Keep pressure on Hastings Law as it pivots to change name

UC Hastings College of the Law is the latest school in the country embroiled in a namechange controversy. Its namesake is Serranus Hastings, California’s first chief justice and the state’s third attorney general who orchestrated one of the worst but least known Native American atrocities in human history: a state-financed extermination of the Yuki tribe in the area of Round Valley, Mendocino County.

What makes this case unique is not the bad actor nor the historical context in which his acts were permitted but the troubling deftness at which UC Hastings’ leadership shifts between narratives to suit its needs, exposing underlying power imbalances and raising concerns about transparency and truthfulness that meaningful restorative justice necessarily rests upon.

The school’s narratives include maintaining lack of knowledge about Hastings’ legacy until the publication of a 2017 op-ed and never shying away from it when, in fact, it has known about its ugly history for many years, attempting to dodge the name-change issue at the height of the pandemic when few were paying attention. Narratives such as why it was too difficult or financially risky to change its name, yet abandoning those reasons (and in fact, facing no apparent difficulties) when it had to do a quick about face following national coverage.

Narrative — a set of stories and ideas — is a form of power because it can shape how we think and behave, individually and collectively, and persuade us to believe what is just, unjust, possible and not possible. As we have seen in this country, false, dominant narratives can stand in the way of change — and at its most dangerous mobilize people to do harm.

Nobody knew this better than Hastings, who used the power of narrative, amplified by his prominence, to leverage a perfectly legal democratic system of laws and electorate to stoke fear toward the local natives by casting them as dangerous savages who must be exterminated in a war of “us or them.” This narrative was so powerful that even those who had never come into contact with a Native American came to believe it.

UC Hastings has been and continues to be in the driver’s seat in shaping the dominant narrative of what is possible, when it is possible and how it is to be done.

In doing so, it exposes a stark imbalance of power between the people with the resources doing the promising and the descendants of victims seeking restoration. What oversight mechanism, long after the public has moved on, would ensure that the school’s promises are fulfilled? Who will push for accountability when obstacles arise? Who is asking questions about what is possible versus impossible? What is just versus unjust?

One way to shift the narrative power is to share who contributes to the story. For example, the school should form a community-oversight group unbeholden to the school’s interests to ensure that the school acts on its promises. Importantly, the Yuki descendants must be at the forefront of any decision making, weighing in on timing and options and supported by their own counsel during discussions with the school’s leadership (who are mainly lawyers).

While shedding a name synonymous with genocide is a first step toward acknowledging the same truth, our vision for a better democracy than the one at Hastings’ disposal demands that we think twice before accepting narratives of powerful institutions as truth and hold UC Hastings accountable to not only its promises but to an equitable, transparent and inclusive process that levels the playing field. In doing so, Hastings’ victims can finally move beyond acknowledgement and have a proverbial seat at the table.