the way in which it takes a message and completely reframes it. This reframing invokes discomfort and encourages action through a deeper engagement with its viewer.
For example, tables at Annenberg on Wednesday, Feb. 28 were decorated with inconspicuous pamphlets at the Spring Faculty Dinner for first-year students and their faculty guests. The pamphlets appeared to be a conversation guide for students to engage with, displaying an innocent picture of Annenberg with a floral motif on the front. The inside, however, was covered with news and facts regarding the Israel-Hamas war, intertwined with personal stories and war developments. The pamphlet asks questions, including, “Why is Harvard investing hundreds of millions, and more undisclosed investments, into Israeli apartheid and military?”
The Harvard Palestine Solidarity Committee (PSC) released a complementary Instagram post highlighting further questions for a conversation on the day of the dinner. This integration of news headlines, graphics, and text served to provoke students to engage with this content that they might normally not have, hidden beneath the decoy front page. The inclusion of the provoking questions and instances of violence confronts the viewer with the uncomfortable truths of the conflict, only emphasizing its emotional response.
The PSC turned to art on a larger scale this past fall, constructing an installation in Tercentenary Theatre in November entitled “Life Under the Rubble.” The exhibit sought to mourn the Palestinian lives lost in the Israel-Hamas war through six parts: “The Home,” “The Hospital,” “The School,” “The Graveyard,” “The Refugee Camp,” and “The Diaspora.” Viewers walked through these six domains and were confronted with images of destruction and grief. Built in the center of the Yard, the one-day installation combined facts and news with provocative imagery. The installation depicted the violence and realities of war through the destruction of everyday items, from furniture to medical supplies, to larger scenes like classrooms, tainted with red spray paint. It forces viewers to come to terms with the destruction in a visual sense as a setting of grief and reflection.
Moreover, Harvard Artists for Palestine is a new coalition on campus that aims to spread awareness and raise funds. The coalition hosted a flea market at the Harvard Advocate on March 3 to raise funds for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund and Medical Aid for Palestinians.
Recently, posters of Israeli hostages have also appeared around the Yard. Through their mass production and bold red to catch the viewer’s eye, this protest poster art serves as an informative display and a call to action for the hostages to be released. These posters show images of Israelis taken by Hamas under a bold “KIDNAPPED” title at the top. Other posters depict babies, individuals, families, or other groups, including both names and ages of the hostages, as well as a QR code for viewers to learn more about global efforts. These posters are part of a larger collective, #KidnappedFromIsrael, whose posters were designed by a group of Israeli artists based in New York City. Activists are placing these posters across the world, including more than 30 states in the U.S., to protest.
The campaign’s website informs that it has become “one of the most widespread guerilla public artworks in history.” In late January, however, these posters across campus were anonymously vandalized with strong antisemitic messages, including “Israel did 9/11” and “LIES FAKE.” With their multitude, these posters consistently reminded the viewer of these hostages and conveyed the information of a tragedy with a different and more emotive perspective.
This art goes beyond traditional messaging. Art takes on a physical form, meaning that we must guide ourselves to interact with it. Our eyes are drawn to different points and remain on different aspects. While traditional words are emphasized for us at a pace we cannot control, art’s room for interpretation means that we choose our engagement with it.
What further separates this art from other forms of activism is that we are forced to confront it repeatedly—its longevity and proliferation on campus make it harder to ignore. We cannot necessarily drown it out or push it away like we can traditional protests. The art intentionally shocks us, and doing so in a visual means forces us to pay attention, unlike words or chants that can be blocked out. It therefore becomes even more uncomfortable at first, which makes it effective as well as intriguing; we both want to look away and we do not. The discomfort we feel from the art signifies to us that we should feel discomfort with the issue at hand, further urging us to take action. And, it is this discomfort that pulls us in. Art catches our eye, especially when we cannot quickly walk away from it.
Art encourages conversation both with the work itself, with other people, and perhaps most importantly, with ourselves—this discourse is paramount. The inherent physical silence of art pushes an individual reflection and an individual emotional response. When words falter to articulate, art can speak instead.
The peacefulness of art is thus almost a conundrum—this form of protest incites perhaps an even greater emotional response and sense of urgency in the viewer. As both a tool and means of expression, protest art reminds us of the enduring power of creativity to ignite action that words cannot.
Meena Behringer ’27 (meenabehringer@college.harvard.edu) writes Arts for the Independent.