Last fall, I had the pleasure of taking retiring Professor William C. Jordan’s final offering of HIS 367, “English Constitutional History,” a staple of Princeton’s history curriculum that has been offered for over a century. The class met in a first floor lecture room in McCosh Hall, right behind the spot where anti-Israel protestors have established their occupation of McCosh Courtyard (a.k.a. the “Popular University for Gaza”). One of the first lessons Professor Jordan taught about the development of English Common Law is the maxim “possession is nine-tenths of the law,” the idea that for much of English legal history, the law favored proof of possession, not outright ownership, of land. Though the maxim was developed against a particular historical backdrop, its lesson should be painfully clear to the University in its current struggle against the usurpers in its midst. Activists are in possession of McCosh courtyard, and the control they have been exerting over the University’s own property defies all sense.
When I first learned the above maxim, I had no idea that the space outside our classroom would become the stage for a perfect lesson in the importance of possession and ownership of private property. The day before the current “Popular University” was established, the administration issued surprisingly strong warnings to would-be protestors planning an encampment on campus. According to Vice President Calhoun, the University would not tolerate “individual involve[ment] in an encampment, occupation, or other unlawful disruptive conduct.” President Eisgruber echoed the sentiment by defending the University’s prohibition on “tactics, such as encampments or the occupation of buildings, that interfere with the scholarly and educational mission of the University” as consistent with reasonable “time, place, and manner” restrictions on speech. Certainly, as has been the case at previous demonstrations, students should have the right to organize and make their voices heard, no matter the content of that speech. That is a fundamental right of Americans, and it is a right afforded to students under Princeton’s adoption of the Chicago free speech principles. However, the University also can, and should, impose reasonable time, place, and manner restrictions. President Eisgruber and Vice President Calhoun did the right thing in drawing clear lines.
In spelling out these restrictions, however, Calhoun and Eisgruber made a fatal mistake. They defined the prohibited behavior as “occupying or blocking access to buildings, establishing outdoor encampments and sleeping in any campus outdoor space.” This gave students an explicit framework with which to carefully, and cynically, comply, enabling them to justify unjustifiable behavior. Meaningless technicality, however, is the death of legal principle. The issue at stake at Princeton, Harvard, Columbia, and other campuses is not just the problem of formal “encampments” – it is the problem of illegal, prolonged occupation of private campus property. By engaging in semantics (such as with the words “encampment” or “outdoor sleeping”), the administrators supplied the activists with the very terms by which they oppose the University’s more fundamental right to control its property. Indeed, per section 1.1.3 of the University’s own “Rights, Rules, and Responsibilities,” the University reserves the right to “reasonably regulate the time, place, and manner of expression to ensure that it does not disrupt the ordinary activities of the University.” If a prolonged, occupy-style takeover of a busy part of campus does not violate the ordinary activities of campus life and flout the University’s right of control over its own property, I am not sure what does. The University should make good on its own authority and show that it is the administration, not the students, that controls campus.
The activists would likely be quick to retort that Israel itself has staged an “occupation” of Palestine by invading Gaza, ruling over the West Bank, and controlling other lands under a system of “Zionist settler colonialism.” Regardless of one’s view of these claims, the irony and hypocrisy should not be lost on anyone. In essence, activists are sending a message of “occupation for me, not for thee.” They are responding to historically inaccurate allegations of Israeli “occupation” with an actual occupation of their own, an occupation of the property of a university that they pay to attend and rely upon for professional and educational prestige.
By allowing students and outside agitators to take control of University property with impunity, Princeton’s administrators have set a dangerous precedent. It is no longer the University that is in control – it is a group of performatively aggrieved students. Indeed, during the first day of the occupation, students celebrated their attempts to “take control of the space” between the University Chapel and McCosh Hall. One sign went as far as calling the space “the liberated zone (formerly known as the McCosh Courtyard)”. This is eerily reminiscent of Seattle’s 2020 “CHAZ”, an illegal occupation which saw two gun homicides, rampant sexual violence, and arson. Then, as now, the freedom of speech does not allow the prolonged occupation of public or private property. When speech and occupation are conflated, chaos usually ensues, even if it is not initially anticipated. Princeton could easily turn into Columbia, just as Columbia could easily turn into Seattle.
If the University wants to prevent its right to property and its duty to enforce time, place, and manner restrictions from becoming dead letters, it should take swift and decisive action against the occupied zone on its campus. Negotiations, as seen at MIT and Columbia, only embolden the activists. The sanctimonious squatters have overstayed their welcome. Princeton should discipline the agitators, including through the use of arrest (when needed) and serious academic punishment. By failing to do so, the University will be graduating a generation of students with no respect for the rule of law. The University has a duty to prevent this from happening, and it is easily within its purview to do so.
Today, Princeton doesn’t need a medieval writ to protect its control over property. Its administrators simply need common sense, tougher resolve, and the gracious help of law enforcement to defend the ownership of its property. Going forward, I hope that Princeton will not be tempted or swindled by semantic games. Rather, I hope that it defends legal principle and draws the line between legitimate speech (which falls within proper time, place, and manner restrictions) and illegal occupation.
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