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campus protests
Dems, Don’t Give Trump the Tools to Crush Protest Groups He Doesn’t Like
A bipartisan bill that would enable the next administration to strip nonprofits of their status is an example of how the crackdown on pro-Palestinian activism could make it easier for Trump to crush all dissent.
Nov 20, 2024
You could see this one coming.
It seems like about five years ago—in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours—but it was just last April when student protests over Israel’s post-October 7 attacks on Gaza and the deaths of Palestinian civilians roiled dozens of college campuses from coast-to-coast.
The tent encampments and student-led marches, from the Penn campus here in Philly to UCLA some 3,000 miles away, hearkened back to the youth unrest of the 1960s, but things were a little different this time. In an overheated election year, with some leading politicians accusing the protesters of antisemitism, university leaders were quicker to call in the police, who didn’t hesitate to make arrests or use force.
it’s hard to know much reluctance to take to the streets is also driven by the fresh memories of the riot cops on campus last spring and their aggressive tactics, which led to more than 3,100 arrests.
At the time, a few pundits warned that the aggressive police-state tactics felt like a grim foreshadowing of what could await all protesters—not just those in opposition to Israel’s far-right government and its war tactics—if an authoritarian Donald Trump won the November election. One wrote: “By the time a returned-to-the-White-House Trump makes good on his vow to send out troops and tanks to put down any January 20, 2025, inauguration protesters, America might be numb to such images.”
OK, I cheated: That pundit was me. But now that Trump is indeed the president-elect, with a vow of retribution against his political enemies, there’s growing concern that the incoming administration will clamp down hard on the right of dissent that is supposed to be guaranteed in the First Amendment. In a 4:00 am posting to his Truth Social website, the 45th and soon-to-be 47th POTUS confirmed that he plans to use the U.S. military for his sweeping mass-deportation agenda, which did little to calm fears that troops could also put down protests.
Meanwhile, and even more urgently, a bipartisan bill is racing through the current lame-duck session of Congress that—in an echo of the police-state style crackdown against the Gaza protests, which were often in Democratic-run jurisdictions—could have a much more sweeping impact.
The Stop Terror-Financing and Tax Penalties on American Hostages Act—also known as H.R. 9495—emerged from the uproar over the Gaza protests to give an administration’s treasury secretary, without further input from Congress, the ability to potentially devastate nonprofit groups by stripping their nonprofit status if they determine the group is “a terrorist supporting organization.” The bill’s bipartisan backers proposed the measure with more radical pro-Palestinian groups in mind, and also tied the bill to an understandably popular second measure that removes the threat of tax penalties for Americans held hostage overseas, including as many as four to seven now in Gaza.
Some 52 Democrats, including the staunchest supporters of Israel’s conduct, joined the GOP House majority last week in an effort to fast-track the bill that needed a two-thirds majority and fell just short. This week, the bill is moving toward final House approval that would only require a simple majority—even as progressive Democrats are increasingly alarmed that the incoming Trump administration will use to measure to punish other left-leaning groups that have nothing to do with Palestine.
“I think in view of Trump’s election, this bill basically authorizes him to impose a death penalty on any nonprofit in America or any civil society group that happens to be on his enemies list and claim that they’re a terrorist,” Rep. Lloyd Doggett, a Texas Democrat, told The Washington Postin voicing the growing liberal alarm over the measure. The congressman said those fears would apply to “a hospital performing an abortion, a community news outlet that he doesn’t think is giving him sufficient attention—or basically anyone, certainly groups that might be trying to assist migrants in this country.”
The measure is also opposed by groups like the American Civil Liberties Union and the international anti-famine organization Oxfam International, which chillingly compared H.R. 9495 to what it’s confronted around the globe trying to function in authoritarian regimes. “This bill follows the same playbook Oxfam has seen other governments around the world use to crush dissent,” its American CEO said last week in a statement. “Now we are seeing it here at home.”
Mother Jones also notes in a new piece that the anti-Gaza-protest playbook will likely inspire a Trump regime in other ways, including following through on his campaign threats to deport campus protesters. Cornell University grad student Momodou Taal—a protester whose student visa was revoked but has dodged deportation, for now—told the magazine that last spring’s crackdown set an awful precedent, saying: “I think what [President Joe] Biden has allowed for is that the clampdown is made easier for Trump now because the groundwork has already been laid.”
Indeed, Cornell’s moves to suspend Taal and other pro-Palestinian students who disrupted a job fair in September is just one part of a campus crusade against dissent and, arguably, free speech that seems to have succeeded in sharply reducing protests against the killing of civilians in Gaza—or against anything else for that matter.
