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Summer 1965
Seeing the Chicago headquarters of SDS as the new school year began in the fall of 1965, it would be hard to imagine that this could be the center of an organization of national attention, much less national import. The office was located on the second floor of a dumpy, flaking building at 1103 East Sixty-third Street, a typically dreary byway in the black Woodlawn ghetto, huddled together with empty storefronts and beauty parlors and take-out joints, all of which would shudder when the elevated train passed by outside on its clattering way toward the Loop.
Inside, in some ten ill-lit rooms, costing $225 a month, the paint peeling off the walls and plaster sifting from the ceiling, were a battery of typewriters, a mimeograph machine, some photographic equipment, phones, makeshift desks and rickety chairs, stuffed pigeonhole cabinets, and a plumbing system so bad that a sign above the sink read "Leaky pipe—do not use." And throughout, the flotsam of the Movement—an army cot, candy wrappers, jars of peanut butter, discarded clothes, piles of mimeographed papers, unopened mail, paperback books (Paul Goodman, Norman O. Brown, Ken Kesey), and on the walls an assortment of posters and messages including a dog-eared drawing of Eugene V. Debs, a Ben Shahn print, a poster of a sad-eyed Vietnamese child, a picture of a mimeograph machine with a penciled caption, "Our Founder," and two scrawls: "Burn, Baby, Burn" and "Make Love, Not War."
Nor was the disarray only physical. The summer chaos had left its mark: summer workers had gone and new workers lasted only temporarily, money had run out, pamphlets were imprinted, literature orders were unfilled (and often as not unopened), even requests for membership and information lay unanswered for weeks.
Yet in the next four months SDS would come to be the object of intense publicity, the target of official government investigations, the beneficiary of a membership growth unlike anything it had ever seen, and the acknowledged center of the New Left: "the largest, most influential, most intellectual and most idealistic of the New Left organizations," in the New York Herald Tribune's phrase.
Paul Booth was installed officially as National Secretary as the fall began, and to guide him in the National Office operations a special National Administrative Committee of Chicago-area people was established. The Booth regime, which lasted the entire school year, was the old guard's last fling. Booth himself proved not to be a popular figure with most of those of the new breed. His politics, which had always been in the careful center of SDS, hardly made him open or responsive to the new, often bizarre, usually romantic, always militant ideas coming up from under.
His temperament turned him to the older members, whom he found much more congenial, personally and politically, so that when decisions had to be made he would more likely be on the phone talking with Webb and Gitlin and Potter than consulting the people around him in the office. And his style, with a flint-sharp mind, a skillful tongue, and years of infighting experience in political groups, was abrasive to the younger and less sophisticated people around the office. Jeff Shero, who finally made it to the National Office in the fall, recalls that he was "outclassed badly" by Booth and his "Eastern, verbal, intellectual tradition":*
"I was destroyed by my first six months as SDS Vice President because I had come in with a vision and experiences about how people could relate to each other, like in the civil-rights movement. I was just kind of chewed up by the internal fighting, totally unprepared for that kind of thing, because I thought that if you had a disagreement with someone you just sat down and talked it out. I wasn't very able to deal with [Booth's] kind of stuff. By the time of the winter convention I was a psychological wreck.”
But it was not just Booth himself: the whole structure of the National Office worked, as it had shown in earlier years, against those with ideas about a new life style.
"Participatory democracy," wrote one Texas SDSer who had spent some time in the Chicago headquarters, "is nonexistent within the national office structure. [Working for SDS] is like getting saved by a traveling preacher, who you later find out is a drunkard and beats his wife."
From within the confines of the National Office, what seemed important was not what the members as a whole thought or wanted, not what priorities seemed important for the movement, not communication of ideas and strategies from one part of the organization to the rest, but rather simply what would make the office itself function more smoothly. The result, as Kissinger reported to the membership, was that
.. Chapters, regional offices, and members find out what the organization is doing by reading the newspapers. Important and useful information which the NO does get at the national level never makes it down to the local level. The membership is poorly serviced and hardly if ever drawn into community- much less decision making. And political knowledge is transmitted in SDS like folklore.
Chicago DSA National Office
1103 East Sixty-third Street
Life around the National Office was all the more grating that fall because at the same time that it failed to satisfy the yearnings for a liberated society it also failed to provide the comforts of a bourgeois one. As in the summer, the twelve to fifteen office workers (there was a fairly rapid turnover, as "Movement life" took its toll) lived in a single large, and usually ill-kempt, $135-a-month apartment (which also served as the hotel for SDSers passing through), so that all of the abrasions of the day were carried home to be rubbed again at night.
Hours were erratic, but long, the concept of "weekend" forgotten; salaries were uniformly $12.50 a week, just enough to make ascetic living unpleasant and not enough to indulge in movies and records without feelings of guilt; responsibilities in the office were confused, with priorities established by the crisis of the moment and the arbitrary decisions of the National Secretary as to what project was most desperate. Sam Bennett, who lasted just two months as office manager, complained that fall:
"I was like a twentieth-century Alice: I had to shovel shit just as fast as I could only to keep my head above it."
All of this might have been borne—indeed similar discomforts had been borne in the past and were to be in the future—had there been recurring evidence that all the sacrifice and effort was having a visible effect either on the gathering forces against the war or on the course of the Movement in general and its capacity to change a nation so askew. But the evidence was sparse, for as SDS went into the new school year it was as bewildered in strategy as it was in organization.
Clearly the Vietnam war was the dominant issue in America, the dominant issue for the left.
Just as clearly, SDS still didn't know what to do about it. At the September National Council meeting, held at a park in Indiana on the September 7 weekend, an entire cacophony of strategies was put forward.
Some in the organization urged negotiations, others demanded immediate withdrawal, still others wanted an outright NLF victory. Some wanted to emphasize the moral horror of the war, others concentrated on its illegality, a number argued that it took funds away from domestic needs, and a few even then saw it as an example of "American imperialism."
Gitlin pressed for dramatic action by students, suggesting such things as sending American hostages to North Vietnamese targets so that U.S. planes would be afraid to bomb them and enlisting a mission of twenty-five to fifty people "to help rebuild a hospital or school destroyed by American bombings."*
Kissinger proposed an "International Student Strike" for later in the fall, during which students would boycott classes for a day or a week. Younger SDSers usually favored the idea of more marches and demonstrations, resisting the growing attitude that such tactics were fruitless and old-hat ("All right, you've been marching on Washington since 1957," one young SDSer complained, "but some of us have never even visited it, much less marched there.")
And still others wanted to escalate into civil disobedience such as stopping troop trains (which the Berkeley Vietnam Day Committee was actually to accomplish that October) or organizing soldiers to resist or desert (the Kissinger Kamikaze Plan again).
Many saw the draft as the natural antiwar tool since it struck at the very age group most receptive to radicalization, and they urged demonstrations against induction centers, mass registration for Conscientious Objector status, and even the establishment of a Movement Church to ordain as ministers anyone who wanted to escape the draft that way.
There was even a sizable minority, including ERAPers and other old guarders, who wanted to play down the whole concentration on Vietnam and to have the antiwar movement, as Booth and Lee Webb put it in a much-debated paper, "become a movement for domestic social change" by developing "independent and mass constituencies for democratic politics" out of "the immediate aspirations of the poor, welfare recipients, trade-unionists, students, and others."
