Dispatch From a Revolution: The Reality of Cal Poly Humboldt’s Fight for Palestine
On Thursday, April 25, the sun rose over Humboldt County behind a turbulent veil of clouds. While this weather is typical for California’s Emerald Triangle practically year-round, this instance provided a stark contrast to the clear, bright skies of the preceding days. As if scripted for the screen, the change in weather reflected the apprehension permeating the campus of Cal Poly Humboldt, the county’s centerpiece and the subject of much tumult since Monday, April 22.
Around 4 p.m. that day, a group of approximately 30 pro-Palestine student demonstrators entered Siemens Hall on the north side of campus and made clear their intention to stay. They did so in protest of the university’s monetary investments in the state of Israel, and their demands not only called for the university to disclose the amount of these payments, but also to divest from Israeli interests, speak out in support of Palestine, and publicly call for a ceasefire in the Israel-Hamas war, which has been ongoing since October 7, 2023. About one hour after students first occupied the hall, university administration announced that Siemens would be closed until the following morning.
As early as 6 p.m. on Monday, police arrived on campus in full riot gear. When they attempted to enter the building, the students inside linked arms and formed a barricade with their bodies, reportedly reciting a unifying chant: “Link arms, hold the line, protect family!” As tensions rose, law enforcement resorted to force and attempted to break down the barrier of bodies one by one. Before long, two students had received concussions, and another required staples for a bleeding head wound. Several other students were arrested but were released later Monday night.
Protesters claim that those who received the brunt of police’s ire were mostly BIPOC and LGBTQ+ students, many of whom had been praying near the doors where the barricade formed. This seems especially noteworthy given that, as recently as 2020, Cal Poly Humboldt’s student body was nearly 50% white.
As police tried to forcibly enter Siemens Hall — and as hundreds more students arrived to support those inside — one protester at the front of the barricade began hitting an officer’s helmet with an empty water jug. The moment, which was caught on video, quickly went viral, and within days, Humboldt’s protest made international news. Many people praised the students for standing their ground, while others — seemingly oblivious to the contrast between police’s shields, helmets, and batons and students’ unprotected bodies — smugly pointed out that the protest was “supposed to be peaceful.”
Those like myself who were actually present at the demonstration, however, can verify that it was. On Tuesday, as more students began rallying at the quad near Siemens Hall, local musicians performed a free concert, which students followed with a karaoke session. Protesters constructed altars representing various faiths, and despite public suspicions that some of the protest’s key catchphrases were anti-Semitic — namely “From the river to the sea,” which, in this context, references students’ desire for a ceasefire and for Palestine to claim its own distinct identity — a group of students participated in a Passover Seder.
Besides the occasional miked poetry recitation or periodic chant of “Free Palestine,” the campus was hauntingly still. This was partially because students at the notoriously free-thinking university let their art do the talking. Anthemic declarations written in chalk covered sidewalks and cement walls, and painted cardboard signs reading “Free Gaza” and “End the War” sat scattered among rows of tents where protesting students slept. As captured by The Sacramento Bee, a group of students formed a circle on Tuesday to perform a traditional Palestinian dance. While students maintained quiet solidarity outside, the initial protesters remained inside Siemens Hall, its doors barricaded with chairs, tables, dumpsters, and other objects to protect those within from another attempted police raid.
I am not a student at Cal Poly Humboldt, nor was I present for the initial confrontation with police. As a member of the local community, however, I know and empathize with these students, and when I attended their demonstration, the air was nothing short of electric — for two reasons.
Firstly (and most obviously), youthful passion has a well-known proclivity for activism; this was evidenced elsewhere in the country when schools like USC and Columbia began their own pro-Palestine encampments. According to rumors spreading throughout Cal Poly Humboldt’s student body, more of these demonstrations are on the way, as students at Cal State Chico — just 200 miles southeast of Humboldt — will be holding their own demonstration. As one Cal Poly Humboldt student noted to myself and several others on Thursday, higher education aims to teach students about global equity and embolden them to pursue change, and yet, when a humanitarian crisis arises — especially one 7,000 miles away — academic institutions are surprised that their humanitarians-in-training will risk the status quo to take a stand.
Secondly, the air on Cal Poly Humboldt’s campus was abuzz not merely with fervor, but with fear. As Thursday’s rain descended from somber clouds to wash away the students’ chalk-drawn proclamations, some protesters on the sidelines — specifically those who had been facilitating talks with administration — exchanged concerned glances and whispered behind cupped hands. They were understandably on edge; a threat much nearer than the war they protested was looming. Despite students’ repeated attempts to negotiate and their unified commitment to peaceful demonstration, the university not only denied them cooperation but seemingly refused them the personal safety necessary for meaningful discussion.
