On April 22, students at the University of Michigan awoke to a new manifestation of the pro-Palestine protests which have continued to reverberate throughout campus since the onset of Israel’s military campaign in Gaza this past fall. In the dark hours of the morning, with only the fast-fading moon for company, around 40 members of TAHRIR coalition organizations erected tents on the Diag in solidarity with the student encampment at Columbia University. The move — not unprecedented and, after the example set by Columbia, likely inevitable — was met with mixed reactions. For some, it was a tangible and constant visual reminder of the strength of the pro-Palestine movement on campus. These students seized the new opportunity, donating food, time and essential items to help those at the encampment stay comfortable and warm on the unforgiving brick of the Diag. For others, this was an unsettling escalation of University-sanctioned antisemitism that was further punctuated by a banner proclaiming “Long live the Intifada.” The phrase, an Arabic word meaning “uprising,” denotes multiple historical periods of Palestinian resistance to Israel and is seen as antisemitic by those in support of Israel. For a period of time, counter-protesters draped in Israeli flags were a familiar sight on the grassy common to the encampment’s north. For the middling student, the encampment was a curiosity on the way to final classes and study spaces during exam season. For everyone, student and faculty alike, it only heightened the possibility of an escalation by the University. Months of rising tensions on campus — during which Michigan State Police shoved protesters at regents’ meetings and pro-Palestine leaders were served trespassing notices — seemed headed for a meeting between student and authority in the mold of the events at Columbia University and the University of North Carolina.
No such meeting came. With the exception of a silent police vigil from the edges of the Diag, the University remained dispassionate about the students occupying the so-called “center” of campus life. With each passing day, the sign proclaiming the brick space around the block ‘M’ as its own “liberated zone” seemed increasingly accurate, with a loosely drawn hierarchy of volunteers and organizers maintaining order within the boundaries of the encampment. Despite its centrality on campus, the encampment remained cautious of engaging with outsiders and a sign at its volunteer tent advised members not to take photos or talk to journalists. During the course of writing this article, my requests for interviews were directed to senior leaders of the TAHRIR coalition, who walked me through the structure and design of the encampment itself. This mistrust is understandable — Salma Hamamy, the former president of Students Allied for Freedom and Equality, told me that Zionist journalists have caused trouble in the past. However, I continued to photograph and observe the encampment, hoping to provide an in-depth look at the occupation before it disappeared.
A student sits outside of the encampment. Photo courtesy of Joshua Nicholson.
The first thing you noticed about the encampment was that it was exceptionally calm. Besides the contents of the Liberation Library, a space where freshly printed zines and donated books were offered to protesters, or the students who donned keffiyehs as a means to preserve anonymity, the tents on the Diag felt more like a standard campus event than an unruly anarchic revolution. In the first days following the encampment’s construction, students studied on the plaza’s stone benches and imported lawn chairs. A lively chess competition kept the less studious occupied in their down time as general conversation filled the air. A white board near the center of the encampment kept track of each day’s agenda. It included events like teach-ins, rallies and passover festivities, all of which were hosted under the same central red tent.
As the encampment peaked at over 100 students, its amenities expanded. Where there used to be residential tents a dedicated section for donated food was installed. The tent which once held the much smaller food area then held the Liberation Library, which also staffed a permanent volunteer and portable printers.
Perhaps the only things which remained constant throughout the encampment’s presence were the first aid and headquarters tents. On hot days, the first-aid tent housed volunteer pre-med and medical students offering free sunscreen, pain and allergy medication and sanitary products. The head of the encampment featured the community’s headquarters, a comparatively larger tent. Speakers, bullhorns and signs used during rallies lay in a small alley between the headquarters and one of the Diag’s stone benches.
On only the second day of the encampment, I came across Hamamy sitting on the steps of Hatcher Graduate Library after a rally. Digging into an acai bowl, she told me that the protesters were there to stay, and if they were removed by the University, they would be back the next day. As crackdowns continue on campuses across the country, the encampment is shifting its focus to summer programming. Standing off to the side of the tents, I talked with U-M alum Zainab Hakim, former board member of SAFE, about the evolving identity of the encampment.
“(The encampment) has continuously shifted in terms of who’s been able to stay and maintain the space,” Hakim said. “Originally, there were a bunch of people in the TAHRIR coalition where things got started. Once we were here, we drew in a lot more people and realized there was a lot more to take care of than we had originally imagined. That created a lot of new roles for people to fill.”
These roles included the aforementioned distribution of food and medical supplies and, as unanticipated problems with waste disposal arose, Hakim referenced the need to establish a point of contact between volunteers and trash services. With the tents engulfing the Diag, the University did not empty the trash cans on each of its corners. One of the most common sounds of the encampment was a volunteer announcing where attendees should leave their trash during meal times — in case you were wondering, the operation was located in a dedicated compost tent. Although summer break has stolen some of the participants, Hakim said she was confident in the camp’s ability to adapt.
“I think that a lot is going to change, as it has to, because of the summer,” Hakim said. “But I’m pretty confident in our ability to develop systems to keep things going. We’ll have to shift, but I think we’ll figure it out.”