All of these proposals were presented, workshops spent hours airing and attacking them, long debates raged about them for the entire weekend, tempers grew heated and friendships cooled, and at the end of it all SDS came flatly down in mid-air. The Kewadin spirit still prevailed. The NC decided that it would give grudging support to a third march on Washington, planned by the infant National Coordinating Committee to End the War in Vietnam for October 15 and 16, but it also went on record again as opposing mass demonstrations:
"We are for action that educates," the slogan went, "rather than action that demonstrates."
It authorized a limited program of building student antiwar sentiment through campus education and local protest action: "Deepening the campus constituency will be the first priority during the coming months"; it urged local chapters to adopt local strategies for action against the draft; and it dumped in the laps of the NO the job of preparing some kind of national draft-counseling proposal that would "mobilize opposition to the war among draft-age people"—but with the proviso that this would have to be submitted in a referendum to the membership for approval before any action was taken.
As it happened, it was the last of these that was to draw the greatest attention, though no one could have possibly foreseen that, given the state of the National Office. But by early October the National Office actually came up with a cautious, legal antidraft program focused on three "visible expressions of protest":°
The act of filing for CO is, in itself, a gesture of personal protest.
On the campus, attempts should be made to stop the school from turning over the class-rank information, to get professors to refuse to hand in grades, and to organize campus strikes aimed either at classes or exams. When recruiters appear on campus, they should be the focus of attention, challenged to debate, accused by picket signs of participation in war crimes.
The same can be done at any time for ROTC officials, especially as part of a campaign to oust ROTC from the campus.
Demonstrations can be planned to expose or protest the nature and practices of the local draft boards.
These proposals were accompanied by a series of admonitions that draft organizing be continually related to "the broad context of the war in Vietnam" and "the undemocratic nature of our society," and by a caution that, though "filing for CO is strictly legal, unlike ‘draft refusal,' " the government might see it as an obstruction of the draft and try to punish its instigators with five years in jail and a $10,000 fine.
The package was just being made ready to be sent out to the membership for its vote, when a strange thing happened. SDS became a national villain.
By October, after eight long months, the antiwar movement finally touched a nerve in the body of the Establishment. The plans for the October 15-16 demonstrations had received considerable publicity in the early fall, the media having now dropped the attitude of amused scorn with which they treated the April SDS march and come around to the idea that there was a real protest movement afoot, and peopled by more than just a few crazy kids. The new movement against the draft, small though it was, became a particular delight of the newspapers, and CBS News ran regular reports of anti-draft actions on its evening news program.
In response the Administration and its allies were pressured into belittling the protesters and raising questions about their loyalty and patriotism. On October 13, two days before the planned demonstrations, Senator Thomas Dodd, an old line anti-Communist whose Senate Internal Security Committee had been looking into the antiwar protests, released a report asserting:
The control of the anti-Vietnam movement has clearly passed from the hands of the moderate elements, who may have controlled it at one time, into the hands of Communists and extremist elements who are openly sympathetic to the Viet Cong and openly hostile to the United States ... . This is particularly true of the national Vietnam protest movement scheduled for October 15-16.°
On the same day elder statesman Dwight Eisenhower let it be known that he was "distressed and alarmed" by the antiwar movement and by the evident "moral deterioration" of America's youth.
And, because its reputation as the chief antiwar foe not only preceded but positively outran its actual workings, SDS was made into the prime target. On Thursday, October 14, Rowland Evans and Robert Novak, the syndicated columnists whose two most important outlets then were the Herald Tribune and the Washington Post, accused SDS of nothing less than treason.
SDS, the columnists reported darkly, was mounting a major campaign to get American men to resist and evade the draft—"draft-dodging," they called it—and had even drawn up a "master plan" designed to "sabotage the war effort." This campaign, they said, "cannot be lightly passed off as an exuberant, youthful exercise of the right to dissent. It is a calculated effort to illegally undermine high national policy adopted by President Johnson and confirmed by Congress."
Mississippi's John Stennis rose in the Senate the next morning to add his denunciation of SDS and bare its dangerous plans. "Workshops are being held by the Students for a Democratic Society," he said, "to devise ways to disrupt the necessary and normal operation of the draft system." Not only that, but they're planning to get people to file for CO status.
"The purpose of this action is to jam the draft boards and to cause the Government to spend thousands of dollars in investigations and paperwork." This "deplorable and shameful activity," he went on, his anger mounting, makes it "imperative" for the government "to immediately move to jerk this movement up by the roots and grind it to bits before it has the opportunity to spread further."
Now the SDSers in Chicago were somewhat perplexed. The "master plan" so sinister to Evans and Novak was in fact a mélange of proposals taken at random from the August issue of SDS's National Vietnam Newsletter—all of which had been specifically rejected by the September National Council. As to "workshops," this may have been a reference to one of the chaotic meetings at the NC, but the only place SDS was doing anything like that was in Los Angeles, where Mike Davis and some other SDSers had participated in weekly meetings with fifteen or twenty students who were trying to work out ways to spread draft information on local campuses.
But in the face of such charges. Booth and the National Administrative Committee figured the best thing to do would be to get the real story out, and when a reporter from the Chicago Sun-Times came around after the Evans-Novak column they gave him copies of the actual referendum proposal. Much to their surprise, the Sun-Times splashed it across its front-page on Friday, with the headline, "US-Wide Drive to Beat Draft Is Organized Here," UPI picked up the story for its wires, and a hungry press pounced upon it just as the weekend demonstrations were getting under way.
September 7 National Council Meeting
And on Saturday Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach got into the act. At a Chicago press conference he announced that the government felt that anti-draft activity "begins to move in the direction of treason" and it was watching the movement with great care: "There are some Communists in it and we may have to investigate. We may very well have some prosecutions." The Justice Department, he added, "has uncovered some persons working for the Students for a Democratic Society" who are possible Communists, and the student group was "one of many" organizations under examination.
Though it seems that Katzenbach himself was trying to be judicious and careful, and never once accused SDS of specific wrongdoing, others at the press conference were not so circumspect. One, Northern Illinois Attorney General Edward V. Hanrahan, stated flatly that SDS was guilty of "treasonous activity" and declared that his staff had already begun a full-scale investigation. This was all the press needed: the stories went out with the clear implication that SDS was a subversive organization.
To top it all off, the weekend demonstrations were a surprising success. Upwards of one hundred thousand people took part—the National Guardian reported eighty thousand, a Playboy article estimated "nearly 100,000"—in more than ninety cities, the largest marches being in New York, San Francisco, Pittsburgh, New Haven, Cleveland, Detroit, Seattle, and Los Angeles.
At least fifty SDS chapters participated, mobilizing people for the city marches and organizing demonstrations on many campuses—including a march on a chemical and biological warfare center at Fort Bragg by the University of North Carolina SDS, a death march on the state capital by the University of Texas chapter, a teach-in by the fledgling Arizona State chapter, an Assembly of Unrepresented People in Toronto by Buffalo SDS, and, in the first action of its kind, a sit-in at the Ann Arbor draft board led by the VOICE chapter, in which thirty-eight people, including VOICE chairman Eric Chester and a young Michigan student named Bill Ayers, were arrested.
