Sit-Ins, Then and Now

We may be three weeks removed from Divest Harvard’s Heat Week, but we will likely be debating the conversations it started about the proper means and ends for student activism for as long as universities and injustice continue to exist.

Harvard has a long history of activism and civil disobedience, stretching back at least to Henry David Thoreau, class of 1837. In particular, Divest Harvard’s sit-in at Massachusetts Hall was reminiscent of two earlier episodes in the University’s history: the 1969 occupation of University Hall by students protesting the Vietnam War, and the 2001 occupation of Mass. Hall by students seeking a living wage for Harvard’s workers.

The 2015, 2001, and 1969 occupations have superficial similarities. In each, a relatively small group of students occupied a major administrative building in an attempt to force the University to accede to their demands. The results, however, were quite different.

Some of the differences have to do with the institutional response. In 1969, the President of Harvard was Nathan Pusey ’28, whose default position was to dismiss student demands to change University policy as wildly inappropriate. The students who occupied University Hall in 1969 reinforced Pusey’s belief by using force to evict some administrators.

Pusey’s attitude led him to send in about 400 local police officers less than 24 hours after the occupation began. In the one-sided melee that followed, dozens of students were injured, and forty had to be sent to emergency rooms. The results of this violence was predictable: Much of the student body began supporting the demands of groups like Students for a Democratic Society and went on a nine-day strike from classes. Ultimately, the military’s Reserve Officer Training Corps left Harvard and the University established an Afro-American Studies Department, two of the strike’s major demands.

In 2001, the University’s response was far less confrontational. When 52 members of the Progressive Student Labor Movement occupied Massachusetts Hall, the University allowed them to stay for 21 days, and President Neil R. Rudenstine came to discuss the issue with them. Instead of facing one hundred police, the occupiers enjoyed the support of one hundred fellow protestors encamped in Harvard Yard. The President of the AFL-CIO, U.S. Senator Edward Kennedy ’54-’56, and former Secretary of Labor Robert Reich all supported the students. The occupation ended when President Rudenstine established a commission to review the University’s compensation practices.  That commission recommended that Harvard pay all its employees and contracted workers a living wage.

The story of Divest Harvard’s recent occupation obviously resembles 2001 far more closely than it does 1969. The University accommodated the protestors, outside support was evident, and the occupation disrupted little beyond its intended targets. The official response was also similar: an offer of dialogue on the major issue. Unlike in 2001, however, the University did not really budge on its position, nor did it offer to undertake a review of its policies.

Clearly, Harvard has become far better at dealing with student protest. The intransigence and derision of 1969, disastrous as it was, quickly morphed into a willingness to deal with students.

The nature of student protestors has also changed. In 1969, they had non-negotiable demands and were willing to cause an indefinite disruption to University life. Only when the faculty began taking concrete steps towards severing ties with ROTC did the strike end. In 2001, students were willing to desist their occupation after the formation of a committee—hardly a stirring victory in and of itself, but a harbinger of more significant progress to come. This year, Divest Harvard provided a timetable for its occupation. The administration just had to wait it out.

These differences in student tactics provide a small glimpse into what makes protest tactics effective. Like all strategies, occupation forecloses some options and opens others. In 1969, the University chose to use violence, which ultimately worked in the protestors’ favor. In 2001, it eventually chose dialogue. The protestors could have held out for a more obvious capitulation, but decided instead to accept a bureaucratic proposal that ultimately led to the result they wanted. Two weeks ago, the limited timeframe allowed the University to avoid direct engagement, though President Faust did offer a meeting.

Of course, Divest Harvard likely never intended to force an immediate resolution to the divestment issue. Given its timetable for ending the sit-in and its efforts to avoid disruption as much as possible, their action was more of an intermediary step, to display its depth and garner more support.

Ultimately, in every situation, protestors and the administration are engaged in a debate to see whose ideas have the moral force to carry the day. When administrators choose dismissive and violent tactics, they will lose that debate as they did in 1969. When protestors display a certain degree of organization, discipline, and long-term commitment, as they did in 2001, they may achieve their goals even without rallying the entire student body. And when protestors limit their actions in both scope and timeframe, they are simply laying the groundwork for a more decisive set of engagements. In the ongoing battle over divestment from fossil fuels, that round is yet to come.

Nelson L. Barrette '17, a Crimson editorial executive, is a history concentrator in Winthrop House. His column appears on alternate Fridays.