The lack of manpower is almost certainly going to put a damper on some of the rallies that were characteristic of the early days of the encampment. In the first week, when the threat of University retaliation was fresh on everyone’s minds, protesters held rallies encouraging community members to protect the encampment. Featuring speakers ranging from SAFE board members to sympathetic professors, these rallies would end in a circular march around the edge of the Diag, with attendees shouting familiar slogans at both the police and counter-protesters.
Although I would be remiss to not discuss the counter-protesters, I must first acknowledge the label itself. In the course of understanding the various aspects of the encampment and its ecosystem, I sat down with LSA junior Josh Brown, head of activism with Wolverine for Israel, a pro-Israel group on campus. During our discussion, Brown expressed his objection to the label, arguing that students in this organization — who proclaim themselves as Zionists — are not protesting; instead, he says they’re trying to demonstrate an alternative viewpoint on campus.
“I generally do not counter-protest,” Brown said. “What we’re doing is we’re trying to show a proud Jewish and Zionist presence on campus. When I’m out there holding a flag, I’m trying to display the presence for other Zionist and Jewish students on campus so they feel more comfortable.”
Despite eschewing the term, Brown and other Zionist students are still engaging, by definition, in a silent counter-protest. In many cases, they’ve also directly instigated confrontations with pro-Palestine students — I saw a Zionist counter-protester rip down Palestinian flags on the Diag during a tax day protest by the TAHRIR coalition.
Although Brown told me that the counter-protesters were not organized in any official way, he has been identified as a de-facto leader, in part due to his role in WFI. Even if his protest is silent, he has been a constant presence at SAFE protests where he often follows marches and watches from a distance with his phone in hand. At previous protests organized by the TAHRIR coalition, Brown has stood out above the crowd, bearing an Israeli flag and stern look of disapproval. His presence from the start of the encampment was no surprise; outside its northern border, he has stood with fellow counter-protesters keeping silent watch over the multi-colored tents.
A pro-Israel student walks in the middle of a rally at the encampment on the first day. Photo courtesy of Joshua Nicholson.
Much like the encampment itself, the counter-protesters have also been relatively peaceful. Although some have attempted to antagonize the pro-Palestine students by marching alongside them with Israeli flags, both sides have generally tried to avoid open confrontation. Students in the encampment who tried to vocalize their frustrations were led away by protest marshals — students appointed to keep order during demonstrations and communicate with external forces, such as police and counter-protesters. The Zionists, outside of the occasional instigator, generally found themselves content to continue their silent protest. Although we should never expect violence, the dynamic stood in stark contrast with universities around the country.
On April 30th, counter-protesters at the University of California, Los Angeles conducted what can only be described as a full-frontal assault on their university’s student encampment. Wielding physical and chemical weapons, a pro-Israel mob attempted to dismantle the walls of the UCLA encampment. A video investigation by The New York Times found that much of the violence was instigated by the counter-protesters, who threw lit fireworks into groups of students and violently attacked everyone from individual protesters to student journalists. Attempting to defend their encampment, pro-Palestine students were seen repairing the walls where possible and shouting at others to not engage.
Although the violence at UCLA was exceptional, physical confrontations on college campuses have occurred everywhere from the Deep South to New York City. While our university was initially spared, the attacks speak to the impossible situation many pro-Palestine encampments face. On some level, they are all in violation of their university’s policies. Even if the University initially remained relatively uninvolved, the encampment is, technically, against school policy — the University maintains rules and a reservation system for using the Diag, a system the encampment circumnavigated. Because of this, pro-Palestine students could not afford to take action that might have labeled them as an aggressor, lest they provided the University with a justification to clear their tents. When members of Brown’s group entered the encampment and wave a camera in protesters’ faces, the best that the students in the encampment could do was put on a mask and avert their eyes.
While Hakim told me that the encampment was run on a volunteer-basis, the level of discipline it represented is astounding. On the whole, members of SAFE prevented protesters from doing anything outside of the bounds of their mission. Protesters did not engage with the media, regardless of their affiliation or familiarity with the students. When counter-protesters entered the encampment or attempted to antagonize them, they remained silent — even when the antagonists were far-right influencers. In our interview, Hakim directly addressed this as a challenge within the encampment.
“Everybody wants to be like ‘oh there’s a hostile person in the camp, I want to deal with them,’” Hakim said. “But we have to think about the safety of the entire community and of the entire encampment, and a lot of the time, it’s not the best idea for ten people to stand up and start fighting with somebody.”
The most you were likely to hear about Zionists in the encampment was gentle laughter. From conversations both had and overheard, I’ve found that Brown and other Zionists are familiar faces to the protesters. They’re not friendly, but they were an expected and immutable part of the environment of the encampment. An April 28th counter-protest, which seemed to be canceled due to a lack of attendance, was laughed off by protesters participating in a large-scale community day. In reality, Brown claims Zionist students discouraged the event, which they thought could lead to conflict with the encampment.
