Last week a massive General Assembly on the UC Davis campus called a student strike for today, November 28, on campuses across California. The strike was intended to call attention to police violence in UC, and to highlight student demonstrations against today’s meeting of the University of California Board of Regents.

The UC Regents were supposed to meet earlier this month at the system’s out-of-the-way Mission Bay campus, but that meeting was cancelled in the face of planned student demonstrations. Today’s rescheduled meeting will take place by teleconference, with regents scattered across the state. UC Davis is one of the meeting’s four physical locations, but as of the weekend only the board’s two student members (one of them non-voting) planned to be present at what has become the new center of resistance to the university’s capricious regulations and reprehensible institutional violence.

In explaining why more regents did not plan to be present at Davis today, university spokesman Pete King said that the regents did not want to “jeopardize” the Davis chancellor’s “pledge to students to keep police presence on campus minimal until the campus … begins to heal.”

This is what UC has come to. The university’s regents feel that a small police presence isn’t enough of a barrier to allow them to sit down in the presence of the system’s students. They have, they say, “no expectation of student violence.” The students of Davis have proven their commitment to nonviolence over and over in recent days, even in the face of egregious violence directed against them. But just a few cops aren’t enough cops to allow the regents to come to their campus and hear their voices without fear.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, the Board of Trustees of the City University of New York are shutting down an entire campus building — a huge building — so that they can meet inside. Classes are being cancelled, staff are being placed on leave, a street is being prepared for barricading, all so the CUNY trustees can hold a regularly scheduled meeting.

When the governing bodies of two of the country’s greatest institutions of higher education are literally, physically walling themselves off from the students of those universities, something has gone deeply deeply wrong.

Yesterday Catherine Cole, a Berkeley professor, published an essay on the current “cycle of violence” at UC Berkeley that I consider an important and valuable contribution to current discussion.

In it, Cole properly declares that the perpetrators (and she uses that word) of the first acts of violence in connection with the current wave of student activism at Berkeley were not students, but police — “heavily armed police who assaulted unarmed bystanders located in a zone of free speech.” That violence, she notes, was the direct result of the Berkeley administration’s dereliction in “fulfilling its foundational duty of ensuring a safe campus,” a dereliction of duty whose consequences the administration “must accept full responsibility for.”

Instead of doing so, Cole writes, the administration has continued to resort to violence on campus, most recently eighteen days ago when “the Berkeley Administration” — not the UCPD, the administration, who directed the police’s actions — “lit in to unarmed student protestors … whacking them full force with truncheons, cracking ribs, bruising bones, and throwing unarmed students, faculty, poet laureates and their loved ones to the ground.”

“The Administration sets the tone for the campus,” Cole says, and “the tone that has been set since November 20, 2009 has been a trigger-happy resort to riot police and an utter failure to engage in any kind of meaningful dialogue.” In the face of a vibrant, committed, and exuberant student movement in defense of public higher education, the administration of Berkeley and the entire UC system has adopted a posture of “defeatist resignation.” They have declared the students of the university “unworthy interlocutors,” failing to even attempt “to mobilize and harness the power, the populist strength, the sheer numbers of students, staff and faculty who are currently located within public higher education in California and who are prepared to take action to preserve their fine institutions.”

All of this is, to my mind, absolutely correct as both description and analysis. But there are several ways in which Cole’s argument could be strengthened further.

First, there is the matter of the “retributive violence” of December 6, 2009, in which a small group vandalized the Berkeley chancellor’s residence with him and his wife inside. Cole implies that this act was a response to the police violence of November 20, and that violence surely contributed to activists’ anger, but the incident was a far more direct reaction to the arrest of sixty-six peacefully, non-disruptively demonstrating students in Wheeler Hall earlier that day. Police violence is not merely a matter of batons and tasers and pepper spray — it also takes the form of illegitimate and unreasonable arrest.

Second, Cole declares that with the attack on the chancellor’s residence the Berkeley student movement “forfeited the one source of power it had: the moral high ground” and “lost the sympathy, respect and participation of many faculty.” As a description of the consequences of the incident on the Berkeley campus, this may well be accurate. But as a moral judgement of the movement itself, it misses the mark. The vandalism of the chancellor’s residence was an act committed by a small group of people — who may or may not have been students — over the course of a few minutes. It involved no physical violence against any person. It was conducted without the authority or the imprimatur of any organization. That act cannot alter the moral position of anyone who did not participate in it, and if it caused faculty to dismiss an entire movement, that is a failing of the faculty, not the students.

Finally, there is Cole’s apparent conflation of the illegal and the violent. Destruction of property may perhaps be described as violent, even if it is not violence of the same kind or seriousness as brutalization of people. But a peaceful demonstration, even when it takes the form of an illegal occupation of a campus building, cannot be described as “violent” in any meaningful way. To the extent that such actions contribute to a cycle of violence that cycle might more accurately be described as a spiral — the spiral into greater and more egregious violence of an institution frustrated by student noncompliance with its regulations.

