In April 2024, university campuses across the United States became epicenters of activism as students established encampments to protest U.S. policies and university investments related to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. These demonstrations, reminiscent of historical movements for justice, reignited debates on free speech, civil disobedience, and the ethical boundaries of protest.
This topic is not only timely but deeply personal. In my scholary inequiry, I am engaging in examining the intersection of freedom of expression higher education, student activism, and social justice, which is why we have authored a new manuscript currently in peer review. Our work, titled Higher Education in Crisis: A Conflict-Intelligent Leadership Evaluation of American University Responses to the 2024 Gaza Solidarity Movement, reflects our commitment to understanding how universities navigate politically charged environments and student protests. The manuscript is co-authored by Julian Vasquez Heilig, Ph.D., Professor of Educational Leadership at Western Michigan University, Dee Sherwood, Ph.D., MSW, MPA, Associate Professor of Social Work and Director of the Native American Affairs Council at Western Michigan University and two students Ryan T. Wright, Thurgood Marshall Scholar and Doctoral Candidate in Counselor Education, and Ava Leahy, Thurgood Marshall Scholar and Master of Social Work Candidate at Western Michigan University.
In our manuscript, we assess the responses of seven prestigious American universities, as ranked by U.S. News, to the campus protests that erupted in April 2024. Using a conflict-engaged framework, we evaluate how these institutions navigated the tensions between student and faculty activism within a broader transnational social movement. We also explore how universities balanced academic freedom, freedom of expression, and the need for institutional stability during a period of heightened political and social conflict. Some universities demonstrated flexibility, leading to de-escalation and negotiation, while most resorted to punitive measures that alienated students and escalated tensions. Faculty members played significant roles in supporting student activism, and the involvement of external actors further complicated the protests.
Given this deep engagement and concern about these issues, I plan to reflect on the ethical dimensions of constitutional protest in this blog post through the lens of historical figures like Mahatma Gandhi, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and César Chávez—leaders who championed nonviolent resistance as a means for social change. One of my favorite classes as an undergraduate at the University of Michigan engaged in this very task, prompting me to think critically about the moral and strategic frameworks behind civil disobedience and social justice movements.
Additionally, it is important to note that my personal history with protest and activism has also shaped my understanding of these issues. As a student at the University of Michigan, I was actively involved in protests advocating for racial justice and workers’ rights. I also was a member of the California Faculty Association, where I advocated for faculty rights, fair wages, and the importance of public higher education on campus and in Long Beach. My involvement continued in Sacramento, as a member of the NAACP, working to address issues of racial inequality and support community organizing efforts.
These experiences—across different stages of my life—have informed my approach to activism and my thoughts of the ethical challenges that protesters face. The philosophies of Gandhi, King, and Chávez resonate with my own experiences, and they offer valuable frameworks for understanding the moral responsibilities of activists today. Their teachings provide guidance on how to navigate the tension between protest and institutional authority, and how to maintain the integrity of a movement even in the face of unconstitutional opposition.
The April 2024 Encampments: A Resurgence of Student Activism
During the spring of 2024, students at numerous universities across the United States initiated encampments to protest their institutions’ financial ties to entities supporting Israeli actions in Gaza. These encampments served as platforms for dialogue, education, and peaceful demonstration. The students’ demands included calls for divestment from companies profiting from the conflict and increased awareness of the humanitarian crisis in Gaza.
Western Michigan University also had a Gaza solidarity student protest encampment. At the time, a perspective emerged within WMU cabinet leadership discussions about the encampment. The words each cabinet member used to describe the protests and protesters remain with me—I remember them verbatim.
At Columbia University, tensions escalated when university officials authorized the New York City Police Department to dismantle a student encampment and arrest participants. This action sparked further demonstrations and solidarity encampments nationwide, highlighting the contentious relationship between institutional authority and student activism. The incident at Columbia became a focal point for discussions on free speech and the right to protest on campus.
Similarly, at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), pro-Palestinian protests led to confrontations with counterprotesters, resulting in violence and subsequent lawsuits against the university for alleged civil rights violations. These events underscored the complexities universities face in balancing campus safety, free expression, and the diverse perspectives within their communities.
The widespread nature of these protests, occurring on many U.S. university campuses, signified a robust resurgence of student activism. This movement not only brought attention to international issues but also reignited debates about the role of higher education institutions in political and ethical matters.
