I heard this amazing, powerful, wise, courageous, and essential speech from last year this morning on Democracy Now! So important and such a gift to our individual and collective remembering and awakening.
This is dedicated to Tom Hayden. May this great man inspire us all. Blessed are the peacemakers. May we all be counted as among them. ~ Molly
AMY GOODMAN: Legendary antiwar activist Tom
Hayden died Sunday in Santa Monica, California, after a lengthy illness. He was
76 years old. Tom Hayden spent decades shaping movements against war and for
social justice. In the early '60s, was the principal author of the Port Huron
Statement, the founding document of Students for a Democratic Society, or SDS. The statement advocated
participatory democracy and helped launch the student movement of the ’60s. Tom
Hayden was also a Freedom Rider in the Deep South and helped create a national
poor people's campaign for jobs and empowerment. He also organized in Newark,
New Jersey; among his books, Rebellion
in Newark: Official Violence and Ghetto Response. In 1968, Tom
Hayden became one of the so-called Chicago 8. He was convicted of crossing
state lines to start a riot after he helped organize protests against the
Vietnam War outside the Democratic National Convention. In 1982, Hayden entered
electoral politics, first winning a seat in the California State Assembly,
later in the California Senate.
We turn now to a speech Tom Hayden gave last
year at a conference in Washington, D.C., titled "Vietnam: The Power of
Protest."
TOM HAYDEN: I want to start off by
saying how many of you I love very much and known for such a long time, and I
only hope that there’s enough minutes and occasions here for us to get to know
each other again, because we have really been through a lifetime. Today, we’ll
have plenty of time for discussion, for panels, for observations. And at 4:00,
we’ll gather to march to the King Memorial. And I want to just say a word about
that. I know that Ron Dellums is going to speak to this.
But why
was that—why was that chosen? It’s because, in keeping with trying to make sure
our history is told accurately, we have to tell it ourselves. And we have to
recognize that Dr. King became a martyr because of his stand on Vietnam, not
only because of his stand on race, justice, economic poverty. And there’s been
a tendency over the many decades to make Dr. King a monument to nonviolence
alone, and we need to remember that he was attacked by The New York Times and byThe Wall Street Journal and by The Washington Post for being out of place. They wanted to
put him back in his place and say nothing about Vietnam, take no stand on
Vietnam. There were threats that he would lose funding. There were threats of
all sorts. And to distort that, to forget that, to ignore that, his monument
would be shaped in a certain way to serve certain interests, but not others, is
a disservice to truth. And we have to march there and vigil there and
commemorate him as a leader and a martyr for all of us, for peace, justice and
civil rights, not only in the United States, but around the world, and persist
in making sure that his whole story, including the campaign to end poverty in
the United States, is told each and every year and in all of our schools and
curriculum. So that’s the purpose.
This is a
way of saying that the struggle for memory and for history is a living thing.
It’s ongoing. It does not end. Even today, people are debating and reassessing
the history of abolition of slavery, the role of slave resistance, the role of
the Underground Railroad, the role of the abolitionist direct action movement,
the role of the radical Republican politicians, the role of international
politics in what came about, and the role—how it was derailed by the
assassination of President Lincoln, the ending of the possibilities of
Reconstruction, which were not taken up again until 1960, and the coming of Jim
Crow. Each generation has to wrestle with the history of what came before, and
ask: Whose interest does this history serve? How does it advance a legacy of
social movements? How does it deny that legacy? We don’t know.
But we do
know that we are here for the very first time as such a broad gathering of the
movement against the Vietnam War. It’s been 50 years since Selma, 50 years
since the first SDS march. So, it was a time that changed
our lives, nearing a second Reconstruction before the murders of Dr. King and
Bobby Kennedy. Then came the budget cuts, the end of the war on poverty. Then
came the Watergate repression. And we became a generation of might-have-beens.
Like Sisyphus, our rock lay at the bottom of the hill.
We gather
here to remember the power that we had at one point, the power of the peace
movement, and to challenge the Pentagon now on the battlefield of memory. We
have to resist their military occupation of our minds and the minds of future
generations. Memory—memory is very much like rock climbing, the recovery of
memory. Each niche towards the summit is graphed inch by bleeding inch and has
to be carefully carved with tools that are precise in order to take the next
step. Falling back is always possible. But as Dr. King himself said on his last
night, there is something in humans that makes us aspire to climb mountains, to
reach that majesty, if only for a moment. We are mountain climbers.
President
Obama has reminded us to remember, he said, Selma, Seneca Falls and Stonewall.
But not Saigon, not Chicago, not Vietnam. We have to ask ourselves collectively
why that omission exists, and realize that only we can restore a place in the
proper history of those times. We suspect that there was a reason, that it has
to do with the programming of amnesia, that there are very powerful forces in
our country who stand for denial, not just climate denial, but generational
denial, Vietnam denial. There are forces that stand for ethnic cleansing, but
not just ethnic cleansing, but also for historic cleansing. And that is what
has happened. It serves their purpose because they have no interest in the true
history of a war in which they sent thousands to their deaths and, almost
before the blood had dried, were moving up the national security ladder and
showing up for television interviews to advertise what they called the next
cakewalks. Only the blood was caked.
There
came a generation of career politicians who were afraid of association with the
peace movement, who were afraid of being seen as soft, who saw that the inside
track was the track of war. Our national forgetting is basically pathological.
Our systems—politics, media, culture—are totally out of balance today because
of our collective refusal to admit that the Vietnam War was wrong and that the
peace movement was right. In the absence—in the absence of an established voice
for peace in all the institutions, the neoconservatives will fill the foreign
policy vacuum. Am I right? Will it not? Will it not advise both parties? I
think, though, that American public opinion has shifted to a much more
skeptical state of mind than earlier generations, but the spectrum of American
politics and media has not.