“(The counter-protest) was organized by off-campus third parties and students on campus believed that the event might create safety concerns due to how it would be perceived by those in the encampment,” Brown said. “We felt that it was not a good idea to organize something that would be seen as antagonistic like that and suggested that the event be canceled. We didn’t think it was the best idea, given what we’ve seen on other campuses where things turned extremely violent very quickly.”
With the semester over, most counter-protesters have left for the summer, something Hakim pointed out as representative of which of the two parties was more committed to their cause.
“I think I’ve always known that our will is stronger and our resolve is firmer,” Hakim said. “We are on the right side of history and we’re fighting for liberation. Without a doubt, our will is stronger to be here.”
On the other hand, I asked Brown about the lack of counter-protesters during the coming summer. Again dismissing the label, he argued that there was no longer a need for them to be present with most students gone for the semester.
“Given the significant amount of students who have left for the summer, there’s probably less of a need for (Jewish and Zionist) representation. I would hope that some people are there showing a proud Jewish and Zionist presence, but there’s probably less of a need because there are less people there.”
Despite both sides working independently to discourage violence, the University has ultimately failed to do the same. After a month of inaction, during which the University Board of Regents rejected the TAHRIR coalition’s calls for divestments and kept police on the outskirts of the Diag, University President Santa Ono directed police to clear the encampment on May 21st. Just as protesters established their first tents a month earlier, officers arrived in the darkness of early morning, giving those present only a few minutes to clear the Diag.
Videos posted by the TAHRIR coalition on social media show police in riot gear shoving protesters out of the Diag with batons and deploying pepper spray. A photo of the encampment, originally from ABC7, was shared by the TAHRIR coalition after protesters were shoved all the way to Ingalls Mall. The same bricks which saw the feet of hundreds of community members, drum circles, book club meetings and teach-ins now rested passively under the weight of the ruined tents and discarded belongings. By the afternoon, the Diag was shut down and U-Haul trucks began the long process of cleaning up the remains of the medical tent and Liberation Library.
In an email to the student body an hour after the encampment was cleared, Ono defended the University’s decision as one intended to prevent a fire hazard in the encampment.
“Following a May 17 inspection by the university fire marshal, who determined that were a fire to occur, a catastrophic loss of life was likely, the fire marshal and Student Life leaders asked camp occupants to remove external camp barriers, refrain from overloading power sources, and stop using open flames,” Ono wrote. “The protesters refused to comply with these requests. That forced the university to take action and this morning, we removed the encampment.”
In the email, Ono highlighted various instances of disruption that he described as “troubling.” Among those listed were the May 3rd protest at the UMMA, where protesters were met with police force, and the painting over of the Block M with the colors of the Palestinian flag.
Lasting 30 days, the encampment was one of the longest running peaceful protests of its kind. It has now met the same fate as protests across a country that has arrested 2,800 students and razed hundreds of tents already. Two weeks before the raid, I asked the University for its specific policy on the encampment. University Spokesperson Colleen Mastony provided the following statement.
“Freedom of speech is a bedrock principle of the University of Michigan community and essential to our core educational mission as a university — it is reflected in our history, policies and practices,” Mastony wrote. “Students may engage in peaceful protest in many places on campus and, at the same time, the university has a responsibility to maintain an environment that is conducive to learning and academic success. We are working to minimize disruptions to university operations during the encampment. Safety is always a key priority and, as such, we have increased security on campus.”
In this statement, Mastony declined to answer an original question I had about why the University had chosen, at the time, to not disrupt the protest and whether they had plans to raid it in the future. In light of the actions of May 21, which came after previous warnings of a raid, questions about the University’s motivations arise; was a decision to raid the encampment already made weeks ago, and was a potential raid called off, only for police to return in force a week later?
The University’s actions seem ill-fitted to end the pro-Palestine protests on campus. On May 21st, protesters from the encampment migrated a few minutes down the road to the Washtenaw County Sheriff’s Office. They demonstrated for hours until the four people arrested at the encampment were released. Reflecting on the 30 days I’ve spent periodically observing the encampment — as well as the months spent photographing and speaking with leaders of the TAHRIR coalition — I’m reminded of Hamamy’s words outside of Hatcher on that early day of the occupation.
Just as she said, it seems true that they will be back. Whether tomorrow or the next day, whether in the summer, fall or maybe — at the latest — the winter, new tents will be bought. More food will be donated and students will return from their jail cells right back to the Diag.
Muslim protestors pray on the first day of the encampment after hastily laying down tarps on the brick. Photo courtesy of Joshua Nicholson.
In an interview with Hakim before the encampment’s destruction, I asked her why the U-M encampment had survived for so long. While she told me she couldn’t read the minds of the Board of Regents, she credited the encampment’s longevity to the strength the pro-Palestine movement has built over the years.
“We’ve been met with intensive police violence a number of times, especially this year,” Hakim said. “It’s not like they’re not willing to act violently against us. Why exactly we’ve survived this long, I can’t exactly say; but at least to me personally, it’s a testament to our strength and to the fact that they know it would be bad for them if they tried to do anything to us.”
Statement Correspondent Joshua Nicholson can be reached at joshuni@umich.edu.
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