On January 19, Angelica Berrie sent an email to Nemat Shafik, the president of Columbia University. Ms. Berrie reported that the Russell Berrie Foundation, named for her late husband, had scheduled three grant payments to Columbia.
But after months of protests on campus over the war between Israel and Hamas, Ms. Berrie also issued a warning.
As the foundation prepared to transfer nearly $613,000, Ms. Berrie told Dr. Shafik that future gifts would depend in part on “evidence that you and university leaders are taking appropriate steps to create a tolerant and safe environment for Jewish members of the Columbia community.”
Months passed and the foundation, which has donated about $86 million to Columbia over the years, did not like what it saw. Frustrated and dismayed by the ongoing turmoil at Columbia, the foundation suspended donations to the university late last month.
Columbia has spent months under siege, bombarded with public demands from protesters, faculty, alumni, members of Congress and religious groups since the Oct. 7 Hamas attack that sparked the war. But the foundation’s admonition, included in correspondence it shared with The New York Times, illustrates the pressure Columbia executives have also had to face in private lives with donors, with long-term relationships and enormous sums at stake.
The Berrie Foundation’s hiatus threatens to cost Columbia tens of millions of dollars in the coming years. And it represents a sobering turnaround for a foundation so prolific in Columbia that it underwrote both the Russ Berrie Medical Science Pavilion and the Naomi Berrie Diabetes Center.
“It’s a painful decision for us to be at this point where we have to tell them, ‘There is a gap between your values and ours,’” Angelica Berrie, chair of the foundation’s board, said in an interview . The unrest in Columbia, she said, had forced the foundation’s leaders to “weigh the passion my husband had for diabetes against our foundation’s larger values about pluralism, building bridges and the fact that our Jewish values inform our philanthropy.” drench.’
A Columbia spokeswoman, Samantha A. Slater, said in a statement that the university “values its long-standing relationship with the Russell Berrie Foundation and is grateful for their generosity and support of numerous and impactful diabetes initiatives over the years.”
She added: “As we have communicated to the foundation’s leaders, we are committed to continued, concrete action to make Columbia a community where anti-Semitism has no place and Jewish students feel safe, valued, and can thrive.”
As protests rage on campuses across the country, other leading donors have warned universities that future donations are in jeopardy. Last week, billionaire real estate magnate Barry Sternlicht slammed Brown University for promising to consider divesting from Israel and suspended donations to the school. Apollo Global Management CEO Marc Rowan led a donor revolt at the University of Pennsylvania last year, and New England Patriots owner Robert K. Kraft recently suspended future contributions to Columbia.
But when the Berrie Foundation, whose donations were often tied to Israel and Jewish causes in the United States, considered its options after the first protests began, it had neither the public influence of Mr. Kraft nor the swagger of the Mr Rowan or Mr Sternlicht.
What it did have was a quieter influence it had cultivated at Columbia for decades, ever since Russell Berrie, who had built a fortune on a company whose wares included stuffed animals and Trolls, received diabetes care there. In the years before the Bronx-born Mr. Berrie died in 2002, the foundation began pumping millions into the university.
Within five weeks of the Hamas attack on Israel last October, however, the foundation’s administrators were alarmed by pro-Palestinian protests and rhetoric at Columbia, with some Jewish students feeling that the university was becoming a hotbed of anti-Semitism.
The board discussed the events at the university during its Nov. 9 meeting, but kept the concerns off-camera. Scott Berrie, the board’s vice president and a son of Russell Berrie, compared the internal mood at the time to a collective “deep sigh.”
A day later, Columbia suspended its chapters of Students for Justice in Palestine and Jewish Voice for Peace, a move that encouraged foundation officials.
But the foundation still launched a private campaign to pressure the university to do more, including a November 29 meeting with Dr. Shafik, who had only taken over as Columbia’s president in July.
The foundation’s board was cautious, wary of being perceived as unduly intrusive. The record shows that they refrained from demanding that Columbia adopt a specific new policy or tactic. Instead, in a strategy familiar to many higher education leaders, they adopted a more subtle plan, describing their vision for Columbia in general terms and nudging the university toward their interpretations of already proclaimed principles, such as protections from harassment.
“Given our conversation, we are curious whether your administration will enforce the policies you have established to prevent speech and conduct that could constitute harassment and to appropriately discipline those responsible,” Scott Berrie wrote in an email to Dr. Shafik on December 14. .
“In this escalating climate of hate speech,” he added, “we look to Columbia for leadership that will inspire other universities to act with moral courage.”
But in January, with her board still nervous, Ms. Berrie sounded her warning to Columbia. Mr. Berrie, himself a Columbia alumnus, recalled that the idea was to “make it clear that this is an uncomfortable position for us as funders to be in, when the values of our foundation are being so severely challenged by what’s happening on campus.”
Dr. Shafik responded on January 24, five days later, and made no explicit mention of the funding threat but described her efforts to ensure “a safe and respectful environment” for students, which she characterized as “my top priority.”
However, Columbia’s problems only worsened. On April 17, when Dr. Shafik arrived on Capitol Hill to testify before a House committee, Columbia students were in open rebellion against the administration and gathered at a new schoolyard protest camp.
Dr. Shafik called the New York police the next day to evacuate the camp, making the university the center of the protest movement that continues across the country.
The decision to call in police enraged many on campus. But the crackdown did not entirely assuage the Berrie Foundation’s fears. The board, alarmed by the campus vitriol, voted unanimously on April 26 to halt the foundation’s donations for the time being. The chaos that had enveloped Columbia for much of April made the decision easier, but it was still painful, Ms. Berrie said.
“For us, this didn’t start with the encampments – this is an escalation of teachers bringing their ideological positions into the classrooms, Jewish students not being able to fully participate in university life because of what they believe or who they are,” said Idana Goldberg, the general director of the foundation.
The pause directly affects $153,000 the foundation had expected to spend on a diabetes research grant. A lengthy suspension, however, could have far more costly consequences: The foundation, which is expected to cease operations in about a decade, has been considering a new gift of at least $10 million.
Daniel W. Jones, a former chancellor of the University of Mississippi who previously served as dean of the medical school there, said it was “unusual” for a donor to cut support for medical research and care. Such things, he said, are often seen as sacred and shielded from the daily hustle and bustle of a major university.
“Rarely have I had someone who was interested in supporting research and linking it to something other than the research agenda,” said Dr. Jones.
Mr. Berrie acknowledged that choosing a priority is difficult. But, he said, “at some point, the rubber has to hit the road.” (Mr. Berrie said he did not believe the foundation’s decision would disrupt patient care, a view shared by Columbia officials.)
After the board made its move, he felt no resolve or relief, only regret, he said.
“I’ve heard a phrase that goes something like, ‘Where your attention goes, your energy flows,'” Mr. Berrie said. “And the fact that we spend so much energy on this instead of energy on making the world a better place is a regret.”
In a separate interview, Ms. Berrie opposed setting clear criteria for restoring Columbia’s funding.
“We can’t dictate what happens in an educational institution,” she said Monday. “But we will see if their actions actually rectify the situation.”
