March 26, 2024 was, at least to date, the most important day of my life. I am a first generation Indigenous Law School student at the University of Michigan and also a graduate student at the School for Environment and Sustainability. I have spent my entire life as a water protector and land defender, even before there were terms for that. I am among the most outspoken advocates for Indigenous rights at the University. So to say that I was moved when I was called to introduce Deb Haaland, U.S. secretary of the interior, would be the understatement of the year.
I fought back tears during the introduction when describing the impact that Haaland has had on not just myself, but all of Indian Country. My family was watching from all over the country. I had friends watching from all over the globe. All of the people most important to me at the University were in the crowd, and I could see their faces while I spoke. When my part was over and I made my way into the crowd, I was still shaken by the weight of the moment. Shortly after I sat down, a pair of young people stood up from somewhere to my right and began shouting loudly enough to rip the moment in two.
I could tell from Haaland’s face that this was a wounding moment. As an elder and a veteran of Standing Rock, being publicly disrespected in such a gathering for such a purpose must have held a particular sting. The final straw was when these protesters admonished Haaland “as a Native woman” as a way of implying that she was not living up to her cultural responsibility, in their outsider opinion. As an Indigenous adult whose people have called the Great Lakes home for more than 10,000 years, disrespecting an elder and invited guest in this way felt like a direct insult to me and to every other Indigenous person in the room. Not that I disagreed with their cause — I am a long time supporter of pipeline opposition. I have put both my body and my career in direct jeopardy in the fight against settler colonial encroachment into Indigenous lands. But no environmental movement stands a chance if it fails to honor Indigenous self-determination at its heart. And no matter how much I agree with their cause, nobody disrespects a Tribal elder on my watch.
My hands were shaking with rage as I stood up and walked over to speak with them. I could feel all of my friends tensing up, and all eyes on me, wondering what I would do. At least one student sitting behind them seemed to be crying with tension and disappointment because she had been looking forward to this event so much. The protesters and I exchanged words. I was not as calm as I should have been in engaging with them. I could have done better. Eventually, through dialogue, one of the event coordinators helped to shift their focus. After some time had passed, the protesters stopped and left quietly. Haaland finished her event and answered the questions posed to her by students, including one about Line 5.
In those tense moments, one thing that was never discussed was the possibility of handling it the way we expect these things to be handled. No jackbooted thugs emerged from the darkness to sweep the protestors away. No one went to jail. As far as I know, everyone just went home. Which is exactly how it should be.
I will say nothing here about the First Amendment, because I shouldn’t have to. In our hearts, we know the purpose of that document, and policies like the Disruptive Activity Policy cut against it. I do not want to quibble about state action or public fora — I passed that exam already. Instead, there are simpler issues here, ones which do not require a law degree to understand.
You cannot get rid of protest with policy. Protests, almost by definition, never follow decorum. They do not follow rules. They don’t check in with the event coordinator so they can be added to the agenda. They are disruptive, because they need to be. What policies of the kind being put forth by University of Michigan actually do is create harsher penalties for those who feel compelled to speak out against injustice. Inevitably, that means harsher penalties for those who are most subject to injustice in our society. By that, I mean marginalized people, disenfranchised people, people of Color. People like me.
One rationale for motivating young marginalized people to overcome great obstacles to pursue higher education is the ability to create positive change. That is a harder pitch to make when the University presents a policy that penalizes you for the very thing you are supposedly there to do.
The other awkward truth is this: These policies will not help keep the peace at events. They will only create more injustice, which will lead to more unrest and resentment, which will lead to more protests, which will lead to more punishment — and the cycle will continue until something breaks. This has happened so often in history that it is a political cliche. If you want protests to become more frequent, punishing those who exercise their conscience is a terrific way to do just that.
The real way to prevent disruption is to fight for a more just society. It is human nature to fight injustice and demand a better world for the ones who come after us. The most immediate way, and the best way, to deal with disruptions when they happen is exactly the way we dealt with it in this instance: through dialogue, diversion and engagement. The emotional skills necessary for this work are certainly rarer and more taxing than punishment, but part of having them means recognizing that you will never be able to penalize social issues away. One of the most counterproductive ways our society chooses to deal with conflict is to simply banish it — to take the easy way out and never confront it, which allows the wound to fester past the point of relief. I have been told time and time again about the “Michigan Difference,” and how our commitment to dialogue, understanding and community are the pillars upon which that difference stands. I see no evidence of that in these policies. I see fear. I see hostility. I see a closed door instead of an open one. I see every institution that I could have gone to, and chose not to.
I hope that the protestors who went home from that event are doing well. I hope they realized that there was some wrongness in the way they went about things, and that there are better and worse ways to approach issues of disagreement.
That is what I have been thinking about ever since.
If the situation arose again, I would handle things a little differently. But I would still want to handle them with the only tools we ever really needed: hearts to feel, ears to listen, mouths to communicate and a mind to try and understand. We don’t need policies to have a peaceful disagreement. We need leaders — both present and future — who want that disagreement and are capable of demonstrating what that looks like. I know in my heart that University President Santa Ono can be that kind of leader. He, and the rest of the University, just have to make that choice.
Law School and Environment and Sustainability graduate student Jasmine Neosh can be reached at jneosh@umich.edu.