Update | In this post I’ve emphasized my areas of agreement with Cole’s piece, rather than underscoring the places where our analysis differs. But this critical response to Cole is well worth reading, though its reading of Cole is less charitable than mine. This passage in particular makes a crucial point:

Let us be clear: the purpose of the student movement is not to negotiate the privatization of the university with administrators. Students have tried again and again to reach out to the administration, but to no avail. The problem is not that administrators like Yudof and Birgeneau are hard of hearing; they have heard our message and they are ignoring it. The days are long gone when university administrators thought it their job to protect and safeguard affordable higher education; they’re paid to manage the university system like the multi-billion-dollar commercial enterprise that it is, which is exactly what they’re trying to do, students and faculty be damned.

As I mentioned last week, students at UC Davis and elsewhere have called for a national student general strike this coming Monday, November 28. (Monday is the day that the University of California Board of Regents will be holding their November meeting by teleconference, a meeting rescheduled from earlier in the month because of fears of student protests.)

As of now the Occupy Colleges website lists nearly three dozen campuses in fourteen states as confirmed participants in the strike, though their list is likely both overinclusive (because all you need to do to confirm your participation is fill out a web form) and underinclusive (because unless you fill out that web form you don’t get on the list).

I’ll be poking around as the weekend wears on looking for more info about students’ plans for Monday. If you have anything to share, please do.

Ten days ago a group of students from campuses across New York City occupied a suite of rooms at the New School at 90 Fifth Avenue. They set up a blog, released a statement, and settled in to work.

The space the group was occupying, however, wasn’t owned by the New School itself but was leased (or rather borrowed, as it was “leased” rent-free), and before too long the owners started making noises about evicting the occupation. Fire Marshals were called. The New School offered to relocate the group to the Kellen gallery, another NS space a few blocks away, with a commitment to let them stay until the fall semester ends in late December.

The occupation voted to accept the offer at a mass meeting on Tuesday night, but the vote wasn’t close to unanimous and some charged that non-occupiers had been sent in to tip the vote. As a result, one group moved to the new space, while another stayed at the old, and set up their own blog.

In the early morning hours of Friday, November 25, the group that stayed behind at 90 Fifth Avenue released a statement saying that they had received word of a planned police raid, and that they had “chosen to barricade all entrances to this space and will defend it by all means available to us.”

Then they left.

What exactly happened at that point isn’t completely clear, but New School officials say that the group abandoned the occupation during the night, and that some of the occupiers then vandalized the Kellen Gallery with messages that included “Spoiled New School Anarchists,” “Free Education,” “Pussies,” and “Cops Out Of CUNY.”

By morning, there were just five people left in Kellen, and the New School president asked them to leave so that the space could be cleaned and painted. They did.

The New School says that they hope to have both previously occupied spaces reopened by Monday morning. They intend to return the space at 90 Fifth Avenue to its previous use as a study area, and have not yet announced whether they plan to offer the Kellen Gallery to the occupation again.

Some links:

Update | Here’s a Flickr photoset from a NS person. The first six shots are of preparations for the Kellen occupation, and the rest are of graffiti left behind by the 90 Fifth Avenue occupation.

Lili Loofbourow put up an amazing post yesterday about the way administrators in the University of California system have presented themselves in public statements about campus activism. It’s great and long and filled with important insights, and you should go read the whole thing. Here’s a taste, from somewhere in the middle:

Word choice seems trivial much of the time. “We” or “I,” “distress” or “regret.” But this use of “we” is not to be taken lightly. It is not a mistake to be cosmetically airbrushed out of the record. It is a persistent, unapologetic use of that pronoun “we” to drive home that he was in full control of what had gone on, and that he approved of it. It’s a rhetorical choice, the utter baselessness of which is revealed, in that second letter, through the admission that he had exactly none of the information he claimed to have carefully considered when making his first assessment of campus events.

This is a dead horse worth beating: the Chancellor of UC Berkeley unapologetically authorized the police action against faculty and students and unapologetically supported that decision, claiming both responsibility for the action and knowledge of the circumstances: he represents himself as part of the “we” that “encountered” a situation that forced police to use inexcusable violence.

You don’t get to walk away from that particular kind of mendacity, no matter how many letters you issue. Here’s why: it’s symptomatic of an institution whose checks and balances are sick, whose appeals processes are broken, and whose administrators appear to speak only in terms of what makes good or bad press.

It’s likely that the Chancellor wrote that letter, not maliciously, but carelessly. That does not make it better; it makes it worse. It reveals that this is a practice that isn’t limited to one Chancellor or to one day—it’s a pattern, a habit, a system.

Not long after that post went up, Loofbourow came across some more information about exactly how these statements are composed — a paper trail showing that a long, detailed statement about one 2009 UC Berkeley mass arrest was composed some twelve hours before those arrests took place. Berkeley’s chancellor even directed that a quote from him be added “expressing my admiration for the very professional way in which the police managed to apprehend and remove the illegal occupiers” — again, before those arrests took place. Check it out.

The chancellors of UC Davis and UC Berkeley have in recent days been forced to distance themselves from episodes of police violence that they embraced with warm enthusiasm (tempered by hand-clasping “sadness”) in their immediate aftermath. Now we know why.

Physical violence against, and improper arrest of, student activists in the University of California system has become so routinized that administrators write their defenses of those actions before they even occur.

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StudentActivism.net is the work of Angus Johnston, a historian and advocate of American student organizing.

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