The Ethical Boundaries of Protest: Nonviolence vs. Destruction
While the majority of these student-led protests remained peaceful, isolated incidents of property destruction, such as vandalism and arson, raised ethical concerns. These actions risk overshadowing the core messages of the movements and alienating potential allies. For instance, reports emerged of attacks on university properties, which some linked to broader anti-corporate sentiments within the protests. Such actions prompted debates about the boundaries of acceptable protest tactics.
Gandhi’s principle of ahimsa, or nonviolence, emphasizes that the means of protest are as crucial as the ends. He asserted, “Nonviolence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind.” Similarly, Dr. King believed that nonviolent resistance seeks to “win friendship and understanding,” leading to the creation of a “beloved community.” Chávez also championed nonviolence, asserting that it is “more powerful than violence.”
These leaders understood that resorting to violence could undermine the legitimacy of a movement and hinder its objectives. They advocated for disciplined, peaceful protest as a means to effect lasting social change. Their philosophies serve as a reminder that the moral high ground is maintained through nonviolent actions, even in the face of opposition.
Furthermore, destructive actions can provide authorities with justification to suppress movements and implement stricter measures against protesters. This not only endangers the participants but also shifts public focus from the issues at hand to the legality and morality of the protest methods. Maintaining nonviolent discipline ensures that the spotlight remains on the injustices being challenged.
Protests at the Homes of University Leaders: Ethical Considerations
In recent years, some student activists have extended their demonstrations to the private residences of university leaders—such as those at the University of Michigan—in an effort to hold them directly accountable. While this tactic can draw attention to deeply felt grievances about institutional injustice, it has also sparked significant debate over the ethics of targeting personal spaces in protest. Such actions raise critical questions about privacy, the boundaries between public roles and private lives, and the potential intimidation of family members who are not responsible for the professional decisions being challenged.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke powerfully about the purpose of nonviolent protest: to “arouse the conscience of the community” without inflicting harm. He emphasized that the goal of protest should be reconciliation and redemption—not the humiliation or defeat of one’s opponents. Similarly, Gandhi’s principle of ahimsa, or nonviolence, extended beyond rejecting physical violence—it also included avoiding property destruction and refraining from acts that instill fear or hatred. César Chávez, too, championed the transformative power of disciplined nonviolence, asserting: “Nonviolence is not inaction. It is not discussion. It is not for the timid or weak… It is the willingness to sacrifice. It is the patience to win.”
I read the collective teachings of these eminent leaders as a caution against targeting private homes. Doing so crosses both a moral and strategic line—one that risks shifting public focus from the injustice being challenged to the tactics of the protest itself. While I understand that personal spaces can sometimes carry symbolic weight—such as the upside-down American flag displayed at the home of Supreme Court Justice Alito—there is a critical distinction between peaceful symbolic expression and actions that damage homes, vehicles, or personal property.
Dr. King once said, “A riot is the language of the unheard.” I recognize that student activists are escalating their tactics because they feel ignored or dismissed by university leaders. They are calling for action. The specifics of what actions are being demanded—and how universities should be held accountable—is a conversation for another post. But I do believe there are opportunities for universities to do more, in genuine partnership with student protesters, to address concerns within their purview.
Public spaces—streets, parks, and the grounds of government buildings—have long served as powerful stages for protest. These forums enable visibility while upholding a collective ethic of nonviolence and public accountability. However, when tactics cross into personal harm or property destruction, they risk undermining the very principles that have sustained successful movements for justice. We saw this tension during some Black Lives Matter protests, where isolated incidents of property damage—often not representative of the broader movement—were seized upon to discredit the cause. This is especially problematic given that BLM leaders consistently emphasized nonviolence and explicitly opposed the destruction of property. When destructive acts overshadow the core message, they give critics an opening to distort the narrative and distract from the urgent calls for justice.
Chávez also insisted on maintaining dignity and respect in protest. He believed that the strength of a movement lies in its appeal to our shared humanity—even with those in positions of power. Actions that are perceived as invasive or threatening can erode that moral clarity and hinder meaningful progress.
The January 6 Capitol Riot: A Contrast in Protest Tactics
The events of January 6, 2021, when a violent mob stormed the U.S. Capitol, serve as a stark contrast to the long tradition of nonviolent student and civil rights protests. Fueled by false claims of a stolen election, participants in the insurrection assaulted law enforcement officers, broke windows, vandalized historic chambers, spread feces, and disrupted the formal certification of the presidential election. Tragically, the chaos led to several deaths and the injury of over 140 police officers. The riot did not just damage property—it shook the foundation of American democracy.
