
NYU Demands Law Students Renounce Protests or Be Barred from Sitting Final Exams
'You may not participate in any protest activity or disruptive activity on Law School property,' says the so-called 'Use of Space Agreement' sent to the students, which explicitly lays out conditions for being allowed to return to key campus buildings during the school's 'exam period.'
The law students, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to avoid further repercussions from the school, are accused of participating in sit-ins, a time-honored form of nonviolent demonstration that is allowed according to NYU policy. The sit-ins on March 4 and April 29 took place, respectively, at the school's Bobst Library and outside the office of the law school dean. (NYU did not immediately respond to requests for comment.) 'What we've seen is a complete violation of our campus norms.'
Barring the students from campus and demanding they refrain from protesting represents a dramatic escalation against NYU students involved in demonstrations against Israel's war on Gaza — breaking with school policy and upending precedents for disciplinary procedures, said seven of the PNG students who spoke with The Intercept, as well as other NYU students and faculty.
'What we've seen is a complete violation of our campus norms,' said Andrew Ross, a sociology professor who was himself barred from campus buildings in December before the school reversed the decision three weeks later. 'If you take a step backward and see the walled-off campus spaces and heavily-patrolled entrances to buildings, the uniformed security personnel everywhere, this advanced security infrastructure, and all these new rules that have been established on the fly regarding speech and conduct — this is a very, very exceptional violation of every kind of campus norm that we were accustomed to.'
According to emails to the students obtained by The Intercept, they are barred from campus while under investigation for failing to comply with directives from public safety, including to leave the areas of their sit-ins, and of disruptive conduct. NYU conduct policies say any protests at libraries are disruptive, but the law students pointed out that they were protesting outside NYU president Linda Mills's office on the top floor of Bobst Library.
'The school's policies are vague and arbitrary enough to be wielded in any situation against any kind of speech the university looks down upon, particularly pro-Palestine speech,' said a law student who received a PNG notice. 'The school claims protests are banned in the library, which is conveniently where the main administrative offices, including the Office of the President, are located.'
While at the protests, the students were handed fliers quoting from the 'failure to comply' and 'disruptive conduct' rules, according to photos reviewed by The Intercept. 'No site or forum is acceptable to the university when it comes to pro-Palestine speech.'
'The school explicitly outlines sit-ins as permitted,' said a second student. 'But as soon as they don't like the sit-in or protest happening, they tell people to stop and, when they don't, they then hand people policies on 'failure to comply' with orders. So, in essence they are communicating that they can immediately make any protest they want a violation of the rules based on whether they are amenable to the content.'
NYU students and faculty pointed to past protest actions that did not result in similar repressive sanctions as evidence that pro-Palestine organizers are being disproportionately punished because of their political beliefs. In 2015, for instance, a group of students staged a die-in in the library over Black Lives Matter, but did not face disciplinary consequences.
That same year, students staged a sit-in on the 12th floor of Bobst calling for the university to divest from fossil fuels. Students were granted a meeting with board of trustee members after the sit-in — and the school eventually divested from fossil fuels in 2023.
'The divestment sit-in at the same location in Bobst led to actual divestment from fossil fuels,' said the first PNG student. 'There have been dozens of sit-ins in campus libraries since October of 2023, with no punishment meted out. Yet it seems the proximity of our action to the president's office, and the clarity of our demands, made the university more eager to apply the rules to our group.'
'The truth is that no site or forum is acceptable to the university when it comes to pro-Palestine speech.'
The PNG law students were themselves protesting NYU's decision to suspend a group of 13 undergraduate students and 3 graduate students in December. The suspended students had participated in a sit-in protest at the university president's office in Bobst Library demanding that NYU divest from Israel. For months, NYU's administration stonewalled organizers who sought to intervene on behalf of the suspended students. Then, on March 4, the law students staged their own peaceful 8-hour sit-in at Bobst in support of the suspended students.
Later that day, Craig Jolley, the associate dean of students at NYU, emailed 28 law students who had allegedly participated in the sit-in to say that the protest violated university conduct policy and they had been referred to NYU School of Law's executive committee for formal disciplinary review. The email noted the students were prohibited from accessing any university locations for any purpose aside from attending a scheduled class or entering an assigned residence hall.
