Resilience and Repression: The #StudentIntifada at Arizona State University

Eric Sandoval

Preface 

Since the events detailed in this essay, the struggle for Palestinian liberation at Arizona State University (ASU) has evolved into resistance against a broader imperialist war being waged against Iran by the United States and the Zionist entity. At ASU, our organizing has shifted to meet this political moment. We recognize that the Zionist project is the laboratory for the world’s most repressive technologies, which are being exported back to the United States to repress anti-ICE resistance. We have integrated our movement with the struggle against ICE, exposing how the “border security” industrial complex that terrorizes our communities in Arizona is fueled by the same imperialist and colonialist logics and technologies used to massacre Palestinians and Iranians. By framing our work as a unified front against the U.S.-Zionist war machine, we are asserting that the liberation of Palestine is linked to the total dismantling of the American deportation apparatus. This essay documents the roots of this transformation and how organizers decided that the only path forward is the total defeat of imperialist and Zionist systems. 

To understand the roots of the Student Intifada at ASU, we must understand the material realities of the institution where it began. ASU is one of the largest universities in the U.S., with over 150,000 undergraduates and tens of thousands of graduate students. I am a student at ASU and a board member of my Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) chapter, though I am writing as an individual rather than as a spokesperson for my chapter. The student body is racially and ethnically diverse, and ASU is recognized as a Hispanic-Serving Institution (HSI) with significant populations of Asian, Black, Native, and international students. Many are first-generation college students, and a large share receive Pell Grants. Since ASU has relatively affordable tuition and a high acceptance rate, it is a site of acceptance rather than one of “elite” exclusion, and its diverse, working-class environment makes it a critical site for anti-imperialist struggle. 

Terrain of Struggle 

Despite the potential for mass mobilization of a diverse working-class student body, pro-Palestine organizing at Arizona State University lived in relative isolation before Operation Al-Aqsa Flood. At this time, it primarily centered around the committed membership of both Students for Justice in Palestine and the Young Democratic Socialists of America at ASU. It was often described by organizers as being limited in its outreach to the larger student community. Arizona’s Anti-BDS (Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions) law, bipartisan support for Zionism, and Arizona’s and ASU’s deep ties with weapons manufacturers like Raytheon and Northrop Grumman, not to mention the United States military, make for an extremely hostile environment for anti-Zionist organizing. 

After Operation Al-Aqsa Flood and the beginning of the genocide in Gaza, however, pro-Palestine organizing came to the forefront of campus activism and student life at ASU. Organizers connected the ethnic cleansing of Palestine with the university’s connection to weapons manufacturers, framing it as a local and global issue. The first rally took place on October 12, 2023 as a demonstration in support of Palestinian resistance, with another rally scheduled for the 21st of the same month. On November 14th, a rally was held at the ASU Undergraduate Student Government (USG) calling for ASU to adopt BDS. In an escalatory step by ASU administration, a speaking event featuring Congresswoman Rashida Tlaib was canceled, which organizers correctly perceived as blatant political censorship. 

At a pivotal moment, several key demands were made. Students wanted ASU to condemn the Zionist entity’s actions in Gaza, disclose and divest from all financial ties to the Zionist entity or companies complicit in the occupation, and cut academic partnerships with universities in the Zionist entity. Organizers also called for President Michael Crow’s resignation, an end to ASU and Tempe police on campus, amnesty for disciplined students and faculty, and reinstatement of pro-Palestine groups like MEChA. These demands were meant to connect ASU’s financial and political ties to what students correctly see as oppression and genocide in Palestine, and to protect those organizing for Palestinian liberation. 

The Encampment 

As the administration continued to ignore these demands and doubled down on its ties to both the military-industrial complex and the Zionist entity, the movement shifted to an attempt at a sustained physical occupation on campus. This escalation was a direct response to the university’s refusal to engage with calls for divestment, and it arrived in the midst of a historic, nationwide wave of student encampments–the Student Intifada–that saw universities across the country being occupied in solidarity with Gaza and each other. On April 26, 2024, students and community members established an encampment on Alumni lawn, located outside Old Man at ASU’s Tempe campus. It was declared a “liberated zone” by the protestors and was filled with tents and signs that demanded that ASU disclose and divest its investments in the Zionist entity. 

While the action was followed by months of rallies and protests, this was our first attempt to sustain a round-the-clock occupation. The state’s and university’s response was immediate and violent.  The morning after the encampment began, ASU police dismantled the first set of tents, cutting them apart and attempting to disperse students to control the area. Tension rose as police pushed students, while the protestors regrouped and rebuilt the encampment. Chants of “Free, Free Palestine!” and “Genocide Crow has got to go” carried across the lawn as more participants joined the encampment. The atmosphere in the encampment was a mix of confrontation and efforts to maintain calm. Imam Omar of Tempe Mosqueurged the protestors not to escalate against the police and keep their demands clear. Some older community members likened the encampment to the Vietnam War-era protests and movements they were involved in. A small group of Zionist counter-protestors draped in the flag of the Zionist entity did appear during the day, but seemed peripheral to the encampment. 

