As president of the University of California, Mark Yudof has been the target of protests over budget cuts and rising student fees. But in Sacramento, Yudof is applying some pressure of his own. Together with university regents, chancellors, and students, he is asking legislators to direct more money toward higher education.

They don’t allow watches in jail, but I think it was about four in the morning when I discovered that I could use my sneakers as a pillow. This solved several problems for me, hygienic and otherwise, that naturally arise from trying to fall asleep on the ground next to a communal toilet.

There were about twenty others in the cell with me that night at the North County Jail in Oakland, a stone’s throw from the elevated freeway where we had all been arrested. It was mostly a group of anarchists, who were surprisingly relaxed about being behind bars and seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. They passed the time bemoaning their soggy bologna sandwiches, playing chess with orange peels, and telling cop jokes. As I lay back on my sneakers searching for a few minutes of sleep, I thought about the absurd series of events that had brought me into this anarchist jailhouse bonding retreat.

Since becoming a grad student at UC Berkeley’s Journalism School last fall, I’ve been following the ongoing student protests and campus demonstrations with interest. The protest movement, aimed at protecting public education from deep budget cuts, fee hikes and furloughs that have been passed down by the state and the university, has been a source of debate among student journalists here at Oakland North for the entire year. I was one of eighteen first-year grad students who worked full time for the site during the fall semester, and helped cover the occupation of Wheeler Hall on November 20, 2009. This spring, I’m auditing the Oakland North class and continue to contribute to the site on a freelance basis.

As March 4^th approached, a recurring debate arose in the Oakland North newsroom: How do we cover a story so close to home? How can we report objectively when, as UC students ourselves, we are being profoundly affected by the consequences of the budget cuts?

Yet there was a growing sense that this was a story too important to ignore. With hundreds of actions planned across the state, we knew that this was an opportunity to connect the larger budget crisis with our community here in Oakland. We planned to focus on the protests planned for Oakland, Berkeley, and Sacramento, and put together teams of field reporters to follow the action. My role for the day was to take photographs of the march from Berkeley to Oakland, the 4 o’clock rally at Frank Ogawa Plaza, and whatever happened afterward — you can see my photographs in the slideshow above.

I, for one, began to think that our role as student journalists could actually make our coverage better. By being near the action and in contact with student organizers, we might be able to cover this story more closely than the mainstream media ever could. I started attending March 4th organizing meetings to make contacts and learn more about what some of the more radical protesters were planning. I knew that something was definitely in the works — but whatever it was, the protesters were keeping it pretty tightly under wraps.

So when the march from Berkeley to Oakland and the rally at Frank Ogawa Plaza turned into a dance party in the streets and ultimately a highway takeover on I-880, I felt the rush of adrenaline that any reporter feels when news is breaking, when you’re seeing first-hand what most people will be watching on TV. I knew I was taking a risk by following the protest, but I also knew that this story was about to reach its climax, and I wasn’t about to miss it.

I sent a quick text to another student who was working that day as an Oakland North site editor (“They’re taking over the freeway!”) and ran off after the mob, along with an entire contingent of journalists. I caught up to and photographed the protesters as they ascended the Nimitz Freeway off-ramp, passing cars and commuters (some angry, some amused) who had been stopped in their tracks.

Everywhere else, though, there was movement. Look: Protesters chanting! A sea of faces behind black bandanas! Everyone shouting: “They say class cuts, we say class war!” Fists in the air! Traffic flares and megaphones, the whole scene spiraling out of control, and flocks of people along for the ride, just to see what comes next. And orders! So many orders, coming from all sides: Stick together! Slow down! Pick up the pace! Fuck you! Get OFF the freeway!

Not far behind the protesters, there was another group charging up the off-ramp: a squadron of riot police, jogging purposefully and in tight formation toward the crowd. For those who wanted off the freeway, it was too late to turn back, and there seemed to be no exit in sight. One high school student, presumably trying to escape, fell 25 feet off the freeway.

