We were sitting in the foyer of a large building at the University of Melbourne when a woman approached us.
We weren’t being modest—really, we’d only just sat down. We had both taught, on the casual tutor circuit, at various universities, but this was our first time at Melbourne Uni in several months. Last time we were here, it was for an end-of-year creative writing function: samosas and warm white wine. Now, security guards circled, and all around us were camping chairs, tents, and protest banners: CUT TIES; JEWS SAY STOP ARMING ISRAEL; NO BLOOD ON OUR DEGREES. The ambience was hushed, reverent. We felt like toolies: very into it, very old.
A few weeks back, on April 17, students at Columbia University set up the first Gaza solidarity camp, demanding that their institution divest from weapons manufacturers and companies linked to the Israeli government. Students around the world quickly followed suit. In Naarm, encampments popped up at the University of Melbourne, Monash, La Trobe, RMIT, and Deakin. The demands were similar across campuses: disclose ties to weapons manufacturers, and divestment from the same. At Melbourne, protestors had been occupying a lush green lawn beneath the Uni’s gothic clock tower since April 25. Dark academia, dark money, and dinky Kmart tents converged for a stand-off.
Then, on 15 May—Nakba Day—having had no significant movement from the University on their demands, a group of students moved into Arts West, a modern building with a soaring, four-storey atrium, and a warren of lecture theatres and teaching rooms. They renamed it “Mahmoud’s Hall” in remembrance of Mahmoud Alnaouq, a 25-year-old prospective UniMelb student who was killed by an IDF missile strike in October of last year.
It was a few days into the new camp. By then, the University was freaking out. Admin were releasing strained statements declaring it “unsafe,” had locked some of the doors, disabled the lifts, and cancelled classes in the building.
Outside, staff, students, union members, and onlookers milled around in front of the building. The media stood back, waiting for something to happen. Channel 9 was wearing a thick smear of gold eyeshadow. She and Channel 7 teased Channel 10 about his small newsroom; he was part of a staff of three, apparently. They asked us what we were doing there.
We were indeed soaking up the atmos’. In fact, we were there to measure the atmos’ against the chaotic scenes that had been evoked in some reporting on the encampments: scenes of “outside agitators” coming in and wreaking havoc, of property damage, anti-semitic bullying.
But inside the Hall, when we visited, it was calm and quiet; relaxing, even. Students were hunched over laptops, writing assignments. They napped on blow-up mattresses, rolled over, chatted. The only non-Uni person we met was an elderly woman from regional Victoria, who had caught the train in to support the kids at her alma mater, and who was presiding over an arts-and-craft table, colouring in a small poster.
We strolled around, listening in as students discussed practical concerns.
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