On April 29, a separate group of law school students who had not received PNG notices staged another sit-in, this time outside the law school dean's office. Two days later, on May 1, three of those law students received PNG notices — and all 31 PNG law students received emails from the school demanding that they renounce protesting so that they would be allowed to return to the campus facilities and sit final exams.
Students barred from campus after the March 4 protest said the swipe function on their IDs was disabled as soon as they received Jolley's email. They immediately began encountering issues accessing their assigned residences, health services, the gym, and religious centers. Among the group were Muslim students who were denied access to the NYU Islamic Center during Ramadan.
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On March 7, Jolley clarified that the barred students should be permitted to access health centers, but with ID swipe disabled, students said access was permitted on an ad hoc basis by campus security officers. After they were stopped and questioned by campus security, at least one barred student missed an appointment for gender-affirming care at the health center — an appointment granted only after getting off a monthslong waitlist. On March 21, the law school notified PNG students they could now access religious centers, provided they email the school outlining specific dates, times, and information on their intended religious practice.
The law school's disciplinary process has historically been autonomous from the broader university, with more 'due process' baked into its policies. The law school, nonetheless, appears to not have followed even its own rules in the case of the pro-Palestine protesters: the students say they were never served with the required formal complaints and the 20-day window for the university to investigate the alleged misconduct expired more than a month ago.
'There's tremendous inconsistency across the schools, and sometimes even within the schools, about how things are done, and the law school does seem to be making up its own rules right now about how things are done,' said Sonya Posmentier, an English professor at NYU who, along with Ross, was one of two tenured faculty members that received PNG sanctions related to the December sit-in. 'Universities have started to make this very erratic, on the fly, punitive response to protest really, really commonplace. At this point, there is not one place on campus 'private property' where students can protest without fear of pretty draconian repercussions.' 'At this point, there is not one place on campus 'private property' where students can protest.'
On April 20, attorneys for some of the law students pressed law school administrators on the decision to impose PNG restrictions — which, as an ostensibly interim measure, violates NYU law school requirements for due process, the students' lawyers said. The lawyers also said administrators had failed to adhere to the law school policy's timeline. In response, according to an email exchange obtained by The Intercept, a lawyer with NYU's general counsel said that the school was conducting only a 'preliminary factual inquiry' to determine whether any rule had been violated and determine if a formal or informal disciplinary process was required. According to a policy guide, formal disciplinary processes are reserved for 'severe violation of university or Law School policy,' such as 'serious violations of academic integrity or threats or acts that imminently endanger members of the community.'
William Miller, the lawyer with the general counsel's office, wrote that the preliminary investigation into what kind of process to undertake obviates the objection: 'The 20-day timeline that you reference in your letter is therefore not applicable.' (Miller did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)
Miller said in the email that NYU had retained the firm Latham & Watkins to assist in the investigation of the PNG students — one of the Big Law titans that cut a deal with the Trump administration to carry out millions of dollars of pro bono work.
Another group of law students met with NYU Law School Dean Troy McKenzie on April 28 to demand explanations for their fellow students' PNG status and raise concerns that the school's partnership with Latham & Watkins could potentially imperil pro-Palestine students. Students said they felt they were granted the interview because they did not request it under the auspices of Law Students for Justice in Palestine and instead focused the intent of the meeting on student disciplinary proceedings.
Even so, the students said McKenzie did not offer answers.
'He abdicated any sort of agency he had in the decision-making process,' said one law student at the meeting. 'We said, 'We hear you, what can you offer us?' And he said absolutely nothing.'
That's when law students decided to stage the second sit-in outside of McKenzie's office on April 29. It lasted around four hours. (McKenzie did not immediately respond to a request for comment.)
On May 1, three law students who participated in the second sit-in received notice that they too were now under PNG status due to 'particularly egregious' conduct and another 15 law students received a warning that they were under investigation. The students bristled at having their conduct called 'egregious,' noting that the protesters left the office area before 5 p.m. when it closed.