At the core of the protest was a group that huddled together on the south side of the freeway with an “Occupy Everything” sign, many locking arms as the first wave of police reached them.  The officers hacked at their knees with nightsticks, felling them one by one until those resisting were arrested and the rest had lowered themselves to the ground. Another group of police rounded up those who were spread about the freeway, mostly protesters trying to find an escape route and cameramen (including myself) who had fallen back from the action to avoid impeding arrest.  

About 150 arrests were made in all. Along with the protesters, I and at least three other reporters from small or independent news outlets were arrested, cited with unlawful assembly and obstructing a public place, and forced to spend the night in jail.

Among them was another student reporter, Cameron Burns of the Daily Californian, who took this video footage on the highway. In it, an officer can be heard telling Burns to get off the freeway. Burns replies, “Where do I go, sir? Where do I go?”  In his voice-over narration accompanying the video, Burns says that the officer responded by shoving him, causing him to flee. “I didn’t know what else to do, but run away from them and towards the mob. After being tackled to my knees I ended up face-down on the asphalt as the cop handcuffed me,” he says in the video.

Two video journalists, Brandon Jourdan and David Martinez, were covering the protest for the independent daily news program Democracy Now. Both were arrested. Take a look at their footage, and watch the scene depicted from 3:00 to 3:10 to get a sense of what I was witnessing.  In it, a group of journalists are taking pictures and video of a protester being beaten to the ground by a police officer. You can find me in the brown jacket leaning against the median, being ordered to kneel by another officer. I turn to see the punishment being unleashed next to me and quickly comply. I continue to take photos from my knees, capturing the final image in the slideshow above. A few moments later I was approached by another officer, and I explained to him that I was a reporter. But instead of being asked for proof, I was ordered to the ground and handcuffed.

You can also clearly see Jourdan in the video (dressed in black, in the background of the second shot). He is approached by an officer and presents his Democracy Now press credentials, but, like me, Jourdan was headed for a long bus ride and a cold bologna sandwich.  After we were both released from jail, I contacted Jourdan and asked him about what happened. “When the police officer approached me, I showed him press credentials,” Jourdan said. “He told me, ‘You’re under arrest,’ so I got on my knees and stopped recording. At a certain point I told another officer I had credentials. He seemed like he was thinking about letting me go, but the other officer said ‘No, he’s under arrest!”

This screen grab from Jourdan and Martinez’s footage shows Jourdan (in black, showing press credentials), Sullivan (far right, taking photo), and myself (kneeling in foreground). Jourdan and I were arrested, while Sullivan was allowed to continue covering the story. (Photo courtesy of Brandon Jourdan and David Martinez)

If you go back and watch the scene again, you’ll notice a third reporter on the right side of the frame. His name is Justin Sullivan, and he’s a staff photographer for Getty Images. At 3:05, you can see him taking this picture with one camera, while a second, bigger camera hangs off of his shoulder. Unlike Jourdan and myself, Sullivan wasn’t arrested. He and several other mainstream media reporters were ordered to sit on the ground, and then told by another officer that they had to leave. They were relocated to a freeway off-ramp, where Sullivan later used his big camera to take this photo of me being taken away by police. The picture was quickly picked up by the San Francisco Chronicle, where it was published that evening on the front page of SFGate.com.

While the video makes it appear as if Sullivan was completely removed from the action by being on the other side of the highway median from me, this isn’t entirely true. The core group of protesters and the center of police action was located about thirty feet to the right of this frame, on Sullivan’s side of the freeway. In fact, Jourdan and I had relocated to the left side of the barricade in order to avoid being in the way of the police as they made arrests.

I’m not here to gripe about my being arrested—whether or not we journalists were “obstructing a public place” by following the protesters is up for debate. But what I would like to call into question is why some reporters went to jail, and others were able to keep doing their jobs.

As our picture was being taken by Sullivan, I asked my arresting officer why some photographers were allowed to be on the freeway, while others were being taken away in handcuffs. I saw no discernible difference between the two groups, except that the journalists who went free had bigger cameras, indicators of their professional status. It’s also likely that police were more familiar with some of the mainstream reporters, having had more exposure to them over the years. My arresting officer, though, said nothing. Later that night, as I lay on my sneakers, listening to the political banter of my dissident cellmates, I still didn’t have a good answer.

