Administration often says that student safety is its top priority. That principle is used to justify policies around student organizations. Specifically those that are unrecognized or suspended.
The policy appears straightforward: students are prohibited from joining or promoting unrecognized organizations, and “promotion” is broadly defined to include an organization’s goals, purposes, identity, programs, or activities.
In practice, however, the policy is anything but clear. Its language is vague, its standards are undefined, and its enforcement appears uneven. That vagueness gives the university so much leeway while leaving students with little understanding of what behavior is actually permitted.
The Student Organization Handbook never explains what “promotion” looks like in real terms. Does sharing ideas associated with an organization count? Does attending an event? What about posting on social media or having conversations with friends? Because none of this is clarified, enforcement depends almost entirely on how administrators choose to interpret the rules in a given situation. That flexibility may benefit the institution, but it creates confusion and fear for students.
This unevenness becomes especially apparent when looking at how different groups are treated.
Students associated with Turning Point USA have publicly used the name “TPUSA Loyola” after being denied recognition. They have operated social media accounts under that identity and spoken to national media outlets while representing themselves as connected to Loyola. Under the handbook’s own language, this appears to fall squarely under “promoting identity and activities.” Yet there has been no visible disciplinary action.
By contrast, students connected to Liberate and Unite New Orleans’ Students for a Democratic Society have faced scrutiny for organizing and participating in visible political activism. More concerning still is the focus on a single individual.
As an editorial board, we are operating only on what can be proven. We acknowledge that there may be details we are not aware of but that uncertainty is precisely the problem. We believe students should not have to guess where the lines are.
This does not feel like a neutral application of policy. It feels targeted.
What makes this situation especially alarming is not just the vagueness of the policy or its uneven enforcement, it is how clearly it appears that the university is attempting to make an example out of Juleea Berthelot.
On Thursday, Jan. 29, Berthelot was given three charges after students were asked to stop giving out flyers in the Peace Quad. The charges were: promotion of a non-recognized student organization, posting and advertising, and social media use.
Based on what we know, Juleea has become the focal point of administrative scrutiny while others engaging in visible political activity have not faced the same response. If the rules are meant to apply universally, then this selective attention demands an explanation. Why Berthelot? Why now? And why one student, rather than a consistent application of policy across campus?
This does not resemble neutral enforcement. It resembles targeting.
When a university centers disciplinary action on a single student it raises serious concerns about fairness and due process.
We want to be clear: this is not a call for more students to be punished. It is a call for clarity and consistency. If the rules exist, they should be enforced evenly. If they are not meant to apply in certain contexts, that should be clearly stated. Right now, students are being told two different things at once. The Student Organization Handbook presents the rules as strict and universally applicable, yet in practice they are enforced selectively scrutinizing some students while overlooking others who publicly promote unrecognized organizations without consequence.
This approach runs directly counter to Loyola’s Jesuit values. Cura personalis calls for care of the whole person. Social justice is central to the university’s identity. Jesuit education is rooted in the belief that students should engage critically with injustice, stand with the marginalized, and speak out against systems that harm the vulnerable. A school that claims these values should understand that there will always be students who organize, advocate, and challenge power. Having students who advocate, challenge norms, and protest for what they stand for should not be treated as if they’re doing something wrong. The very things they are doing is a successful application of a Jesuit education.
What is most striking is the contradiction. Berthelot embodies the impulse to stand up for the oppressed, to question authority, and to act on moral conviction are the same instincts Loyola publicly celebrates. Yet here, those instincts appear to be treated as grounds for discipline rather than dialogue.
If students are punished for living out the values they are taught, then social justice becomes a slogan rather than a practice. Cura personalis demands care, not suspicion. Justice cannot be selective, and it cannot depend on how inconvenient a student’s advocacy becomes.
Loyola should be a place where all students feel like they belong, not a place where political expression is selectively punished. A student code of conduct should allow room for learning, dialogue, and forgiveness. It should not operate under a mindset of “you have been a problem, so now we charge you.”
If Loyola truly wants to prioritize student safety, it must also prioritize transparency, fairness, and due process. Right now, the lack of clarity in the Student Organization Handbook and the way it is enforced does the opposite.
Students deserve better than confusion. Juleea deserves better. We deserve rules we can understand, trust, and believe in.
