I was expelled from Columbia for my activism in ’68. Here’s what student activists need to focus on next
Pro-Palestinian demonstrators at an encampment at Columbia University. Photo by Stephanie Keith/Bloomberg/Getty Images
I was expelled from Columbia University 56 years ago because of my involvement in the 1968 protests. Getting thrown out of Columbia, being arrested twice for the protests, and consequently spending a week at Rikers Island not only interrupted my Ivy League education, but confirmed a lifetime commitment to social justice and activism.
As I watch the recent wave of protests by students from Columbia, my own students at the City University of New York, where I am a professor of public health, and at campuses worldwide, I ask what my generation of activists learned from our earlier experiences that can lead to useful conversations with today’s protesters about what comes next.
On the one hand, their courage, conviction and determination to stop another war fills me with hope for our country’s future. On the other hand, the movements I have participated in also triggered backlashes. They aroused those who opposed the changes we sought and set off new waves of repression. I worry that today’s movement could follow a similar trajectory, a profoundly alarming consequence in this election year.
As the United States confronts another wave of youth activism, how can those of us committed to radical change have a conversation across generations that helps us chart the path forward? Perhaps the most important next step for today’s activists is both to articulate with moral clarity what they are against, while also presenting a clear vision of a future better than today’s world.
At Columbia in 1968, before we occupied buildings, we spent months hosting discussions in dormitories, debating professors and students in the classroom, and teaching each other about the history of the wars in Southeast Asia and U.S. foreign policy. We learned that talking to those who disagreed with us helped us understand their concerns, refine our arguments and win over some of those on the fence. Today’s activists are already doing some of this, but they need to do more. They must find the balance between chanting provocative slogans and winning people to their side to actually accomplish the changes they want to see.
To achieve these goals, activists have always debated the role violence can play. In our effort to end the war in Vietnam, some of us felt the urgency of ending the U.S. military’s civilian massacres and environmental devastation justified destruction of property, and attacks on people and institutions carrying out the war. With the benefit of hindsight, I now believe these attacks diminished support for the anti-war movement and made it easier for supporters of the war to isolate and demonize activists and win backing for future wars.
Most of today’s anti-war activists are peaceful. But those who break windows and destroy property make it harder to distinguish those who oppose the Israeli government’s policies from the Jan. 6 rioters who also destroyed property, attacked individuals and threatened lives. In the current climate, public commitments to non-violence can differentiate principled protest from the thuggery of Charlottesville and Jan. 6, and help win additional hearts and minds. In the 1960s, we struggled to identify and isolate the provocateurs who disrupted our actions, a task that current activists also need to tackle so as not to set back their cause and risk alienating others.
Movements that succeed in proposing a vision that represents the best of U.S. values are more likely to win long-term success than those that only condemn. The Vietnam anti-war movement criticized government lies, revealed war crimes and urged the end of using napalm and the toxic Agent Orange. But we also envisioned a different foreign policy, a different global role for the United States and universities that supported human, not corporate or military, values.
By linking opposition to what Israel is doing in Gaza to broader threats like increased use of the military to solve political problems, growing threats to a free press and more violent attacks on the rule of law, the current movement can encourage more Americans to rethink where our country is going. They can ally with those focused on protecting democracy, stopping global climate change, and protecting the health of children. As Israeli opponents of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu chanted recently, “War is not holy, life is.”
The 1960s movements, like those of today, struggled to figure out when to compromise and when to refuse to make a deal. Recognizing and celebrating short-term victories can help build a movement, while an absolutist insistence on only complete victory can undermine it, perpetuating current harms. Ending the bombing of Gaza, ensuring that people get the food and medicines they need and releasing all hostages and prisoners of war are initial steps in the right direction, which can set the stage for further progress for Palestinian liberation.
A final critically important lesson from the 1960s that requires examination today is to consider thoughtfully the long-term consequences of our actions. Many of us argued at the time for boycotting the 1968 presidential election because Democratic nominee Hubert Humphrey had supported the war in Vietnam, and failed to forcefully condemn police violence at the 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention. “Vote in the street,” we chanted. “Vote with your feet.”
But with the benefit of hindsight, it seems clear that this position helped to elect Republican Richard Nixon, and thus contributed to massive deaths in Cambodia and Vietnam, and accelerated the repression that weakened the anti-war and civil rights movements.
In deciding how to participate in the upcoming presidential election, today’s activists need to think carefully about the long-term impact of their decisions. To argue that a Donald Trump victory, the possible consequence of sitting out the 2024 election or voting for third party candidates, will be better for the people of Palestine, the future of American democracy or the survival of our planet defies logic and the evidence.
As I approach retirement, I am thrilled to see another generation of young people take up the fight to make a better United States and a better world. As campuses adjourn for the summer, I urge student activists to use their courage, wisdom and experiences of the last few months to define more precisely what they seek to achieve in the coming year, and how they will win over new supporters for their vision of a different future.
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