While the ascent of new media has enabled anybody with a camera and a web site to report the news, old stereotypes still shape the question of what makes someone a journalist. For the OPD and other law enforcement officers who may encounter similar situations in the future, it will be important to recognize that the rules of media are changing. While it’s easy to recognize the traditional tools of the trade—giant TV cameras, multiple professional quality lenses hanging from shoulders, and big plastic press badges—most independent and student reporters (who make up an ever growing part of the flailing journalism industry) don’t have access to them.

Even obtaining a press credential—a government-issued laminated card that identifies one as a member of a newsgathering organization—can be tricky, especially for students who are not yet employees of media outlets. Credentials have traditionally been issued by government agencies, including local police departments, but there are few regulations governing who gets them and where they must be accepted. Some of the agencies that once supplied Bay Area reporters with credentials no longer do so, like the California Highway Patrol which stopped issuing them in 2004. In lieu of a government-issued credential, the CHP and some other law enforcement and government agencies will sometimes accept a simple photo ID or business card provided by a news organization.

I’m 23 years old. I’m a student. I was wearing street clothes on the day of the protest. I borrowed a camera from a friend, and followed a bunch of protesters onto a freeway to take pictures for a news web site. The only press credentials I had to offer were a business card and a student ID. I could have been anybody. In the eyes of a cop trying to resolve a chaotic situation, it’s easy to see how someone like me could be swept up in the process of making arrests.  But people like me—young, under-resourced, and underpaid (if we’re lucky enough to be paid at all)—represent the future of journalism. It’s no longer the size of your camera that counts.

Kenya Suzuki is envious of how UC Berkeley students can speak out against the university administration without necessarily being arrested.  Suzuki was arrested at Nakano Station in central Tokyo in July, 2008, after organizing a gathering to call for changes at the private Hosei University.  “Thirty security police officers jumped at me and I got arrested,” said Suzuki, 23-year-old student at Hiroshima University in Japan.

Protests against budget cuts at the University of California are attracting student activists from around the globe. German, Korean and Japanese students joined UC Berkeley students in the picket lines Thursday, March 4.  Suzuki is one of 10 Japanese students from Zengakuren, or the All-Japan Federation of Students’ Self-Governing Associations, who flew from Japan to attend protests at UC Berkeley.

“We do not even have the right to put out signboards or hand out flyers if it speaks negatively about the university administration,” said Suzuki, who was prosecuted and jailed for eight months for handing out flyers outside Hosei University.  He was charged with trespassing, even though he was handing out flyers outside of the campus boundaries.

Suzuki spent eight months in jail for handing our flyers outside of the Hosei campus.

At Hosei University, known for its student political activism, 118 students have been arrested since 2006 for criticizing the University for “privatizing student money.”  According to Zengakuren, one third of the total assets of Hosei University are spent on financial speculation to raise money, and approximately $30 million was lost in 2009. Students who failed to pay tuition, however, were expelled from the university.  Zengakuren also maintains that Hosei University installed 150 surveillance cameras, barbed wire and hired a special security force to protect the school.   

Some Japanese students have been detained for organizing a gathering, and do not have access to their own lawyers.  At Hosei University, Suzuki said, students are not allowed to use microphones to make public speeches, and cultural club activities that are critical of the university are discouraged. Security forces are hired to prevent those political activities from happening within the campus.

“Japanese universities are treating students as a product that brings in money.  Some college administrators are afraid of student activism that protests against their privatization and they try to quash it, even by cooperating with the police,” said Suzuki, who looks like any other Japanese student, wearing skinny hipster jeans and with his hair dyed light brown.

The 10 students from Zengakuren were invited by Claire Keating, an activist for the Third World Assembly, a political group that advocates for working class people of color. She attended the 2009 International Labor Conference in Japan, where she learned of the arrest of 118 students. “What we have here [in California] is terrible, but they [Japanese students] don’t even have the right to free speech,” said Keating, a graduate of UC Berkeley, who was at the protest in front of the Sather Gate on Thursday morning.

