Writer’s note: While I was at the site of the protest in my capacity as a Bear Ambassador, this opinion submission and the views contained within it are my own and do not reflect the stances of my supervisors, the Office of Undergraduate Admissions, or the University Administration. 

On Saturday, April 13, I witnessed the pro-Palestine, anti-Boeing protest during my shift as a Bear Ambassador with the Office of Undergraduate Admissions (a job that includes giving campus tours and helping with Admissions activities), and it stayed on my mind long after the event took place. For context, the protest took place on a Bear Day, which is an event in which admitted students and their families are invited to campus to learn more about what Washington University has to offer. 

Recent communications from Chancellor Martin and Dr. Gonzalez made clear that the protest broke several University policies regulating free speech on campus. Content-neutral free-speech regulations exist to maintain the balance between freedom of expression and a safe campus atmosphere. While there are worthwhile debates around the validity of these standards, I wish to push discussions of rules and regulations aside and examine the protest through a normative lens. 

The protest brings up many important topics: free speech, political activism, and the relationship between current and prospective students and the administration. And while I’m generally sympathetic to the concerns that the protest focused on, specifically the troublesome relationship between Boeing and the military-industrial complex, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off. 

My initial feelings on the protest were a mix of vicarious irritation and remorse for the visiting families, many of whom, I’m sure, traveled long distances, only to have the beginning of their visit interrupted. To me, these families had nothing to do with the University’s decision on whether to divest from Boeing. I reminded myself that protests are meant to be disruptive, though — it’s in their nature, and it’s the reason they have been so effective throughout history. 

Still, the demonstration bothered me for a couple of reasons: the protesters’ activism a) felt misdirected and b) undermined ideals of pluralism within our student body.

The divestment movement has criticized the University for not cutting ties with Boeing due to its interests in maintaining revenue, the endowment, and the overall bottom line. Interrupting a day for admitted students and potentially discouraging them from attending would likely provide leverage against the administration, as tuition from incoming students is a clear revenue source for the University.

One criticism of the protest I’ve heard, though, is that disrupting Bear Day will only frustrate the administration and make them less likely to divest. I both agree and disagree with this point. On one hand, successful protests throughout history indubitably agitated the targets of their demonstrations. Arguing that protest movements should avoid disrupting those they are speaking against suggests stopping protests entirely, which I view as naive; discomfort is part of the equation.

But the frustration the administration likely experienced on Bear Day is not the kind that the divestment movement should wish to create. The goal of disrupting the student admissions process, and therefore attacking a source of revenue for the University, is weak. 

Over half of each incoming class are Early Decision students who are legally bound to attend, whether they liked the protest or not. But what if some non-negligible number of Regular Decision students decide not to attend? According to WashU’s publicly available FY2023 Audited Financial Statement, total revenue in 2023 was $4.76 billion, with $497 million coming from tuition, leaving $4.26 billion generated from other sources. Any minor damage brought about by a few hundred students declining attendance is not going to convince the Chancellor in the slightest. That doesn’t even account for the hundreds of students on Washington University’s waitlist who would be thrilled to take the place of any student who declines, further reducing any potential financial effects to what would likely be barely a scratch.

If protesters want to convince the administration to take tangible action, they should target events that can create a greater impact. For example, the McKelvey School of Engineering (of which Boeing is a major employer of recent graduates) held their Awards Ceremony in Whitaker Hall on April 7, and the CEO of Boeing, Dave Calhoun, was in attendance. Who wasn’t there? The divest-from-Boeing movement. I think Calhoun makes a much better target of protest than some poor high-school senior who doesn’t even know where to get a Half-and-Half. 

Moreover, WashU prides itself in being a pluralistic institution where students from a wide variety of backgrounds can come together and learn from each other’s perspectives. Pluralism and diversity on campus are key reasons why the maintenance of free speech is so important; in doing so, we can engage in dialogue that helps us reason about and strive toward an understanding of the common good. 

As I alluded to previously, an intended effect of the protest was to discourage a portion of students from attending WashU who possibly would have otherwise. In fact, one of the protesters was quoted: “I doubt that their [the visiting families’] kids will come here, which to me is mission accomplished” (emphasis added).

While protesters argued that the purpose of the event was to inform visitors of the true “reality of what’s happening” on campus with regard to its ties to Boeing, I worry that underneath lies an implicit message that if an admitted student doesn’t feel welcomed by the presence of protesters or doesn’t agree with the divestment movement’s stances, they shouldn’t bother coming to campus at all. And when the lines of this specific issue cleave themselves along certain ideologies and backgrounds, it sets up the potential to have those who decline admissions be similar to each other and different from the protesters, countering the University’s desire to build a diverse student body. The goal, then, of reducing admissions numbers undermines the same pluralistic ideal that allows protesters to express their viewpoints freely in the first place. 

It also goes against what I believe should be a primary objective for an activist movement: to invite as many new recruits to the mission as possible. While I’d bet there were quite a few admitted students who felt energized and excited by the protests, even those sympathetic to the cause might have been turned off by the disruption of a day meant to celebrate their admission. To risk alienating a whole swath of potential new members is, in my book, a poor strategy.  

The divestment movement sits at a troubling crossroads. On the one hand, they have taken the proper steps within standard channels, such as passing a resolution in Student Union requesting the University cut ties with Boeing. When University action still doesn’t result from these measures, continuing down this path can seem pointless. The other option, then, is to find more extreme ways to disrupt the operations of the University and demand change. However, while the Bear Day demonstration was a surefire way to get the administration’s attention, it cast too wide a net and affected the days of unrelated people in the wrong ways.

In an environment where discussions about justice are as pressing and urgent as ever, activists fighting for their causes need to invite as many people into the conversation as possible. Doing so should involve convincing people why they should care, not admonishing them for their complacency. Pushing people away from the conversation is not going to be convincing to anyone, especially not to a Chancellor so focused on free speech. I believe the divestment movement has the energy it needs to succeed, but I also believe that there are ways to better align their passion with their actions to further their end goals. Otherwise, a difficult crossroads may become a disappointing derailment.