Anyway, that's the brief history of the rock. Though the administration has deflated the political football, students are still finding ways to put Palestinian freedom on campus.

And so business as usual continued—that is, until UConn's Gaza Solidarity Encampment and the aftermath. Here's a beautiful message in support of the 26 students arrested at the encampment on April 30.

Less than a month later, UConn would haul the rock off with a crane to a less visible spot.

It was at this point that they began discussing regulating rock painting to avoid it becoming a "political football," as the provost called it. Proposed changes included a reservation system whereby students could have their message up for a week, but these changes weren't implemented

Interesting sidebar: University provost Anne D'Alleva was concerned enough to rope in the Arab Students Association, because they had allegedly painted "Allahu Akbar" and the flag of Iraq on the rock a few days later. She asked if this was authorized. At that point, no authorization was required.

By Oct. 10, high level administrators, including UConn President Radenka Maric, were already discussing removing the iconic fixture entirely to avoid "further tension."

According to these emails I FOIA'd, they were talked down by other administrators—for the time being.

After Oct. 7, a group of students painted a message of support for Palestine, which was at this point under a complete siege and escalating bombardment by Israel.

A group of students painting a pro-Israel messaged followed it up, a short-lived back-and-forth that didn't last over a few days.

Painting the spirit rock is something of a tradition for student groups promoting themselves. Painting the rock was virtually unregulated. Prior to 2023, its only controversy it involved students defacing and mocking a "Black Lives Matter" message painted after the police murder of George Floyd.

We're running out of nails to put in the coffin of euphemisms like "self-defense" and "security."