In response to a goofy mix-up in which five thousand of your names and social security numbers were posted on the Internet for 16 months, one student wishing to remain anonymous has posted a statement of disapproval/demand for change on Petition Online.

Students bothered by the incident (we hear there may be a few of you) are encouraged to sign the petition, which will later be emailed to Scott Wright, he of yesterday's fateful email, Elizabeth J. Keefer (CU General Counsel), and Joseph A. Ienuso (Executive VP, Facilities).

Hey, did you know that some stuff happened at Columbia in 1968? Bwog daily editor Pierce Stanley braved two of this week's numerous '68-centric lectures; here's what he thought about them.

That tangible sense of nostalgia gripping campus has not waned this weekend as the commemoration of the Columbia 1968 Protests hits full stride. After its tame opening on Thursday evening in Casa Italiana hosted by PrezBo and Nancy Biberman B '69, the gaggle of aged (and surprisingly boisterous) anti-war and anti-discrimination activists continue to mill around campus, reminiscing about their hours spent hunkered down in Hamilton, Fayerweather, and Low in the spring of 1968.

The commemoration, however, has been heavy on reminiscing. Aged protesters have spent much of their time back-patting, reminding themselves that they were the greatest generation of activists, catching up on years spent away from one another and bickering about current day social justice issues. At the end of the day, much of the audience, including this Bwogger, was left frustrated by the single-mindedness of the activists who graced Columbia's campus forty years ago and wondering if they might be still looking for a fight but are just a bit out of touch.

Beginning at noon today, a strange face-off between Columbia activist-types and artist-types went down under Alma's nose. First, the student council-sponsored Arts Fair unfurled on Low Steps, offering free hamburgers, pizza, models (clothed!) and music. Meanwhile, a clot of more than 100 anti-Columbia protesters with home-made noisemakers (corn kernel-filled plastic bottles) marched onto campus and coalesced at the sundial.

The Student Coalition on Expansion and Gentrification, who had originally sponsored the protest, pulled out last night when they heard they wouldn't get a permit to demonstrate on the Steps--because the Arts Fair had claimed the space long before. Admins offered the activists the Pupin lawn and told them to come in at the 120th entrance, but community groups refused to take the space bargain.

And so the unofficial, ad hoc protesters, led by the Coalition to Preserve Community, the Coalition to Save Harlem, and the Mirabal Sisters, gathered a group of SCEG-ites and bystanders. While Tom "Peter Pan complex" DeMott ululated into his bullhorn, the bands on the steps--including the Kitchen Cabinet and a funk band (we didn't catch the name) drowned out the addresses. One old man, spittle flying from his mouth, tried to rush the stage to stop the "fucking kids" from playing--there are also reports some protesters pulled their amp cords. "Surreal," said one bystander. "This is hilarious," quipped another. More pics after the jump.

Oriflammes are gleaming! The rabble is roused! T-shirts are free for the taking! Five Years of War, Five Days of Action has reached its apex out on Low Plaza. A devoted cadre of protesters walked out of class at noon. Though the crowd has dwindled, there's no reason to think any of the 236 people who confirmed their attendance via Facebook flaked out. Since then, they've encircled the sundial, which has been recomissioned as a podium. The professors invited (Hamid Dabashi, Rashid Khalidi, Zainab Bahrani, and Bruce Robbins) wrapped up their speeches earlier. Three veterans (one a Columbia grad student) have told their war stories. But as the speeches end, hijinks await. The group has promised protestacular mischief at 2 o'clock. An anonymous tipster informs Bwog that Butler, Alma Mater, a banner, and some unfurling may be involved. Stay tuned for live(ish) updates.

Update, 1:52 pm: Much of the crowd is now sitting. One speaker, a postdoc student, asked the crowd whether it wanted to engage in any chants--response was unenthusiastic. Bwog is stroking sweat away from its brow, and regretting having bought a black, heat-absorbing laptop. Talk has turned to divesting Columbia from business with Iraq war contractors (some $5M invested!), and to demanding that Columbia introduce scholarships for Iraqi students. This has raised audience engagement to a low whooping level.

Update, 2:14 pm: The event reached a monumental finale when a banner was flung from Butler (Bwog was mighty impressed) and Alma Mater was veiled and surrounded by a militant bunch of arm-linkers. Bwog remains a bit confused about why the banner looks like a pink dress, and about why the veil looks like it was made of some sort of do-rag material. Sunbathers seemed befuddled but engaged. The clanging of the bell has recommenced.

