Introduction
We are living in an age of protest. Social, political, and technological conditions—from economic inequality and partisan polarization to the development of social media and a deadly pandemic—have converged in the past two decades to afford new salience to public assembly as a central tactic of politics in the United States and abroad.
The wave of pro-Palestinian, antigenocide campus protests in 2023 and 2024 is the most recent manifestation of this renewed interest in a contentious form of outdoor politics that started in the United States with Occupy Wall Street (Occupy) in 2011.
Yet, despite the First Amendment’s explicit guarantee,
those who gather in the United States, on campus and off, are functionally left without a constitutional right to assemble. The Assembly Clause has no independent significance in contemporary First Amendment doctrine.
The Supreme Court has not decided an important public protest case in decades.
And despite multiple forcible dispersals and thousands of arrests of nonviolent protesters,
no Occupy or Black Lives Matter (BLM) activist has won a case on the grounds that their right to peaceably assemble had been infringed.
This is not to say that participants in outdoor assemblies lack First Amendment protection.
A quagmire of intersecting doctrines is available to those who organize and participate in political protests. It is rather to draw attention to the fact that these protections emerge from a doctrine that has conflated the First Amendment’s separate protections for freedom of speech and peaceable assembly out of a mistaken assumption that the value of assembly, like speech, is primarily expressive.
A wholly expressive conception of assembly, however, weakens constitutional protection.
When courts balance the inconvenience of protest against its contribution to public discourse, assembly inevitably loses. Assembling is not “behavior designed to advance the pursuit of truth.”
There is little “reasoned disquisition[],” especially between opposing perspectives.
Thus, efforts to manage, even mute, assemblies often seem reasonable and justified.
Through an expressive lens, assembly’s value seems conceptual, its costs salient and material, especially in the face of concerns for public order (however speculative). Protesters can surely find less disruptive ways to contribute to the marketplace of ideas.
Protesters fare no better when assembly’s value is measured in terms of its instrumental political returns because, as with most political acts, such returns are highly uncertain.
First Amendment law and discourse are thus perpetually preoccupied with the costs of assembly in ways that fundamentally distort the analysis of the proper scope of constitutional protection, and those who engage in political protests are left to seek constitutional protection under doctrines designed to protect values other than those of assembly.
Assembly looks different when considered as a social, not discursive, practice.
Assemblies are not primarily about ideas. The decision to appear in public is often first and foremost a claim to civic inclusion and recognition. When students show up or walk out, wearing keffiyehs and flying the Palestinian flag, chanting slogans (even offensive ones), they are demanding recognition. “We are here too!” they say. “Palestinians exist in Gaza. And our campus community includes Palestinians, Muslims, Americans of Arab and South Asian descent, and Jews who do not support Israel!” Acts of assembling—in public but also in private to plan and organize—build social solidarity. They reinforce and forge new social ties, instill habits of civic and political engagement, and create social networks with political potential.
Being together physically and socially contributes to democracy in ways that are distinct from the contribution of public discourse. Influencing public decisionmaking requires translating ideas into political power through political acts, and assembly, as a social form of politics, builds the civic capacity for political action.
When assemblies demonstrate mass, persistence, and authenticity, they have the power to disrupt political settlements and orthodoxies.
The protests that are the focus of this Symposium Piece were a form of political action.
The national scope and persistence of student protests opposing Israel’s conduct of the war in Gaza disrupted the political discourse about Israel and placed strains on the Democratic coalition, even threatening to undermine the party’s electoral prospects with the emergence of a significant Uncommitted Movement.
Indeed, beyond the confines of campuses, and certainly outside of the United States, the true threat of allowing people to gather in great numbers is not that an assembly might descend into violence; it is that, like the Boston Tea Party, it will upend a political regime.
But again, the potential to build that power depends on the social solidarity and networks that arise from prior acts of assembling.
Freed of the wholly expressive account of assembly, it becomes possible to understand why an independent Assembly Clause doctrine is warranted and could make a material difference for those who gather in public. First, renewed attention to the text of the First Amendment would involve remembering that it explicitly protects a particular form of conduct (peaceable assembly), thereby troubling the assumption in existing doctrine that assembly is a lesser form of expression because it is not pure speech.
Second, while the introduction of an independent Assembly Clause doctrine would not obviate the need to manage assembly’s social costs, it would provide a more coherent basis for distinguishing between protected and unprotected assemblies by using assembly’s distinct contribution to self-governance as the measure.
An independent Assembly Clause jurisprudence would start from the premise that all assemblies implicate the constitutional right of peaceable assembly. It would recognize that the collective activities of campus protesters—their walkouts, vigils, die-ins, and encampments—are instances in which individuals gather together as a group, thereby easily meeting the ordinary meaning of “assembly.” Jurisdictions that recognize assembly as an independent right generally define assembly as “the common presence of at least two persons in a common space at the same time.”
