Protesters blocking the entrance to Carnegie Hall.
I attended October 7th’s pro-Palestine protests as a reporter for the Independent, and observed the occupation of Pomona’s Carnegie Hall. I entered the building from the back door at approximately 12:45 P.M., having to push through the locked arms of three masked demonstrators as a Pomona dean informed them they were not allowed to bar access to 5C students. One of them grabbed me around my stomach, but eventually released me. I turned to my friend and said, “That was surprisingly more fun than I thought it would be.” The protesters gave no indication of amusement.
Inside, the basement floor of Carnegie Hall was filled with damage. Most chillingly, “INTIFADA” was spray-painted in red inside the elevator, the paint running down in messy streaks.
I went to the main floor of the building, and whenever I walked past student protesters, they would pull their masks up and use their keffiyehs to cover their faces as I took pictures of the scene. As soon as I entered the main foyer, students shut the doors to the room where most were gathered, not allowing anyone except those donning keffiyehs to enter. I managed to grab one picture, the protestors looking directly at the camera, a deer-in-the-headlights expression painted across each of their faces.
On the staircase, I was met with a Campus Security officer and Professor Bowman Cutter, whose office is on the second floor of the Carnegie building. Professor Cutter later explained that he was working in his office so that he could use his desktop computer. When he took a break, the protestors would not allow him back into his office. He says, “they wouldn’t let me back in my office, and… did push and shove.” He was then stuck in the stairwell for approximately 5 hours, unable to access his personal property.
On the main floor, I noticed students leaving the room where pro-Palestine readings were happening. I approached the door, and three students quickly closed the door and linked arms, blocking my entrance. I asked if I could enter, per my rights as a student of the Claremont Colleges. Most remained silent. One responded, “It’s also our right to shut the fuck up.”
I turned away from the door and asked a nearby protester what they hoped to accomplish by today’s protest. There was no response. I asked them how I was supposed to be convinced of their cause if they didn’t explain to me the purpose of the protest. The protester looked me in the eyes. I smiled. They looked to the ground.
I walked over to another door, but students again blocked my entrance. One stuck an arm in front of me and held it against my neck. “So, that’s actually my throat,” I said, and they dropped their arm.
As soon as I entered the room, the main orator announced “masks up, heads down,” then told them “the threat will leave soon.” I didn’t realize they meant me at first. I held up my camera to take photos of the scene: dozens of protestors surrounding one student, holding a microphone. All were wearing masks or keffiyehs, donning black shirts turned inside out.
They stood in front of my camera, all the while taking numerous pictures of me. “I don’t know why you guys don’t want this documented,” I said. “Why can you guys take pictures but not me? Isn’t this a historic event?” No response.
As I exited the building soon after, the protesters let me through easily. In a last attempt to connect with them, I remarked, “Wow, this time was a lot easier!” They didn’t respond. Later, as they left Carnegie, they forcibly pushed their way through Pomona administrators and Campus Safety officers.
When acts of civil disobedience veer into violence and physical coercion, it detracts from the aim protesters are attempting to promote, and instead draws negative attention to the cause and its supporters. The blockades, occupation, and silence were all examples of what Ronald Dworkin calls non-persuasive policy-based civil disobedience – actions that do not intend to persuade opposition of one’s side, but instead force their hand.
What the protesters failed to recognize is that persuasive means are the most effective form of protest in a university setting. They allow for students to use critical thinking, and convince others of their standpoint. Rather than attempt to twist the arms of administrators, persuasive means lead to respectful, productive dialogue and offer a far greater prospect of actual change.
The reason non-persuasive methods are ineffective is that administrators are unlikely to amend a policy unless they are convinced of the reasoning behind the change. Who likes to make a decision with a gun pointed at their head? While the protesters may have drawn attention to the divest movement at Pomona, did they endear themselves to any of the decision-makers with actual power to divest? Surely not.
Studies have shown that violent protests can cause the protesters to be seen as less reasonable, a view not conducive to effecting meaningful change. Similarly, by spray-painting property, defacing classrooms, and holding professors’ property hostage, the protesters made it difficult to sympathize with them. The likelihood of achieving the goals of their cause diminished as damage, fear, and disruption increased.
While protesters were ostensibly eager to have their voices and opinions heard, they made it difficult by isolating themselves in a building, only making way for those who support their cause. How can one both say they want to spread their message while calling a reporter a threat? If coverage of one’s actions is threatening to their cause, perhaps they should reconsider those very actions.
The suspensions and disciplinary action taken by Pomona were clear evidence of the fact that students, faculty, and administrators were not swayed by the protests, but instead disheartened by the violence and disruption.
Those seeking divestment are surely not finished advocating for their cause. The next time they intend to protest, they should learn from their mistakes and seek out a dialogue to effectively change the minds of those they wish to influence.