Photos after the jump

Demonstrations against the war in Iraq continue today with a walk-out happening right now at the sundial, in the middle of a sea of sunbathers, who have splayed themselves out on South Lawn and and on the Low Steps. Check back for continuing coverage of the walkout plus the rumored "dramatic political statement" occurring at 2 PM by Alma Mater.

Bwog Lecture Hop Editor Pierce Stanley sends a dispatch with notes on last night's teach-in about the Iraqi refugee crisis and his new understanding of this week's series of Iraq War protests.

The distinct sound of a bell has been ringing in my head for the last three days, and it's starting to affect my all too precious sleep cycle. Every time I have tried to sleep this week, I have not been able to help but hear the intermittent chime of the bell commemorating the victims of the Iraq War ringing endlessly in my head. Fortunately for the Iraq War protesters who have been demonstrating against five years of American involvement in Iraq by ringing a bell for every casualty in the American occupation of that nation, they seem to be succeeding in raising awareness to their cause with such an unconventional method.

Bwog heard a high pitched, triangle-like pulse emanating from College Walk, and upon closer inspection, noticed that a funeral service being held for those killed in Iraq since the beginning of the war. The protest is called "5 Years of Occupation, 5 Days of Action" and the leaders of the protest are marked by their stenciled red and black on white t-shirts. Coffins and petitions currently surround the Sun Dial as a girl stands at a microphone reciting dates and numbers dead.

If that mini-gong is bothering you, however, don't hold your breath. The last time Bwog checked, the readers were still on April 2003 and a single pulse is going towards every person who has died so far. And depending on which report they believe, there have been between 104,000 and 1,446,063 deaths since the invasion.

-JJV

Tipster/photographer Matt Shields directs Bwog's attention to the South Lawn, where law schoolers are staging a mock hunger strike protesting the ban on drinking in the Black Box theater. They're calling themselves PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Alcoholics) and according to their colorful, upbeat propaganda, they "will not eat until they can drink—on stage." (The third protester holds a sign that inexplicably proclaims "We're not gonna protest.") And look, they even have a tent and a guitar... just like real activist-types!

April is not just Poetry Month, it's also Earth Awareness Month. W.M. Akers reports on NYU's valiant awareness-raising nude protest/celebration.

A civic-minded group of students took to the streets outside of the main NYU buildings today, exhibiting their bodies and their concern for the environment. Timing their small march to coincide with the gap in between the 11 AM and 12:30 PM classes, they made a circuit of six blocks several times, chanting and cheering in support of Earth Month.

They gathered at the east side of Washington Square a few minutes before noon to trade shirts, pants and brasseires for colorful war paint. Most of the men wore shorts and running shoes, while the women wore pants or athletic shorts and a bra or body paint. It was a few degrees too cold for comfortable nudity, and assorted nipples greeted the air cheerfully. Though they looked a bit silly, the participants had their message ready, as though they expected people to ask why they were running around topless.

The 40th anniversary of Columbia's 1968 student protests are fast approaching, so start brushing up on your history!

An early point of contention between students and administrators happened in March 1967, when Bob Feldman, a Columbia student and Students for a Democratic Society member, unearthed documents revealing Columbia's institutional membership in a Department of Defense think tank that was doing advanced weapons research.

Feldman recently reminded Bwog that parts One and Two of Columbia Revolt, a Newsreel documentary about the strikes of '68, are available online. The film begins with monotone monologue and lots of shaky, low angle shots of CU buildings, but gets to the juicy stuff—students occupying buildings, cops, ambulances—pretty quickly.

Along Broadway this afternoon, a hodgepodge of Harlemites and Columbia students staged a small-scale demonstration between wooden police divides. The protest was centered around a lawsuit filed by Nick Sprayregen, Manhattanville businessman, and Norman Siegel, his Madison Avenue lawyer trying to get the City to revisit the Manhattanville plan that they already approved in light of environmental concerns.

It just so happens that in the basement of the Manhattanville campus there will be a hazardous biotech lab on, according to the protesters, a flood plane and earthquake fault line. His lawsuit is primarily demanding that the board wait until they can read the engineering studies that are in progress before finalizing their decision. Sprayregen said that in a "3000 page document," the City was not able to look at every very minor detail of the document vetted carefully. "We're not against expansion. We only think that biohazard research doesn't belong in Manhattan," he said.

