Campus Gaza Rallies May Subside, but Experts See Possible ‘Hot Summer of Protest’

 Protesters stand and link arms during a demonstration in support of Palestinians, at the Auraria Campus in Denver, Colorado, US May 7, 2024. (Reuters)
Protesters stand and link arms during a demonstration in support of Palestinians, at the Auraria Campus in Denver, Colorado, US May 7, 2024. (Reuters)
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Campus Gaza Rallies May Subside, but Experts See Possible ‘Hot Summer of Protest’

 Protesters stand and link arms during a demonstration in support of Palestinians, at the Auraria Campus in Denver, Colorado, US May 7, 2024. (Reuters)
Protesters stand and link arms during a demonstration in support of Palestinians, at the Auraria Campus in Denver, Colorado, US May 7, 2024. (Reuters)

About a dozen students arrested by police clearing a sit-in at a Denver college campus emerged from detainment to cheers from fellow pro-Palestinian protesters, several waving yellow court summons like tiny victory flags and imploring fellow demonstrators not to let their energy fade.

Just how much staying power the student demonstrations over the war in Gaza that have sprung up in Denver and at dozens of universities across the United States will have is a key question for protesters, school administrators and police, with graduation ceremonies being held, summer break coming and high-profile encampments dismantled.

The student protesters passionately say they will continue until administrators meet demands that include permanent ceasefire in Gaza, university divestment from arms suppliers and other companies profiting from the war, and amnesty for students and faculty members who have been disciplined or fired for protesting.

Academics who study protest movements and the history of civil disobedience say it's difficult to maintain the people-power energy on campus if most of the people are gone. But they also point out that university demonstrations are just one tactic in the wider pro-Palestinian movement that has existed for decades, and that this summer will provide many opportunities for the energy that started on campuses to migrate to the streets.

Signs spelling the word "Divest" hang among white flags symbolizing each child killed in the conflict between Israel and the Palestinian group Hamas in Gaza, at a protest encampment at the Auraria Campus in Denver, Colorado, US, May 10, 2024. (Reuters)

EVOLVE OR FADE AWAY

Dana Fisher is a professor at American University in Washington, DC, and author of several books on activism and grassroots movements who has seen some of her own students among protesters on her campus.

She noted the college movement spread organically across the country as a response to police called onto campus at Columbia University on April 18, when more than 100 people were arrested. Since those arrests, at least 2,600 demonstrators have been detained at more than 100 protests in 39 states and Washington, DC, according to The Appeal, a nonprofit news organization.

"I don't see enough organizational infrastructure to sustain a bunch of young people who are involved in a movement when they are not on campus," Fisher said. "Either the movement has to evolve substantially or it can't continue."

Following the initial arrests at Columbia, students there occupied a classroom building, an escalation of the protest that led to even more arrests. Similarly in Denver, police on April 26 arrested 45 people at an encampment protest at the Auraria campus – which serves the University of Colorado-Denver, Metropolitan State University and the Community College of Denver.

Then on May 8, Auraria protesters staged a short-lived sit-in inside the Aerospace and Engineering Sciences building, developed in part with a $1 million gift from arms manufacturer Lockheed Martin.

Students in Denver say the movement's spread from the coasts to the heartland and to smaller universities shows it has staying power. Student protests also have flared outside the US.

"We're keeping our protests up and our encampment going until our demands are met, however long that takes," said Steph, a 21-year-old student on the Auraria campus who declined to give their full name for fear of reprisals. "We'll be here through summer break and into next fall if needed."

Fisher, the academic, said the police response to protests has helped ignite a sense of activism in a new generation of students. She thinks the current campus demonstrations foreshadow a "long, hot summer of protest" about many issues, and that the Republican national convention in July and the Democratic national convention in August will be ripe targets for massive protest.

"The stakes have gotten much higher, and that's very much due to the way that police have responded in a much more aggressive and repressive way than they did even back in the 1960s," Fisher said, referring to student-led protests against the Vietnam War.

"And then you just plop right down in the middle of all that the presidential election?" she said. "It's a crazy recipe for one hell of a fall."

Tents are set up at an encampment in support of Palestinians in Gaza, amid the ongoing conflict between Israel and the Palestinian group Hamas, at the Auraria Campus in Denver, Colorado, US, May 10, 2024. (Reuters)

AFTER GRADUATION, A GHOST TOWN

Michael Heaney, an American lecturer in politics at the University of Glasgow in Scotland whose research and books have focused on US protest movements said the campus demonstrations are just one tactic in the wider movement to support Palestinians, an ongoing effort that goes back decades.

Heaney said that the geographical diffusion of the university encampments to places like Denver is an opportunity to bring the message of the wider movement to places where it may not have been before.

Heaney added that "protests for any movement are episodic" and pointed to the various manifestations of the African-American Civil Rights movement in the US, going back 200 years. Just because one moment of protest ends does not foretell its overall demise.

