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Then I saw someone wearing all black walk up to a student wearing a suit
and say, “You look like a Nazi.” The student was confused, but before he
could reply, the black-clad person pepper-sprayed him and hit him on the
back with a rod.
I ran after the student who was attacked to get his name and more
information. He told me that he is a Syrian Muslim. Before I could find
out more, he fled, fearing another attack. Amid the chaos came word the
event had been canceled.
----
NY Times Op-Ed, Feb. 3 2017
How Violence Undermined the Berkeley Protest On Campus
Malini Ramaiyer
BERKELEY, Calif. — What do you do as a reporter when a protest begins?
You cover it.
But what about when the man being protested is known for rhetoric that
makes you nauseated? Or when you see a student get beaten up because he
looked “like a Nazi”?
How do you remain objective?
Those were the questions that faced me when, as a reporter for the
student newspaper at the University of California, Berkeley, I covered
the protest on Wednesday night at the college that turned violent,
drawing national attention. I didn’t know what to think about it all,
and truthfully, I still don’t.
The protesters were demonstrating against a scheduled speech on campus
by Milo Yiannopoulos, a Breitbart editor and right-wing provocateur, who
had been invited by the Berkeley College Republicans.
This was always going to be a controversial event. Mr. Yiannopoulos has
been giving inflammatory speeches on a college tour meant to push back
against what he sees as the stifling politically correct left. But his
language has veered decidedly toward hate speech. At the University of
Wisconsin-Milwaukee, for example, he singled out a transgender student
for ridicule by name.
Because of actions like that, many Berkeley students and more than 100
faculty members petitioned the university to block the event, but the
chancellor, Nicholas Dirks, declined to do so, citing free speech.
This, of course, raises questions about free speech: Is it free speech
if it makes us feel unsafe in our own skin? On the other hand, what does
this campus represent if it doesn’t respect the rights of people with
whom many of us disagree?
Protests are a staple at Berkeley and I’ve always appreciated the
activism here. Wednesday night, I saw many creative posters urging
people to fight Islamophobia, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia,
sexism and racism. One group of protesters wore red ribbons emblazoned
“Resist,” while another led a “resistance dance party” near the venue.
Until Wednesday, I never felt in danger during a protest. Around 7 p.m.
I saw a huddle of people yelling at one another. As more people
surrounded them, a burning red trucker’s hat was held up on a stick.
There were reports that another student wearing what appeared to be a
“Make America Great Again” hat was severely injured.
Then I saw someone wearing all black walk up to a student wearing a suit
and say, “You look like a Nazi.” The student was confused, but before he
could reply, the black-clad person pepper-sprayed him and hit him on the
back with a rod.
I ran after the student who was attacked to get his name and more
information. He told me that he is a Syrian Muslim. Before I could find
out more, he fled, fearing another attack. Amid the chaos came word the
event had been canceled.
It was clear early on that the majority of violent protesters most
likely were not from the campus. Still, in the aftermath, I heard people
say that peaceful demonstrations would not have succeeded in preventing
Mr. Yiannopoulos from speaking. So was violence appropriate?
A Trump supporter was hurt. A Syrian Muslim student was hurt. Does
either of those statements seem more outrageous than the other?
Violence often has unintended consequences. For one thing, those who
initiated the violence implicated many others in it too. Black students,
Latino students, gay students and others who are already vulnerable —
and were protesting peacefully — became even more vulnerable to the
backlash.
When the violent protesters thought they were defeating “fascists,”
could they imagine who else they might be hurting? When my co-reporter
was threatened as she recorded students marching down the street, and I
was threatened when I took pictures of the vandalism, I myself became
afraid and upset.
There are so many people in this country who have been fighting social
injustices for years. Acts of violence undermine their efforts, and can
reverse good, patient work. The beauty and the defining characteristic
of peaceful protests is that they are a struggle, and they don’t always
translate to concrete results. How do protesters achieve success when
they are screaming at the top of their lungs and it doesn’t seem as if
anyone can hear? I understand that frustration. I have felt that
frustration.
However, just because peaceful protest doesn’t get as much attention as
punching someone in the face, it doesn’t mean that we should abandon the
commitment to peace. Violence doesn’t encourage social progress, and it
certainly doesn’t quiet those with whom we disagree.
I understand the fight for a more progressive, just society. But this is
not how we get there.
Malini Ramaiyer is a first-year student at the University of California,
Berkeley.
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