Eugene’s ‘Sacred Fence’ is Coming — So, Here’s a Short History of Fences Erected for Protests in Oregon

The fence around the Old Federal Building is coming soon, and barriers have been set up, forming a makeshift sidewalk in anticipation of the fence’s arrival.

On Feb. 12, the monthly Eugene Police Commission meeting featured the eye-opening — but not surprising — announcement that the Old Federal Building would soon feature a fence. 

The move, announced by Eugene Police Chief Chris Skinner, comes following a tumultuous week where an anti-Immigration and Customs Enforcement protest and a nurse-led vigil for Alex Pretti, on Jan. 27 and Jan. 30, respectively, were met with “less-lethal” munitions. The latter was declared a riot by the EPD after federal officers alleged windows had been broken and the building had been breached. The allegation of a breach later disappeared without explanation.  

“We are facilitating the arrival of some fencing that will go up there,” Chief Skinner said to the commission. “Part of that was a result of our interaction with them and helping to better articulate kind of the spaces where the protesting can and should occur and kind of what is that line that, if you cross, you know that you’re likely going to be met with a fairly resistive outcome.” 

Chief Skinner further warned those who choose to protest outside of the “accepted” protest area that doing so would be a “personal choice.” 

The fence, according to Chief Skinner, would make it “obvious” to protesters who stay within the permitted area who the “few that choose to press the issue” will be. 

But, for those who can recall the unrest and uprising in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, simply wrapping a fence around a federal building rarely has its intended effect.

Sacred Fence

The story of Portland’s fence, which soon came to be called the “Sacred Fence,” around the Mark O. Hatfield U.S. Courthouse in Downtown Portland began on June 1, 2020. The Portland Police Bureau — then led by Chief Jami Resch — had erected the fence around the perimeter of the building after protesters had set fire to the interior of the first floor three days prior. 

A taller outer fence was soon put up while the inner one was reinforced with concrete k-rails, otherwise known as “that concrete barrier you see in construction zones.”

Did the fence de-escalate tensions between the PPB and protesters? Not even remotely. The crowds that gathered to protest each night went from the hundreds to thousands. As reported by The Oregonian:

“… the fence was a visceral symbol of how protesters view how police view them: as a threat to police and the city’s institutions. It was erected, protesters say, to protect police from impassioned residents who desperately want cops to directly see and hear the community’s anger.”

The fence became nothing more than a magnet.

“Protesters would shake the fence, push it in, cut it. A few plucked up the chutzpah to climb over, run to the portico of the Justice Center and then return to the protester side. Many nights, it’s been enough to prompt police to crack down.

Other times, protesters start with empty water bottles, then full ones – flung with the cap off so water sprays everyone in its path. Then there are beer bottles or eggs. Once, police reported hot dogs. But sometimes a few people have thrown large rocks and, in a case that resulted in a rare felony arrest, the mounted sling shot that propelled metal through thick Justice Center windows.”

On June 15, the PPB announced that the outer fence, which was taller than the inner concrete-reinforced one, would be removed. In its three-Tweet announcement, the PPB acknowledged the division that the fence symbolized:

“Some have asked about the fence coming down today that has been in front of the Justice Center. It has been p [sic] for more than a week and we recognize that for some it has become a symbol of divide between the police and the community.

We are removing the fence to show our willingness to have dialog and peaceful communication toward starting to heal our community. We are open and listening to discussions of how the community envisions its police serve them in the future.

Our hope is that the nightly violence and destruction around the justice center will stop and the focus can be directed toward peaceful conversation. The inner fence will remain in place while the county side is repaired.”

But when the PPB’s fence was taken down, so went their cooperation with the federal government, especially after the Department of Homeland Security created the Protecting American Communities Task Force as part of Operation Diligent Valor. 

The city and the federal government’s officers that arrived on July 1 were now at odds with each other. The once-cooperative relationship further soured once the federal government’s own divider, tall steel barriers reinforced with concrete k-rails behind them, went up, blocking most of the bicycle lane. 

The protests grew in size as a result. Federal officers often went beyond their perimeter and would deploy munitions and make arrests blocks away, far from what they were protecting. 

On July 11, the indiscriminate violence by the federal occupation nearly became fatal after a U.S. Marshal shot Donavan LaBella in the forehead with a less-lethal, while standing across the street, holding a music speaker above his head. He had just tossed a munition deployed in front of him to the gutter across the street. 

LaBella suffered serious, life-altering injuries to his head that led to Frontal Lobe syndrome. LaBella received a $7.65 million settlement. 

On July 17, then-Mayor Ted Wheeler held a press conference and called for the federal occupation to leave. 

The next day, protesters removed sections of the fence and stacked the metal panels against the building’s exits — foreshadowing what would occur at the city’s ICE facility in April 2021. 

Then July 22 happened. 

Then-Portland City Commissioner Chloe Eudaly brought two resolutions to the day’s city council meeting that unanimously passed. The first called for the end of cooperation between the PPB and “federal “occupiers.” The other affirmed protections for members of the press and legal observers from uses of force. 

Later that night, the eye-goggled mayor joined protesters in front of the Sacred Fence before being tear-gassed himself. He left soon after but not before facing criticism from his constituents about his — as the police commissioner — police department’s own excessive use of munitions. The PPB had infamously deployed so much on one night in particular that it became known as “Tear Gas Tuesday.”

On July 26, the fence was breached. The next day, protesters pushed a large portion of it down. 

The city’s contentiousness with the federal government grew as leaders had repeatedly demanded that the federally erected fence be taken down because it completely blocked the bicycle lane. 

It never happened, so, on July 28, Commissioner Eudaly announced the city would be fining the federal government $500 for every 15-minutes the bicycle lane was blocked. By Aug. 5, the fine had grown to $528,000, and was still growing by $48,000 a day.  

The Sacred Fence remained. 

On March 9, 2021, the fence — which had been rented to stay into the next year for over $200,000 — came down. It was put back up within 72 hours. According to The Oregonian, the transport taking the deconstructed fence back to its Washington D.C. origin was only 15 miles away when told to turn around. 

The Sacred Fence would then remain for several years until its removal in June 2024. That fine from Portland to the federal government? It was waived in 2021 after growing to almost $11 million despite the bicycle lane being reopened at one point. 

No payment necessary. 

Déjà Vu

For some in Eugene, the sight of a fence around a popular protest location will not be new. 

In September 2020, a black metal fence was erected around the Lane County Jail’s entrance following a summer of protests, noise demonstrations, and one incident when an armed counter-protester pulled a gun on protesters. 

The fence did not deter protests from taking place outside the jail. Instead, the barrier did little more than ensure protests couldn’t — not that protesters wanted to — be contained to the sidewalk, which meant that vehicular traffic had to be blocked and rerouted. 

If one wants insight into how the soon-to-be-installed fence could possibly be received, they need look no further than Sept. 30, 2021. 

That night, a march stopped in front of jail, much to the dismay of the EPD, who admonished the crowd and threatened arrest of anyone who damaged the property. Nobody did so that DSM can recall; however, there was a lot of banging on the metal fence. Just before the march resumed, a few smoke bombs were thrown over, filling the courtyard in seconds — something seen nightly at Portland’s Sacred Fence the prior summer. 

Activity has cooled following the spontaneous escalation in the Federal Protective Service’s response to protests at the Old Federal Building on Jan. 27 and Jan. 30. What lies ahead is uncertain but, historically — regardless of city — the installation of a fence in response to protests invites more of the same.