Japanese college campuses used to be hotbeds of political activism, mainly led by Zengakuren, which is influenced by Trotskyism and anti-Stalinism.  Zengakuren, which was born out of the students’ general strike against the Korean War and the Red Purge by the allied forces [which occupied Japan after the World War II], was active along with its splinter groups in the 1960s. It was especially successful in mobilizing students to organize political activities, such as the 1960 Ampo struggle, or protests against the revision of Japan-US Security Treaty.

The student movement resurged in the late 1960s because of the war in Vietnam, and the Japan-US treaty that was renewed in 1970.   Some student Zengakuren activists, wearing helmets, marched to the entrance bridge of Tokyo’s Hanneda Airport and tried to prevent the visit of then-Prime Minister Eisaku Sato in 1967.  One thousand student demonstrators clashed with 200 police officers and one student was killed.  At the same time, on college campuses like Tokyo University, Japan’s public education institutions became a battleground for students opposed to the renewal.   Japanese college campuses were thrown into chaos, with students wearing helmets and swinging sticks against riot police.  Some student organizations encouraged guerilla activities, such as throwing Molotov cocktails.

Some student activists were influenced by different splinter groups of the Japanese Communist Party. The Japan Revolutionary Communist League started violent infighting because of differences in ideas, causing more public distrust of student activism.  By 1975, the number of deaths caused by infighting had grown to 16.

Student activism lost its support from the Japanese public as protesters’ activities radicalized and Japan became more affluent.  University administrators, including those at Hosei University, started keeping a tighter grip on student activities.  Today on Japanese college campuses, it’s hard to spot activists because students do not see campus political activities as an effective way to send a message, or they see it as less cool to do so.

Japan is currently experiencing a deep recession triggered by the collapse of Wall Street last summer.  The unemployment rate in January was one of the highest in Japanese history, at 4.9 percent.  Even companies such as Sony and Toyota are laying off people, and there are not enough jobs for college graduates.  Yet there have been no demonstrations or strikes by college students, as there have been at UC Berkeley.

Horaguchi calls for freedom of speech at the Hosei campus.

“I want college students to know that they have the power to change society,” said Tomoko Horaguchi, a Hosei University student, who was arrested for handing out flyers at Hosei along with five other students in mid-February.  Horaguchi, who was also at the Berkeley protest, said her charge was forcible obstruction of business — in this context, “university business.”  Horaguchi said university administrators saw her activities as an obstacle to soliciting more students.  “We did not say anything when the poice grilled us, and they couldn’t find sufficient evidence to prosecute us. It was our victory,” said Horaguchi.

While experiencing the protests at UC Berkeley, Suzuki was surprised by how the politically active students, and those who are usually less politically involved, were united in protesting against budget cuts and fee hikes, and how freely they expressed their ideas.  “Maybe there are some things we can learn from the protest at UC Berkeley, so that we can get more students involved in activities to change our colleges for the better,” said Suzuki.

Spanish II with Judith Bojorquez started right on time at Oakland Technical High School yesterday, at 1:50 p.m., the first post-lunch bell.  Sixteen kids filed in, took their seats, and began copying the chalkboard’s “do now” question into their notebooks.

“Por que nos importa lo que hace el Estado de Calif. con sus escuelas?”

Why do we care what the state of California does about its schools?

Outside, nearly  two thousand people were taking to the Oakland streets to protest cuts to public education.    The K-12 community was for the first time joining the higher education community in these calls for change in the way California funds public education; at Tech there was leafleting before school, a district-planned protest called a “disaster drill” at 9:15 a.m., and large groups of students who left school at lunchtime to join the college students marching down Telegraph Avenue for the March 4 Day of Action in Defense of Public Education.

But most Tech students stayed in their classes — and some learned about the funding crisis right there.

Ms. Bojorquez, checked her roster while the students worked to answer the “do now” question with their developing Spanish skills.  She noted that about half of the class was absent.  They were on their way to Frank H. Ogawa Plaza, she guessed, to join the rally against state education funding cuts.  “We’re teachers, we don’t like it [when students leave class],” she’d said before class.  “But, it’s great too.  It’s a chance for them to do their civic duty.”

