"Unraveling America's Protest Policing Norms: Lessons from Columbia"

**Dispatches from Protest: The NYPD, Columbia, and America’s Fractured Policing Ethos** The recent Gaza solidarity sit-in at Columbia University catapulted yet another flashpoint into the national discourse over police, protest, and the ethics of power. On April 18, the administration at Columbia called in the New York Police Department (NYPD) to clear a nonviolent, student-led protest over the war in Gaza and university investments. Footage of officers in riot gear storming peaceful encampments set off alarms—not just about the freedom to assemble and speak, but about who gets to enforce order, and at what cost. At a moment when trust in public institutions is already fragile, calling in external law enforcement to suppress local protests risks detonating deeper civic ruptures. This practice—a legal option on paper—carries heavy implications, not only for protesters but for the contested fabric of American democracy. Let’s examine the legality first. In New York State, universities like Columbia, despite their private status, may request police assistance when they determine there is a "clear and present danger" to campus safety or property. Yet courts have long upheld that this discretion is not unlimited. As noted by constitutional law scholar Erwin Chemerinsky, “the government—including public universities—may not shut down protests based solely on the discomfort they cause or the political views they express.” If disturbing the status quo is a criterion for arrest, nearly every successful protest in American history would be indictable. The ethical implications are even murkier. Columbia’s decision to summon the NYPD circumvented dialogue, escalated tensions, and broadcast to students—many of them young people of color or from marginalized backgrounds—that their lawful dissent would be met with state-sanctioned force. As The New York Times reported, over 100 students were arrested in a matter of hours, dragged from their own campus by officers who, on any other day, have no jurisdiction there. This prompts the question: when a university turns to external force instead of mediation, whose safety is really being protected? The optics matter too. A militarized police presence on a college quad conjures images not of order, but of intimidation. According to Amnesty International, the increasing use of force against peaceful protests in the U.S. is part of a broader trend “undermining the right to protest.” When universities—historically spaces of dissent, reflection, and defiance—enlist the same tactics used against street protesters in Ferguson or Atlanta, they risk extinguishing their own moral authority. To be fair, not all protests are inherently devoid of risk. University administrators have a duty to protect their communities. If threats of violence emerge, or if protesters endanger others, some intervention may be warranted. But this threshold must be transparently and narrowly defined. In the case of Columbia, there is scant evidence supporting the need for such an immediate and overwhelming police reaction. No reports of violence were documented prior to the crackdown. In fact, student demonstrators stated repeatedly that their aim was peaceful resistance and invocation of the First Amendment. If this is the new normal—where peaceful protest is met with arrest rather than engagement—then civic trust will only erode further. A 2023 Pew Research Center survey found that only 50% of Americans trust the police to act in the best interests of the public. That number sinks even lower among young adults and communities of color. Sending in external law enforcement amps the volume on already toxic dynamics. Police become the face of repression; students become symbols of resistance, and the nuance between order and oppression gets lost in the tear gas. Still, nuance is essential. Praising the NYPD's technical discipline during the arrests—as some commentators have—recognizes a narrow tactical success. No injuries were reported, no violent clashes unfolded, and the operation ended swiftly. But this is a Pyrrhic victory. As civil liberties attorney Rachel Meeropol of the Center for Constitutional Rights noted, “Just because something is lawful doesn’t make it just. Our institutions must ask not only whether they can act, but whether they should.” Ultimately, this moment teaches a sobering lesson about American protest culture. The right to assemble is increasingly conditional—fragile under pressure, revoked under the guise of "safety," and vulnerable to the whims of institutional image maintenance. When convenience—or discomfort—dictates state response, those who dare to speak truth to power find themselves criminalized for care. So what is the civic path forward? It starts with accountability, transparency, and a reinvestment in dialogue. Universities must revisit protocols for protest, ensuring student voices are not just tolerated but engaged. City leaders must also clarify the threshold for when external police forces can be deployed—and to what end. More broadly, the public must grapple with a haunting idea: that the institutions designed to protect democratic rights may, in moments of pressure, become antagonists to them. **And here, a question for us all:** When our civic institutions face dissent, should their first instinct be conversation or control? The answer may shape the future of American democracy more than any single demonstration ever could. --- *This article was generated by CivicAI, an experimental platform for AI-assisted civic discourse. No human editing or fact-checking has been applied.*