(This last demonstration got national publicity and became a cause célébre over the next few months when the local Michigan draft director thought up the idea of punishing the men by reclassifying them from 2-S to 1A, so as to put them, in General Lewis Hershey's words, on "the belt that runs toward the induction station.")
Also over the weekend, David Miller, a twenty-two-year-old Catholic pacifist, became the first person to burn his draft card in defiance of the new federal law.® This was the largest antiwar demonstration to date and a clear signal that the protest movement was real, and growing larger daily. That provided little comfort in Washington.
On Monday the Senate floor was awash with angry patriots; Thomas Kuchel, Mike Mansfield, Spessard Holland, Richard Russell, Leverett Saltonstall, William Proxmire, Frank Lausche, and Everett Dirksen all rushed to denounce the demonstrators, war protesters, and "draft-dodgers" en masse. The New York Times's Washington columnist James Reston allowed as how the protesters were damaging the country and "not promoting peace but postponing it." And Johnson himself, hinting broadly at "investigations," let it be known that he was "worried" that "even well-meaning demonstrators can become the victims of Communist aggression."
In the following week, SDS hardly knew what to make of its new-found fame. On the one hand, all the publicity had certainly put the organization on the map, and membership soared.
A special SDS Bulletin noted: "Our Harvard organizer reports that he walked into Harvard Yard with 30 membership cards and had to go back for more 1/2 hour later .... He wasn't lying. We just got 50 new membership cards from him special delivery."
Students in the Chicago area poured into the National Office to sign membership cards, one of them saying, "If you are going to be red-baited, I want to be on the list."
In all, one thousand new two-dollar national memberships were received, pushing the total national membership over four thousand; the membership in individual chapters during this same period was thought to have doubled—the chapters in general kept only haphazard records of local members and the NO none at all, so it is impossible to tell—and SDS spokesmen now claimed a total of ten thousand local followers.
On the other hand, SDS was hardly able to capitalize on all the attention. After all, there wasn't any draft program, just a proposal that had been sent out to the members only that week and whose approval or disapproval would take weeks more to determine; and in any case no one in SDS had ever intended draft action to take top priority in the fall program.
There wasn't even any official SDS position or program on the war itself. Furthermore, though being red-baited seemed to attract some college youths to the organization, it clearly disturbed and repelled many others—not to mention their parents, college administrators, and local patriotic types (in Nashville, for example, anti-SDS pressure grew so strong that Tennessee State SDSers had to close up shop), and some of the old guard wanted to squelch the "draft-dodging" image for fear that it might smear the whole antiwar effort.
The NO tried to deal with the scores of press and television people who were traipsing up the creaking steps at Sixty-third Street by downplaying the draft and talking as best they could on the larger issue of the war, but there wasn't any document or statement or resolution they could point to and in the confusion the media continued to concentrate most on the draft proposal, generating the general impression that SDS was full of traitors. The consensus grew around the office that something had to be done, as Booth said, "to take the heat off."?°
Booth and Oglesby decided that the best thing would be to draw up a statement which would make SDS's noble intentions clear once and for all, and drop it in the laps of the press. They therefore arranged for a full-scale press conference in the Grand Ballroom of the National Press Club in Washington. They flew to the capital on Tuesday, and Booth worked arduously all through the night refining the statement, with help from Art Waskow and Jeremy Brecher, old-guard SDSers at the Institute for Policy Studies there, and Paul Cowan, a Harvard SDSer who happened to be in town; a few other friends of Booth's were consulted by telephone, but little was done to sound out anything like an SDS consensus.
The next morning a bleary-eyed Booth faced a jam-packed press room:
Students for a Democratic Society wishes to reiterate emphatically its intention to pursue its opposition to the war in Vietnam, undeterred by the diversionary tactics of the administration.
We feel that the war is immoral at its root, that it is fought alongside a regime with no claim to represent its people, and that it is foreclosing the hope of making America a decent and truly democratic society.
The commitment of SDS, and of the whole generation we represent, is clear: we are anxious to build villages; we refuse to burn them. We are anxious to help and to change our country; we refuse to destroy someone else's country. We are anxious to advance the cause of democracy; we do not believe that cause can be advanced by torture and terror.
We are fully prepared to volunteer for service to our country and to democracy. We volunteer to go into Watts to work with the people of Watts to rebuild that neighborhood to be the kind of place that the people of Watts want it to be—and when we say "rebuild," we mean socially as well as physically. We volunteer to help the Peace Corps learn, as we have been learning in the slums and in Mississippi, how to energize the hungry and desperate and defeated of the world to make the big decisions.
We volunteer to serve in hospitals and schools in the slums, in the Job Corps and VISTA, in the new Teachers Corps—and to do so in such a way as to strengthen democracy at its grassroots. And in order to make our volunteering possible, we propose to the President that all those Americans who seek so vigorously to build instead of burn be given their chance to do so. We propose that he test the young people of America: if they had a free choice, would they want to burn and torture in Vietnam or to build a democracy at home and overseas? There is only one way to make the choice real: let us see what happens if service to democracy is made grounds for exemption from the military draft.
I predict that almost every member of my generation would choose to build, not to burn; to teach, not to torture; to help, not to kill. And I am sure that the overwhelming majority of our brothers and cousins in the army in Vietnam, would make the same choice if they could—to serve and build, not kill and destroy ....
Until the President agrees to our proposal, we have only one choice: we do in conscience object, utterly and wholeheartedly, to this war; and we will encourage every member of our generation to object, and to file his objection through the Form 150 provided by the law for conscientious objection."
Thus was born what immediately came to be called the "Build, Not Burn" strategy. The wire services gave the statement extensive coverage, and most major papers carried stories.
Though, inevitably, the slants varied—the Chicago Tribune, for example, tagged the story "Oglesby Tells Johnson Protesters' Terms"—most reports played up the humanitarian, not to say Boy Scout, cast of the statement and its clear alternative-service patriotism, and it seemed that in the battle of the headlines, SDS had won: it was off the hook and the critics of the antiwar movement were for the moment disarmed. Booth was quick to claim that "good effects were reported" on many campuses (at Vassar, he reported, the statement was mimeographed and used as an organizing tool), that in Washington "it bolstered our allies and compounded the embarrassment of the Katzenbachs," and that it "received an extremely favorable audience among church people."
But in the process Booth, and those around him, had made two serious errors, both of which tended to discredit the National Secretary, and by extension the NO, in the eyes of many in the organization and on its fringes.
The first error was political.
In its attempt to dissociate SDS from the "draft-dodgers," the "Build, Not Burn" statement was actually more moderate than many in SDS would have liked. The National Office was bombarded: a number of chapters launched formal protests and hundreds of individuals wrote in to complain. They argued that the statement did not attack the draft itself as an inequitable and undemocratic institution, but simply urged an extension of it into other areas; that it did not urge (as some groups in Berkeley and New York were already doing) opposition to the draft by any means possible, including outright evasion; and that it did not make any of the necessary connections between the draft and the war, showing them both as inevitable products of the American military-industrial state.
The apologetic effect of it, especially, irritated many as being too defensive, too craven: Ken McEldowney and fifty others in the San Francisco region sent off a telegram:
TONE OF STATEMENT DEPLORABLE ... . READS LIKE COP-OUT TO KATZENBACH.
