Campus was abuzz with nervous energy today. Wits announced a few days ago that there is to be a significant tuition increase for next year, as well as the conversion of many campus dorms to private corporate owners, (an interesting microcosm of larger neoliberal campaigns here). There were protesting students marching throughout the campus, singling, chanting, clapping their hands. The protest wasn’t confined to the hallways and sidewalks, either- students were marching directly into classrooms, disrupting classes and insisting that their fellow students disband to join the march. (Many of those protesting are here from neighboring, embattled Zimbabwe. As international students, they stand to suffer the sharpest increases in tuition fees, up to 45%- and at a time when they and their families can least afford it. For more on this, see
this story from today's edition of The Zimbabwean.) Anyway, Wesahl (my co-instructor) delivered a warning to me as we walked to class from her office- apparently, apart from destroying lots of campus property during the last tuition strike, protesters also assaulted fellow students who refused to leave their classrooms when directed. An “either you’re with us or against us” credo reigned.
So, as you can imagine, I felt a bit tense when five minutes into our class meeting, I heard distant chants form within the law school building itself. Wesahl and I made eye contact from our respective positions at the front of the room- what to do? Do we simply let our students (those who appeared for class) leave? Do we wait to be interrupted and then disband, forefitting our valuable class time? I knew instantly that were it just me, I’d wait and see what happened. But I was acutely aware of my responsibility for the 10 or so students in the room- they would stay if I told them to and go if I told them to. Instinctively, though- Wesahl and I both shrugged and decided we’d leave if they came and interrupted us. We made sure to distribute the handouts early in the class and to make all necessary announcements, just in case.
As luck would have it, because it’s a small classroom with no windows, the marchers came down our hallway and kept on going, right past our door.
I must admit I was disappointed. Part of me really wanted to see what would happen. I felt a solidarity with the marchers, and wanted to cheer on their sentiment, if not their tactics. We talked in class for a bit about the spirit of dissent being an integral part to university culture. For me, apart from today’s events, there is something about being in this place that awakens my activist spirit. Perhaps it is the blanket injustice I see happening all around me- but I also think it’s more the richness of the political culture here. Our class is mostly American students, as well- and this felt like a decidedly different sort of protest than the kind we see on our campuses back home. There was that hint of danger to it, of uncontrollability. It was also another poignant lesson in how the occasional incident of unrest creates a climate of fear that far outweighs any actual risk. I found the discomfort exciting- and I guess my students did too, as later on in the day, while walking towards my waiting ride home, I came upon the crowd of protesters rallying inside Senate House (one of the main university buildings). I recognized a handful of my students among them.
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