Tag: Movement

  • National Urban League Report Examines Five Years After George Floyd: “A Movement, Not a Moment”

    National Urban League Report Examines Five Years After George Floyd: “A Movement, Not a Moment”

    The National Urban League has released a new report examining the progress and setbacks in the fight for racial justice in the five years since George Marc MorialFloyd’s murder, challenging Americans to view the ongoing struggle as “a movement, not a moment.”

    The report, titled “George Floyd Five Years Later: Was it a Moment or a Movement?” traces the trajectory of racial justice initiatives since May 25, 2020, when Floyd was killed by Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin. It details how initial outrage and corporate pledges of more than $66 billion for racial justice programs have faced increasing backlash, culminating in recent executive orders eliminating federal diversity programs.

    “History will judge us – not by how we responded in the days after George Floyd’s death, but by what we are building five, ten, and twenty years later,” said Marc H. Morial, President and CEO of the National Urban League. “The fight for justice, safety, and dignity is far from over—and the stakes for our democracy could not be higher.”

    The report chronicles how Floyd’s murder ignited what it calls “one of the most significant calls for racial justice in generations,” with protests spanning from Minneapolis to Madrid demanding police accountability and government action to address systemic inequities.

    While the initial response was robust – with corporations, higher education institutions, philanthropy, and nonprofits pledging billions to confront systemic racism – the report documents how commitments have significantly eroded. Data revealed that DEI job postings declined 44% from 2022 to 2023, and major companies like Google and Meta scaled back programs supporting Black talent.

    The report details a pattern of progress and regression across several administrations. Under President Biden, the Department of Justice’s Civil Rights Division, led by Kristen Clarke, convicted more than 180 police officers for civil rights violations and investigated 12 police departments. President Biden’s executive order on safe policing created a national database to track police misconduct and banned chokeholds for federal officers.

    In stark contrast, the report notes that the second Trump administration “eliminated all DEI initiatives across the federal government on Day One” and “froze all open DOJ civil rights investigations.”

    “Five years after George Floyd’s murder, we are living in a different America,” the report states. “As President Trump began his second term, he signed various executive orders gutting federal diversity programs and efforts. This led to corporations and institutions of higher education abandoning their commitments to racial justice and eliminating their diversity programs altogether.”

    The National Urban League’s response has been multifaceted. The organization established a new division, Equitable Justice and Strategic Initiatives (EJSI), to advocate for justice system reforms. It developed “21 Pillars for Redefining Public Safety and Restoring Community Trust” as a framework for police reform and created a “D3” platform based on three principles: Defend Democracy, Demand Diversity, and Defeat Poverty.

    In early 2025, the organization convened the Demand Diversity Roundtable, an emergency strategy session to confront threats posed by the new administration’s actions against civil and human rights. With partners, they filed a lawsuit challenging what they describe as “unconstitutional anti-equity executive orders.”

    “It is of the utmost urgency that we rise to defend not only the progress made in the years immediately after George Floyd’s murder, but of the last 60 years,” Morial emphasized in the report.

    Despite the setbacks, the report presents evidence that public sentiment still largely supports diversity efforts. It cites polling showing 61% of Americans believe diverse employees positively impact organizations, and 75% agree more needs to be done to guarantee everyone is advancing.

    “Despite challenges and headwinds coming our way, we are doubling down on the fight for a more equitable and just world, where our classrooms, offices, and boardrooms reflect who America is,” the report concludes.

    The 14-page report, designed with a striking red cover featuring Floyd’s name, includes a timeline of events from 2020 to 2025 and offers practical guidance for citizens wanting to protect their rights, including consistently checking voter registration status and supporting organizations fighting for equity.

    Morial’s message is clear: “As the moment of 2020 fades for some, we are positioned to lead the movement for a more just America where all Americans can live safe, full lives and thrive.”

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  • The Struggling Sanctuary Campus Movement

    The Struggling Sanctuary Campus Movement

    American University’s student government recently passed a referendum calling on the university to designate itself a sanctuary campus and limit its cooperation with federal immigration enforcement. Student protests broke out at the University of North Carolina Asheville, the University of Texas at Austin and elsewhere to push those campuses to embrace sanctuary status. A petition with the same demand from Colorado State University’s chapter of the Young Democratic Socialists of America garnered more than 3,000 signatures.

    “It is of the utmost importance that students, staff, and community members see CSU committing to protect the most threatened students in this community,” read the student petition to Colorado State administrators.