This violent episode stands in direct opposition to the legacy of leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, and César Chávez, who maintained that protest must remain peaceful to maintain moral authority and public legitimacy. Their movements were built on disciplined resistance, where even in the face of violence, the protesters themselves did not retaliate. The Capitol attack, however, relied on fear and force rather than persuasion and principle. It was a demonstration not of civil disobedience, but of mob aggression, with some participants openly calling for harm to elected officials.
In the years since the January 6 Capitol riot, many of the participants have been prosecuted, yet have also been celebrated by political figures. Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-GA) voiced her support for President Trump’s decision to pardon over 1,500 January 6 defendants, even stating, “If I ran the January 6 Capitol attack, we would have won.”
Among the more than 1,600 individuals charged for their roles in the insurrection were Peter Schwartz, who attacked officers with pepper spray and was sentenced to over 14 years; Robert Palmer, who threw a wooden plank and a fire extinguisher at police and received a 63-month sentence; and Thomas Webster, a former NYPD officer who violently assaulted Capitol police with a metal flagpole. All were issued pardons.
Enrique Tarrio, the former leader of the Proud Boys, played a key role in initiating January 6 according to investigators. Initially sentenced to 22 years in prison—the longest sentence handed down to any of the nearly 1,600 people charged in connection with January 6—Tarrio was also pardoned.
Some of those pardoned have continued to make headlines. Andrew Taake, a January 6 rioter who received a pardon, was recently arrested in Texas on alleged charges related to the solicitation of a minor.
Matthew Huttle, another individual pardoned by Trump, was shot and killed by police during a traffic stop just days after his pardon.
In response to the pardons, Senator Lindsey Graham, a Republican from South Carolina, called it a “mistake” to pardon or commute the sentences of those who “went into the Capitol and beat up a police officer violently,” acknowledging the complex nature of these decisions.
This moment underscores the importance of upholding nonviolence as a guiding principle in protest. While civil disobedience may be disruptive, it does not seek to terrorize or destroy. The Capitol riot revealed how easily protest can veer into insurrection when grounded in grievance rather than justice, and when tactics shift from persuasion to violence. The contrast between January 6 and the moral clarity of past nonviolent movements should remind us that how we protest is just as important as why.
Conclusion
Nonviolent methods remain among the most powerful tools in the activist’s arsenal. They offer a pathway not only to amplify a movement’s message but also to educate and engage the broader public. Teach-ins, public forums, and peaceful demonstrations create space for dialogue, raise awareness, and invite participation—without alienating potential allies. These approaches ensure clarity of purpose, foster solidarity, and build the broad-based support essential for lasting change. The more inclusive the tactics, the more the movement grows—cultivating space for diverse voices and ensuring that the call for justice resonates across communities.
The events of January 6 serve as a stark reminder of what is lost when violence and property damage overtakes the message. The insurrection, and the political responses that followed—including rhetoric defending or pardoning participants—shifted focus away from any legitimate or illegitimate grievance and onto the destructive and heinous nature of the acts themselves. Movements that employ violence or intimidation undermine their own legitimacy and distract from any issues they seek to address. When protest devolves into destruction, the public discourse pivots from the pursuit of justice to the consequences of the tactics.
Constructive activism thrives on inclusion, empathy, and respect. The legacies of leaders like Gandhi, King, and Chávez show us that nonviolence is not a passive stance, but a deeply strategic and moral commitment to justice. Their methods built bridges across divides and invited even opponents into conversation. Their leadership reminds us that the path to change must mirror the values we seek to uphold: dignity, equity, and shared humanity.
In today’s movements—whether for Palestinian rights, racial justice, or climate action—the stakes are high, and the urgency is real. But the power of a movement lies not just in its message, but in the integrity of its methods. Actions that burn bridges—through destruction, exclusion, intimidation, or personal harm—fracture coalitions and delay progress. In contrast, nonviolent, inclusive strategies help movements gain ground, build alliances, and ultimately, achieve lasting transformation.
As activists confront injustice in all its forms, they must continually reflect: Are our actions illuminating truth and building bridges, or obscuring our message and severing connections? The pursuit of justice must be rooted in ethical action that speaks not only to the urgency of now, but to the possibility of a better future. By centering nonviolence, compassion, and collective action, movements can honor the wisdom of our ancestors and honored leaders while charting a course toward a more just, equitable, and united world.