He said pro-Palestinian protests in American cities this summer could grow if Israel's offensive in Gaza continues, and that such demonstrations would have been stoked by the widespread university activism.

On Denver's Auraria campus, while students were cleared from the classroom building, about 75 tents remain on a grassy quad, where protesters say they serve 200 meals each day in a mess hall tent. One of the student protest organizers, Jacob, 22, said he's convinced the facts on the ground in Gaza are what will sustain the encampment.

"After graduation it may be a ghost town on this campus - but we'll still be here," he said. "We're not going anywhere."



Sudan's Relentless War: A 70-Year Cycle of Conflict


Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
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Sudan's Relentless War: A 70-Year Cycle of Conflict


Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)
Army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan (left) and RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, pictured during their alliance to oust Omar al-Bashir in 2019 (AFP)

While world conflicts dominate headlines, Sudan’s deepening catastrophe is unfolding largely out of sight; a brutal war that has killed tens of thousands, displaced millions, and flattened entire cities and regions.

More than a year into the conflict, some observers question whether the international community has grown weary of Sudan’s seemingly endless cycles of violence. The country has endured nearly seven decades of civil war, and what is happening now is not an exception, but the latest chapter in a bloody history of rebellion and collapse.

The first of Sudan’s modern wars began even before the country gained independence from Britain. In 1955, army officer Joseph Lagu led the southern “Anyanya” rebellion, named after a venomous snake, launching a guerrilla war that would last until 1972.

A peace agreement brokered by the World Council of Churches and Ethiopia’s late Emperor Haile Selassie ended that conflict with the signing of the Addis Ababa Accord.

But peace proved short-lived. In 1983, then-president Jaafar Nimeiry reignited tensions by announcing the imposition of Islamic Sharia law, known as the “September Laws.” The move prompted the rise of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM), led by John Garang, and a renewed southern insurgency that raged for more than two decades, outliving Nimeiry’s regime.

Under Omar al-Bashir, who seized power in a 1989 military coup, the war took on an Islamist tone. His government declared “jihad” and mobilized civilians in support of the fight, but failed to secure a decisive victory.

The conflict eventually gave way to the 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement, better known as the Naivasha Agreement, which was brokered in Kenya and granted South Sudan the right to self-determination.

In 2011, more than 95% of South Sudanese voted to break away from Sudan, giving birth to the world’s newest country, the Republic of South Sudan. The secession marked the culmination of decades of war, which began with demands for a federal system and ended in full-scale conflict. The cost: over 2 million lives lost, and a once-unified nation split in two.

But even before South Sudan’s independence became reality, another brutal conflict had erupted in Sudan’s western Darfur region in 2003. Armed rebel groups from the region took up arms against the central government, accusing it of marginalization and neglect. What followed was a ferocious counterinsurgency campaign that drew global condemnation and triggered a major humanitarian crisis.

As violence escalated, the United Nations deployed one of its largest-ever peacekeeping missions, the African Union-United Nations Hybrid Operation in Darfur (UNAMID), in a bid to stem the bloodshed.

Despite multiple peace deals, including the Juba Agreement signed in October 2020 following the ousting of long-time Islamist ruler, Bashir, fighting never truly ceased.

The Darfur war alone left more than 300,000 people dead and millions displaced. The International Criminal Court charged Bashir and several top officials, including Ahmed Haroun and Abdel Raheem Muhammad Hussein, with war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Alongside the southern conflict, yet another war erupted in 2011, this time in the Nuba Mountains of South Kordofan and the Blue Nile region. The fighting was led by Abdelaziz al-Hilu, head of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement–North (SPLM–N), a group composed largely of northern fighters who had sided with the South during the earlier civil war under John Garang.

The conflict broke out following contested elections marred by allegations of fraud, and Khartoum’s refusal to implement key provisions of the 2005 Naivasha Agreement, particularly those related to “popular consultations” in the two regions. More than a decade later, war still grips both areas, with no lasting resolution in sight.

Then came April 15, 2023. A fresh war exploded, this time in the heart of the capital, Khartoum, pitting the Sudanese Armed Forces against the powerful paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF). Now entering its third year, the conflict shows no signs of abating.

According to international reports, the war has killed more than 150,000 people and displaced around 13 million, the largest internal displacement crisis on the planet. Over 3 million Sudanese have fled to neighboring countries.

Large swathes of the capital lie in ruins, and entire states have been devastated. With Khartoum no longer viable as a seat of power, the government and military leadership have relocated to the Red Sea city of Port Sudan.

Unlike previous wars, Sudan’s current conflict has no real audience. Global pressure on the warring factions has been minimal. Media coverage is sparse. And despite warnings from the United Nations describing the crisis as “the world’s worst humanitarian catastrophe,” Sudan's descent into chaos remains largely ignored by the international community.