The 31 total PNG students then received an email that their interim access restrictions would continue unless they signed the 'Use of Space' agreement that said they cannot access the academic buildings where their final exams are held unless they pledge not to participate in protests at the law school. Exams, which count for 100 percent of a student's final grade, start Monday.
One law student and pro-Palestine organizer who was declared PNG in March noted that some students' pro bono work — including deportation defense and civil rights lawsuits — is carried out in a building that they are now unable to access unless they sign the agreement.
'Not being able to put our full energy and do client meetings,' said the student, 'as an official legal services provider is not only impeding our ability to comply with our professional responsibilities as legal representatives but also putting our clients' lives at risk.'
As of May 2, nearly 300 NYU students, alumni, and community members, as well as groups like the graduate student union, NYU Law Latinx Law Students Association, and NYU Law Jews for Palestine signed an open letter to the administration expressing concerns over the school's indefinite use of PNG status with no due process.
Ross, the sociology professor, noted that the use of disciplinary actions seems to be part of a national strategy to target leaders in pro-Palestine movements on campus.
'The point of the suspensions is to take out student leaders, to withdraw them from the field of deployment, and they've been very successful at doing this,' said Ross. 'At NYU, the ranks of student leaders have really been depleted by this strategy over the last year.'
'While some of the responses have been inconsistent and seemingly random,' he said, 'I do think they have been aimed overall at targeting the leaders.'
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Trump was the first to propose a ban on TikTok as early as 2020, ultimately signing an executive order to force the sale of the Chinese-owned video platform. This effort petered out for a number of reasons, including probable unconstitutionality, Trump getting sort of distracted by a bunch of stuff, and then Trump leaving office. The Biden administration withdrew the executive order, but fear of TikTok lingered as a bipartisan issue. In 2022, Reps. Mike Gallagher (R-WI) and Raja Krishnamoorthi (D-IL) introduced a sell-or-ban bill designed to wrest control of the platform from Chinese parent company ByteDance. This went nowhere, although later in the year, the app was officially forbidden from being installed on certain government-owned devices. Claims and insinuations that the software posed a national security risk circulated for years, but without convincing, publicly available evidence, the TikTok ban looked as though it had been consigned to the dustbin of discarded ideas. Then, in March 2024, after a classified briefing, the House Energy and Commerce Committee voted 50–0 to advance the TikTok ban bill. Shortly thereafter, the House voted 352 to 60 in favor of the measure. This wasn't really a ban, congressional offices were quick to say from the start. It was merely the threat of a ban, meant to force ByteDance into selling majority control of TikTok to an American owner. And ByteDance would sell, they assured us. There was simply too much money on the table. The inherent ridiculousness of this position seemed to go by without remark. Our lawmakers were ascribing covert ownership and control of a social media platform to an authoritarian communist state with an iron grip on the lives of a billion and a half people, and then going on to insist there wasn't the faintest possibility the communists would pass up on a pile of American dollars. 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But rather than posing some kind of undetectable spyware risk, the danger was from Chinese-influenced content moderation. Internal materials at ByteDance acquired by Forbes indicate that TikTok's content moderation system monitored for mentions of Tibet and the Uyghur people — both sensitive topics in China due to ongoing state repression of ethnic minorities. If TikTok had put its thumb on the scales in response to the CCP, why wouldn't it tweak the algorithm to start some kind of massive psy-op against the American people? No one could really establish a tie between Beijing and the watermelon emoji The contents of that March 2024 classified briefing that made 50 congressional representatives freak out have never been made public. But it's not hard to figure out what changed between 2022 and 2024. 'Oct. 7 really opened people's eyes to what's happening on TikTok,' Krishnamoorthi told The Wall Street Journal a few days before the vote. Multiple sources told the WSJ that Gallagher and Krishnamoorthi's efforts had been 'revived in part by the fallout from the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas on Israel.' Gallagher was even more transparent about where he stood on the matter, writing an op-ed in The Free Press titled 'Why Do Young Americans Support Hamas? Look at TikTok,' describing the app as 'digital fentanyl' that was 'brainwashing our youth.' 