American students created two momentous political events last year: the primary victory of Eugene McCarthy in New Hampshire, and the anti-war demonstrations in Chicago. Yet despite these two surges, the student movement, now almost a decade old, is in a state of internal disintegration and flux. This is true of both its moderate and militant wings. Indeed, the outward differences between the liberal students of the McCarthy crusade and those of the SDS-style New Left have tended to obscure the fact that in both movements the causes of confusion are similar.

It is one sign of the disintegration of liberalism as an ideology on the campus today that campus liberals have virtually abandoned any attempt to offer an alternative political analysis to that of the New Left. What drove a young activist last year into SDS rather than into the McCarthy movement was fundamentally a different perception of his role. Members of SDS view themselves as part of the wretched of the earth, whereas Young Democrats see themselves as future directors of the Bureau of Housing and Urban Development. When asked to justify their membership in the Young Democrats rather than in SDS, they will almost inevitably refer, not to any serious political differences, but to the possibility of being “more effective.” Campus liberalism today is above all a movement for “respectable” students, future-oriented and careful about undertaking anything which might endanger their records or careers. Liberal college students could put out long hours and sleep on hard floors for “clean Gene,” secure in the knowledge that they were signing their names to nothing that might eventually make its way to the FBI. In this respect the atmosphere of the early 1950's is still widely prevalent on campus.

Capitalizing on their opponents' weaknesses, SDS in turn constantly attacked the McCarthy movement last year for “working within the system” and for being simpleminded in its political analysis. In reply, the McCarthy people, instead of dissecting the terms foisted on them by SDS, baldly answered back that they were proud to be working within the system.

Now, when SDS members talk about “the system” they are referring to a political structure which they believe to be thoroughly undemocratic and elite-controlled. Thus, however much one may disagree with their premises about the nature of American society, the New Left's terrorist-confrontation approach at least has a certain primitive logical consistency, since by definition one cannot change a “totalitarian” system by any sort of democratic means. But when campus liberals adopt the SDS term “the system,” the expression emerges bastardized, if not unrecognizable. Far from being a focus for social criticism, it exists as a vague presence alternately to be paid allegiance to or turned away from. For SDS “the system” simply is undemocratic; for liberals, America is democratic but its people, albeit democratically, are making the wrong decisions. The Harvard Crimson, for instance, reported last March that a volunteer at the end of the McCarthy campaign in New Hampshire had “lost his faith in the system.” (“Losing one's faith” in something is the most frequent trauma of the liberal student activist.) Actually, he had lost his faith not in “the system” but in individual Americans, for it developed that he felt that the people he had come in contact with during the campaign were stupid. Such is the level of the crisis of campus liberalism.

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Lacking strong intellectual moorings, the liberal, hesitant about committing himself to Marxism-Leninism, which is both dogmatic and a danger to his future, and yet continually frustrated by the difficulties of producing the changes in policies that he wants—especially an end to the war in Vietnam—is reduced to a proud fuzziness. In this state he is susceptible to the tactics and the ideology both of the Right and of the extreme Left. The most convincing argument which impels some liberal activists into radical movements like The Resistance goes something like: “We wrote letters, we marched, we petitioned, we worked for McCarthy. But the war still went on.” I have heard this argument put forth literally tens of times, and never heard a liberal respond: “But did we ever convince a majority of Americans that our views are right?” The system in which these liberals so easily lose faith is democracy itself.¹

Both campus liberalism and SDS-style radicalism today draw on similar social currents and intellectual modes in the university. Today's generation of student political activists, both liberals and radicals, has grown up in a climate of unprecedented social and political isolation from the American people. Radicals in the 30's usually came from families suffering directly from the same Depression which affected most other Americans. Thus the imperative, for example, to participate in trade-union organizing came not only from the Marxist liturgy but also from the facts of life. By contrast, the affluent middle-class position of most activists today has led to a merger of traditional middleclass prejudices against the “boobocracy” with the more sophisticated political notions of the elitist wing of the intellectual Left. While activist students lose their optimistic faith in American society as they grow up, they retain their hostility toward most non-middle-class whites. A sign, reading simply “Dumb Power,” held by a heckler at a Wallace rally in Boston, indicates well the component of snobbism in student political consciousness. This was expressed in civil-rights activism in the South and in protests against the war in Vietnam, the two great student causes of the 60's, both of which offered the opportunity to compare one's beliefs favorably with those of ignorant rednecks or longshoremen.

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Such attitudes toward “the people” are bound to produce a very insecure belief in democracy and democratic social change. The young may hold on to the ideology of democracy longer than they hold on to their faith in the American political system, but an intellectual faith in democracy cannot survive forever in the face of a gut feeling that the people are consistently wrong.