    The petitions and protests have also been fueled by student frustrations with universities’ compliance with other federal immigration actions. The Council on American-Islamic Relations and other groups sued Columbia University on behalf of students after federal immigration agents arrested Mahmoud Khalil, a green card–holding recent Columbia graduate, at his university-owned apartment because of his involvement in pro-Palestinian protests. Shortly afterwards, Department of Homeland Security agents searched two Columbia dorms, though no arrests were made. The CAIR lawsuit, which also targets the House of Representatives’ Committee on Education and the Workforce, led to an injunction that stopped the university from sharing more student records with lawmakers.

    “While I await legal decisions that hold the futures of my wife and child in the balance, those who enabled my targeting remain comfortably at Columbia University,” Khalil said in a statement from an ICE detention center in Louisiana. “Columbia surrendered to federal pressure by disclosing student records to Congress and yielding to the Trump administration’s latest threats.”

    The renewed push for sanctuary campuses harks back to President Donald Trump’s first term, when students at dozens of campuses petitioned their colleges to follow the lead of sanctuary cities and create boundaries for their cooperation with federal immigration officials. At the time, a handful of higher ed institutions agreed to designate themselves sanctuary campuses and protect undocumented students to the fullest extent the law allows. Many more made public declarations of support for undocumented students without actually embracing the title.

    This time around, while some college and university leaders have promised they’ll support students in every way legally possible, few are eager to comment publicly on Trump’s immigration actions or use the sanctuary title, for fear of overpromising the protections they can offer or attracting unwanted attention to their campuses, potentially putting students or federal funds at risk.

    The Trump administration has already gone after sanctuary cities, with Chicago among the first targeted for immigration raids. One of Trump’s early executive orders asserted that “sanctuary jurisdictions” shouldn’t receive federal funding. The Trump administration also sued the city of Chicago, the state of Illinois and New York State over their immigration policies last month. And recently, Republican lawmakers lambasted the mayors of Boston, Chicago, Denver and New York City for their sanctuary statuses at a contentious hearing before the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform.

    Some college leaders are clearly worried that using the term “sanctuary” could make them a target as well. Even the few colleges and universities that previously designated themselves sanctuary campuses seem hesitant to use, or discuss, the term. Inside Higher Ed reached out to eight higher ed institutions that have called themselves sanctuary campuses in the past. Three institutions declined interviews, and four didn’t respond to email requests for comment.

    A spokesperson for a community college in the Southwest confirmed in an email that the institution “remains committed to serving and supporting all students” but no longer actively uses the term “sanctuary.”

    “Because our top priority is student safety, we prefer not to comment further,” the spokesperson wrote.

    ‘Meaningful,’ ‘Risky’ or Both?

    Current debates over the term “sanctuary” likely reflect some of the ways this political moment differs from Trump’s first term.

    Notably, fears that federal immigration officials could venture onto campuses became a reality after Khalil’s recent arrest, heightening the risks of taking a public stand. Other federal immigration actions affecting students and scholars followed, including the arrest of Badar Khan Suri, an Indian postdoctoral fellow at Georgetown University.

    A professor at an institution that previously declared itself a sanctuary campus emphasized that Khalil’s case made those working with undocumented students “even more alarmed.” During Trump’s first term, campuses ultimately weren’t a target of federal immigration actions, but the events of the past month at Columbia show that may no longer be true, said the professor, who spoke with Inside Higher Ed on condition of anonymity.

    Another key difference between Trump’s first and second terms is that most of today’s undocumented students can’t participate in the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, which protects those brought to the U.S. as children before 2007 from deportation and allows them to work legally. That means many undocumented students are arguably more vulnerable than they were during Trump’s first term, the professor said. At the same time, campuses have far more infrastructure, resources and legal training to support undocumented students than in the past, they added.

    The professor believes it’s still worthwhile for colleges to call themselves sanctuary campuses—or at least offer undocumented students some kind of public support—because it means a lot to affected students and the faculty and staff supporting them. It helps them feel “braver.”

    “I think it’s both meaningful and risky,” they said. “In fact, I think it might be more meaningful now because it’s so risky.” But “I don’t necessarily think that using the word ‘sanctuary’ is the key. I think the key is saying something.”

    College leaders likely believe “not speaking out is going to give them a layer of safety, because we’re not waving a flag, like, ‘Look over here,’” the professor added. “I get that, but I’m just not sure that it’s right.” They noted that even though Columbia cracked down on pro-Palestinian protesters, the Trump administration has shown no signs of letting up on the institution, vowing to strip it of hundreds of millions of federal dollars.

    Even some college leaders who have long supported undocumented students have always had issues with the sanctuary designation, said Miriam Feldblum, executive director of the Presidents’ Alliance on Higher Education and Immigration. Her organization doesn’t encourage the term because she worries it’s amorphous and sends a confusing message to undocumented students.