'TikTok is a tool China uses to spread propaganda to Americans, now it's being used to downplay Hamas terrorism,' then-Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL) wrote on X in November 2023. 'TikTok needs to be shut down. Now.' 'TikTok — and its parent company ByteDance — are threats to American national security,' wrote Sen. Josh Hawley (R-MO) in a letter to Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen, also in November 2023. He decried 'TikTok's power to radically distort the world-picture that America's young people encounter,' describing 'Israel's unfolding war with Hamas' as 'a crucial test case.' 'According to one poll, 51% of Americans between the ages of 18 and 24 believe that Hamas's murder of civilians was justified — a statistic notably different from other age cohorts,' Hawley wrote. 'Analysts have attributed this disparity to the ubiquity of anti-Israel content on TikTok, where most young internet users get their information about the world.' By March 2024, as the House geared up to vote on the TikTok ban, there was already a clear and visible youth movement condemning Israel's actions in Gaza. On April 17th, while the TikTok ban was still stalled at the Senate, students at Columbia University began pitching tents on the South Lawn in protest of the war, demanding that their school divest from companies with ties to Israel. All across the United States, university students set up their own encampments in solidarity. The TikTok ban then found fresh momentum; Congress rolled it up into a package with a foreign aid bill that provided billions of dollars of military assistance to Ukraine and Israel. (In a twist that seems almost satirical, the bill also prohibited funding for the United Nations Relief and Work Agency, an organization that, among other things, provides food assistance to Palestinian refugees.) Once bundled with the foreign aid package, the TikTok ban sailed through both the House and Senate. On April 24th, on the same day that House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA) took the stage at a press conference at Columbia University in order to accuse pro-Palestinian protesters of antisemitism, President Joe Biden signed the ban into law. Even after the passage of the bill, legislators drew a connection between the war in Gaza and the TikTok ban. The following May, Sen. Mitt Romney (R-UT) said, 'Some wonder why there was such overwhelming support for us to shut down potentially TikTok or other entities of that nature. If you look at the postings on TikTok and the number of mentions of Palestinians relative to other social media sites — it's overwhelmingly so among TikTok broadcasts.' To be clear, no one could really establish a tie between Beijing and the watermelon emoji. But in the minds of the very legislators who had voted for the TikTok ban bill, there was a definite link between the ban and Palestine. And meanwhile, those on the other side of the issue saw a connection as well. A week after Romney's remarks, Macklemore — a white rapper best known for palatable tracks and softcore social liberalism, who was now, bizarrely, one of the most visible figures in the pro-Palestine movement — released 'Hind's Hall.' The protest song included the lyrics 'You can pay off Meta, you can't pay off me,' and 'You can ban TikTok, take us out the algorithm / But it's too late, we've seen the truth, we bear witness.' Because social media platforms are increasingly opaque about the global metrics of their content, it is difficult to accurately measure a skew in pro-Palestine versus pro-Israel content. TikTok, the corporation, has always contested the factual issue of whether its algorithms skew toward pro-Palestine content. The company has questioned the methodology of those who allege that the algorithm is actively promoting pro-Hamas or pro-Palestine messaging; it has pointed out that there appears to be a skew on Meta's platforms as well. From TikTok's perspective, there is simply more organic pro-Palestine content. And if the skew appears to be more pronounced on TikTok, the company argued, it is because TikTok's user base was younger, and younger generations tend to be more pro-Palestine than older generations. In other words, TikTok was not poisoning the youth; the youth were poisoning TikTok. Perhaps to that point, in December 2023, Human Rights Watch issued a report alleging systemic censorship of pro-Palestine content on Instagram and Facebook. Unfortunately for ByteDance and its communist overlords, this was not the sort of allegation that TikTok could capitalize on. The reality was that Meta's own content moderation practices reflected a long-standing bias in American news coverage. Research and analysis of Israel-Palestine news coverage in the US stretching back to the 1980s suggests a persistent bias against Palestinians — historically, media reports have tended to underreport Palestinian deaths relative to Israeli deaths, and to more often cite official Israeli sources over Palestinian ones. What the fuck does any of this have to do with American national security? In other words, Facebook and traditional media — sources of news that older generations were more likely to rely on — were biased against Palestine, and those same older generations were also less likely to