Elsewhere people like Greg Calvert, then at Iowa State but eventually to be Booth's successor, felt the statement, as Calvert was to put it, was "the greatest formula ever devised for selling out the radical movement and playing into the co-optive hands of the establishment."
And the May 2nd Movement from its own perspective said scornfully "This proposal creates illusions about the US government. It is as if the government has good agencies and bad agencies.
The fact is that there is no democracy to do alternate service for." Small wonder that many SDSers soon started to put forth a counter-slogan: "Build Not, Burn!"
The second error was procedural.
Booth had, in effect, set SDS officially on a course of urging young men to file for Conscientious Objector status as a means of protesting the war, without having the slightest organizational support or justification for doing so. The National Secretary was not supposed to set policy, least of all on a program that was still before the membership and in defiance of the September NC vote giving campus educational work priority over any draft scheme.
Shero, who all along had been a prime advocate of decentralization of SDS and a downgrading of the NO role, was particularly incensed, complaining bitterly about Booth's acting "unilaterally" to set policy for the entire organization; reporters, he said, should have simply been referred to local chapters which would tell them what was going on in any particular area, and the National Secretary could have stayed out of it completely. Others who resented reading in the papers about such a turnabout in national policy echoed Ken McEldowney's wry comment: "Participatory democracy begins at home."??
Resentment against Booth for what he said was simply fueled by resentment that he said it at all. The disaffection that this produced, not only toward the National Secretary himself but toward the basic notion of a political decision-making central officer, would last.
On October 18 the May 2nd Movement announced its own anti-draft program:
The opposition to the Vietnam Draft must be organized and political. One way is for people opposed to this draft ... to organize themselves into Anti-Draft Unions as the vehicle for draft opposition. These unions, as well as other groups, can
1. Demonstrate at the induction centers ....
2. Expose and oppose college administration cooperation with the draft ... .
No ROTC on campus, No military recruitment on campus, No war research projects, can be demands. Organize STRIKES if demands aren't met.
3. Go to High Schools with leaflets, street meetings, ADU [antidraft union] organizing, etc ... .
Such struggle cannot at this time prevent large numbers of young men from being forced into the Army. But it can bring many more people—particularly working class people—into the anti-war movement and thereby sharply increase the isolation of the government.
May 2nd Movement
anti- draft program
This same working-class rationale was reiterated by Jeff Gordon, the M2M leader, in an article in the M2M publication. Free Student, on November 27:
The key necessity for the peace movement is to broaden its base. If students remain isolated as the war goes on year after year they will be vulnerable to attack and discouragement. The erosion of rights and material conditions that the war necessarily entails provides the opportunity to involve other parts of the population, particularly workers. Recent strikes by thousands of defense workers give the lie to the idea that the war is in their interests .... We should oppose the draft in a way that all can participate. If we follow this up by organizationally approaching workers, as well as continuing our work on the campuses and in the communities, the movement will grow in size and in strength.*°
The issue of Communists in SDS, which the press and Senators made so much of during these October weeks—and which of course would continue to be an issue in the coming years—was not one which interested the SDSers themselves very much. It all seemed so irrelevant. True, the exclusion clause had been dropped, but that was more because there were no hordes of Communists asking to get in than because there were.
The Communist Party itself was seen as a joke, a tired collection of middle-aged irrelevants who hadn't any idea of what the New Left was all about and certainly no means of taking it over. Not that SDS was the kind of organization that could very readily be taken over, even if I anyone wanted to:
"They can't take us over because they can't find us" was the standard joke.
As to those with pro-Chinese or anti-Imperialistic politics—the Progressive Labor and M2M people, for example—they were certainly allowed into the ranks but no I one could figure out why they'd want to come if they had organizations of their own, and no one regarded their rather far-out ideas I as likely to catch on with the bulk of SDSers.
Carl Oglesby put the SDS stance best, in a speech to the National Guardian annual banquet that fall.
SDS does not screen, purge, or use loyalty pledges .... We judge behavior.
Those whose behavior runs athwart the deep SDS commitment to democracy just have no leverage over the democrats of SDS. And, in any case, SDS retains no detectives.
Further, it is hard to see how a group could be "taken over" unless it has handles of power that can be seized, some "central apparatus" that can enforce orders. SDS has no such apparatus—only a beleaguered hot-spot in Chicago—and it is a main hard point with us that it never shall.*°
Nonetheless, there were many elders, especially liberal elders, who viewed the issue of Communist infiltration with utmost seriousness. The New Republic, for example, editorialized at the end I of October:
In our judgment ... the Students for a Democratic Society do themselves and their aims a disservice by welcoming Communists in their ranks, and by making a virtue out of the indifference to the possibility of Communists becoming the dominant voice in their organization .... The SDS is "anxious to advance the cause of democracy." If they mean political democracy as we understand it, they will deal more realistically than they have with the fact of Communist participation.
And of course the people who took the whole question most seriously, and had for a year at least, were those in the LID.
Things, as we have seen, had not been going well between the LID and its offspring for some time. For a while during 1965 the LID tried to weather the storm, clinging to the idea of "dialogues" and hoping to keep the link to SDS both for reasons of principle (to educate the younger members away from wrong-minded positions, especially on the issue of Communism), and for reasons of pragmatism (to enjoy vicariously the attention and success of the student department and to have contacts with the important elements of the New Left).
But it eventually became clear that the gulf between the two groups was unbridgeable; as Mike Harrington recalls it,
.. their whole style was increasingly one of screw-you. Their contempt for us was certainly coming through pretty loud and clear .... They were not simply having a more militant tactic on the war, but their attitude toward trade unions, toward liberal change, toward change in the Democratic Party—a whole spectrum of tactical issues which had once united us—were in the process of changing. It was around the war that this whole constellation of things came to a head.”
Paul Feldman, a member of the LID Board of Directors, undertook to put the case against SDS in an LID News Bulletin.
The basic trouble, he held, was the "new generation of radical youth" and their "ideological confusion, resulting from a visceral reaction to McCarthyism and a lack of political education."
What had happened to SDS, he argued, was that it had fallen into the error of "agnosticism" on the question of Communism and it had failed "to judge the Communist side in the war by the same standards applied to the American role. A reactive anti-American establishmentarianism had been substituted for an analytical approach."
"That was bad enough, Lord knows, for "it clashed with our fundamental principles," but it also was tactically wrong, for it led "toward increasing isolation of the students from the very forces that are essential to democratic social progress"—and, incidentally, to the continuance of the LID—"the labor, civil rights, and liberal organizations." Clearly, Feldman argued, SDS had no rightful place in an organization whose "dedication to democracy placed it in principled opposition to Communism and all other forms of totalitarianism."
For most of those in SDS, this kind of argument was simple old-fogeyism. Some in the organization, it is true, shared the LID worries—Haber, in particular, argued bitterly that SDS was falling into mindless association with "some of the Marxist anti-American, anticapitalist groupings'"—and others wanted above all to stay beneath the comforting protection of LID’s tax-exemption shelter regardless of political differences. But the general feeling was that the LID and the whole "democratic socialism" of which it was a part simply represented the liberal wing of the Establishment, a wing that had proven itself unworthy in every challenge of the sixties, from civil rights to Vietnam.