As the day continued, ASU administration set an 11 p.m. deadline for the encampment to be dispersed and warned that arrests would begin if it were not. By nightfall, dozens of students and supporters remained, linking arms and chanting, while police prepared for a forcible dispersal. Shortly after 11 p.m., police announced dispersal orders and began clearing the encampment. Officers slashed tents, confiscated belongings, and made arrests. Much of the encampment’s property, such as tents and even fresh food, was thrown in the garbage by the police; this destruction was  done not just by the police but was also aided by ASU students believed to be fraternity members. Reports describe aggressive arrests; in one harrowing case, at least one Muslim woman was forcibly stripped of her headscarf in public and subjected to an inappropriate pat-down. Others recount being forcibly thrown to the ground and removed from the lawn. 

By midnight, the encampment was dismantled, and the remaining materials were destroyed and discarded. While the encampment lasted less than a full day, it was a turning point for ASU Palestine solidarity organizing at ASU. The repression from the university froze campus activism and showed that the administration was open to violent arrest to stop student activism. 

Financial Connections and BDS

While the encampment was the most visible manifestation of our resistance, it did not exist in a vacuum. Throughout our struggle, a less visible but equally important front was being contested and researched: our struggle for institutional transparency. Student organizers did not wait for the Student Intifada to investigate our university’s financial connection to the Zionist entity and weapons manufacturing. Much of this work has been limited by ASU’s own intransigence in releasing financial documents, as well as Arizona’s Anti-BDS laws, which restrict public institutions and contractors from divesting from the Zionist entity. Exact figures on ASU investments were difficult to obtain, and student organizers still do not have a full picture of the financial connections, but many point to universities and Arizona’s connection with Raytheon, Northrop Grumman, and L3Harris, which all design or supply arms used in the occupation of Palestine and the imperialist war on Iran. The lack of transparency reinforced our perception that the ASU is willingly involved in the military-industrial complex, despite the absence of any direct portfolio investments. To address this gap, students have shifted toward political education efforts designed to make the case for divestment in broader terms. There has been a sustained strategy to politicize the student body and outline three boycott steps: 

  1. Removing products manufactured in the Zionist entity and the Occupied Palestinian Territories from campus stores. 
  2. Divesting ASU’s financial holdings from companies complicit in the occupation of Palestine, notably weapons manufacturers. 
  3. Ending all ASU Study Abroad programs in the Zionist entity. 

Context and Stakes 

For student organizers, these boycott goals are more than administrative requests; they entail the implementation of a broader political framework. On campus, organizers constantly framed their actions as being in direct solidarity with Palestinians on the ground. The encampment, the rallies, and the political education meetings were positioned as not just symbolic gestures but, rather, attempts at making material interventions into ASU’s complicity in the genocide in Gaza. We emphasized the university’s partnerships with weapons manufacturers to technologies being used in Gaza and, now, those being used in Iran. This framing highlights the interconnectedness of struggles in Arizona and Palestine. 

ASU’s organizing efforts did not exist in a vacuum; from the earliest rallies in 2023 to the encampment in 2024, we drew inspiration from protests nationwide. The state of Palestine solidarity organizing at ASU has been marked by resilience and repression, following the mass arrests of the encampment. Many students expressed fear of disciplinary or legal punishment, which produced a chilling effect on public action. Public rallies have slowed, and the encampment was never reestablished, but organizing has not disappeared. Political education and small, direct actions continue, as does coalition building with immigration justice organizations and the Anti-ICE movement. While the movement operates under heightened risk, the encampment created urgency for all organizers that transcends just our campus activism. 

Reflection 

Looking back on the trajectory of our movement, we have come to realize it is a marathon, not a sprint. Organizers at ASU have and will continue to face significant obstacles, such as the immediate legal and political climate of Arizona, including anti-BDS laws, bipartisan support for Zionism, and the deep connections to weapons manufacturers across the state. Students contend with surveillance, disciplinary threats, and police presence. Internally, activists note the difficulty in expanding their efforts beyond a small but committed group of organizers as the main student body remains uninformed or simply disengaged. 

Despite these obstacles, the movement has achieved many important goals along the way. Pro-Palestine movements, which were once insular and limited on campus, have now become a prominent section of student life and a social movement that the administration has to contend with seriously. Political education has also become another form of resistance, helping students frame the struggle for Palestine as an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist struggle, which university education has failed to do. The movement has succeeded in politicizing an entire generation of students against Zionism and putting Palestine firmly on the agenda. Even under hostile conditions, organizing can shake the political culture and show how a new generation is willing to put their bodies on the line for Palestine. 

When ASU pushed us off the lawn, they were also pushing us out of the ASU community. But they inadvertently pushed us into other communities. Our movement has turned toward organizing not just the campus, but also our nearby communities. Today, as we face the full brunt of imperialism with the U.S.-Israeli war on Iran, the lessons of April 26 have given us a blueprint. We have learned that the struggle against the Zionist entity is the same as the struggle against the militarization of the Arizona borderlands. We have learned that victories will not come easily and fast, but come through disciplined, intersectional, and long-lasting organizing that will and can outlast the repression of a dying empire. The encampment created a unified front against the imperialist, capitalist, and Zionist systems that bring death and displacement to our world.

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