Launch your own takeover

I spent this weekend at a place which has been marked by revolutionary action. Many years ago, a group of radicals boldly staged a takeover in order to have their voice heard and to assert their rights. As a result, subsequent generations were better off for their willingness to risk their own safety on behalf of a cause. As you probably can guess, this place was Boston.

On Monday, however, I returned to our University, soon after the 40th anniversary of our own radical action, the Allen Building Takeover. Dozens of black Duke students risked expulsion and jailtime in order to make Duke a better place, not just for themselves, but for future black students. Hundreds of other Duke students risked their health and physical safety to stand in solidarity with them (including my father, Mark Tager, Trinity '70). And it was worth it; the University eventually assented to subsequent talks with the protesting Afro-American Society and acceded to some of their demands.

In the aftermath of the 40-year anniversary, there has been significant introspection as to what this meant for the Duke community. Some, like Duke School of Medicine's Brenda Armstrong, told The Chronicle that it gave Duke back its soul. In contrast, anonymous commenters on The Chronicle's online articles, believe that the incident was overhyped or misleading, and doesn't reflect the true values of, or issues facing, Duke University

I'm less interested in seeing how Duke University has changed in 40 years, however, than in figuring out how Duke students have changed. Specifically, if we were placed in the same situation as those 50 to 75 Duke students, would we have risked jail time for something we believe in? Would we have risked tear gas and police batons to show our support?

I believe the answer is no. I know a lot of Duke students who have had run-ins with the law, but these have more to do with inebriation than with civil disobedience. Today's Duke student is marked by his or her ambition to excel, academically and socially. Jail time doesn't fit neatly into that framework. And we all have to get jobs after this, right? No one's going to hire an applicant with a penchant for rocking the boat.

Now, there are a lot of reasonable arguments for why Duke students shouldn't storm the Allen Building today. Firstly, Duke's administration has a great record of encouraging student-led social change on campus; they're the good guys, not the bad guys. Secondly, such direct-action tactics as a building takeover are so old news. Activism has evolved; there's no point putting ourselves on the line anymore. Besides, we're Duke students; we're smart. Can't we figure out how to solve major issues without getting in trouble ourselves?

Perhaps direct student action is dead. But if that's the case, students at nearby schools haven't gotten the memo. A little over a year ago, two Warren Wilson college students were arrested for protesting Duke Energy's plans to build a new coal-fired power plant. At the beginning of this school year, UNC students were convicted for "failure to disperse," after launching their own building takeover to protest UNC's current sweatshop-friendly apparel-manufacturing policy.

Whenever I share these recent examples of radical student activism with other Dukies, the question inevitably arises: "Why? I mean, what could going to jail possibly accomplish?" For my answer, I point to Boston, where a group of rich and well-educated men stormed a boat and destroyed private property in defiance of authorities. Many of these men continued to risk their lives, being branded as traitors by a government that saw them as bandits and ruffians. I point to the quad we walk across every day, where our progenitors breathed choking gas. I point to the Allen Building, where dozens of men risked their own futures in order to ensure that we, today's Dukies, could have a fairer and more inclusive future.