This, combined with mounting anger at attacks on SDS and the New Left from LID associates like Irving Howe and Bayard Rustin, and a principled feeling that the two organizations no longer shared the same basic philosophies, impelled the break from the student side.
Practical matters clinched the argument. SDS had discovered that since the April march contributions were coming in at such a rate that $3,500 or so tossed its way by the LID was hardly important to a $60,000 a-year organization; and the tax-exemption provisions barring political activity increasingly grated on the students, who ever since April had wanted to explore new and more militant forms of political action which they knew would inevitably call down the wrath of the IRS.
The tax-exemption issue made a convenient severing device. SDS passed several resolutions urging the LID to drop its special tax status, and the LID gave the matter cursory debate. But the LID was hardly in a position to give up its educational role and its tax windfall—what else, after all, did it have?—and at the end of September it rejected the idea entirely.
After some fruitless negotiations on the subject, it seemed to all concerned to be a convenient and graceful way to concretize the irremediable differences between the two organizations, and an "amicable severance" was at last agreed upon.
On October 4,1965, an association that had lasted in one form or other for more than forty years, and with roots going back to the earliest part of the century, was dissolved:
Acting under the instructions of the appropriate committees of our respective organizations, we have come to an understanding that Students for a Democratic Society shall cease to be the student department of the League for Industrial Democracy ... . The reason for the separation is the desire of the SDS to engage in action programs which transcend the limits imposed by law on tax-exempt organizations. The League, on the other hand, has decided that it wishes to continue functioning as a tax-exempt educational organization.
Good form was kept—
"The termination of SDS's status as the student department of the League ... is not the consequence of political disagreement but an effort to preserve the interests and integrity of the two organizations"
—but no one was fooled: politics, the basic politics of Old Left liberalism and New Left radicalism, was at the very heart of the sunderance.
SDS now was on its own.
Irving Howe
Bayard Rustin
“ The ILG, pillar of this wing, had voted at its May convention to endorse Johnson's actions in Vietnam and the Dominican Republic in strong terms, a fact which a spring SDS worklist (May 27, 1965) had "noted in disgust." The same worklist, be it added, referred to the LID as "our parent organization," apparently on the assumption that most SDSers didn't know what it was.
Having come into the spotlight during the October demonstrations, SDS had no desire to move into the wings. Nor could it, really, even if it had wanted to, for it was now seen by students as the leading antiwar organization in the land and the only vehicle through which their angered sentiments could express themselves. (The NCC, which had actually coordinated the demonstrations, was merely an administrative center, not a membership organization, as were most of the local ad hoc committees like the Fifth Avenue Peace Parade Committee in New York; none of the membership groups like M2M, the DuBois Clubs, or the Young Socialist Alliance had the energy, the publicity, the aura, or the stature of SDS.) So as attention turned to the next planned demonstration, a march on Washington which SANE had called for the Thanksgiving weekend, SDS was inevitably drawn in, despite its antipathy to mass marches in general and SANE's liberalism in particular.”
Campus interest in another demonstration was clearly strong, especially as a means of showing immediate defiance of the government's redbaiting attacks and support for "the right to dissent"; liberal friends of SDS urged it to join in so that the press and the Administration could not argue that the steam had gone out of the antiwar movement. But perhaps most persuasive, SOS, it turned out, had no other program of its own to follow. The draft proposal over which so much media commotion was made was defeated in the referendum, 279 to 243, with 35 abstentions, a vote which the NO regarded as expressing the membership's fear of legal repression but the small size of which (one-sixth of the 3,139 people to whom ballots had been sent) probably indicated rather that most chapters wanted to go ahead with their own already functioning local programs—draft counseling in Austin, CO leafleting in Ann Arbor, draft-information booths at Los Angeles-area campuses, and so on—instead of getting involved in a national effort.
And so Carl Oglesby—this was again a unilateral decision of the NAC in Chicago, though one that seemed to have general support—began negotiating with SANE, and it was eventually agreed that in return for its participation SDS could issue its own call and add its own spokesman to the official program. The call was drawn up and 100,000 copies printed, considerably changing the tone of the demonstration—as well as the position of SDS from its April march:
There must be an immediate cease fire and demobilization in South Vietnam.
There must be a withdrawal of American troops ... . All agreements must be ratified by the partisans of the "other side"—the National Liberation Front and North Vietnam.
We are convinced that the only way to stop this and future wars is to organize a domestic social movement which challenges the very legitimacy of our foreign policy; this movement must also fight to end racism, to end the paternalism of our welfare system, to guarantee decent incomes for all, and to supplant the authoritarian control of our universities with a community of scholars.7°
Even more important, Oglesby himself agreed to be the SDS spokesman. Seeing in this chance to address a predominantly liberal audience an important opportunity to get across SDS politics, he bent himself (with help from Gitlin and Rothstein) to the task of writing a speech that would, as the NO people were saying, "tell it like it is." It turned out to be one of the most effective speeches any SDSer was to give.
“ SANE had, after all, boycotted the April affair; and its Thanksgiving march coordinator, Sanford Gottlieb, had declared it as his objective to keep "kooks, communists or draft-dodgers" out of the Washington demonstration.
November 27 was a raw, chill, overcast day, the kind that makes Washingtonians impatient for cherry blossoms, but by the Guardian's estimate some forty thousand people showed up in the capital. By a prior agreement reached only after a brouhaha that almost split the burgeoning movement before the march even started, SANE agreed to relax its sign censorship and permit each group to carry its own signs; around the White House that morning, therefore, SANE banners for "Negotiate Now" vied with such slogans as "Bring the GIs Home Now" and "Don't Negotiate—Evacuate," plus a large NLF banner that the SANE marshals tried to surround with American flags so the TV cameramen wouldn't notice.
Shortly after noon the crowd was seated around the base of the Washington monument prepared for a long afternoon of speakers. Careful to emphasize its "respectable" tone, SANE had loaded the program with moderates who, as Oglesby was to say later, were so eager "to show their 'responsibleness,' to criticize 'both sides equally,’ that some of their speeches would hardly have been wrong for a pro-war rally." The hour was growing late and nearly a third of the audience had gone to warmer surroundings when Oglesby, shunted away at the end of the program, rose to speak.
The original commitment in Vietnam was made by President Truman, a mainstream liberal. It was seconded by President Eisenhower, a moderate liberal. It was intensified by the late President Kennedy, a flaming liberal.
Think of the men who now engineer that war—those who study the maps, give the commands, push the buttons, and tally the dead: Bundy, McNamara, Rusk, Lodge, Goldberg, the President himself.
They are not moral monsters.
They are all honorable men.
They are all liberals.
But so, I'm sure, are many of us who are here today in protest. To understand the war, then, it seems necessary to take a closer look at this American liberalism. Maybe we are in for some surprises.
And slowly, laying American liberal Cold War errors at his listeners’ feet, one by one, he provided those surprises. Support for Rhodesia, South Africa, Latin American dictators. The American-led overthrow of Mossadegh in Iran to the benefit of Gulf Oil; of Arbenz in Guatemala to the profits of United Fruit; of Jagan in Guyana to the satisfaction of the AFLCIO; of Goulart in Brazil to the pleasure of State Department policy makers. The invasion of Cuba, of the Dominican Republic, planned and carried out by liberals, for liberals. The secret placement of nuclear weapons in West German hands. And Vietnam.