support Palestine. Meanwhile, a third of Americans under the age of 30 relied on TikTok for news, and Americans in that age bracket are much more likely to sympathize with Palestine. But information environments are not straightforward causal chains of influence. They are, rather, chaotic and recursive oceans of sentiment. The Napalm Girl photograph may not have ended the Vietnam War, but the relentless pipeline of war footage from Southeast Asia was not being dumped out into a void. It had an effect on the American psyche and American politics, and that in turn had an impact on the kind of reporting that was pursued by American journalists. If one cannot acknowledge the recursive nature of media, one is railroaded into asking, 'Where did all this pro-Palestinian content even come from?' Which then begets the even more problematic question 'Where did all this pro-Israel content come from?' And because it is difficult to contemplate how we swim between the tides of information, media, and public opinion, weaker minds will fall back on conspiracy theory. One side parrots cheap antisemitism about a Jewish-controlled media; and the other alleges a massive conspiracy by the People's Republic of China. Which then leads us to the most uncomfortable question of all: 'What the fuck does any of this have to do with American national security?' In 2020, in the wake of Trump's first attempt at a TikTok ban, I tried making sense of the strange, contradictory noise around TikTok, China, and America. China had banned TikTok in Hong Kong, citing its national security. Now the United States was trying to ban the app in America, citing CCP control. I couldn't stop thinking about China's hypersensitivity about the Xinjiang region, where the Chinese government is alleged to be committing genocide against the Uyghur people — an ethnic group subject to sweeping suppression under the pretext of curbing violent Islamic terrorists who wish to secede as a separate, sovereign state. Any international scrutiny of Xinjiang was treated as a dire offense; it dawned on me that the American government's increasing hostility toward 'woke' and the Black Lives Matter movement carried the exact same flavor of authoritarian hysteria. From there, I posited a theory that I dubbed information-nationalism — a paradigm in which world powers promote information about their rivals' human rights abuses while suppressing information about their own. This was not countries engaging in basic adversarial public relations, I argued, but rather a shift in which both China and the United States had come to accept the same basic premises about the role of information in national security. To acknowledge its own abuses would make America weak; to advertise the abuses of its enemies would make them weak and, conversely, would make America strong. Since the 1990s, American foreign policy had assumed that the free flow of information — such as an unfettered internet — could only be, in the aggregate, favorable to democracies like the United States. The export of American culture was seen as one of the forces that brought down the Soviet Union; Chinese controls over the internet were viewed as an artificial entrenchment of an authoritarianism that was destined to lose should it ever be tested in an honest-to-goodness fight in the marketplace of ideas. But these kinds of assumptions are no longer the bedrock of American foreign policy. They belong to a world we no longer live in, and to a paradigm through which we no longer view the internet. How America would enact its new outlook on the world was unclear when it lacked a decades-old technological solution like the Great Firewall of China. The TikTok ban became an early experiment of what the American playbook would look like. When seen through the lens of information-nationalism, the TikTok ban makes perfect sense. Lawmakers were not being hornswoggled by flimsy allegations that Beijing had pacifism-pilled American kids. Rather, any information about what Israel was doing in Gaza with American aid and American weaponry — the bombed hospitals, the bodies under rubble, the starving children — was automatically a win for China. No cause and effect had to be established between the CCP and the content. Similarly, a video about forced labor camps in Xinjiang — regardless of the content creator's ties to America — was automatically a win for the United States. And if TikTok was downplaying Chinese atrocities against the Uyghur people while passively allowing the organic spread of content about the atrocities that America was complicit in, the app was, in fact, an instrument of Chinese information-nationalism. The bill signed by Biden gave ByteDance nine months to sell TikTok, with an option for the president to extend the deadline. This placed the first deadline on January 19th, 2025, which ended up being the day before Trump's inauguration. TikTok went dark on the night of January 18th, only to bring back service the next day when Trump touted a plan 'to save TikTok.' The plan did not appear to be entirely legal, but this did not bother TikTok, which was all too ready to fawningly hail Trump as the app's savior, even though he had been the original progenitor of the ban. On the first day