For 30 days, the UC Santa Cruz Gaza Solidarity Encampment cooked and served about 500 plates of food a day free of charge.
For 30 days, students stood on safety patrol for one another, established a free library and a “people’s closet” with donated items.
For 30 days, students organized lectures and discussion groups independently and with the assistance of faculty to educate one another.
For 30 days, students met each other’s basic needs with a fully stocked first aid tent and a communal supplies tent with extra blankets.
That community ended on May 30 when the administration put out a call to multiple law enforcement agencies from across Northern California.
Officers destroyed people’s property by breaking tents, ripping apart signs, tearing down art, kicking around food that was stored in the encampment, and throwing a keffiyeh into a bush.
The 16 hours of police brutality, arrests, and fearmongering that ensued will be imprinted in the minds of Santa Cruz’s students, faculty, and community members for the rest of their lives.
Nationwide, law enforcement is responsible for the brutalization of students in protest. We must acknowledge that administrators are equally complicit in forcing police escalation onto their communities and condoning the violent suppression of First Amendment rights.
We must hold these experiences close, the memories of the inhumane actions our administration chose to enact that night.
On Aug. 19, the President of the University of California (UC), Michael V. Drake, announced an explicit ban on encampments and the use of masks to “conceal identity.”
The ban on masks is a dystopian policy. Considering UC President Drake’s background as a professor of medicine at the UC Riverside School of Medicine, I expect that he has considered the implications of deterring mask use.
With thousands of students returning to campus from summer break, fall is a time when mask use should not be stigmatized or disincentivized. Additionally, existing in a climate where students are being doxxed, arrested, and brutalized for expressing political opinions, the ability to protect one’s identity is not just a matter of privacy — but safety.
While presented under the guise of maintaining safety and inclusivity, these are direct efforts to suppress dissent and limit the free expression of political beliefs. This is a clear and troubling indication of the UC system’s undemocratic tendencies.
History of Protest at UCSC
Occupations aren’t new here at UCSC. They have long been a powerful form of protest — a physical manifestation of resistance as activists occupy space and draw sustained attention to their causes.
Nearly 20 years ago, UCSC students established the 2005 Tent University to display the lack of democracy within the UC. It was inspired by Rutgers’ Tent State University, which set out to protest against funding for the Iraq War, calling out the lack of funding for higher education and the lack of democracy within university governance.
On Nov. 7, 2007, several individuals ascended into the uppermost boughs of the redwoods at the site of the proposed Biomedical Sciences Facility. The UCSC tree sitters remained perched in their places until Dec. 14, 2008.
In May 2017, the Afrikan Black Student Alliance (A/BSA), now the Black Student Union, reclaimed Clark Kerr Hall for African, Black, and Caribbean students. The occupation was organized in response to a lack of action from the administration on demands including a four-year housing guarantee for underrepresented communities in the Rosa Parks African American Themed House (R.PAATH), returning the first-floor lounge of the house back from its use as a dorm room to a communal space, funding for painting the exterior of R.PAATH with Pan-African colors and an in-person diversity training for all incoming students. After three days of reclaiming Kerr Hall, every one of the A/BSA’s demands were met.
On Feb. 10, 2020, graduate students and academic workers formed a picket line to fight for a cost of living adjustment (COLA). This is how the 2020 wildcat strike began, a strike unsanctioned by the workers’ larger union representation. Although the UC-wide union had agreed to a contract with the university, workers from UCSC felt the contract was inadequate in the face of Santa Cruz’s unique housing crisis. Graduate students withheld student grades in protest and were fired after exceeding the grade submission deadline. While graduate students who participated were fired, 97 percent of all UC graduate students voted to reopen contract negotiations. The strike only lost momentum when the COVID-19 pandemic forced campus activity online and graduate students were reinstated.
The UC’s Systemic Suppression
The UC’s reaction to the encampments was a stark representation of their immoral ideologies, though this lack of concern for students, employees, and faculty spans systemwide.
This past year, the UC Regents suspended an “Opportunity for All” proposal that would allow an estimated 4,000 undocumented UC students to legally earn a paycheck from the university — despite admitting and charging those same students tuition.
Here at UCSC, in the face of years of concern and lawsuits regarding the development of Student Housing West, the university broke ground on construction last spring. While UCSC is in dire need of more housing to accommodate its over-enrollment, its contract with W.E. O’Neil points to their lack of concern for the well-being of not only their students but the people responsible for building our campus.
On Aug. 26, a Santa Cruz County Superior Court Judge ruled that UCSC’s plan to enroll 8,000 more students by 2040 failed to fully account for housing, water usage, wildlife, and evacuation routes.
The university’s actions do not stem from a lack of ability to address concerns, but a lack of concern altogether for the wellbeing of its students, employees, and faculty, and a deeply vested interest in wealth. Requests for student-centered policies and actions have been continuously denied or neglected by the administration, and a growing gap divides the university and the students they are meant to serve.
What the Fuck Do We Do Now?
The policies our administration continues to enact are undemocratic, prioritizing control over dialogue and fear over freedom. Moreover, these policies were enacted without any direct assent of the students, faculty, or employees of the institution.
Students are being reprimanded for applying what their education has taught them: To think critically and independently as active members of society.
This is not just a UC issue; it’s part of a broader, national trend of suppressing student activism. The UC’s actions tarnish its reputation as a leader in diversity, equity, and inclusion. Closer to home, the UCSC administration has fallen in line with these repressive tactics, further alienating the student body from the university.
The students’ persistent efforts have garnered attention at the highest levels, but the question remains — will the UC Regents and administrators choose to side with justice?
Will the UC administration demonstrate its humanity and fully recognize the weight of its student’s actions, or will it continue to uphold a system that prioritizes profit over people?
The same administrators that claim to foster change-makers, critical thinkers, and future world leaders are forcing students to choose between risking their well-being, academic livelihood, and future or staying silent amid one of the most horrific human rights crises in our lifetimes.
UCSC is a university built on student advocacy and protest. This framework of change will remain a constant in our history, present, and future.
It’s easy to fall into a routine of inaction when our voices are constantly being suppressed, but if we can learn anything from our past, it’s that we are capable of enacting change.
With that, our community must remain painstakingly aware of the fact that our administration only cares about the money we funnel into their bank accounts. We must fight tooth and nail, not only for the sake of our own education but for all those who will come after us.
It is becoming apparent that we can no longer call on our administrators for change — instead, we must count on one another.
Whose University?
Our University.