    To her, the label evokes the idea of “civil disobedience,” reminiscent of the way churches housed and shielded Central American refugees in the 1980s sanctuary movement. But campuses are still responsible for “complying with the law,” she said. If students interpret the term “sanctuary” to mean otherwise, she fears they might misunderstand what protections they do and don’t have.

    “It’s actually not communicating clearly and transparently what the campus is going to do,” she said.

    Feldblum believes students’ outrage toward Columbia over its handling of federal immigration actions reflects how easy it is to misunderstand campuses’ legal options. From her perspective, Columbia followed best practices by developing policies delineating private and public space on campus—where ICE can and cannot enter without a judicial warrant—and making sure immigration officials had the correct warrants when they came knocking. Feldblum argued a sanctuary campus would have done the same.

    She emphasized that just because campus leaders take extra care with their language doesn’t mean they’re doing any less to support undocumented students. She said many campuses are furiously updating their protocols on how to handle ICE officials on campus and ramping up services and supports for undocumented students without a sanctuary label.

    “The commitment to support students, to use the tools in our toolbox to make sure that we’re protecting students’ right to free speech, that we’re supporting our campuses so they are places for safe and supportive learning is very much at top of mind for campus leaders,” Feldblum said.

    Maryam Ahranjani, professor of law at the University of New Mexico, expressed similar discomfort with the term “sanctuary”; she argued it “may not have the same meaning to everyone” and as a result can be “counterproductive.”

    “There may be people who would actually support the goals of people in favor of a designation, but maybe they just don’t like the term,” Ahranjani said.

    Instead of making a big national push for sanctuary, advocates of undocumented student should “think about how to get the support of highest-level leaders, presidents, provosts” on a set of specific goals informed by the needs and concerns of undocumented students’ on individual campuses, she added.

    Colleges need plans in place for how they’d respond to ICE raids, but undocumented students could also be facing other problems that go unnoticed, like bullying or “how the current climate affects [their] ability to learn,” she said. “I think it’s important to talk to them about what their exact individual needs are.” But some advocates for sanctuary campuses insist the designation is needed now more than ever, with both undocumented populations and campus free speech squarely in the administration’s crosshairs.

    Michelle Ming, political director at United We Dream, an immigrant youth advocacy organization, empathizes with campus leaders who fear for their federal funding but argues that colleges that don’t embrace sanctuary campus status deny undocumented students a sense of security, thus depriving them of the full benefits of the college experience.

    “What is the point of having a school if it’s not going to be safe?” she said. To Ming, sanctuary means students “feel safe to go to class. They feel safe to go and do what they came to do—and paid to do—which is learn, further their education, discover what the next step in life is and form communities that really resonate with who they are and who they want to be. And that includes exercising free speech.”

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  • A way to honor the teach-in movement at 60 (opinion)

    A way to honor the teach-in movement at 60 (opinion)

    This month marks the 60th anniversary of the teach-in movement against the U.S. war in Vietnam. The first teach-in was held at the University of Michigan, March 24–25, 1965; by the end of the spring semester, teach-ins had spread to college and university campuses across the nation, educating tens of thousands of students, faculty and community members about the moral, political and strategic reasons why the escalating Vietnam War was doomed to failure.

    The teach-ins were sparked by the Johnson administration’s launch of the Rolling Thunder bombing campaign against North Vietnam in late February 1965. But it is less its antiwar ideas than its strategic and tactical brilliance that makes the teach-in movement so relevant today, offering a valuable model for resisting the threat that the Trump administration’s authoritarianism and hatred of the liberal university poses to academic freedom and free speech on campus, the university’s funding of scientific research, the college and university’s role in battling racial and sexual discrimination, and higher education’s cosmopolitanism and international character.

    Though we tend to think of the campus antiwar movement as led by radical students who used militant tactics, breaking university regulations and the law in their protests, the teach-in movement was initiated by faculty, not students, and it did not break any such regulations or the law. Its only tools were education—offered by knowledgeable speakers—and effective publicity and outreach. In fact, the very idea of a teach-in was the result of a tactical retreat.

    Initially, Michigan’s Faculty Committee to Stop the War in Vietnam had envisioned a work moratorium, a day when faculty did not teach their regular academic classes so that the whole university could focus on the Vietnam War. But this moratorium idea proved immensely controversial, drawing all kinds of denunciations, especially from the state’s war-hawk politicians, who labeled it an anarchist hijacking of the university that denied students access to their classes. Seeing that this controversy was distracting people from the war itself, the faculty shrewdly changed course. Instead of a work moratorium, they came up with the idea of an antiwar teach-in that would begin after classes ended and go on through the night (from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m.).

