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When a Burning Passion on the Left Meant Violence I Was Part of the Weather Underground. Violence Is Not the Answer.
(about 2 hours later)
Fifty years ago, on March 6, 1970, an explosion destroyed a townhouse on West 11th Street in New York’s Greenwich Village. Three people — Terry Robbins, 22, Ted Gold, 22, and Diana Oughton, 28, all close friends of mine — were obliterated when bombs they were making exploded prematurely. Two others, Kathy Boudin, 26, and Cathlyn Wilkerson, 25, escaped from the rubble.Fifty years ago, on March 6, 1970, an explosion destroyed a townhouse on West 11th Street in New York’s Greenwich Village. Three people — Terry Robbins, 22, Ted Gold, 22, and Diana Oughton, 28, all close friends of mine — were obliterated when bombs they were making exploded prematurely. Two others, Kathy Boudin, 26, and Cathlyn Wilkerson, 25, escaped from the rubble.
I was not there, fortunately. But I knew what was being planned, and I did nothing to stop it.I was not there, fortunately. But I knew what was being planned, and I did nothing to stop it.
My friends and I were members of the Weather Underground, a militant outgrowth of the Weathermen, itself a radical faction of the left-wing Students for a Democratic Society. We saw ourselves as contemporary John Browns, full of moral fervor to stop the senseless war in Vietnam. We also wanted to show solidarity with black revolutionaries ruthlessly targeted by the police and the federal government.My friends and I were members of the Weather Underground, a militant outgrowth of the Weathermen, itself a radical faction of the left-wing Students for a Democratic Society. We saw ourselves as contemporary John Browns, full of moral fervor to stop the senseless war in Vietnam. We also wanted to show solidarity with black revolutionaries ruthlessly targeted by the police and the federal government.
Unlike the vast majority of the millions-strong antiwar movement, our tiny band had rejected peaceful protest and politics, clinging to the delusion that violent revolution was imminent. Determined to “Bring the War Home!” we believed that we were reflecting back onto our fellow Americans the extreme violence of the war and of white supremacy. The bombs that detonated the morning of March 6 were intended, to my and my comrades’ shame, for a dance that night at an Army base in New Jersey.Unlike the vast majority of the millions-strong antiwar movement, our tiny band had rejected peaceful protest and politics, clinging to the delusion that violent revolution was imminent. Determined to “Bring the War Home!” we believed that we were reflecting back onto our fellow Americans the extreme violence of the war and of white supremacy. The bombs that detonated the morning of March 6 were intended, to my and my comrades’ shame, for a dance that night at an Army base in New Jersey.
We didn’t realize that the violence we claimed we hated had infected our souls: At the time, I’m not sure we’d have cared. No one is innocent, we thought.We didn’t realize that the violence we claimed we hated had infected our souls: At the time, I’m not sure we’d have cared. No one is innocent, we thought.
My friends’ deaths prevented more death. Was some silent god watching, and so demanded the sacrifice of three people in order to keep us from committing moral and political mayhem? A massacre at Fort Dix would have moved us to a place from which there would have been no return: Along with numerous deaths and injuries, we would have triggered widespread government repression against the larger peace movement; millions of Americans would have turned against it as well.My friends’ deaths prevented more death. Was some silent god watching, and so demanded the sacrifice of three people in order to keep us from committing moral and political mayhem? A massacre at Fort Dix would have moved us to a place from which there would have been no return: Along with numerous deaths and injuries, we would have triggered widespread government repression against the larger peace movement; millions of Americans would have turned against it as well.
We were white, middle-class, college-educated kids — many of us, like Ted, Terry and myself, Jewish. All of us were overcome both by grief over this country’s violence and by shame at not being able to stop the war. That shame also emanated from our class and racial privilege: We weren’t the ones being carpet-bombed in Vietnam or confronting racist mobs and sheriffs of Mississippi. Growing up in the shadow of World War II, we had asked ourselves repeatedly whether we had the strength of character to overcome indifference and denial and to act to stop clear moral evils. We refused to be, as we said back then, “Good Germans.”We were white, middle-class, college-educated kids — many of us, like Ted, Terry and myself, Jewish. All of us were overcome both by grief over this country’s violence and by shame at not being able to stop the war. That shame also emanated from our class and racial privilege: We weren’t the ones being carpet-bombed in Vietnam or confronting racist mobs and sheriffs of Mississippi. Growing up in the shadow of World War II, we had asked ourselves repeatedly whether we had the strength of character to overcome indifference and denial and to act to stop clear moral evils. We refused to be, as we said back then, “Good Germans.”
