In April, acting University President Claire Shipman, CC ’86, SIPA ’94 shared two new measures to investigate the role of the University Senate, marking the latest installment of the conflict between the administration and senate.

In the recent days leading up to and directly following spring break, Columbia shuttered more gates and imposed radical new limits on the ways students and faculty members can access campus. During the initial return, only 24/7 gates have remained open—a stark shift from the previously implemented schedule of campus access points. In keeping with the past semester, students could regularly expect the Carman Hall, Earl Hall, and St. Paul’s Chapel gates to be open during business hours. But the long lines to enter campus at the main Broadway gates—extending from West 116th Street down to Lerner Hall and beyond—make Columbia’s new lockdown environment impossible to ignore. While other campus access points could be relied upon during the day, the gradual disappearance of open gates should raise alarm.

Taking a step back for a minute, I agree it is important to make clear statements about our University’s values. I have written at length in the past on what these statements can do to unify our University community in tackling the pressing challenges of our time (namely following the 2024 presidential election). But after 100 days in office, Armstrong should have more to show than just a statement. If Armstrong approached the urgency to act in her first 100 days as past presidents—U.S., University, or otherwise—have, Columbia would look very different. We might imagine a counterfactual campus where:

The lighting of a central pathway that punctuates the Morningside campus unifies our academic community from disparate backgrounds and fields of study through the tradition of providing a shared space for aesthetic appreciation. As people stop to watch Tree Lighting on College Walk, their identities as observers become mapped onto the space. The separations and distinctions between members of our community dissolve as people take in the event for its aesthetic merit (or perhaps lack thereof). In the same way, former students can appreciate the legacy of the event while new students can use it to find a foothold in their new academic community as they gather with their peers. College Walk is converted from a space where people simply walk on campus to a powerful place of celebration and community.

Nor is it the way to encourage productive political discourse. On November 1, in a message to the University about civil discourse, interim University President Katrina Armstrong wrote that “the intensity of political disagreement and the acrimony it can cause are unfortunate on many levels” and that “the nation and our communities will be better off when we are able to move beyond this divisiveness to find common ground.” To achieve this common ground, she referred to the importance of “civic participation” as an “important part of life in a democracy” that is “consistent with Columbia’s commitment to free expression” and “tolerance of different views.” But without physical spaces where students can exchange ideas and respectfully debate, how is Columbia supposed to support civic participation and free expression? When space is limited, so are free expression, civil discourse, and tolerance.

On October 7, 2024, Columbia added a new design to its growing arsenal of ways to block and barricade public space on campus. In the past, I have written about the barriers that the Columbia administration has used to cloister significant locations like Alma Mater. However much these closures protected so-called campus “heritage sites,” they also, I argued, came at the expense of campus inclusivity and community. The new closures set up on Low Steps go a step further, solidifying the political polarization evident within Columbia’s community while undermining the community’s efforts to heal through dialogue across differences.

On September 24, Interim University President Katrina Armstrong addressed the ongoing access restrictions on Columbia’s Morningside Heights campus. Her announcement summarizes some of the major concerns with restrictions and the administration’s endeavors to eventually remove them. She correctly acknowledges how campus closures inhibit the fundamental mission of the University. To fulfill the promise of its full name, the University—not just “Columbia,” but “Columbia University in the City of New York”—must have a campus that is open and receptive to our city’s wider communities. But Armstrong’s announcement, grappling with the same fundamental issues as before, only proposes solutions that set us back further.

At the end of an urban studies program meeting, one of my professors waved me to the front of the classroom. We chatted casually about next year’s classes and a few of my upcoming writing projects. When I mentioned I write about campus accessibility, my professor told me something surprising. The swipe access points on doors around campus have not always been there. I was shocked. Ever since I arrived on campus in September 2022, I’ve had to swipe my Columbia ID to access almost every University building. Swipe access terminals have been a constant reminder of Columbia’s position in the city, as well as a reminder to never forget your student ID. According to my professor, during the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, swipe access was added to many buildings to limit the number of people on campus.

The two flagpoles flanking Low Library are gone. Since when? And why am I just noticing now? As I walk from the architecture studio in Lewisohn Hall through Low Plaza to my dorm, a million other questions run through my mind. Later, I asked my friends if they had noticed the missing flags. Almost everyone I asked seemed baffled and confused. Nobody had processed the vanishing flagpoles, perhaps for an important reason.