of his return to office, Trump suspended the TikTok ban in a legally dubious move. The new deadline came; the president issued a second extension — which, at this point, seemed definitely illegal. By the time the third extension rolled around, no one batted an eye. Congress had passed the TikTok ban by an overwhelming majority, and the government had defended it at the Supreme Court, citing a severe national security risk. Yet the smartphone app secretly controlled by the Chinese Communist Party continues to stream what is supposed to be dangerous propaganda into the eyeballs of America's children, with very little objection from lawmakers. There are only three possibilities: that Congress is very stupid, that Congress lied, or that there has been a significant change in what Congress perceives to be the state of American national security. Internet censorship of the tanks at Tiananmen Square is a kind of weapon, but so are literal actual weapons like those very tanks. Congress' disinterest in enforcing the TikTok ban coincides with increasingly punitive measures against student activists and an escalation of force against all protests. The second TikTok ban extension was signed while Columbia graduate student Mahmoud Khalil was still in ICE detention; the third was signed just one day before a court ordered his release. At that point, countless student protesters across the country had been imprisoned; some had been deported from the country. Non-citizen students are desperately trying to scrub their names from the internet and remove any sign that they once objected to Israel's actions in Gaza. The threat of ICE — now flush with billions of dollars to hire thousands of new agents — looms over all forms of dissent in the United States. The things that we need the most in this moment are things we have already given away You don't need to take TikTok away from the kids once you've got jackboots on their necks. And why attack the social media platforms when you can use social media surveillance to identify targets for repression? Once dissent was squashed, TikTok no longer posed a threat. This is the ultimate logic of why China censors all mention of Tiananmen Square within its borders: disillusionment with the state fuels dissent; dissent makes the state weak. Chinese-style information-nationalism is a sophisticated technological web of censorship; the American style, as it turns out, involves thousands of ICE agents. Viewed through this lens, the new focus on Gaza is not a change of fortune for Palestinians, but rather a sign of how successfully the United States has suppressed their sympathizers. The pictures of infants reduced to skeletal forms, the videos of panicked hungry crowds under fire, the sheer devastation wrought on the Gaza Strip — these images no longer pose a risk to America. A photograph cannot inspire an antiwar movement if the antiwar movement has been spirited away in the night to a facility in Louisiana. Like the Napalm Girl photo, these images are but a symbol of a tide that has already turned. Trump's oddly blasé acknowledgment of the starvation in Gaza might have been the senile ramblings of a television addict with no knowledge of the past several decades of American foreign policy. But he has always demonstrated animal cunning when it comes to power and vulnerability. And with the universities brought to their knees, hordes of masked secret police on the streets, the cowing of major newspapers like the Los Angeles Times and The Washington Post, and the massive defunding of public media, all of the institutions that could meaningfully criticize the government are now in their most weakened state. We are now facing a time where democracy is in critical condition, but a dragnet of surveillance and suppression has already closed around young activists, an entire movement has been intimidated into silence, and the social media networks appear to be pandering to the federal government. To adopt the logic of information-nationalism is to commit to a course of action that is at odds with democracy. Now, the things that we need the most in this moment are things we have already given away. We have always been at war with TikTok. We have never been at war with TikTok. And if we are lucky, one day, we can all look back and be able to tell the truth about ourselves — how we imprisoned our children, dismantled our universities, and tried to ban a scrolling video app, all because we could not admit that we were wrong about from this author will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All by Sarah Jeong Posts from this topic will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All Creators Posts from this topic will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. See All Features Posts from this topic will be added to your daily email digest and your homepage feed. 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Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
What to know about Crimea, the Black Sea peninsula seized by Russia from Ukraine over a decade ago
