Despite new campus rules, Columbia University students vow to continue protests against Gaza war

Classes have resumed at Columbia University amid new restrictions following last year’s protests and encampments against the war in Gaza. Yasmeen Altaji, a May graduate of Columbia’s Graduate School of Journalism and now a freelance journalist, dedicated her final semester to documenting those protests. Altaji brings the story of one student who is resolved to continue her fight against the war despite new rules limiting protest.

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At first glance, the new school year on Columbia’s campus seems like any other. But, if you look closer, you’ll notice private security units standing guard at the school’s main entrances, scanning university IDs. 

Mobile billboards are back (some call them ‘doxxing trucks’), displaying on LED screens names and photos of student protesters under the label “Columbia’s leading antisemites.” 

Once wide open to foot traffic on Broadway and Amsterdam avenues, the campus gates are now narrowed to small, fenced-in entry points.

“I think there is a little bit of dread that I’m feeling in going back to school because, considering the state that we left this, like the state of affairs that was going on when we last were there …” said Layla, an undergraduate student at the university. 

Layla did not want her last name used because she feared being targeted by people with opposing views. She is one of the thousands of students back on campus after the summer break and who participated in the protests last spring.

The protests by students at Columbia were in support of Palestinians shortly after Israel launched its war on Gaza following the deadly Oct. 7 Hamas-led attacks in Israel.

Dozens of tents packed the central lawn of Columbia’s campus.

During downtime, campers often shared donated meals, did homework or enjoyed a rest on the lawn. Courtesy of Yasmeen Altaji

Similar protests erupted on more than 100 campuses across the country, but what happened at Columbia — and what followed it — brought this student movement to the global stage. 

“I know that even though the summer has passed by, a lot of people are feeling rejuvenated, in a way, and know that the work for Palestine and demanding justice and divestment is not behind us,” Layla said. “… And, in fact, now would only be the time to work harder to get divestment.” 

Protesters called on Columbia to disclose its investments in, or financial ties to, companies affiliated with Israel. And then, they demanded the university cut those ties. 

The movement mirrored past protests at Columbia in the 1960s and ’80s against the war in Vietnam and apartheid South Africa, respectively. Students even occupied Hamilton Hall on campus in April, around the anniversary date of their predecessors doing the same in 1985.

A student protester waves a Palestinian flag above Hamilton Hall on the campus of Columbia University in New York, April 30, 2024.Mary Altaffer/AP/File

But, as in the ’60s, this time, the university president called New York City police onto the private campus, and 100 pro-Palestinian protesters were arrested. 

“I think a lot of people were shaken up…” Layla said. “And, you know, their minds were kind of on the 100 students that had just been arrested before their eyes.”

During the turmoil of those days, organizers created time for students to come together.

Jewish students hosted Passover seders inside a warmly lit tent, chanting, singing and sharing meals with other campers. One of the Jewish students, Soph Askanase, also spoke at a press conference hosted by Columbia University Apartheid Divest, a coalition of student groups calling for divestment.

“Jewish students, including myself, gathered and said the Shehecheyanu, the Jewish prayer used from our joyous occasions. ‘Blessed are you, Adonai, our God, sovereign of all who has kept us alive, sustained us and brought us to this season because we indeed are blessed.’”

Muslim students led salat, or prayers, while peers held up blankets, even forming makeshift barriers to block harassment from hecklers.

Members of the “Gaza solidarity encampment” frequently set aside time for interfaith prayer, including the daily five Islamic salat. After bouts of harassment and unsolicited recordings from counter-protesters during prayer, non-Muslim campers held up tarps and keffiyehs for the privacy of their peers.Courtesy of Yasmeen Altaji

There was also time for yoga and a corner for arts and crafts. 

There was a lot of music — Arabic music, sometimes Middle Eastern pop. Music was usually performed live by students, who sang classical Arabic muwashahat and Palestinian folk songs.

Student musicians hosted a night of performance during the encampment’s early days. The multi-instrumental ensemble led group songs in the Palestinian and broader Middle Eastern traditions.Courtesy of Yasmeen Altaji

Layla herself performed a traditional Palestinian folk song called “Yamma Mweil el Hawa,” which laments life under occupation.

Columbia University students say this sign was put up on campus at the start of the new academic year after the university faced campuswide protests against the war in Gaza.Courtesy of Columbia University students

“It feels really, really nice to feel like I have gained a whole new community, and we’re not related in any way whatsoever, but except for the fact that we’re here for Gaza,” she said. “And I feel like that’s the most beautiful way to be brought together. I gained so much from this whole experience, and it’s totally transformed my experience as a Columbia student.”

But after two weeks, police raided the campus and dismantled the encampment. The administration is taking measures to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Those measures include rules prohibiting camping, unauthorized tents or structures and noise amplification.

Still, the changes — or the ones supposed to come — remain ambiguous. 

Nina Berman teaches at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. She said she’d seen this movement before when she was a student there in the 1980s, but not like this. 

“I didn’t participate, but I was certainly on campus, and from my understanding, you know, buildings were taken over,” Berman recalled. “More people were involved. The NYPD was not called onto campus.”

Today, Berman said, walking on campus is just one security checkpoint after another. 

“I’m just feeling emotionally exhausted and just really, really sad and disappointed in the world,” student Layla said. “But I know there’s no better place to be than at a university, demanding, among other students that also feel emotionally and morally driven to fight for divestment. We’re at a great place to do that alongside one another.”

Organizers have made it clear that they don’t intend to stop, despite the increasing weight of the situation in Gaza and mounting pressure from their school. 

This story was supported by the Round Earth Media program of the International Women’s Media Foundation.

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