Our grief and shame combined to warp not only our morality, but our common sense. We forgot that those soldiers and their dates at Fort Dix were our neighbors and fellow citizens, people to whom we were and still are inextricably linked. Some years after the townhouse explosion, I heard the Dalai Lama field a question about why he doesn’t hate the Chinese for what they’re doing to his country. “They’re our neighbors,” he replied, “and when this is all over we’ll have to live with them.”Our grief and shame combined to warp not only our morality, but our common sense. We forgot that those soldiers and their dates at Fort Dix were our neighbors and fellow citizens, people to whom we were and still are inextricably linked. Some years after the townhouse explosion, I heard the Dalai Lama field a question about why he doesn’t hate the Chinese for what they’re doing to his country. “They’re our neighbors,” he replied, “and when this is all over we’ll have to live with them.”
In time most of us pulled back from the edge, committing ourselves to socially useful lives. For 30 years I served as a community college instructor, teaching basic math and reading. Had my friends lived, I have no doubt they would have joined us: Diana had been a volunteer teacher in Guatemala and had worked at an innovative preschool in Michigan; Ted, an S.D.S. leader at Columbia, taught public school in New York City and organized support for community control of local schools; Terry had been a gifted organizer for S.D.S., including at Kent State University.In time most of us pulled back from the edge, committing ourselves to socially useful lives. For 30 years I served as a community college instructor, teaching basic math and reading. Had my friends lived, I have no doubt they would have joined us: Diana had been a volunteer teacher in Guatemala and had worked at an innovative preschool in Michigan; Ted, an S.D.S. leader at Columbia, taught public school in New York City and organized support for community control of local schools; Terry had been a gifted organizer for S.D.S., including at Kent State University.
Over the decades I’ve reversed my understanding of social and political change: I now recognize that nonviolence is the one essential strategy to achieve positive social change, an ironclad fact that the black civil rights movement understood well.Over the decades I’ve reversed my understanding of social and political change: I now recognize that nonviolence is the one essential strategy to achieve positive social change, an ironclad fact that the black civil rights movement understood well.
Violence is easy; it only takes a small cadre of the very committed to, say, build a bomb. Nonviolence demands the mobilization and participation of millions of people. But that’s what gives the strategy its power. All the effective social movements of the 20th and 21st centuries used nonviolent strategies and tactics. Around the world, nonviolent civil resistance has toppled dictators and oppressive regimes.Violence is easy; it only takes a small cadre of the very committed to, say, build a bomb. Nonviolence demands the mobilization and participation of millions of people. But that’s what gives the strategy its power. All the effective social movements of the 20th and 21st centuries used nonviolent strategies and tactics. Around the world, nonviolent civil resistance has toppled dictators and oppressive regimes.
Violence is once again threatening our social fabric, this time from the far right. There’s constant talk of civil war. They have grievances — which I don’t share — about the slipping away of what they have always seen as “their country.” Oddly, I get it: Take away the white supremacy and leave the pain, and it’s not that different from my friends and me 50 years ago.Violence is once again threatening our social fabric, this time from the far right. There’s constant talk of civil war. They have grievances — which I don’t share — about the slipping away of what they have always seen as “their country.” Oddly, I get it: Take away the white supremacy and leave the pain, and it’s not that different from my friends and me 50 years ago.
There is one big difference. Over many decades the left has developed a strong consensus — as a result of study and reflection — to control its violent fringe. Sadly, no such restraint exists today on the right. From the president and Fox News on down to the dregs of the internet, threats, many actual acts of violence, and loose talk of civil war are tolerated, and even encouraged. Where are the thoughtful conservatives willing to speak out against their movement’s violence?There is one big difference. Over many decades the left has developed a strong consensus — as a result of study and reflection — to control its violent fringe. Sadly, no such restraint exists today on the right. From the president and Fox News on down to the dregs of the internet, threats, many actual acts of violence, and loose talk of civil war are tolerated, and even encouraged. Where are the thoughtful conservatives willing to speak out against their movement’s violence?
I‘m lucky to have survived the burning passion that brought my friends to that townhouse on West 11th Street. I never cease worrying how we as a society will live with one another once we cross the line to violence, having forgotten that we’re all in this together.I‘m lucky to have survived the burning passion that brought my friends to that townhouse on West 11th Street. I never cease worrying how we as a society will live with one another once we cross the line to violence, having forgotten that we’re all in this together.
Mark Rudd is an educator and community organizer. In the late 1960s and early 1970s he was a member of the Students for a Democratic Society, the Weathermen and the Weather Underground.Mark Rudd is an educator and community organizer. In the late 1960s and early 1970s he was a member of the Students for a Democratic Society, the Weathermen and the Weather Underground.
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