In a meeting earlier that day, administration reportedly told students that they “didn’t know what was going to happen in the next 48 hours,” implying that consequences — likely at the hands of police — would befall those who refused to vacate campus within said time frame. In response, and before reiterating the demands that underpinned their sit-in, students requested a guarantee of their safety — i.e., the removal of the police cruisers continually patrolling campus — so negotiations could continue. Administration refused to provide an answer.
That same day, additional police cruisers from Chico joined local law enforcement as alleged backup. Humboldt students hoped Cal State Chico’s own developing protest would draw them away, but only time would tell. As Thursday dragged on, determined students huddled under tents and awnings, shaking from the rain and the relentless threat of another police conflict. Administration, it seemed, didn’t want peace — they wanted submission.
On Friday, April 26, I was fortunate enough to speak with one of the student protesters who was facilitating university negotiations; to prevent retaliation from the school, they will remain anonymous. They revealed that despite public statements — and private emails — from the university claiming that protesters were “violent” and “volatile,” escalation only occurred after police tried to forcibly destroy the students’ linked-arm barricade. Once police left the demonstration zone, its quiet — if unbearably tense — atmosphere returned. At the Thursday afternoon meeting between protesters and administration, the school’s representatives initially refused to reveal which person or entity summoned law enforcement, reportedly claiming, “No one person green-lights these decisions.” Later, they seemingly attributed the action to the university’s Emergency Operations Center.
The student facilitator also shared that multiple university emails have spread misinformation about the protest and painted students in a purposefully negative light. This was evident in certain public statements the school shared with the media. One such claim published in the Los Angeles Times stated that the cost of the damage students caused was “in the millions,” though the nature of these damages is unclear. Any visible changes on campus are limited to graffiti on school buildings and overturned — but completely intact — outdoor furniture demarcating the demonstration area. Until Saturday, students and community members were free to enter and exit this zone as they pleased, and several of the university’s faculty have visited to show their support.
Indeed, the faculty was so appalled by the school’s handling of the protest that many called for the immediate removal of its president. As published by local outlet Lost Coast Outpost on Thursday, 170 out of 180 faculty members who voted on the issue (specifically those belonging to the California Faculty Association) claimed they had “no confidence” in the school’s president, Tom Jackson, or its chief of staff, Mark Johnson. According to protesters, many faculty members have also expressed concerns over their students’ safety following Monday’s clash with police and the administration’s repeated refusal to engage in civil discussion.
While the university claimed on Thursday to be concerned for students’ safety, protesters insisted that this was merely lip service. The school’s apparent unwillingness to cooperate only deepened when administration emailed students on Friday to tell them that they had a two-hour window to peacefully vacate the premises; those who complied would “not face immediate arrest” but would still be subject to disciplinary action from the university. The nature of this discipline was seemingly made clear when a selection of students received another message shortly after. This missive threatened suspension due to their involvement in the demonstrations, though the list of recipients seemed random; one protesting student claimed their roommate received it, even though this roommate had never joined the protest.
Two hours passed with no evident change. Students continued to linger in the dozens, unsure whether each passing moment would bring victory or the wail of approaching police sirens. Another Friday email announced that campus would remain closed until May 10, the end of the spring semester. Once again, the school had doubled down.
Amid these threats and rising tensions, the student body struggled to maintain their unified front. Cracks began to form Friday afternoon when the table-and-chair barricades blocking Siemens Hall were dismantled and the doors opened, though many of the original protesters continued to occupy the building. This development took place during one of my discussions with the student facilitator, who claimed they had no prior knowledge of these plans and were unsure what the action was meant to accomplish. While no consensus could be reached as to who opened the hall or why, theories proliferated. Some believed the action was a show of goodwill that demonstrated the students’ ongoing willingness to negotiate with administration, while others denounced the apparent decision to cede ground when the university had yet to show any inclination toward de-escalation.
These cracks only widened when, shortly after, administration representatives arrived on campus unprompted, perhaps interpreting the opening of Siemens as a partial surrender. They were met with pushback from select students and community members, who urged them to leave until student facilitators could convene and agree on next steps. Administration ultimately complied and left the area, though the apparent effects of this interaction became evident on Saturday when police placed roadblocks at several campus entrances.
That day, cool gray clouds shrouded the sky, and a bitter wind that shook the tops of the towering redwoods further punished students for their insolence. Indeed, those who remained knew — or could at least guess — the consequences that awaited them, but their commitment to the cause outweighed fear of retaliation, academic or otherwise. Silently, an unspoken certainty spread: Administration would never back down — but neither would students. The conflict had reached a stalemate.