Bojorquez returned to the front of the room and pointed at the question written on the board in the perfect script of an older generation.  A student in the back read out the question as Bojorquez perched on an empty desk holding the class seating chart, ready to record class participation.   She turned to her students, “who has an answer” she asked in Spanish.

A sign, created by students, tacked to the bulletin board in the back of Ms. Bojorquez's classroom.

“Es importante para nosotros porque necesitamos dinero para una buena educacion para los estudiantes,” Sampson Mao, 16, read off of his worksheet.   Or, in English: “it’s important for us because we need money for a good education for the students.”

Nicole Brown, 16, raised her hand next.  “I’m not sure this is right,” she said. “But como se dice ‘future’?”

Instead of just telling Nicole how to say “future” in Spanish, Bojorquez pointed to a huge sign on a strip of butcher paper tacked to the bulletin board in the back of her classroom.  “Nuestros Estudiantes = El Futuro de California,” the sign read,  Our Students = The Future of California.

“Okay,” said Nicole said, and gave it another shot.  “Es importante porque educacion es muy importante para nuestro futuro,” she said.

Bojorquez kept the lesson rolling.  She explained in Spanish to Fred Thompson, 18, a senior who has just signed on to play Division 1 football for the Oregon State Beavers, that if the cuts continue there might be no money for football equipment at Tech.  Fred replied, also in Spanish, that that was okay, because he would be going to Oregon State.

“Tienes un hermanito?” Bojorquez asked. Do you have a little brother?

“Si,” replied Thompson.

“Won’t it affect you if your little brother can’t play football?” she asked in Spanish.

Thompson did not reply at first, either because his vocabulary wasn’t good enough—this is Spanish 2, after all—or because he wasn’t sure how to answer that one.

Bojorquez went on to tell her students, first in Spanish and then again in English when they seemed not to understand, that University of California fees had increased 32 percent the previous semester.

“How would you feel if your rent went up by 32 percent?” she asked in Spanish.

The students were a little wide-eyed at that.

She told them about how Proposition 13, approved by the state’s voters in 1978, limits property tax increases for corporations as well as individuals in California.  She pointed to the industries in Richmond as an example of companies that benefit from paying low property taxes.  She told her students that California was number 48 in education spending, out of all 50 US states.

A girl in the second row nodded.   Another teacher of hers, she said, “is always telling us that.”

At a press conference in downtown Oakland, a few hours later, the superintendent of their school district, Tony Smith echoed Nicole Brown’s declaration that education is very important for our future.

“We have to raise our voices louder than ever,” Smith told a crowd of teachers, students and parents gathered in front of the state building as part of a citywide rally to protest cuts to public education.  “Here in Oakland we have to be together,” Smith said.  “We have to be unified to say we can’t cut education anymore.”

A number of suggestions were made at the press conference as to legislative changes that might help ensure that Fred Thompson’s brother gets football equipment next year, and Judith Bojorquez’s 32-student Spanish II class doesn’t grow beyond the boundaries of her classroom.

A statement from State Senator Loni Hancock and read by her district representative, Pedro Rosado, for example, said “California is one of the only states with a 2/3 budget rule.  This has created chaos,” Rosado read, noting that Hancock has introduced legislation to change the 2/3 requirement.  “It has forced legislators to make concession after concession.”

Students in Ms. Bojorquez's Spanish II class on March 4.

Smith, after the press conference, said he agreed. “I don’t think we should be a majority controlled state,” he said.

Smith also said he thought Oakland must look for other sources of revenue.  “I think we have to do at least the parcel tax,” Smith said, referring to a new property tax that has been proposed to help raise funds for Oakland teacher salaries.

The parcel tax initiative does not have the support of the Oakland teachers’ union, the Oakland Education Association, because it would provide support for charter school teachers as well as traditional public school teachers.  Charter school teachers are not union members.

Bojorquez is a union member, as are all teachers in the 109 non-charter district schools, but she did not get into the history of unions or the stalled negotiations for a new contract that prompted the OEA this week to call for a one day strike on March 24^th.  She didn’t have time.