Members of SDS extricate themselves from this dilemma by developing an alternative ideology. They postulate, paying the debt to their childhood, the fundamental goodness of people. In fact, they argue that if the people are informed of the facts, they will always make the decisions that SDS thinks they should make. If they appear never to make the right judgments, it must be because of manipulation and “false consciousness.” To SDS, there can never be legitimate disagreements, only different levels of consciousness. In the short run, before the destruction of the system which fosters false consciousness, one need not be concerned about “bourgeois democratic” methods or “bourgeois civil liberties.” (That SDS has resurrected these hoary terms is but another indication that, today, there is little “new” about the “New” Left.)

The liberal activist, however, unable to relate to any other forces in the society (except, perhaps, as a nostalgic nod to yesteryear, the Negroes) adopts the 1960's variant of the Puritan ethic, according to which political success is a function, not of winning mass support, but of hard work and “commitment.” It was this doctrine which led to the massive outpouring of effort into the McCarthy campaign.

The elitist “liberalism” that often lurked under the innocent facade of some of McCarthy's followers—the converse of the elitist “radicalism” which dominates SDS—descends from the opportunistic liberalism of the 1950's. If one believes, with the new liberals, that the mass of the American people are inherently conservative, ignorant, and mesmerized by an alleged private affluence, one looks to the educated or to those, like the blacks, whose minority status has given them a unique existential experience, as the only agents for social change.

If, on the other hand, like SDS, one rejects the possibility of change coming from within American society, one turns romantically to Ho, Che, and the peasant masses of the Third World. It was just such a denial of the potential of an authentic, majoritarian movement of social change in America, a denial now shared by both groups of student elitists, that served as the intellectual pretext for so many ex-radicals and liberals to justify their participation in the “American celebration” during the Eisenhower years. It is all too possible that, if the war ends, the Nixon era may cause the elitism of the intelligentsia to show its other face—the self-satisfied and often conservative meliorism of the 1950's.

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The simple fact for those concerned about social progress is that liberalism is in serious intellectual crisis, and this intellectual crisis relates directly to its political crisis. One can only hope for—and work toward—the development of a trend within the student movement that will reject the middle-class snobbery which has separated intellectual protests from the mundane and often inarticulate desires for change that are a part of the feelings of a majority of the American people. A principled commitment and willingness to defend democracy is viable in the long run only if combined with a political strategy that has realistic chances of obtaining majority support for the types of programs one wants. It is precisely the lack of such a strategy for gaining a democratic majority which has made sincere campus liberal activists so unfortunately subject to influence from elitism and anti-democratic New Left conceptions. The present contemptuous dismissal of the trade-union movement, a force without which any progressive majority is simply numerically impossible, is a good example of this loss of perspective.

One need not believe—as I do—that the labor movement is the major mass force for social progress in our society to recognize that during the past decade American Left intellectuals, following the lead of some of the most conservative interests in America, have underestimated the role of the labor movement in social change. While foundation officials, clergymen, and even businessmen are viewed as capable of being won to the cause through moral and intellectual appeals, trade-union officials are viewed as “fat cats” with vested interests and ingrained conservative prejudices. This view has allowed Nelson Rockefeller to appear as a spokesman for the “new politics,” while making George Meany a leading symbol of reaction. But more importantly, it has led to a dismissal of any thoughtful discussion of the basic economic structure of the country as an obsolete vestige of the 30's. Unable to cope with the dichotomy of workers being left-wing on economic and social issues while less liberal on non-economic or foreign policy issues, many intellectuals dismiss them altogether.² When it was suggested to a leader of the Harvard Young Democrats who was active in the McCarthy campaign that the working class might be a fruitful ally in working for a more egalitarian society, he replied, quite sincerely, “Why do you pick the working class out of the clear blue sky? Why not housewives?”

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The “new” student liberalism has accepted and propagated the opinion that union rank-and-file members are largely reactionaries and even “honkies.” It has blamed rioting and crime in the Negro community on a generalized “white racism” or, more specifically, on the police, rather than on real-estate interests, low-wage employers, and political conservatives whose policies have been responsible for ghetto conditions in the first place. It permits those who went to high school in the suburbs or to prep school in New England to sneer “racist” at low-income urban whites who are rightly concerned with crime, living conditions, or keeping their jobs—and to cop out on the more difficult task of providing alternative answers to these problems from those presented by the Nixons and Wallaces. It leads student liberals frequently to make statements like, “The unions are the most reactionary force in this country,” only to retreat embarrassedly when reminded of the role of corporate business.

If students who are drawn to the democratic framework still hope to accomplish anything of lasting value they will have to put forward not only alternative tactics to those of the New Left, but an alternative political philosophy and social morality as well. At present, however, the moral critique of the “new” student liberalism is radical, but its social analysis and political strategy are not.