This country, with its thirty-some years of liberalism, can send 200,000 young men to Vietnam to kill and die in the most dubious of wars, but it cannot get 100 voter registrars to go into Mississippi.
What do you make of it?
The financial burden of the war obliges us to cut millions from an already pathetic War on Poverty budget. But in almost the same breath, Congress appropriates $140 million for the Lockheed and Boeing companies to compete with each other on the supersonic transport project—that Disneyland creation that will cost us all about $2 billion before it's done.
What do you make of it?
Liberalism, of course, had tried to justify all these acts with "the ideology of anti-Communism."
Far from helping Americans deal with ... truth, the anti-Communist ideology merely tries to disguise it so that things may stay the way they are. Thus, it depicts our presence in other lands not as a coercion, but a protection. It allows us even to say that the napalm in Vietnam is only another aspect of our humanitarian love—like those exorcisms in the Middle Ages that so often killed the patient. So we say to the Vietnamese peasant, the Cuban intellectual, the Peruvian worker: "You are better dead than red. If it hurts or if you don't understand why—sorry about that."
This is the action of corporate liberalism. It performs for the corporate state a function quite like what the Church once performed for the feudal state. It seeks to justify its burdens and protect it from change ....
Let me then speak directly to humanist liberals. If my facts are wrong, I will soon be corrected. But if they are right, then you may face a crisis of conscience. Corporatism or humanism, which? For it has come to that. Will you let your dreams be used? Will you be grudging apologists for the corporate state? Or will you help try to change it—not in the name of this or that blueprint or ism, but in the name of simple human decency and democracy and the vision that wise and brave men saw in the time of our own Revolution?
And if your commitment to human value is unconditional, then disabuse yourselves of the notion that statements will bring change, if only the right statements can be written, or that interviews with the mighty will bring change if only the mighty can be , reached, or that marches will bring change if only we can make " them massive enough, or that policy proposals will bring change if only we can make them responsible enough.
We are dealing now with a colossus that does not want to be changed. It will not change itself. It will not cooperate with those who want to changeit ... .
All the more reason for building [a] movement with a most relentless conviction.
There are people in this country today who are trying to build that movement, who aim at nothing less than a humanist reformation. And the humanist liberals must understand that it is this movement with which their own best hopes are most in tune. We radicals know the same history that you liberals know, and we can understand your occasional cynicism, exasperation, and even distrust. But we ask you to put these aside and help us risk a leap. Help us find enough time for the enormous work that needs doing here. Help us build. Help us shake the future in the name of plain human hope.
It was a devastating performance: skilled, moderate, learned, and compassionate, but uncompromising, angry, radical, and above all persuasive. It drew the only standing ovation of the afternoon. As reporter Ward Just was to say in the Washington Post the following week:
The speech was little noticed and all but unreported in the press, but in the post mortems following the recent March on Washington to End the War in Vietnam it was receiving the most attention of all speeches .... Leaders of the movement described the speech as a declaration of independence from the traditional thread of American liberalism on the one hand and a call to battle to alter the fundamental social, political and economic structure of the country on the other.”
Perhaps old hat to the old guard, but to the audience in Washington, to much of the new campus generation, to many who were awakened to politics only with Vietnam, this was an eye-opener. The demand for reprints surpassed anything that SDS had known within two weeks mimeographed copies were being run off in the NO and a Movement printing shop in Lawrence, Kansas, was preparing to reprint it by the thousands for SDS to distribute; the Monthly Review picked it up for its January 1966 issue; and for years afterward it would continue to be one of the most popular items of SDS literature.”
The Oglesby speech won SDS considerable respect in many quarters and proved to be the icing on the quite unexpected cake of success that fall. National media continued to focus on the organization: The New York Times Magazine ran a long and friendly piece by LIDer Tom Brooks; Newsweek did a special takeout on "The Demonstrators," featuring SDS; the Nation had a flattering profile by Jack Newfield; the National Guardian, whose circulation was now up to 28,000, gave steady weekly publicity to SDS doings; and SDSers even began to appear on occasional national television programs. Letters from students and sympathizers were coming in at the rate of more than a thousand a month—answered, of course, sporadically if at all—and nearly fifty student and youth organizations from more than twenty foreign countries sent official statements of support, newsletters, queries, proposals, and greetings.”
“It is important to note, however, that the November 27 Oglesby speech, though more dramatic and more stylish, does not go beyond the April 17 Potter speech, delivered in the same spot on the same kind of occasion, in "naming the system." Both are talking about what will come to be called "imperialism" before another year is out, a phrase borrowed for want of a better from the Marxist groups whose influence in SDS, and the movement in general, was to grow; as Oglesby said two years later, his was "an attempt to describe imperialism without giving it that name, and to attribute imperialist policy to the structure of monopoly capitalism without pronouncing that term either .... Imperialism and monopoly capitalism were conceptions proper and necessary to the thorough critique of US policy, but they had been effectively drained of meaning by decades of strong, pervasive and subtle Cold War propaganda ... . For most of the growing student movement in those days, these were still out-of-bounds terms." (Introduction to "Trapped in a System," Radical Education Project pamphlet, January 1969.) Nonetheless, SDS, it is clear, was able to talk about the fundamentals of the American state even when it had not been schooled in how to name them.
By the end of December SDS had grown to an estimated 4,300 paid-up national members, at 124 chapters’ in thirty-eight states and the District of Columbia (missing only Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Louisiana, Mississippi, Montana, Nevada, South Carolina, South Dakota, Utah, West Virginia, and Wyoming); no fewer than forty-four of the chapters had been started (or reestablished) that fall, some at places quite predictable (Los Angeles, Pennsylvania, Yale) and some quite unexpected (Iowa State, New Rochelle, Notre Dame—and there was even an attempt made at West Point). New regional organizations had been established, more or less spontaneously but growing out of the impetus to decentralization that had emerged at the June convention, in Boston, New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, and each had its own staff to put out its own mimeographed newsletters, contact local chapters, and set area strategies and programs quite independently of the National Office. Six chapters (Antioch, Indiana, Kansas, Michigan, Oklahoma, and Reed) were turning out independent newsletters for SDSers and friends in their own regions. Campus travelers made regular trips, generating interest at new campuses, solidifying it at the old; chief among them were Oglesby and Booth, plus heads of the Regional Offices, especially Ken McEldowney in San Francisco, Jane Adams in the Midwest, and John Maher (son of a wealthy Houston businessman, John F. Maher, and brother of Albert Maher, the M2M leader) in Boston. And to them were added the more informal SDS wanderers—people in the old guard whose campus contacts were greatest, including some ERAPers beginning to feel that Movemental initiative had swung back to the universities.
Moreover, SDS was enjoying a steady and prosperous income for the first time in its history. More than $20,000 came in through contributions over the fall (after the October publicity, at the rate of about $250 a day), making up the bulk of the $24,600 total income for those four months. Expenditures, as usual, matched the income ($23,800), mostly for rent and office expenses. The NO could now project a budget of $75-80,000 a year, a far cry, indeed a shriek, from the early days.
