Campus in wartime

After the World Trade Center attacks, Nathan Kalmoe experienced a “revolution in thinking,” beginning to believe that the loss of life in Afghanistan was difficult, if not impossible, to justify.

To put his beliefs into action, the UW–Madison sophomore began participating in local human rights and peace events. Kalmoe, along with his makeshift drum of plastic clothes hangars and a plastic bucket, was one of 5,000 to 8,000 who participated in the Feb. 1 rally on State Street in opposition to a new war with Iraq.

“I’ve always been aware that this place has a history of being liberal and active on the issues,” he says, noting that the reputation was one of the factors that convinced him to transfer here from UW-Eau Claire. “It’s inspiring that a small group of people could grow and grow, and eventually help to force the government to back down.”

During the last four decades, tens of thousands of members of the UW–Madison community have chosen to embrace the peace movement during times of national crisis and war. Although the new generation has clearly benefited from the tradition and experience of its Vietnam-era forerunner, there is evidence that the new group has a tighter focus, broader base and gentler aims.

Joe Elder spoke at his first campus protest in February 1965, days after President Lyndon Johnson ordered the bombing of North Vietnam. The early gatherings were small, and Elder says he could count on a retired military man seated in the front row to heckle the speakers as “unpatriotic traitors.”

But it wasn’t long before unrest, largely spurred by Vietnam, dominated the climate. Aided by advocates of student power, Black Power, radicals, and even local Marxists and Communists, the movement attained a critical mass heading into the late 1960s.

“But there was also a violent tinge to that era,” recalls Elder, today a professor of sociology and a longtime voice of the local peace movement.

The campus mood of the late 1960s was often angry, and with the draft in effect, stakes were high. Some groups, including factions of the Students for a Democratic Society, believed in taking direct action against the Establishment.

While many students on the west side of campus went about their daily routines, protests, strikes and demonstrations were a regular occurrence in the area stretching between Bascom Hall and State Street. Protests received national attention, and the chaos frequently required the presence of campus, city and state police — and even the National Guard — to maintain order.

Tear gas was often in the air, remembers Paul Ginsberg, who served as dean of students from 1970-1987, but was on campus throughout the 1960s.

“I certainly hope and pray that we don’t go back to those days of violence,” he says, noting that the image of then-Chancellor Edwin Young publicly crying in the wake of the Sterling Hall bombing is seared into his memory.

“Truly, the best of times and the worst of times. But I think the university grew stronger out of that turmoil,” he says.

Now, as the United Stataes is preparing for the possibility of a new war, the Madison community is again mobilizing in opposition through a combination of music, events and leaflets. While the aims are similar, major differences exist between the two eras, perhaps best illustrated by the make-up of the Feb. 1 march.

A cross-section of the community, including students, faculty, staff, retirees, veteran activists and most significantly, parents with their children, came out in chilly temperatures to express their opposition to President Bush and the military buildup focused at Saddam Hussein.

Their reasoning runs the spectrum from “no blood for oil,” to the idea that U.N. inspections haven’t been given enough time to work, to concerns about unnecessary civilian deaths.

“The mood was gentle,” Elder says, noting that the group came from around Wisconsin. “Never before have I seen as many small children at a protest. It was a family event. I feel as good (about the peace movement) as I ever have in my life.”

Similarly, the Jan. 28 “Not in Our Name” event at the Orpheum Theatre drew a diverse crowd of 2,000 (with hundreds more turned away at the door) to listen to songs, readings and poetry — instead of the State of the Union address.

“What we’re all sensing is that this movement is broader and runs deeper, cutting across class lines,” says Robert Kimbrough, an emeritus English professor and socialist who organized the evening.

Elder and Kimbrough suggest that the movement is more organized and focused at an earlier stage, compared to Vietnam, and particularly, the 1991 Gulf War. But it’s also curious that the current crisis has engaged a smaller segment of the student and faculty population than in the past, Kimbrough says.

It’s possible that many students quietly support Bush, and the idea that something needs to be done about Iraq, says Tim Rash, president of the UW–Madison College Republicans. “The peace movement is a vocal minority that’s been active and gotten a lot of attention,” he says. “But I don’t feel that our views are outnumbered. I think there’s a lot of students who are more concerned about their classes, parties and just trying to graduate.”

Ginsberg compares it to the “pothole theory” that few people ever get involved in local government until there’s a pothole in front of their house. In this case, with a poor job market, no draft and only the threat of war, other issues may resonate more strongly.

Melea Carvlin, a UW–Madison senior who directs Stop The War!, an offshoot of the Madison Area Peace Coalition, says her group is small, but rapidly growing as the crisis deepens.

So far, Stop the War! has organized four bus trips to Washington, D.C., distributed leaflets, and organized numerous teach-ins, rallies and educational events. “We feel so strongly that something needs to be done, it doesn’t matter if it’s an uphill battle,” she says.

Actions such as student strikes and sit-ins are possible, but Carvlin says the violence of the past isn’t in her playbook.

Those who are active in the movement would like to believe that voices from Madison are reaching decision-makers in Washington, D.C. But it doesn’t deter them that Bush may not be listening to public opinion.

“I don’t know that we’re changing the course of foreign policy,” says Paul Baker, an outreach specialist with the Wisconsin Center for Educational Research who participated in the Feb. 1 march. “But afterward, I felt less helpless and isolated than I would have had I stayed home.”

“I don’t expect any war with Iraq would last as long as Vietnam,” agrees Kalmoe, who also marched. “But I want history to register that someone stood up against this unnecessary war.”