Columbia Under Siege

Hierarchies of power, ethnic studies, Manhattanville, Core reform—the demands of the hunger strikers read as a political manifesto. One could spend pages rebutting each incongruent, pigheaded and impractical demand, but there is a larger, more pressing issue at hand—it is a question of tactics. By virtue of shelving debate to impose change on an artificial schedule, a hunger strike is not a form of legitimate discourse. A hunger strike is not, as the protesters write, an opportunity for private “reflection, introspection, and self-examination.” It is, fundamentally, a selfish, coercive and political act. By force and fraud, the strikers hold Columbia hostage.

In true Columbia fashion, this is not the University’s first hunger strike. In 1996, a cabal of self-destructive radicals fasted to create negative press for the administration and elicit sympathy for their cause, ethnic studies. They succeeded. While the new department proved a costly but dismal failure, the strikers vindicated their methods. Written out of this popular narrative, however, is the disturbing escalation of radicalism and violence that accompanied the first hunger strike. In their “Statement of Solidarity” with today’s activists, the 1996 strikers write, if not boast:

“In 1996, it took 15 days of striking, the overnight occupation of Low Library by several hundred students and subsequent arrest of 22 students by the NYPD, and a five-day occupation of Hamilton Hall for the University administration to engage in meaningful discussions with student representatives. We can only hope that the current administration is prompter to listen this time around.”

Note the complete lack of remorse. In their own minds, they did nothing wrong.

In print, strike supporters acknowledge that “there are people who agree with much of the platform but are more ambivalent about the tactic,” but they repudiate such views as ignorant and misinformed. “If you have common concerns with the hunger strikers,” one author concludes, “don’t get hung up on a question of tactics.” In a comically Machiavellian way, the means for committed ideologues will always justify the ends—however they affect the University.

To be clear, as one of the University’s most vocal critics, I am not writing an apologist’s defense of University President Lee Bollinger’s administration. While I’ve spent the better part of my time at Columbia trying to convince my peers of the validity of my arguments, I recognize that they are the minority position. Nonetheless, I want my ideas to be accepted, not forced upon the administration and the community. Reality dictates that Bollinger and his executives represent, collectively, the disparate interests of over 35,000 faculty, staff, and current students, a board of trustees, and hundreds of thousands of alumni. They cannot yield to every demand by every group.

Having failed at both the negotiation table and in the marketplace of ideas, the strikers are unwilling to re-examine their position. They refuse to acknowledge that their “demands” are not in line with the wants and needs of the entire community. They’ve moved further to the extreme, and will never compromise on fringe elements of their platform.

The “all or nothing” mentality of this hunger strike forbids reasoned debate and civil disagreement. There can be no criticism of their actions and demands without cries of racism, privilege, and oppression. It is an illegitimate form of protest and an insult to our community when key figures in the administration, from Provost Brinkley to Vice President for Arts and Sciences Dirks, meet with the strikers’ negotiation team—a coterie of student radicals. If we give an inch, they’ll demand a mile. If they succeed, more hunger strikes will follow.

Instead, students hoping to engender lasting, positive change must build goodwill on the strength of their ideas and arguments. There is no better example of this than Columbia’s veteran population. For 40 years, veterans and their supporters campaigned for the reinstatement of ROTC. For 40 years, the administration stifled attempts at reform. When, just years ago, the University Senate voted down their proposal, ROTC advocates took the loss in stride. Where they had failed in their attempt to amend institutional policies, they, according to Spectator’s polls, succeeded in winning majority support among their peers. Change, they understand, is a long, arduous process not beholden to gastronomic timetables. While they too believe their cause is just, they will never strong-arm the administration into “meeting their demands.” They will never adopt radical and foolish tactics because they, unlike the strikers, respect the University, their peers, and most important of all, themselves.

Chris Kulawik is a Columbia College senior majoring in political science.