Imagine PEA Without Protest
Exeter observed MLK day only after a faculty member went on hunger strike. Coeducation in 1970 was thanks to Title IX and the Civil Rights movement. Financial aid became a possibility after massive fundraising and organizing.
Now, let’s imagine PEA without protest. In all seriousness, what would be left? I’ll spare the reminders about what youth from every quarter meant in the 18th century and simply say most of us wouldn’t be here unless someone actively opposed the status quo.
Our very own learning apparatus was, in fact, a protest—a “classroom revolution” gifted with the intent of reform. Furthermore, by definition, when Student Council brings a policy before the faculty, that is a student-led demonstration, also known as a protest. I say this to normalize what has become taboo and to discuss power.
The proper term for what we witnessed on Friday, Nov. 2, at the entrance to Grill is demonstration. Protest can come in many forms; somehow, we only consider marches, sit-ins, walkouts, die-ins, human chains and other active demonstrations as protest. These all carry sentiments of public inconvenience, and perhaps this explains why words like protest, activist, and social justice have become disfavorable labels for some. The shortsightedness here is epic. An amateur read of world history reveals the modern-day importance of all these past forms of protest. Imagine this country without protest.
We can also learn a great lesson about power and privilege. Suffice to say, if you have never felt inclined to, or participated in a protest, therein lies a privilege. One can choose to be apolitical, but it is a privilege if that choice comes with no perceived or viable consequence.
Proximity to power/decision-making is a privilege, and the powerful often protest in the shadows. There is a palpable class element here that feels paternalistic. Our motives for self-interest are uniform and human. The ends and means of self-interest are socialized and conditioned. If I could endow diversity, equity and inclusion, would I still need it? If I could vote-in prosperity, why would I march? If state-sanctioned violence wasn’t my reality, why would I die-in? If the border wall wasn’t dehumanizing, why would one erect a human symbol of it?
What does non sibi say about inconvenience? In the aftermath of the demonstration at Grill, I’ve been thinking a lot more about conveniences. In pursuit of convenience—hobo sandwiches, coffee, muffins, one’s routine, etc.—many broke character when they saw the demonstration. Some crossed the line, and others crossed a line. It didn’t take very much to produce the most disappointing of PEA moments.
Imagine if you will, the motivation of asylum-seekers at the US southern border in comparison with the actions taken by convenience-seekers at Grill. At no point in my time at Exeter was I more concerned about physical harm manifesting on campus. I spoke to several students in a fit of rage. I witnessed adults storm off with displeasure. I tried to rationalize the unbelievable with demonstrators overtaken by shock. My phone rang as counselors and students inquired about the wellbeing of fellow demonstrators. I saw the brutal underbelly of PEA, the profane-laced encounters, the cheerful celebrations for breaking through and the inability to make sense of it all.
What then about free speech?
Free speech is the corollary of free protest. If one is fundamental to democracy, so is the other. If one is quintessential Exonian-like, why question the presence of the other? Individuals that trumpet the ideals of free speech undeniably wave the banner for free protest. To divorce speech and protest is to be uninformed or unprincipled.
Many of us that question the motives and decisions of Grill demonstrators rush to upheld free speech or free political expression. Let’s set aside the intent of the costume. The irony in how many resist any infringements on speech while pursuing a checklist for rules, respectability, logic and convenience for protest is astounding. What am I to make of our reluctance to strike down hate-speech and hateful remarks while embracing only the cleanest, least-disturbing, always peaceful, quietest protest. What remains if you question the tactics of protest without questioning the reasons for protest. Is it silence you covet?
We’ve been here before. What’s new and scary? Physicality and the presence of force. In my brief tenure at the Academy, we’ve witnessed several student-led demonstrations, none of which were met with force. Indifference, absolutely. Disapproval, sure. Contempt and disgust, perhaps. Yet somehow in a place so revered as the Academy, with gentlemen and ladies, Harkness tables, with teas and regalia, rules of order, conduct committees and all the like, we are no more than pushers and shovers. That is us. As for the old, each moment of student-led demonstration has brought interrogation of the demonstrators’ motive. Quiet as it’s kept, it has also brought along positive change. I loathe the former, yet I await the latter.