Nevertheless, some significant beginnings have been made toward reestablishing a principled and intelligent democratic-Left current within the student movement. First, there are the youth workers from the Kennedy campaign—the insurgent movement within the Democratic party which had the most blue-collar and black support—who have formed the Kennedy Action Corps. Given the possibility of a 1972 Presidential bid by Edward Kennedy, this group may have something more than the memory of RFK to keep it alive. It could serve as a political bridge between the campuses and the “forgotten Americans.”

Second, there is the New Democratic Coalition, an alliance of some of the younger leaders of both the Kennedy and McCarthy campaigns, which could be another center for democratic radicalism. Here, too, much depends on the way in which the group resolves the different approaches to domestic politics reflected in its leadership. Its Executive Committee, for example, includes Michael Harrington, national chairman of the Socialist party, and David Hoeh, leader of the McCarthy New Hampshire delegation to the Democratic Convention and subsequently an unsuccessful Congressional candidate.

Harrington is a major proponent of the “coalition” strategy for social progress. He calls for an alliance of Negroes, labor, the poor, and middle-class liberals and democratic radicals to press for massive federal social spending, democratic planning, and a democratic foreign policy. Harrington is also one of the most effective proponents of the view that middle-class liberals and radicals must develop a creative relationship with organized labor.

Hoeh, while no doubt sharing many of Harrington's ultimate goals, has a fundamentally different view on how to achieve them. He too favors working within the Democratic party. But in an article in the New Republic last October he indicated that he placed fundamental reliance on the liberal middle class, and that he included in his “new coalition,” without the mildest reservation, what he called “giant business.” The only part of the working class honored with admission was what he referred to as “progressive labor.”

Third, as a result of the current confusion among liberal students and the Marxist-Leninist dogmatism of the New Left, democratic socialism, which many older Americans may think of as only one of the more appealing leftist doctrines of a completely bygone era, is now undergoing a campus revival. While it is true that democratic socialist ideas have influenced several youth organizations, their main vehicle of expression has been the Young People's Socialist League, the youth affiliate of the Socialist party of the late Norman Thomas. Three years ago YPSL was revived by a group of young people, many of whom were disaffected veterans of SDS. The mentors of YPSL have been Michael Harrington, Irving Howe, and other intellectuals grouped around the League for Industrial Democracy and Dissent magazine; trade unionists coming out of the socialist movement, among them Albert Shanker of the American Federation of Teachers and Walter Reuther of the UAW; and civil-rights activists like A. Philip Randolph, Bayard Rustin, and Tom Kahn.

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The socialists have not been caught in the bind of some moderate opponents of the New Left, who appear to be pleading for gradualism and compromise as the alternatives to enthusiasm and radical change. In the explosive atmosphere which exists on many American campuses, pleas for gradualism have become synonymous with defense of the status quo. This is not an entirely invalid view, for as Harrington argues in Toward a Democratic Left, the new technology has created social conditions which require that man must either master technology, or be mastered by it. To procrastinate is to lend oneself to the worst. The real question is not whether there will be change, but what character the change will take. Will it develop into new forms of oppression, or will it be democratic and creative?

The student democratic socialists acknowledge the necessity for radical change, but they insist that this change—as well as the society they want to develop—be democratic. Hence their opposition to SDS, and the very different tactics which they have adopted. Their activities are directed toward overcoming the hostilities that prevent various disadvantaged groups from uniting around common concerns so as to be able to build a majoritarian coalition that can rebuild the Democratic party; and toward defending the ideals of free discussion and democracy. The Harvard chapter of YPSL, for example, of which the present author is a former chairman, has been involved in supporting striking Harvard printers and in organizing the boycott of California grapes in support of Cesar Chavez's farm workers' union. It issued a critique of “Economics 1,” Harvard's largest course, which succeeded in bringing important changes to its reading list. Without sit-ins or confrontations, but merely by publicizing a document which even its opponents admitted was “well-researched and well-written,” YPSL accomplished what no previous “student power” efforts for curriculum change ever had. On the issue of the status of military-training programs on campus, such as academic credit, YPSL called for a student referendum. SDS opposed the referendum, and demanded the unilateral right, through confrontation, to determine not only that ROTC be deprived of its special privileges, but furthermore, that it should be expelled from campus on the grounds that no student has the right to participate in it.

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The turning point for YPSL at Harvard was the sit-in staged by SDS's psychodrama politics at its presence of a recruiter from the Dow Chemical Company on campus. The Dow Affair represented SDS's psychodrama politics at its worst. Originally SDS had voted against a sit-in. But a small group of members decided to ignore the majority's decision, sat in, and demanded that the Dow recruiter sign a statement saying that Dow would never come back to Harvard. At that point, the mass of SDS members, ever willing to subordinate political judgment to the excitement of getting in on the action—and above all never willing to be “out-radicalized” by others—joined in.

