Is it end days for the U of T encampment? I think so, injunction or not.

As I bumped my bike up the cobblestones and through the gates of University of Toronto on a sunny Friday afternoon, I didn’t know quite what to expect. I’ve been following the story of the pro-Palestinian/anti-Israel encampment for weeks, including watching the live stream of the June 19-20 injunction hearing where the university sought to remove the protesters.

A few claims stood out to me during those two days of hearings. First, lawyers for the protesters described the encampment as a cultural experience, with “teach-ins”, music, kite-flying, communal meals and art installations. The university’s perspective was different. They raised concerns about violent interactions between protesters and other students or counter-protesters, anti-Semitic chalk graffiti, and threatening language on the banners hung on the encampment fencing: slogans like “this is the intifada” and inverted red triangles (a symbol used in Hamas terrorist propaganda to identify targets they’re about to kill).

Another claim made during the injunction was that anyone can enter the encampment to experience these cultural delights. Sure, they must talk their way past the guards at the front gates, and then answer “intake” questions from more guards at a table inside. But the protest lawyers said the intake questions are about explaining the rules and about safety. Anyone can enter, and they don’t need to share the views of the protesters.

While I don’t share the views of the protesters, I was curious to see what it was like inside the encampment. And given that the injunction decision is expected soon, this could be my last chance. I wanted to know what the energy of the protest was like, and about the number of protesters left. My own personal sense about the legal dispute is that the timing of the hearing was strategically unfortunate for the university. The hearing was the same week as convocation, so there was no possibility the encampment could be removed in time for graduation celebrations on the lawn. Worse, I figured the injunction would give protesters a reason to stay - if the point of the protests was to disrupt campus life and graduation celebrations, what’s the point of staying when campus is empty? The injunction brought new life to the cause.

It turns out I was wrong. The injunction in fact did not give the protesters a reason to stay. The energy of the protest encampment was non-existent, because the protesters themselves were basically non-existent.

I arrived at the gates at around 11:20 a.m. The encampment officially “opens” at 11:00 a.m. (which suggests perhaps not everyone can enter – for example, if they meet even the loosest definition of an early riser). I greeted three guards at the gate and told them I’d like to see inside the encampment. I explained that I am a lawyer, and I had observed the injunction hearing, which described the encampment as open to all and a cultural experience. I explained that I also wanted to ask students inside what they planned to do if the court either granted or denied the injunction. I told them I am not a journalist, but I sometimes write opinion pieces. I was neither supportive of their cause, nor hostile, and I was polite.

The immediate reaction of the three guards was that the encampment site opens for “community hours” at 12:30, so I could not enter. So much for the 11 a.m. opening time. They further explained that today would not be a good day for a visit because “it isn’t very exciting today” – campers were at Pride, or worried about rain. I note here that it was 21 C and sunny. The guards (who described themselves as “part of the protest infrastructure, not students”) also told me that to respect student privacy, I should not ask them their plans in the event of the injunction is granted or denied. I replied that I would like to ask anyway and students are free to choose for themselves how to answer. I told the guards I would return at 12:30 for the community hours, and I set off.

One Yorkville salad and $20 poorer, I returned to the gates of the encampment for the 12:30 “community hours.” My remark that I sometimes write for newspapers seemed to have put me into a “media” stream. The guards told me that a media liaison would arrive soon to speak with me, so I still could not enter. I was frankly not especially interested in speaking to a media liaison – I’m interested in individual experiences, not official statements. But as I waited, another protester came outside the gates and the guards told me he is a student and could speak to me. When I asked him if he knows what he plans to do in the event of either a granting or a denial of the injunction, he explained that he probably shouldn’t say, but that whatever happens will be a “collective decision.” This is fascinating, since enforcement action by police could result in criminal charges. And criminal charges and convictions can come with serious lifelong consequences, borne by the individual, not by an amorphous collective.

At this point the media liaison arrived. She was a cheerful young white woman who told me she’d been at the protest encampment since the beginning (of course, going home now and then to shower and wash her clothes). She was eager, nervous, but seemingly unable to give a clear answer to my questions about what protesters planned in the event of either a victory or a loss. Perhaps this is fair – maybe they don’t have a plan yet. Maybe individuals will make their own choices. But she didn’t seem to know what her own plan would be, or at least, was unwilling to share it with me.

What she did do was agree to a 10-minute guided tour of the encampment. Certain areas would be off limits: the back half of the circle was reserved for personal tents and “to respect the privacy” of the campers we could not go there. I’m not sure a 10-minute limited and guided tour makes the encampment “open to all”, as per the claim by the encampment lawyers, but I did eventually get inside.

I’m not sure if something is newsworthy for being boring, but that’s how I would describe the inside of the encampment. I counted ten people inside. Let’s be generous and say maybe there were five more in the forbidden back half of the circle, but frankly I doubt it. When you count the three to four guards outside, and throw in a few extra, I’d say the encampment population that afternoon maxed out at 20 people. This was on the Friday before a long weekend with beautiful weather. I suppose there were just better things to do.

Inside I was shown the library tent with a selection of what I’d eye-ball as maybe 75 books, although several had been damaged when the tent had been left open overnight in the rain. I saw the art installations – two large painted hands holding keys; an orange cardstock cutout of Arabic writing that was hanging broken in pieces from a tree, damaged in the wind. When we’d discussed the risks of police enforcement, the media liaison was distraught at the thought that the police may destroy their books or art. At least they’d been given a head start.

My favourite art installation was an “olive tree” paper mâché sculpture, still in progress, I was told. At this stage, it looked more like a stump, about six feet tall. For context, a stump that wide would mean a completed tree with branches would need to be the size of a full-grown oak. It would require infrastructure and many people to complete, both of which were lacking. Perhaps a metaphor for the protest itself. 

I thanked the media liaison for the tour, grabbed my bike, and started my ride home. I expect we will hear the result of the injunction early next week. There are interesting legal issues at stake to be sure, including the applicability of the Charter to universities (case law suggests it does not apply). I’m not sure I would agree with the claims in court that 20 tired people with soggy books and broken art is a cultural experience, but admittedly this is subjective. I also don’t accept that this was a cultural experience open to all. While I was eventually given a brief guided tour of part of the site, it was highly limited access to property that the protesters don’t own. And I think I was only given access because I told them I occasionally write op-eds.

But what stood out to me the most was the lack of energy and participation inside at this stage, more than 50 days in. The amount of money and judicial resources that have been spent on, what now at this point looks like 20 people who have commandeered a piece of grass, is mind-boggling. Whatever the result of the injunction, I can’t see the protest lasting much longer.