Russia Ukraine Crimea Explainer Russia's illegal seizure of the Crimean Peninsula from Ukraine in March 2014 was quick and bloodless, and it sent Moscow's relations with the West into a downward spiral unseen since the Cold War. It also paved the way for Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, during which Moscow illegally annexed more land from its neighbor. A look at the diamond-shaped peninsula in the Black Sea, coveted by both Russia and Ukraine for its naval bases and beaches: The seizure followed Ukrainian political turmoil In 2013-14, a massive popular uprising gripped Ukraine for weeks, eventually forcing pro-Moscow President Victor Yanukovych from office. Amid the turmoil, Russian President Vladimir Putin pounced, sending armed troops without insignia to overrun Crimea. Putin later called a referendum in Crimea to join Russia that Ukraine and the West dismissed as illegal. Russia's relations with the West plummeted to new lows. The United States, the European Union and other countries imposed sanctions on Moscow and its officials. Moscow's illegal annexation of Crimea on March 18, 2014, was recognized only by countries such as North Korea and Sudan. In Russia, it touched off a wave of patriotism, and 'Krym nash!' — 'Crimea is ours!' — became a rallying cry. The move sent Putin's popularity soaring. His approval rating, which had declined to 65% in January 2014, shot to 86% in June, according to the Levada Center, an independent Russian pollster. Putin has called the peninsula 'a sacred place' and has prosecuted those who publicly argue it is part of Ukraine — particularly the Crimean Tatars, who strongly opposed the annexation. Fighting followed the annexation After the annexation, fighting broke out in eastern Ukraine between pro-Kremlin militias and Kyiv's forces. Moscow threw its weight behind the insurgents, even though it denied supporting them with troops and weapons. There was abundant evidence to the contrary, including a Dutch court's finding that a Russia-supplied air defense system shot down a Malaysia Airlines passenger jet over eastern Ukraine in July 2014, killing all 298 people aboard. Russian hard-liners later criticized Putin for failing to capture all of Ukraine that year, arguing it was easily possible at a time when the government in Kyiv was in disarray and its military in shambles. The fighting in eastern Ukraine continued, on and off, until February 2022, when Putin launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Crimea has strategic importance Crimea's unique location makes it a strategically important asset, and Russia has spent centuries fighting for it. The peninsula was home to Turkic-speaking Tatars when the Russian empire first annexed it in the 18th century. It briefly regained independence two centuries later before being swallowed by the Soviet Union. Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev transferred Crimea from Russia to Ukraine in 1954, when both were part of the USSR, to commemorate the 300th anniversary of the unification of Moscow and Kyiv. In 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed, the peninsula became part of newly independent Ukraine. Russia kept a foot in the door, however: Its Black Sea Fleet had a base in the city of Sevastopol, and Crimea — as part of Ukraine — continued to host it. By the time Russia annexed it in 2014, it had been within Ukraine for 60 years and was part of the country's identity. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has vowed to retake it and said Russia 'won't be able to steal' the peninsula. For either side, possession of Crimea is key to control over activities in the Black Sea — a critical corridor for the world's grain, among other goods. Crimea has been key in Russia's war in Ukraine Ahead of its full-scale invasion, Moscow deployed troops and weapons to Crimea, allowing Russian forces to quickly seize large parts of southern Ukraine early in the war. A top Russian military official later said that securing a land corridor from Russia to Crimea by holding the occupied parts of Ukraine's Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia and Kherson regions was among the key goals of what the Kremlin called its 'special military operation' in Ukraine. Before the invasion, Zelenskyy focused on diplomatic efforts to get Crimea back, but after Russian troops poured across the border, Kyiv began publicly contemplating retaking the peninsula by force. The peninsula soon became a battleground, with Ukraine launching drone attacks and bombing it to try to dislodge Moscow's hold on the territory. The attacks targeted the Russian Black Sea Fleet there, as well as ammunition depots, air fields and Putin's prized asset — the Kerch Bridge linking Crimea to Russia, which was struck in October 2022, in July 2023 and in June 2025. Crimea factors into peace efforts Putin listed Ukraine's recognition of Crimea as part of Russia among Moscow's demands for peace in 2024. Those also include Ukraine ceding the four regions illegally annexed by Russia in 2022, dropping its bid to join NATO, keeping the country's nonnuclear status, restricting its military force and protecting the interests of the Russian-speaking population. Kyiv has rejected ceding any territory. Russia currently holds roughly 20% of Ukrainian land, including Crimea, so any deal that freezes the lines more or less where they are would benefit Moscow