Last week's felling of the tree in front of Earl sparked a mild-mannered quasi-protest act by an unidentified group of individuals who have placed a papier-mache Lorax on the stump of the Tree That Once Was.

Bwog would never suggest, however, that in order to create the papier-mache Lorax, the merry protesters would have had to have used paper, one of man's favorite tree-based substances.

A motley band representing Philolexian Society cell CRUSHP (a one-syllable shortening of the Committee for Rectifying the Unphilolexian Sneaky Hipster Problem) has gathered on the Sundial and is hurling insults at passing hipsters. Hipsters, thus far, have not been too affected, because the catcalls are still quieter than the Norwegian middle school-themed songs blasting on their iPods.

For all the hipster-haters out there seeking oneliners, CRUSHP's finer slogans include "no label, no talent!" and "their new album is better than their first!" Manhattanville expansion opponents might appropriate the chant, "What do we want? Sincerity! When do we want it? Now!" And they would surely ask CRUSHP's permission before taking it for themselves.

In the interest of honest journalism, Bwog has been debating among itself all morning whether it has been infiltrated by too many hipsters to cover this story without bias. Indeed, Bwog may have been the target of a CRUSHPer hollering "skinny jeans reduce your sperm count." Bwog was only semi-hurt, as this correspondent would prefer to keep her sperm count low.

More photos after the jump

The hunger strike is over, and contrary to what we we were told last night, so is the camp-out. Hunger-strikers and volunteers are currently taking down the tents, dismantling the Columbopus's remaining tentacles, and otherwise preparing to permanently vacate Butler Plaza.

Hunger striker Richard Brown, C '10 cited a "need to clean up" as one of the reasons for ending the nearly two-week encampment. "We can't have these out here forever," he said. "The tents have served their purpose."

While the tents were a pretty obvious presence on campus, less obvious was what the strikers were keeping inside of them: Bwog spotted about a dozen blankets, a few portable radios, musical instruments, and a cardboard box full of books, including Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut, a Penguin collection of English romantic verse, a long essay by Noam Chomsky (with the ever so Chomskyan title of "The Prosperous Few and the Restless Many"), the 33 1/3 for Neutral Milk Hotel's In The Aeroplane Over the Sea, and an anthology of poetry read at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe.

If this was a bittersweet moment for the strikers, none of them were showing it. "The hunger strike is over, but the struggle continues" said striker April Simpson, C'11. Even though the strikers are abandoning their temporary home and base of operations, and potentially (severely) diminishing their visibility on campus, this is about as sentimental as things have gotten out there. Right now, they're pretty much just cleaning up.

-ARR

Going by the tone of tonight's candlelight vigil (and counter-protest), the fact that the hunger strike has ended doesn't change anything. The strikers still plan on holding vigils every night at 9. They still plan on camping out on the lawn between College Walk and Butler. And, as speakers and attendees to tonight's vigil reiterated, they definitely haven't forgotten about Manhattanville. Said one student, "this is phase two."

As for the end of phase one: pre-vigil, the feeling among hunger-strike supporters was an almost unqualified sense of having accomplished something important. When asked if the lack of progress on Manhattanville and the failure to produce any spectacular, immediate concessions lessened the impact of the strike, Political Science professor Dennis Dalton suggested that the discussion started by the protest was its most important result. "I'm feeling very happy," said Dalton. "[This is] a time to discuss our cause, and to add a whole new dimension to the discourse."

By around 9:15, a group of about a half-dozen counter-protesters had gathered opposite the sundial. You'd think the anti-hunger strikers would have been happy to see the hunger strike end. Not so: "the strike isn't ending in response to students," said Josh Mathew, C'09, citing CB9's statement of disapproval as a larger factor than the opinions of the students the strikers professed to be representing. Aga Sablinska, C'09, added that the counter-effort will still be going on: on the anti-strike Facebook group she created, she posted that "further plans of action (not by me, by others) are being formed right now."

The vigil was billed as a celebration of the hunger strikers and all that they had accomplished during an undoubtedly rough 10 days without food. The hunger-strikers spoke first: Just about all of them thanked the students and the community for their support, and vowed to continue the fight for "ethical expansion." Brian Mercer, C '07 read an excerpt from Stoakley Carmichal's autobiography (written, confusingly enough, by Oscar Wilde); after him, an older man arrested during the 1968 protests elicited cheers when he said that his daughter was one of the people who had occupied Hamilton Hall during the 1996 hunger strike.