In one of our exchanges, the student facilitator highlighted a dark but prescient parallel. “The way the university admin has reacted directly mirrors what’s going on in Gaza,” they pointed out. “The Israeli army trains American police, which includes police in our own county and on our university’s campus, so the fact that the university would send in police to brutalize marginalized students who originally were praying during a peaceful protest just shows that we’re all fighting against the same violent system.”
As is likely evident, the purpose of the students’ protest had, out of necessity, been diverted. Whether or not administration was aware of the situation’s unfavorable optics — uniformed, fully armed police officers continually threatening the safety and rights of unarmed protesters, many of whom are young BIPOC and LGBTQ+ students with limited resources — the underlying ethos of the university’s tactics was blatantly clear. Earlier in the week, rumors spread that the toilets in Siemens Hall had stopped working; on Saturday, the water in the dorm of a BIPOC student (who hadn’t even joined the protest) was shut off without warning; the university sidelined its designated representatives, closing off communications between parties; fearing another police raid, protesters once again closed Siemens Hall.
The university, despite positioning itself as a hub of inclusivity and champion of human equality, is unconcerned with its monetary contribution to the humanitarian crisis in Gaza. Rather, the school is preoccupied with keeping its own students — heads filled with classroom notions of equity and global compassion — subjugated and compliant. As time drags on, the likelihood of meaningful negotiations between the administration and students seems to dwindle. The school’s priority at any cost is to silence detractors, particularly those who threaten its authority over its own community.
Ever since the protest began on Monday, the university has only escalated the conflict and has shown no interest in or willingness to facilitate students’ safety, much less understand their demands. Such is the grand failing of the academic edifice: Its own eminence, authority, and survival are not immutable; they are easily threatened by any form of dissension, even that performed in the name of values the school claims — in writing but not in action — to support.
On Saturday, April 27, the university imposed a hard closure. As stated in a banner on its website, “Nobody without authorization by University Police is allowed on the campus. Anyone on campus without permission is subject to citation or arrest.” This closure not only limits community participation — a driving factor in students’ progress thanks to food donations and other forms of support — but serves to further intimidate students who are already under threat of unprompted police attacks.
As of this writing, law enforcement is still present on campus. At least two university alumni have burned their Cal Poly Humboldt degrees in solidarity with student protesters. More student bodies across the nation are making encampments of their own, including those at Princeton, Stanford, MIT, and Texas A&M.
Despite the low spirits that have colored the last week for many Humboldt students, glimmers of hope have appeared on the horizon. On Saturday, administration reinstated one of its original representatives, indicating a renewed willingness to negotiate with protesters, and on Sunday afternoon, Lost Coast Outpost announced that the university’s senate passed a resolution calling for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza. This action — while not enough to assuage protesters on its own — aligns with the students’ updated list of demands, which they shared with administration on Saturday. Each demand will require proof in the form of a legally binding contract if student protesters are to vacate campus:
- De-escalate: The university must immediately remove police from campus and guarantee that they won’t return; it must also relieve students of any and all university repercussions and grant them academic amnesty.
- Divest: The university must cease any investments made toward the state of Israel, as well as any company that supports it; similarly, the school must stop selling products from brands supporting the state, such as Coca-Cola and Sabra.
- Declare: The university must call for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and urge other universities in the Cal State system to do the same.
Not unlike the war students are protesting nationwide, no one can say how long this conflict will last, much less how it will end. Despite the week’s consistent escalation, though, the student facilitator I interviewed stands by their actions and those of the student body. “At the start of this,” they said, “I went from worrying about losing my possible degree to, in a sense, not wanting it anymore due to the administration’s actions.” They also made a point to highlight their fellow students’ positive impact and collective commitment to their goal, despite unyielding pressure from an unfeeling adversary: “Over time, I have experienced so much love and communal care, and it has given me hope for a future in which we can challenge systems that have oppressed and violated people on a global scale and instead make a better way forward.”
Update—April 30, 2024: During the early morning hours of Tuesday, April 30, armed police raided Siemens Hall and the surrounding area. No injuries have been reported. Per KRCR News, 25 students and faculty were arrested, though a campus-wide email that falsely described the protest as “dangerous” and cited “criminal activity” listed the number of arrests as 35. The charges will include “unlawful assembly, vandalism, conspiracy, assault of police officers, and others.” To lobby for the release of students and faculty, please call Cal Poly Humboldt University Police at (707) 826–5555.
Update—May 8, 2024: On May 1, after approximately 13 hours of detainment, protesters whom police arrested—including Cal Poly Humboldt students and faculty, as well as an undetermined number of community members—were released from custody. While the university’s administration has reportedly dropped charges against select students whom they suspect participated in the protest, other students threatened with disciplinary action have yet to receive correspondence to this effect.