In the two weeks since Trump’s election to another term, protests have been—with a handful of exceptions involving the socialist far left—a dog that hasn’t barked, in sharp contrast to Trump’s initial victory in 2016. Mostly that’s because many who formed a “Trump Resistance” eight years ago have concluded that mass protest isn’t the most effective tactic, but it’s hard to know much reluctance to take to the streets is also driven by the fresh memories of the riot cops on campus last spring and their aggressive tactics, which led to more than 3,100 arrests.
But this much is clear: If Democrats are serious about serving as the last line of defense against Trump’s most monarchical tendencies, the last thing they should be doing right now should be giving the incoming president a tool to quash protest groups he doesn’t like, using dictatorial fiat. Over the last 14 days, I’ve received a ton of reader emails asking what they can do to make a difference and not surrender to the end of American democracy as we’ve known it. Here’s one simple and easy thing: Call your member of Congress and urge them to oppose an un-American piece of legislation called H.R. 9495.
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The Fight Against Fascism Starts on Campus
Colleges are ahead of the curve when it comes to surveillance creep, and the ivory panopticon will only get worse as surveillance technologies get more advanced.
Nov 17, 2024
With the significant red shift this election, led by a man who is described by many as a fascist, resisting and reversing fascist creep is more important now than ever. Even at our supposedly most liberal institutions, we have seen increasingly unreasonable overreactions to dissent dictated not through democratic means, but through authoritarian decree.
Take, for example, the University of Pennsylvania. Early in the morning on October 18, a dozen armed university police stormed an off-campus student house to issue a warrant related to the throwing of red paint on a campus statue on September 12 as part of pro-Palestinian protests—red paint that was pressure-washed off within hours. Would UPenn faculty agree that an armed raid is an appropriate response to their own students who are angry and feeling helpless against the injustice of tens of thousands killed in Gaza? Where is shared and democratic governance when it comes to protest response on campus?
Penn Students Against the Occupation announced the paint incident on Instagram as being done by an “autonomous group.” They included a grainy video clip of a masked individual (let’s call them Sam) throwing the paint, echoing protest tactics used for decades from PETA showing disgust in fur coats to Just Stop Oil activists highlighting the hypocrisy of the attention paid to art versus the climate. Sam, presumably a student, clearly did not want to be caught—most likely because they saw how UPenn responded to protests last academic year—with arrests and academic sanctions and increased rules that prohibit protest activities like chalking and civil disobedience, including interrupting a guest speaker. Students know that if they want to be heard but don’t want to risk expulsion, they need to turn to subterfuge. And on a residential university campus, this is particularly tricky.
For free expression, students and faculty need to feel safe in expressing their ideas that push the boundaries of their institution, and they won’t feel safe to do that with complete surveillance of their activities.
While we are all subject to daily state and corporate surveillance of our activities, college campuses are unique examples of Foucault’s panopticon. Colleges serve as internet service provider, landlord, doctor, corner store, laundromat, gym, department of public safety, and, oh right, educator. And they have access to data for all those services, all handily linked to a student ID, collected in one place densely covered by surveillance cameras. What is unique about colleges compared to the broader U.S. is that the surveillance data is held by one institution rather than many. U.S. colleges are also known to employ analytics on their surveillance data: automated license plate reading, social media monitoring, face recognition, device tracking. Sam would have been easily identifiable despite wearing a mask if their phone automatically connected to campus wifi or if they were caught on camera without a mask approaching the scene.
Universities will say this surveillance is for the students—for their safety, health, and success. Yes, campus shootings are real and scary, but surveillance measures have a very limited ability to stop them. Yes, our youth are experiencing a mental health crisis, but monitoring student’s online behavior hasn’t proven to help either. Visible security has been shown to not increase student success, and if we need to track students to make them go to class are we really legitimizing the existence of higher education? The level of surveillance that universities engage in is more reminiscent of that undertaken by fascist and other authoritarian systems than means to support education.
But perhaps universities simply are fascist. After all, they are led by appointment rather than election. They are capitalist, in competition with one another to accumulate enrollment bases. They have their own rules and policies including strict guidelines on student conduct, which in many instances go far beyond those of broader society. They are awash with unbridled nationalism school pride with a deep hatred of other schools’... colors. And sadly, they have resorted to police intimidation and violence against student protesters of university policies, or allowed truly violent opponents to do this on their behalf.