The sit-in, coming at a time of heightened opposition to the war and widespread frustration (the Young Democrats had endorsed a “Dump Johnson” drive, but the McCarthy movement had not yet been launched), was an electrifying event on campus. But support for the sit-in was surprisingly low, and of those outside SDS who joined it, many later became guilt-ridden and felt that, in a fit of emotion, they had let themselves be “had” into supporting a totalitarian position. Furthermore, and just as importantly, many students were annoyed by the abdication of student liberal leaders. The Crimson supported the sit-in, saying that Dow had no right to be on campus, and the Young Democrats, who were split, finally voted only a mild disapproval of the sit-in, after voting down a stronger condemnation.

At this point, YPSL, still relatively unknown on campus, came out with a statement and petition supporting “the rights of free speech and free recruitment on campus,” and warning that on the precedent of SDS tactics, rightist students could also keep out those they disliked. At the same time the petition asked for clemency for the protestors and called upon the faculty to take a position on the war. University administrators, who were under great pressure from alumni and others to expel some of the leaders of the sit-in, based their case for leniency largely on this petition, which had over 1200 signatures. It was with this statement—which mixed a pro-civil liberties position with a strong anti-war stand—that YPSL established for itself an independent role on campus.

The modest successes of YPSL at Harvard and elsewhere indicate that there is an unexploited potential constituency on other campuses as well. Up to now, the mood has been set largely by SDS, whose politics offered an easy outlet for the alienated young in the form of such political gestures as yelling “pig,” “liberating” a university building, or following Che's life style. Meanwhile, campus liberals, suspended uneasily between confrontations and careerism, have simply given up the fight. The lesson of the Dow Affair at Harvard seems to be that many students will seize upon a thoughtful alternative to the New Left's political actions once the opportunity is offered.

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Indeed, despite the fact that their posture is less frenetic—and therefore less appealing—than that of New Leftists, democratic radicals may be heading for a brighter future than might at first glance appear. (It is interesting to note that at Harvard this year both SDS and campus liberalism are in a state of drastic decline, while YPSL is growing, SDS has been attracting about half the number of people to its meetings, as compared with the previous year, and the Young Democrats' membership is less than a third of what it was two years ago.) McCarthy's failure seems to have burned out many of the students who were all too briefly lit up by the message of his campaign. Many are reverting to “revolutionary pessimism”—radicalism about what needs to be done, but conservatism about the chances of accomplishing it. At the same time, SDS is threatened, not only by serious ideological divisions, especially with the Maoists, but, what is worse, by sociopaths like those who form the “Motherfucker” faction. This group has eliminated whatever political content might originally have existed in the New Left by denying the possibility of individual sanity in a corrupt society, and resorting to mental terrorism. “The future of our struggle is the future of crime in the streets,” their leader has proclaimed. To protest the war, the “Motherfuckers” throw cow's blood and urine indiscriminately at passing cars. They disrupt SDS's own meetings, surely a case of the chickens coming home to roost. Those in the SDS leadership who are politically serious and committed, despair at the problem of such enragés. But, at least for the present, there is little they can do about it.

The experience of YPSL at Harvard indicates that the kind of approach offered by democratic socialists could find widespread acceptance among students who are capable of steering an intelligent course between protestors and politicos. This is the course that will have to be followed by any radical democratic movement that hopes to have a future in America, and those committed to building such a movement may yet find new and unexpected allies among the young.

¹ To be sure, some campus liberal activists developed their own stab-in-the-back legend—that the nomination was stolen from McCarthy despite the overwhelming popular support for his position. But the polls show that a majority of rank-and-file Democrats supported Humphrey. The primaries which McCarthy occasionally won attracted disproportionately upper-income voters—McCarthy's strongest voting bloc. Of McCarthy supporters, according to an election-eve CBS poll, 20 per cent were planning to vote for Wallace and 31 per cent were planning to vote for Nixon, which indicates that their anti-Johnson feelings hardly stemmed from a progressive direction. It is, however, through this disingenuous legend that some managed to reconcile their otherwise contemptuous attitudes toward the “masses” with their traditional belief in democracy. Many McCarthy supporters, to their credit, resisted this theory.

² In this respect, Seymour Martin Lipset's seminal essay, “Working-Class Authoritarianism,” has been widely misinterpreted by many elitist liberals, who view it as “proof” of the reactionary nature of the working class. Lipset in fact argues from statistical evidence that the fact that workers are more left-wing than the middle class on political issues relating to economic and social affairs, while less tolerant and more likely to be prejudiced, arises from the same cause—the workers' disadvantaged position in society. The task of democratic Left groups, Lipset argues, is to counter, through stronger economic and social programs, the conservative attempt to appeal to prejudice.