It was 1:58 and the “do now” activity was over.  Time to get on to the next topic: direct object pronouns.

With more than a thousand students, faculty members and other education advocates rallying outside the state capitol, Democrats seized on the opportunity to voice their support for revenue-raising measures, including the proposed oil extraction tax.

Photos by Angela Bass. Soundslides desiged by Allison Davis.

Updated 10:08 am, March 5

Approximately 150 protesters who temporarily shut down the 980/880 freeway were arrested on an off-ramp this afternoon by Oakland police. The protesters were moved to the 980/880 off-ramp at the Jackson exit, where they sat on the ramp surrounded by dozens of police officers before being loaded onto a police bus around 6:30 pm. At that time, the southbound ramp remained closed but the northbound ramp had been re-opened and traffic was flowing on the freeway in both directions.

“We made over 150 arrests, and we are still processing,” said Oakland Police Department spokesman Officer Jeff Thomason at that time.

The protest followed an otherwise peaceful rally at Oakland’s Frank Ogawa Plaza this afternoon, at which hundreds of students and teachers gathered to mark their opposition to state budget cuts that have resulted in teacher layoffs, staff furloughs, class reductions and supply shortages at schools throughout the state. “Ninety percent stayed peaceful,” said Thomason of the demonstrators. “A group broke away.”

Thomason said that no one was hurt in the incident except for one protester who reportedly fell off of the freeway ramp, and who he says sustained non-life-threatening injuries. An eyewitness named Wayman, 26, who declined to give his last name because he works for a Bay Area public school, said that when the police began making arrests, the man — still standing on the freeway — grabbed a tree branch.  “In an attempt to climb down the tree, he fell,” said Wayman.

Adults who were arrested will be charged with misdemeanors for being on the freeway and disobeying an order to disperse, said Thomason. Adults were transported by bus to Santa Rita jail, he said at the end of the night.

Nine juveniles, including at least one 12-year-old, were arrested. By 7:30 pm, eight had been released to their parents, and the police were waiting for one more 17-year-old girl to be picked up.

Sebastian Beretvas, a 12-year-old Oakland School of the Arts student who was arrested and then released, said he had been attending the rally at Frank Ogawa Plaza with the permission of his parents. “Me and my friend were going to take the bus home and we saw some protesters so we decided to just follow the protester,” he said. “Then we were led onto the freeway, and I was like, ‘Okay, this isn’t a good idea.’ That was one side of my brain.  And then the other side was like, ‘I want to keep going.’”

His mother, Jill Davidson, affirmed that her son had permission to be at the  rally. “We support the cause. We gave permission for him to be at the protest. It got carried away. It was a herd mentality,” she said.

“I had fun before and the protest was fun, and then I was really scared when I was getting arrested and I had handcuffs on,” Beretvas said.

Wayman, who was not arrested, said that some drivers seemed to support the freeway shutdown. “There were cheers and honking in solidarity, which I thought was pretty incredible,” he said. “We were up there taking what is admittedly a desperate action in order to bring focus to the plight of public education in California. We shouldn’t have to take an initiative like this.”

Callie Maidhof, a first year Ph.D anthropology candidate at UC Berkeley who had been authorized to speak to the press by the Graduate Student Organizing Committee, the Reclaim UC movement, and the graduate assembly, said on behalf of the arrested protesters: “I think that the people who took the highway acted really bravely. I am sure that they understood the risk that they were taking. They acted out of principle, out of support for something that the Bay Area and people across the country have been fighting for today together.”

“Clearly the highway is something that affects us all and can shut down a whole city at one artery,” she continued. “The action was in order to call attention and escalate.”

By 7:45 the bus full of arrested protesters had left the scene and the last of the juveniles had been sent home. At the now quiet and almost deserted intersection of 4th and Jackson, the last police officers to leave the scene, all wearing “Negotiator” badges across their backs loaded into their police cars and headed back downtown.

This story developed rapidly; Oakland North posted real time updates and has now finalized the details of the night’s events up until this point.  The quote by Beretvas was corrected for accuracy at 9:45pm.