When, last spring, universities set up mobile surveillance units (MSUs), either rented from private companies or on loan from the Department of Homeland Security, around peaceful and non-destructive protest encampments, it became hard to view campus surveillance as anything but a tool to maintain the institutional status quo. Particularly when those MSUs likely didn’t have any capabilities beyond what the campuses already had. They only served to remind students and faculty that the university is watching, and it is watching because it doesn’t approve.
This all makes universities sound like the fascist institutions that Vice President-elect JD Vance wants and that Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis is building rather than bastions of academic freedom and liberalism run by shared governance.
From private schools like Brown and UPenn to publics like UCLA and UC Davis, universities grossly overreach in their responses to students protesting injustice. For faculty and students to have a stake in campus response to protest, they need to start with a say in campus surveillance. There is no academic freedom or freedom of expression without privacy. FERPA, the federal law that governs student privacy, really only keeps student information from leaving the ivory tower. Universities need privacy policies that govern how information is shared and used within campus.
Colleges are ahead of the curve when it comes to surveillance creep, and the ivory panopticon will only get worse as surveillance technologies get more advanced. For free expression, students and faculty need to feel safe in expressing their ideas that push the boundaries of their institution, and they won’t feel safe to do that with complete surveillance of their activities. Which means the subjects of surveillance need to have a say in the surveillance. Students and faculty ought to demand answers as to why their institutions collect the data they do. They ought to demand evidence that their data policies holistically support student safety, health, and success. They ought to demand clarity as to whether their institution is being run as a Vance-approved or a DeSantis-built campus or as a place for academic freedom and legitimate higher education.
But then, will they be able to make these demands without being expelled or fired?
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Speaking Freely in the Age of Trump
Given what’s heading our way, we need a capacious view and robust defense of the First Amendment from all quarters—as we always have.
Nov 16, 2024
I thought I was done with free speech. For nearly two decades, I reported on it for the international magazine Index on Censorship. I wrote a book, Outspoken: Free Speech Stories, about controversies over it. I even sang “I Like to Be in America” at the top of my lungs at an around-the-clock banned-book event organized by the Boston Coalition for Freedom of Expression after the musical West Side Story was canceled at a local high school because of its demeaning stereotypes of Puerto Ricans. I was ready to move on. I was done.
As it happened, though, free speech—or, more accurately, attacks on it—wasn’t done with me, or with most Americans, as a matter of fact. On the contrary, efforts to stifle expression of all sorts keep popping up like Whac-A-Mole on steroids. Daily, we hear about another book pulled from a school; another protest closed down on a college campus; another university president bowing to alumni pressure; another journalist suspended over a post on social media; another politically outspoken artistdenied a spot in an exhibition; another young adult novel canceled for cultural insensitivity; another drag-queen story hour attacked at a library; another parent demanding control over how pronouns are used at school; another panic over the dangers lurking in AI; another op-ed fretting that even a passing acquaintance with the wrong word, picture, implication, or idea will puncture the fragile mental health of young people.
The instinct to cover other people’s mouths, eyes, and ears is ancient and persistent and not necessarily restricted to those we disagree with.
The list ranges from the ditzy to the draconian, and it’s very long. Even conduct can get ensnared in censorship battles, as abortion has over what information healthcare providers are allowed to offer or what information crisis pregnancy centers (whose purpose is to dissuade women from seeking abortions) can be required to offer. Looming over it all, we just had an election brimming with repellent utterances financed by gobs of corporate money, which, the Supreme Court ruled in its 2010 Citizens United decision, is a form of speech protected by the First Amendment.
I suspect that if you live long enough, everything begins to seem like a rerun (as much of this has for me). The actors may change—new groups of concerned moms replace old groups who called themselves concerned mothers; antiracists police academic speech, when once it was anti-porn feminists who did it; AI becomes the new Wild West, overtaking that lawless territory of yore, the World Wide Web—but the script is still the same.
It’s hard not to respond to the outrage du jour, and I’m finding perspective elusive in the aftermath of the latest disastrous election, but I do know this: The urge to censor will continue in old and new forms, regardless of who controls the White House. I don’t mean to be setting up a false equivalence here. The Trump presidency already looks primed to indulge his authoritarian proclivities and unleash mobs of freelance vigilantes, and that should frighten the hell out of all of us. I do mean to point out that the instinct to cover other people’s mouths, eyes, and ears is ancient and persistent and not necessarily restricted to those we disagree with. But now, of all times, given what’s heading our way, we need a capacious view and robust defense of the First Amendment from all quarters—as we always have.