    Some on the left saw this tactical shift as unfortunate, even cowardly, and feared that few students would attend such an evening event. But they were wrong. This first teach-in drew some 3,000 students, faculty and community members. It was, in the words of one its speakers, Carl Oglesby, “like a transfigured night. It was amazing: classroom after classroom bulging with people hanging on every word of those who had something to say about Vietnam.” Michigan’s antiwar faculty then helped raise funds for more teach-ins in May, which connected with faculty and student activists on more than 100 campuses, with the movement reaching its peak at a University of California, Berkeley, weekend teach-in that drew some 30,000 participants. All this provided a major boost to the peace movement and helped make the campuses a center of antiwar activism.

    In our own era, college and university administrations have tightened campus regulations to restrict mass protest and have been quick to have even nonviolent anti-Gaza war student protesters arrested for the most minor campus rule violations. In fact, last spring there were more than 3,000 arrests nationally, for campus antiwar encampments that were quite tame compared to the disruptive student protests that erupted in the Vietnam era’s most turbulent years.

    The decline of free speech on campus since the 1960s is also evident when one reflects back on the famous case of Marxist historian Eugene Genovese. At a Rutgers University teach-in, Genovese, in 1965, provoked a huge right-wing backlash by saying that he did “not fear or regret the impending Vietcong victory in Vietnam. I welcome it.” Despite calls for Genovese’s firing from many supporters of the war, including then-former Vice President Richard Nixon, Rutgers’ administration, while disdaining Genovese’s pro-Vietcong views, defended his right to free speech and refused to fire him—though two years later Genovese, tired of the death threats and political pressure, opted to leave Rutgers. One hears no such campus administration defense of free speech today as Trump, who pardoned his J6 rioters, pursues arrests and deportations of anti-war student protestors, including the arrest and detention of recent Columbia University graduate and Green Card holder Mahmoud Khalil.

    All this repression has struck fear into the hearts of student activists. So, while direct action and civil disobedience have their place in campus protest, they are, understandably, not in vogue at this authoritarian moment. This is a time when important news outlets, such as The Washington Post and The Los Angeles Times, the business community, the U.S. Senate minority leader, and campus administrators cower in fear of the Trump administration. This seems like a good time for faculty to act boldly yet strategically, taking the lead, showing that their campuses can, without rule-breaking or civil disobedience, become major centers of education about Trump’s authoritarianism, his embarrassingly illiberal and predatory foreign policy, and his crude attacks on education, the courts, the press, the First Amendment and federal agencies. Faculty should use their skills as teachers and scholars, as their predecessors did in 1965, but this time help teach America about the threat Trumpism poses to democracy and education, in a new national wave of teach-ins that would honor our past and offer hope for the future.

    Robert Cohen is a professor of history and social studies at New York University. His research focuses on student protest, free speech and the Black Freedom Movement in 1960s America. His most recent book is Confronting Jim Crow: Race, Memory and the University of Georgia in the 20th Century (University of North Carolina Press, 2024).

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  • ‘Father of Environmental Justice’ Robert Bullard on the Work Behind a Movement (Time)

    ‘Father of Environmental Justice’ Robert Bullard on the Work Behind a Movement (Time)







    Higher Education Inquirer : ‘Father of Environmental Justice’ Robert Bullard on the Work Behind a Movement (Time)







    ‘Father of Environmental Justice’ Robert Bullard on the Work Behind a Movement (Time)

     

     

    “This
    isn’t happenstance,” remarked
    Gloria Walton, former TIME Earth Award
    honoree, on the environmental justice movement being recognized as a
    powerful force.

    “It is a reality created by the energy and love of frontline communities
    and grassroots organizations who have worked for decades,” Walton said,
    as she presented an Earth Award to the man known as the “Father of
    Environmental Justice,” Robert Bullard.

    Bullard, who was appointed to the White House Environmental Justice
    Advisory Council in 2021, spoke of the long fight he’s waged for
    environmental justice in his acceptance speech. He discussed the
    challenges that he faced in 1979, when he conducted a study in support
    of the landmark case Bean v. Southwestern Waste Management Corps.— the
    first lawsuit to challenge environmental racism in the United States.

    “I am a sociologist and my sociology has taught me that it is not enough
    to gather the data, do the science and write the books,” he said. “In
    order for us to solve this kind of crisis, we must do our science, we
    must gather our data, we must collect our facts, and we must marry those
    facts with action.”

     

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