Last Friday’s mass protest surrounding President George W. Bush’s visit is a social phenomenon the likes of which Stanford has rarely seen, at least in recent memory. Tales of ProFro hookups, sunshine and sloshball were supplanted by an activist movement of sorts. For a brief snapshot in time, the roads outside Hoover Tower evoked an aura of 1960s popular resistance — the breed of mobilization made famous by our rivals across the Bay.

But many observers saw the visit otherwise: one particularly acidic letter to the editor wrote that “those that blocked the roads should be embarrassed — and like anti-abortion zealots who block access to clinics — they should be prosecuted for their actions.” Another concerned resident agreed: “If these visitors from all walks of life are prevented from appearing or are not allowed to speak, they will stop coming, and both Stanford and its students will have lost a valuable resource.” These letters are worth mentioning not because they make just comparisons or reasonable assumptions, but because beneath their paranoia and hyperbole remains an important point.

Last Friday’s protest cannot be accurately analogized to the popular fervor of the 1960s that swept campuses across the nation. Granted, the demonstrators were successful in forcing Bush to change the location of his meeting. It was remarkable that protesters gathered in large numbers despite the limited options for peaceful protest and the absence of an immediate cause.

On a deeper level, the protest was not fully effective or fully focused, or even especially prolific. But rather than cynically criticizing the process or the context, we should view last Friday’s action in optimistic terms — proof that Stanford students can burst the Bubble and meaningfully engage with the world outside Campus Loop.

Stanford students are frequently accused of being self-absorbed. We often exhibit a disturbing tendency to be consumed with our own lives and only the lives we encounter between our dorm rooms and class. It is exactly this sort of criticism that engenders a crippling sense of resignation and actively discourages efforts to become engaged in world affairs. If we have become so self-absorbed without even trying, is it even possible to reverse the trend?

It would be unfair to tar the entire campus with the brush of apathy. It is easy to forget that most students learned about Bush’s visit less than 24 hours before Marine One landed on Sand Hill Field; in fact, many of us heard of his arrival only when we came across the sign-making extravaganza in White Plaza or the march beside the Quad. Nonetheless, the ranks of protesters included several hundred Stanford students, motivated enough to express their strong beliefs about issues that they care passionately about.

People often question the ability of students to effectively rally behind a cause. But to decry the protest as a strictly partisan success (or failure), or even to complain that Stanford students were mostly spectators, is to miss the point entirely. Rather, the organic, popular and grassroots nature of this protest should be lauded, regardless of your political orientation or activist pedigree. Nevertheless, we would expect the general vitriol of protests on campus to improve with greater warning, time and practice. In order to test this theory, we can only hope that Bush chooses to return, or that we somehow manage to elect an even less popular president.

As for the future, it is our own responsibility to ensure that this single event translates into a consistent spirit of voluntarism, collectivism and engagement. If a sense of empowerment was gained from Bush’s visit — even if it was a little messy — then last Friday’s exercise in 1960s Berkeley was worthwhile. It was only a first step, but a step in the right direction nonetheless.