Make No Law
In a succinct 45 words, the First Amendment protects citizens from governmental restrictions on religious practices, speech, the press, and public airings of grievances in that order. It sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? But if a devil is ever in the details, it’s here, and the courts have been trying to sort those out over the last century or more. Working against such protections are the many often insidious ways to stifle expression, disagreement, and protest—in other words, censorship. Long ago, American abolitionist and social reformer Frederick Douglass said, “Find out just what any people will quietly submit to, and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong that will be imposed upon them.” It was a warning that the ensuing 167 years haven’t proven wrong.
Censorship is used against vulnerable people by those who have the power to do so. The role such power plays became apparent in the last days of the recent election campaign when TheWashington Postand the Los Angeles Times, at the insistence of their owners, declined to endorse anyone for president. Commentary by those who still care what the news media does ranged from a twist of the knife into the Post‘s Orwellian slogan, “Democracy Dies in Darkness” to assessments of the purpose or value of endorsements in the first place. These weren’t the only papers not to endorse a presidential candidate, but it’s hard not to read the motivation of their billionaire owners, Jeff Bezos and Patrick Soon-Shiong, as cowardice and self-interest rather than the principles they claimed they were supporting.
Newspapers, print or digital, have always been gatekeepers of who and what gets covered, even as their influence has declined in the age of social media. Usually, political endorsements are crafted by editorial boards but are ultimately the prerogative of publishers. The obvious conflict of interest in each of those cases, however, speaks volumes about the drawback of news media being in the hands of ultra-rich individuals with competing business concerns.
Journalists already expect to be very vulnerable during Donald Trump’s next term as president. After all, he’s called them an “enemy of the people,” encouraged violence against them, and never made a secret of how he resents them, even as he’s also courted them relentlessly. During his administration, he seized the phone records of reporters at The New York Times, The Washington Post, and CNN; called for revoking the broadcast licenses of national news organizations; and vowed to jail journalists who refuse to identify their confidential sources, later tossing editors and publishers into that threatened mix for good measure.
It can be hard to tell if Trump means what he says or can even say what he means, but you can bet that, with an enemies list that makes President Richard Nixon look like a piker, he intends to try to hobble the press in multiple ways. There are limits to what any president can do in that realm, but while challenges to the First Amendment usually end up in the courts, in the time the cases take to be resolved, Trump can make the lives of journalists and publishers miserable indeed.
Tinker, Tailor, Journalist, Spy
Among the threats keeping free press advocates up at night is abuse of the Espionage Act. That law dates from 1917 during World War I, when it was used to prosecute anti-draft and anti-war activists and is now used to prosecute government employees for revealing confidential information.
Before Trump himself was charged under the Espionage Act for illegally retaining classified documents at his Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida after he left office, his Justice Department used it to prosecute six people for disclosing classified information. That included Wikileaks founder Julian Assange on conspiracy charges—the first time the Espionage Act had ever been used against someone for simply publishing such information. The case continued under President Joe Biden until Assange’s plea deal this past summer, when he admitted guilt in conspiring to obtain and disclose confidential U.S. documents, thereby setting an unnerving precedent for our media future.
In his first term, Trump’s was a particularly leaky White House, but fewer leakers (or whistleblowers, depending on your perspective) were indicted under the Espionage Act then than during Barack Obama’s administration, which still holds the record with eight prosecutions, more than all previous presidencies combined. That set the tone for intolerance of leaks, while ensnaring journalists trying to protect their sources. In a notably durable case—it went on from 2008 to 2015—James Risen, then a New York Times reporter, fought the government’s insistence that he testify about a confidential source he used for a book about the CIA. Although Obama’s Justice Department ultimately withdrew its subpoena, Risen’s protracted legal battle clearly had a chilling effect (as it was undoubtedly meant to).
Governments of all political dispositions keep secrets and seldom look kindly on anyone who spills them. It is, however, the job of journalists to inform the public about what the government is doing and that, almost by definition, can involve delving into secrets. Journalists as a breed are not easily scared into silence, and no American journalist has been found guilty under the Espionage Act so far, but that law still remains a powerful tool of suppression, open to abuse by any president. It has historically made self-censorship on the part of reporters, editors, and publishers an appealing accommodation.
Testing the Limits
Years ago, the legal theorist Thomas Emerson pointed to how consistently expression has indeed been restricted during dark times in American history. He could, in fact, have been writing about the response to protests over the war in Gaza on American campuses, where restrictions came, not from a government hostile to unfettered inquiry, but from institutions whose purpose is supposedly to foster and promote it.