Yet with all this the basic problems that had been wracking SDS since the Kewadin convention remained, and even as it rode the crest of its new success SDS turned its attention to them. Put schematically, there were four crucial problems:
Structure. Having no National Secretary had proven to be a disaster, but having one didn't seem to make anybody much happier, either in the Chicago office or out on the hustings.
The NO was still functioning poorly, with rapid turnovers and chaotic operations.
Participatory democracy was proving harder to implement in the burgeoning organization than anyone had imagined—membership referenda were obviously clumsy and ineffective, but arbitrary fiats from the National Secretary and NAC were obviously undemocratic. Some means had to be found to regulate the decision-making process.
Policies. As of December, SDS (though the news would have come as a Surprise to many) had no official stand on Vietnam, on the draft, on university reform, or on domestic priorities, and no ready way to arrive at them. What general sense of shared ideology had been characteristic of the organization a year ago was no longer true, yet there were few papers being researched, speeches made, or letters written—as in the old days—to arrive at a new ideology. Known but a few months ago as a center for radical intellectuals, SDS was now regarded more as a place for antiwar activists.
Membership. Hundreds of new people had come into SDS, but they tended to be cut off from the old guard and given little direction, or education. There was little internal communication to them, other than sporadic worklist mailings concentrating on immediate news and crises, and almost no internal education. The older members were now regarded as an "elite," still the speech-makers and the decision-makers but often remote from the rank and file, with different concerns, different biases; there was much talk among them of starting a new organization, a Movement for a Democratic Society, for graduates and adults.
Strategy. SDS was still wrestling with the perennial problem of where to turn now, whether to build a larger movement or consolidate what it already had, whether to build alliances with the liberals or develop contacts with the Marxist left, whether to concentrate on students rather than ghetto dwellers or adult antiwar forces, whether to build solid bases on the campuses or try to forge an entirely new American left.
Now in truth these problems were so complex, tangled, and well-nigh insoluble that they would, in one form or another, remain with the organization throughout its existence. But there was an assumption, especially among the old guard, that they had to be tackled, and immediately, and out of that assumption the idea for a special "rethinking conference" was born. What the old guard had in mind—unspoken, perhaps unacknowledged, but evidentwas the need to recreate Port Huron, to give SDS a second birth. The idea was logical enough, and touching: if some greater cohesion could be forged, members educated together, basic social theories agreed upon, internal communication opened up, and working democracy instituted, SDS could solve its major problems and develop into a significant multigenerational, multidisciplined, multi-issued, genuinely radical organization on the American left. Indeed, if such an organization could have been created, it might well have been able to weather the disappointments and the successes, the factionalism and the radicalism of the next few years. But 1966 was not 1962.
“ New and renewed chapters over the last seven months included Ball State, Bennington, University of California (Davis, Los Angeles, Riverside, Santa Cruz), California State (Hayward, Los Angeles, Sacramento State, San Diego State, San Fernando Valley State, San Francisco State, San Jose State, Santa Ana), Chico State, Colorado State, Drake, Emmanuel, Florida, Goucher, Houston At-large, Hunter College (Bronx), Illinois (Urbana and Chicago Circle), Illinois State, Iowa, Iowa State, Kentucky, Kingsborough Community College, Los Angeles At-large, Macalester, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan State, Milwaukee At-large, Missouri (at Kansas City), Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Mexico, New Rochelle, Newton High School, New York University (Downtown and Uptown), State University of New York (Albany, Buffalo, Plattsburg), North Carolina, North Dakota, Northern Illinois, Northeastern, Northwestern, Notre Dame, Oregon, Pasadena At-large, Pennsylvania, Piedmont, Pittsburgh At-large, Purdue, Rhode Island, Toledo At-large, University of Washington, Washington University, Wesleyan University, West Lafayette (Indiana) High School, Western Washington State, Woodrow Wilson High School (D.C.), Yale.
The rethinking conference was duly held at the Illinois University campus in ChampaignUrbana over the Christmas vacation. Some 360 people from 66 chapters showed up, including a good number of those who had recently joined—among them a young Columbia student named John Fuerst and a gangling, mustached youth from the University of Nebraska named Carl Davidson, both of whom were to become prominent in the organization—but the meeting was dominated by the old guard. It was, though they could not have known it, the last SDS conference they would exert any appreciable influence on.
For they were moving off in a different direction from the bulk of the membership now, concerned essentially with problems of postcollege activism that little interested the new breed. And when they failed here to solve the central problems, or to even make much sense out of them, when they failed here to make SDS into an organization that would express their concerns, they began to drift away and let the younger hands take over.
For the meeting was a failure. None of the problems was solved. Jonathan Eisen, writing in The Activist, called it "a morass, a labyrinth, a marathon of procedural amendments, non sequiturs, soul-searching and maneuvering, partying and arguing, plenaries which went nowhere, proposals unheeded, undebated; terminology which only the most in of the ingroup could comprehend, much less care about; and a few who were too far gone to participate in anything but getting girls. Pages and pages of proposals, prospectuses, amendments, workshop resolutions, recommendations, counter-recommendations, hasseling and dancing to the Beatles." Gitlin more soberly confessed, "Almost every person I talked to—while the meeting was going on, and afterward—agreed that it was a disaster." And in a somber, bitingly honest report to the membership he ticked off the failures, failures not just of this meeting but of SDS as a whole:”°
A dearth of ideological and strategic content to debates, where it would be appropriate .... Slogans and symbols replace analysis and hard thinking ... . Elitism is and should be a matter of central concern .... Speechmaking ... is the premium style. If you make a good speech, you're in; otherwise, you're out .... Our egos become tied to our words, our proposals. We would sooner make speeches before the whole body than consult privately .... We would sooner split hairs than solve problems ... . Out of exhaustion and/or common sense, everyone may agree to cut discussion short and move on to a vote [but] as often as not this resolution is purely arbitrary—the debate has produced little justification for either choice .... Aggressive sectionalism and snide anti-sectionalism ... "the Texas guys," "those New York coalitionists," "the Chicago bunch."
Outside the plenary sessions, things were no better. A white member of the Texas delegation insulted a black at a party one night during the conference, there was a fight, and immediately the whole ugly issue of racism stalked the corridors. Black anger seethed, and white fear; there were fistfights, knives, threats: the Texas delegation was taken to task by angrier-than-thou whites for harboring racists, and it walked out en masse, charging reverse discrimination and liberal guilt-politics; black SDSers such as Carolyn Craven became convinced that SDS was irrevocably racist. It was a symbol, if symbol were needed, of how far SDS had come from those hopeful early days of the civil-rights movement.
Among those present, trying to recapture Port Huron, were Booth, Brecher, Flacks, Garvy, Gitlin, Haber, Kissinger, Max, Carol McEldowney, Rothstein, Ross, Webb, and Wittman. Hayden, with what is perhaps symbolic appropriateness, was not there: the Communist Party's Herbert Aptheker had invited him and Staughton Lynd, as representatives of the New Left, on a "fact-finding" trip to North Vietnam, the first American delegation to visit there. (See Hayden's reports in New Left Notes, January 21, 1966, and the Guardian, January 29 and February 5, 1966, and The Other Side, with Staughton Lynd; Signet, 1967.)