Coverage for particular assemblies would still have to be delineated, as would the scope of protection if covered. A BLM die-in at the Mall of America may be unprotected because it constitutes trespass; an effort to obstruct the construction of a pipeline may be unprotected because it is vandalism (violence to property); a student protester may have no constitutional protection from the decisions of private university administrators because only government actors are bound by the Constitution. Gatherings, in other words, might still fall outside the bounds of constitutional protection for a variety of reasons.
This Piece is about how those boundaries should be discerned. It is about the boundaries that currently exist and those that ought to exist. The claim is not that the introduction of an independent Assembly Clause doctrine would obviate the need to address tradeoffs or to draw lines: It is that, in making those determinations, we should closely track the approach of existing free speech jurisprudence. We should start with a robust defense of the value of assembly, rather than the preoccupation with its costs that pervades existing constitutional law and discourse.
The social costs of free speech are at least as concerning as those associated with outdoor assemblies. Misinformation, disinformation, and defamation of public figures take a significant toll on the functioning of our democratic institutions, while hate speech, doxing, and pornography, including revenge porn, harm individuals—frequently exacting an extra penalty on women and people of color.
Nevertheless, even as there is a robust academic debate about whether constitutional protection for free speech has gone too far,
in the main, these harms are recognized as the transaction costs of a liberal democracy. Why? Because there is a well-developed and shared understanding of the value of free speech. The same is not true for assembly. The discounted constitutional protection protesters currently receive is driven by a misunderstanding about assembly’s contribution to democracy that leads to an exclusive stress on its costs.
The importance, therefore, of developing a shared understanding of assembly’s value cannot be understated. Only by doing so can we restore meaningful constitutional protection for those who gather for political ends.
This Piece partakes of a limited turn in First Amendment scholarship to revive the right of assembly as an independent and distinct source of constitutional protection.
It uses the management of, and public discourse surrounding, student protests opposing Israel’s conduct of the war in Gaza at Columbia University to illustrate the failures of existing First Amendment doctrine and to ground the discussion of how things might look different were the right of assembly to be given independent significance in legal analysis.
Why campus protests? And why Columbia? Protests on college campuses are complicated by the unique attributes of higher education.
And it is also true that Columbia, like other private institutions, is not bound by the First Amendment.
Still, the pro-Palestinian, antigenocide campus protests of 2023 and 2024 are a particularly good case study because they illuminate the distinct value of assembly as a political practice but also its social costs. The handling of the protests vividly illustrates the shortcomings of existing First Amendment doctrine while official explanations of university policy and public discourse surrounding those choices reveal just how ingrained two mistaken assumptions about assembly are: that First Amendment protection attaches to the expressive elements of assembly and that assembly is fundamentally disruptive and thus reasonably subject to regulation.
In addition, to the degree university administrators have become the target of congressional investigations in relation to their handling of these particular protests, the pro-Palestinian, antigenocide protests vindicate an underlying assumption of this Piece: namely, that constitutional discourse (the ideas generally held about what the First Amendment protects) matters because it reinforces not only constitutional doctrine but more importantly what people do voluntarily. Notably, during the 2023 to 2024 academic year, private universities did not seek to justify their actions on the grounds that they were not bound by the First Amendment or to argue that they should be entitled, as universities, in line with their educational mission, to limit protests that did not meet their educational commitments.
Quite to the contrary, these institutions routinely justified their most controversial choices—suspending student groups, sanctioning student protesters, and calling in the police to disperse student encampments—as broadly congruent with First Amendment principles and law.
The mantra at private universities was and remains that their policies are coterminous with First Amendment principles.
It is thus the very complexity of the campus protests in opposition to Israel’s conduct of the war in Gaza that makes them an excellent case study not only for considering the shortcomings of existing First Amendment doctrine and constitutional discourse but also for imagining an independent right of assembly. This Piece proceeds as follows. Part I lays out a description of the events on campuses in the 2023 to 2024 academic year, using Columbia University as a case study. The description is designed to highlight both how university administrators’ responses to the events on campus raise questions about the current scope of First Amendment protection and illustrate the genuine complexity of the proper scope of the right. Part II turns to a description of existing First Amendment doctrine—not to be confused with contemporary doctrine on the right of assembly, which is nonexistent. It shows how the current doctrinal framework operates at every turn to tame assembly. It thus explains why Columbia’s choices would have been on solid constitutional footing had the University been bound by the First Amendment. Part III turns to the Piece’s central argument, offering an account of what the boundaries of First Amendment coverage and protection might look like were the right of assembly restored as an independent source of constitutional protection and its democratic contribution better understood. Part IV turns to more specific doctrinal implications.