After a fractious spring, colleges and universities around the country were determined to restore order. Going into the fall semester, they changed rules, strengthened punishments, and increased the ways they monitored expressive activities. To be fair, many of them also declared their intention to maintain a climate of open discussion and learning. Left unsaid was their need to mollify their funders, including the federal government.
In a message sent to college and university presidents last April, the ACLU recognized the tough spot administrators were in and acknowledged the need for some restrictions, but also warned that “campus leaders must resist the pressures placed on them by politicians seeking to exploit campus tensions to advance their own notoriety or partisan agendas.”
The marginal might be—today or sometime in the future—what we ourselves want to say, support, or advocate.
As if in direct rebuttal, on Halloween, the newly philosemitic House Committee on Education and the Workforce issued its report on campus antisemitism. Harvard (whose previous president Claudine Gay had been forced out, in part, because of her testimony to the committee) played a large role in that report’s claims of rampant on-campus antisemitism and civil rights abuses. It charged that the school’s administration had fumbled its public statements, that its faculty had intervened “to prevent meaningful discipline,” and that Gay had “launched into a personal attack” on Rep. Elise Stefanik, a Republican committee member and Harvard graduate, at a Board of Overseers meeting. The report included emails and texts revealing school administrators tying themselves in knots over language that tried to appease everyone and ended up pleasing no one. The overarching tone of the report, though, was outrage that Gay and other university presidents didn’t show proper obeisance to the committee or rain sufficient punishment on their students’ heads.
Harvard continues to struggle. In September, a group of students staged a “study-in” at Widener, the school’s main library. Wearing keffiyehs, they worked silently at laptops bearing messages like “Israel bombs, Harvard pays.” The administration responded by barring a dozen protesters from that library (but not from accessing library materials) for two weeks, whereupon 30 professors staged their own “study-in” to protest the punishment and were similarly barred from the library.
The administration backed up its actions by pointing to an official statement from last January clarifying that protests are impermissible in several settings, including libraries, and maintained that the students had been forewarned. Moreover, civil disobedience comes with consequences. No doubt the protesters were testing the administration and, had they gotten no response, probably would have tried another provocation. As Harry Lewis, a former Harvard dean and current professor, told The Boston Globe, “Students will always outsmart you on regulating these things unless they buy into the principles.” Still, administrators had considerable leeway in deciding how to respond and they chose the punitive option.
Getting a buy-in sounds like what Wesleyan University President Michael Roth aimed for in a manifesto of sorts that he wrote last May, as students erected a protest encampment on his campus. Laying out his thinking on the importance of tolerating or even encouraging peaceful student protests over the war in Gaza, he wrote, “Neutrality is complicity,” adding, “I don’t get to choose the protesters’ messages. I do want to pay attention to them… How can I not respect students for paying attention to things that matter so much?” It was heartening to read.
Alas, the tolerance didn’t hold. In this political moment, it probably couldn’t. In September, Roth called in city police when students staged a sit-in at the university’s investment office just before a vote by its board of trustees on divesting from companies that support the Israeli military. Five students were placed on disciplinary probation for a year and, after a pro-divestment rally the next day, eight students received disciplinary charge letters for breaking a slew of rules.
Why Fight It
The right to free expression is the one that other democratic rights we hold dear rely on. Respecting it allows us to find better resolutions to societal tensions and interpersonal dissonance than outlawing words. But the First Amendment comes with inherent contradictions so, bless its confusing little heart, it manages to piss off nearly everyone sooner or later. Self-protection is innate, tolerance an acquired taste.
One of the stumbling blocks is that the First Amendment defends speech we find odious along with speech we like, ideas that frighten us along with ideas we embrace, jack-booted marches along with pink-hatted ones. After all, popular speech doesn’t need protection. It’s the marginal stuff that does. But the marginal might be—today or sometime in the future—what we ourselves want to say, support, or advocate.
And so, I return to those long-ago banned book readings, which culminated with everyone reciting the First Amendment together, a tradition I continued with my journalism students whenever I taught about press freedoms. Speaking words out loud is different from reading them silently. You hear and know them, sometimes for what seems like the first time. Maybe that’s why our communal celebration of the First Amendment seemed to amuse, embarrass, and impress the students in unequal measure. I think they got it, though.
I recognize that this kind of exhortation is many planks short of a strategy, but it’s a place to start, especially in the age of Donald Trump, because, in the end, the best reason to embrace and protect the First Amendment is that we will miss it when it’s gone.
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