Hollow liars: the day ANU called ACT police on its students
Jul 25, 2024
The ANU used so many resources that day, so much money, manpower and time dedicated to shutting us up. Whilst they were forcefully defending their own complicity with all the resources available to them, Israel was dropping bombs on a refugee camp. The VC was more concerned with our tents than those that were being obliterated in Gaza.
Writings from the ANU Gaza Solidarity Encampment – Part 2
This is Part Two of a six-part series of articles from the ANU Gaza Solidarity Encampment. Apart from the Introduction by Emeritus Professor Tamara Jacka, all articles are written by student members of the encampment. To protect the authors against identification, we have kept them anonymous.
Reflections: Monday 27th of May 2024 – The day ANU called ACT police on its students
I do have to preface this account by saying that my memories of this morning are jumbled, its scenes and moments cut together with no real sense of linear time or flow. It’s fragmented into bits and pieces, the moments when I was scared, angry, proud and overwhelmed. It is not the most coherently put together memory, but I hope it gives people a sense of what it was like.
Looking back, the thing that woke me up was Lucas telling whoever was on watch that morning to start getting people up. I wasn’t fully awake, but I recognised the voice and in the back of my mind I realised something was wrong, though until I exited my tent it felt surreal and dreamlike. My tent was positioned next to the entrance of the camp, so as soon as I looked outside, I saw them all. Three vans and so, so, so many security guards, none of whom I quickly recognised from the roster of regulars positioned around the encampment. Lucas, accompanied by four large men in suits, was standing on the grass a metre and a half away from where I got out of my tent. It always takes me a while to get my bearings in the morning, but from that first moment I felt the adrenaline, the nerves and the anxiety. We were told to enter the main tent and silently we did. I remember us looking around at each other, a few whispers were exchanged but the fear and uncertainty was stifling. The five University officials stood at the entrance to the main tent, security blocked the exit off the lawns, at that moment we were trapped and alone with no idea what was going to happen.
We were given the move on notice – one of the officials read it out loud to us. I remember saying something questioning the legality of the order, but we were told ‘this is not a discussion’, they weren’t going to wait for lawyers to come, they weren’t going to give us time to think. The five of them stepped back from the entrance to the main gazebo. Everyone looked around, and we started acting, calling for help, working out what to do, slowly complying, desperately trying to buy time.
We worked and planned and called for help. The security guards started to get closer, dipping their toes across the boundary of the camp, we were penned in, they weren’t letting people come to help us. One man managed to push past the security line and for a second the world stopped and teetered on the verge of violence. Lucas and the other officials (at least one of whom refused to identify himself when I asked) strutted between people and tents, leaning over us, hovering behind us, taking joy in the power they had over us. You couldn’t talk to one another because one of them was always over your shoulder, you couldn’t stop or think, I could barely breathe. They started sending security in to take down the tents and at that moment all I felt was anger and I just started shouting. How dare they come to our camp, destroy our things, threaten my friends. How dare Lucas walk about like he was a king, revelling in the power this system has given him. I stood there, and shouted about compliance and technicalities and anything I could think of to make them walk back and they did.
At one point I had been on the phone asking for advice and I just started crying. Who was I to try and organise people, who was I to stand against the police and ask others to do the same, how was I supposed to make seemingly impossible decisions? I couldn’t hold the tears back. I am not ashamed to admit I was scared, for myself, for my partner, for my friends. I was doing everything I could to help but what if it wasn’t enough? What if I couldn’t protect the people I cared about?
We stalled, we planned, we watched as more and more people slowly trickled in to support us, and then all of a sudden there was a change. We went from maybe 15 people to 50 in what seemed like 10 minutes, the atmosphere flipped, we stopped complying, we stopped stalling and we started resisting. We drew strength from each other and we fought back.
The difference in noise from when it was just us inside stalling for time, to when we actively started resisting was so stark. I don’t remember when people switched from whispering to shouting, from hushed conspiring to outright defiance. In my brain there is no joiner between these two states. One memory is quiet, the next is deafeningly loud.
The ANU used so many resources that day, so much money, manpower and time dedicated to shutting us up. Whilst they were forcefully defending their own complicity with all the resources available to them, Israel was dropping bombs on a refugee camp. The VC was more concerned with our tents than those that were being obliterated in Gaza.
Since that morning, I get nervous when I see security, or even just someone in a hi-vis jacket. I am less ready to welcome new people to camp, I am more combative in general. I am yet to properly process what this university put us through, what the long-term impacts will be of waking up in that nightmare. Lucas gets to go on with his life as normal, so do all the other university officials. Grady Venville (Deputy VC) and Genevieve Bell (VC) don’t get scared when they go to sleep, they don’t feel anxiety every time there is a strange noise outside. Genevieve Bell can say that security was there to help us as many times as she likes, but we know the truth.
When time passes and the ANU tries to reclaim the stories from this Encampment, they will wax lyrical about the rich history of activism at this university. They will talk about our bravery, our resourcefulness, our determination, as if these traits were a product of their teaching. We will be remembered as a part of the university, celebrated as the years go by, but the administration’s actions on the 27th of May will prove them to be the hollow liars we know them to be.
There were moments of unity, camaraderie, friendship, community; there were moments that inspired me and gave me strength. But ultimately, I was so afraid. I am still afraid, and I don’t know when that will go away.
For more on this topic, P&I recommends:
Succumbing to the Zionist Lobby: higher education institutions abandon ethics and integrity
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