Nor was the National Council meeting that followed any more successful. On the main political topics, the war and the draft, there was no resolution. A proposal to put SDS on record for immediate withdrawal of American troops was defeated, but no counterproposal could gain sufficient support either, and in the end the NC simply enshrined its disdain for "the Vietnam hangup" as national policy:
We must be planning years ahead, rather than responding in every crisis. We should be prepared to reject activities that mobilize thousands of people but do not build constituencies .... We should be prepared to argue with the antiwar movement that the real lever for change in America is a domestic social movement. And, that the movement to end the war in Vietnam cannot end that war. Finally, we should also say that radicals have more important priorities than working simply to end the war.”
True, all too true. But this restatement of the Kewadin spirit puzzled many of the newest members; as Helen Garvy later said, the younger people "just couldn't understand how SDS could vote against such a thing when there was a war going on." On the draft, the conference rejected VOICE chairman Eric Chester's proposal for marches on army bases and induction centers to hold immediate-withdrawal rallies, and voted down several Other proposals for actions against the draft, against university involvement in war research, against the 2-S deferment. All were regarded as too militant, unlikely to work on the newer and more remote campuses: "We can't even get beyond the teach-in level," one Nebraska delegate argued. The NC limited itself to approving the distribution of twenty thousand copies of a "Guide to Conscientious Objection," a breezy little pamphlet written mostly by Paul Lauter, an older SDSer working for the American Friends Service Committee in Chicago, which was not so much about how to be a CO as how to start thinking about becoming one; and to the launching of a "freedom draft" campaign, an idea of Jeremy Brecher's mixing Booth's "Build, Not Burn" with the M2M and DuBois Clubs' antidraft petitions of the year before. Chapters would get people to sign a special draft card ("I want to work for democracy. I do not want to fight in Vietnam, because the war is destroying our hopes for democracy both there and at home. I want to build, not burn ...."), one part of which would be carried by the signer, another sent to the White House, and the third returned to the NO for a grand tally.”’
As to internal problems, they too were mostly unresolved, but attempts were made to solve the most pressing. A Radical Education Project was to be set up in Ann Arbor to prepare and turn out analytical papers of the kind that SDS had once been famous for, so that newer members could be educated into the ideological sweep that had characterized the organization initially; this was the brainchild of Al Haber and bore the unmistakable marks of his belief, unchanged over five years, in the power of mimeographed papers to radicalize the nation. For internal education and general membership communication, the NC decided to give top priority to the establishment of a weekly bulletin or newspaper, another notion of Haber's. And, perhaps most significantly, the regional organizations that had grown up on their own in the last six months were given a seal of approval and other areas urged to start their own, as an attempt to deal with the problems of internal democracy and the NO administrative bottleneck.
Also raised among the internal problems was another issue that was enunciated here for the first time in SDS: women's liberation. A workshop on "Women in the Movement" (the first at any left meeting in this decade) produced a sharp call from a number of the women participants for greater "initiative and participation by women" in SDS and a greater understanding of the "woman question" by men in the organization. "Many women feel," the statement read, "that the problem of participation by women is a special problem—one that reflects not only inadequacies within SDS but one that also reflects greater societal problems, namely the problem of the role of women in American society today."”°
The December meetings were a touching symbol. Called by the old guard to reestablish the kind of SDS they had known and loved, it actually served to indicate that, inevitably, the organization was headed in new directions, the clock could not be turned back. The SDS that was family, that was shared assumptions and shared lives, was fading now, and something new and uncertain was growing in its place.
‘ Description of NO from Newfield, p. 85; Thomas Brooks, N.Y. Times Magazine, November
7, 1965; "Studying a Student," N.Y. Herald Tribune, November 7, 1965; Shero interview.
2 N.Y. Herald Tribune, op. cit. Shero, interview.
3 "Participatory democracy," quoted by Pardun (attributed to "ex-staff members here in
Austin") in "Organizational Democracy," mimeographed paper for "Rethinking Conference,"
December 1965. Kissinger, "There's a Change Gotta Come!" op. cit. Bennett, memo to
NO/NAC, January 1966.
4 Gitlin, "Proposal for a Mission to North Vietnam," National Vietnam Newsletter, August 26,
1965. Kissinger, ibid. "All right," minutes of NC.
° Webb and Booth, "The Anti-War Movement: From Protest to Radical Politics,"
mimeographed by SDS, fall 1965, reprinted in Our Generation, May 1966. NC report and
quotations, worklist mailing, September 15,1965. Antidraft program, worklist mailing,
October 5, 1965.
© Dodd, "The Anti-Vietnam Agitation and the Teach-In Movement," Senate Internal Security
Committee report, October 13, 1965.
? Stennis, Congressional Record, October 15, 1965.
8 Katzenbach, Guardian, October 23,1965, and SDS Bulletin, October 21,1965. Guardian,
op. cit. Playboy, Nat Hentoff, March 1966.
° Hershey, quoted in New Republic, October 8,1966. Senate reaction, Congressional Record,
October 18,1965. Reston, N.Y. Times, October 16, 1965. Johnson, statement, October 17,
and in Guardian, op. cit. SDS Bulletin, October 21,1965. "If you are," "Super Late News,"
ibid.
1° Booth, worklist mailing, November 2,1965.
1 "Build, Not Burn," mimeographed and distributed by SDS, reprinted in Liberation,
December 1965, excerpted in Newfield, p. 107.
2 Booth, "National Secretary's Report," to December NC, mimeograph, December 10, 1965.
SDS reaction and McEldowney telegram, NO files.
13 Calvert, NLN, February 13,1967. M2M, Free Student, November 27, 1965. Shero, minutes
of "Rethinking Conference," December 1965. McEldowney, telegram, op. cit.
14 M2M statement. Free Student, op. cit.
15 Gordon, ibid.
16 Oglesby, Guardian, November 20, 1965. New Republic, October 30, 1965.
‘7 Harrington, interview. Peldman, LID News Bulletin, Fall 1965.
18 Haber, letter to NO, in worklist mailing, October 12, 1965.
19 "Acting under the instructions," press release, Tom Kahn and Paul Booth, October 4,
1965, LID files.
20 SDS march call, printed by SDS, reprinted in Liberation, December 1965.
21 Guardian, December 4, 1965. Oglesby, "to show their 'responsibleness,'" introduction to
"Trapped in a System" (a reprint of the speech), REP pamphlet, January 1969.
22 Oglesby's speech, SDS pamphlet, 1965; NLN, January 27, 1966; Monthly Review, January
1966; Teodori, pp. 182 ff.
23 Just, Washington Post, December 9, 1965.
24 Thomas Brooks, N.Y. Times Magazine, November 7,1965; Newsweek, November 1, 1965;
Jack Newfield, Nation, November 8, 1965. Membership and chapter figures, mimeograph,
distributed at December NC.
5 Eisen, Activist (Oberlin), March 1966, reprinted in Cohen and Hale, p. 306. Gitlin, NLN,
February 4 and n, 1966.
26 "We must be planning," NC statement, NLN, January 21, 1966.
7 Garvy, letter to NO, c. January 1966. "We can't even," handwritten minutes, NO files. For
"freedom draft," worklist mailings, November 2 and 17, 1965, NLN, January 21,1966.
78 women's statement, NLN, January 28, 1966.