Readers’ pick: Kogan Plaza George
If the George Washington effigies of campus could talk, the George sitting in the foreground of University Yard would have a lot to say.
Under snow flurries and beating sun, flanked by tour groups and “Only at GW” events, U-Yard George has served as a centerpiece for GW’s most quintessential and controversial moments. He’s become a stethoscope for campus culture, standing at the heart of campus and taking the pulse of the student body as a constant in moments of turbulence.
U-Yard George has watched frisbees whizz by on the first warm days of the year as students flock to the central plaza to pretend GW is a classic American college and that campus’ largest stretch of grass is a classic collegiate quad. He has stood alone as temperature drops and the winding paths of U-Yard lay void of passersby.
Bronze George statues pepper GW’s campus, but most sit away from the action — large busts guarding the corners of the University or sitting stoically alone on a bench in Kogan Plaza. But U-Yard George sits at the center, literally and figuratively.
He’s become a flashpoint for campus politics, standing flanked by tents during the pro-Palestinian encampment in the plaza last spring. For two weeks, U-Yard George served as the anchor of the demonstration, with protesters planting flags around his neck, signs at his feet and wrapping keffiyehs around his head and body.

The ornamentation of U-Yard George was even pulled into the national political fray, with President Donald Trump’s 2024 campaign sending a fundraising email with a photo of George covered in flags, stickers and signs. “KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF GEORGE WASHINGTON!” the email read. George’s immediate proximity to some of the University’s biggest moments have tethered him to campus politics.
After local police cleared the encampment on its 14th day and arrested more than 30 protesters, George watched as officials cleared remaining tents from the lawn around him, leaving sun-bleached marks where they once stood. And he watched as the University erected a string of black, metal fences around the perimeter of the plaza, which have now surrounded him for nearly a year.
Since officials placed the fences, students have returned to U-Yard, but not to the level before the plaza was enclosed. But George still stands, one hand on his staff. He’s seen generations of students take their first steps on campus and for decades watched graduates accept their diplomas. His eyes remain trained on the horizon of campus, and they’ll stay there for decades to come.
