COMMENCEMENT ADDRESS 1969
SENATOR EDWARD W. BROOKE
Wellesley College
31 May 69
PROGRESS IN THE UPTIGHT SOCIETY:
REAL PROBLEMS AND WRONG PROCEDURES
It is a special pleasure for me to be with you today. I
suppose that any politician is always pleased to couple
someone else's memorable occasion with a few modest words of
his own. It gives him hope that both may be remembered.
Wellesley has even more admirers than its girls have
beaux, and I am pleased to be among this college's most
enthusiastic boosters. But your commencement from this great
school is not a moment to indulge in lavish praise of the
fine education you have acquired here, though fine it is.
Nor Is It a time for extravagant rhetoric about the glorious
future which awaits you, though glorious I hope it will be.
Rather I think you and I might better spend this time in
a more sober assessment of the kind of society which is
developing around us all. For the individual prospects of
each of us are directly dependent on the outcome of the
mounting social struggles now under way in this country.
Most of us have come to see that personal insulation from
the conflict and instability of our time is a dubious and
unattainable luxury.' It is as true today as it was at the
time of the Declaration of Independence that "we must all
hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately."
The social crises of this country have many dimensions; it
would be futile to address all of them In a brief statement.
Rather than deal with the more controversial issues, I hope
you will permit me to offer some reflections on one of the
safer and less inflammatory topics of the day, the protest
movement in general,, and the character and function of
student protests in particular. Standing as I do somewhere
between fading youth and advancing obsolescence, I hope it
will be possible for me to speak both to your generation and
to my own.
The waves of protests passing over the United States both
mirror and create deep social tension. In some cases one
finds it extremely difficult, if not totally Impossible, to
determine which protests are based on-just grievances and
which are merely exploiting issues for the sake of some
ulterior purpose. It begins to appear that the process of
protest has assumed a self-sustaining momentum, searching
for political fodder on which to thrive. As the process
continues, particular issues tend to get submerged in the
larger confrontation, a contest of will and power which is
justified initially as a means of correcting identified
evils but which sometimes persists as an end in its own
right.
The dynamics of protest are familiar. In the United
States, more than any country I know, there has always been
generous latitude for movements of this nature. And for good
reason. Dissent and protest are essential ingredients in the
democratic concoction. Without them an open society becomes
a contradiction in terms, and representative government
becomes as stagnant as despotism.
Yet there is a narrow but distinct line between
productive dissent and counter-productive disruption. The
distinction concerns both the methods and the purposes of
protest activities. Much has already been said about the
limits of dissent. When all is said and done, when abundant
angels have danced on the heads of pins and countless
philosophers have offered their exquisite rationalizations,
I believe the overwhelming majority of Americans will stand
firm oil one principle: Coercive protest is wrong. And one
reason it is wrong is because it is unnecessary.
So long as a society retains a capacity for non-violent
political change, resort to violent political action is
anathema. Only if most Americans were convinced that this
country was no longer open to peaceful political evolution,
to transformation of institutions and policies through the
available channels of persuasion, would they consider
revolutionary force permissible. That most Americans are
riot so convinced is evident in the growing vehemence of
public attitudes on campus disorders and in the rising
popular impatience with the efforts of academic
administrators to deal fairly and considerately with student
rebels.
The intensity of feeling on this matter is well conveyed by Al Capp in
his comment on Harvard's reluctance to discipline those demonstrators
who assaulted Robert McNamara some months ago. Apart from an apology to
the visitor, the college dean declined to take action on the ground that
the students who accosted Mr. McNamara were engaged in a purely political
activity. "if depriving a man of his freedom to speak, if depriving him
of his freedom to move, if ... nearly depriving him of his life -- if
that's political activity," says Capp, "then ... sticking up a gas station
is a financial transaction.'' On this point I suspect that Mr. Capp is
less the social critic than the authentic voice of the society he has
so often satirized.
Whatever the romantics may say about violence in our
national life, the use of force is repugnant to the spirit
of American politics. Paradoxically, the introduction of
coercion as an instrument of protest may serve only to
legitimize the use of force to deal with the protesters.
There has been a great deal of theorizing, especially in the
cloisters of the New Left, about the technique of social
polarization. Some self-proclaimed radicals have contended
that by triggering the use of official force against
themselves, they can win the sympathy of uncommitted groups
and undermine support for existing authority. This is a
description, albeit a pat one, of what may happen in some
circumstances. But the insight is a superficial one, and the
prescription a highly unreliable one.
The most celebrated applications of such a doctrine, as
at Chicago last year, are Pyrrhic victories at best. Survey
after survey makes clear that a frequent result of coercive
protests is the isolation of the protesters and increasing
public demand for the prompt and vigorous application of
official force against them. Potential allies are more often
alienated than enlisted by such activities, and their
empathy for the professed goals of the protesters is
destroyed by their outrage at the procedures employed.
In short it behooves the disciples of protest as politics
to reconsider the alleged merits of coercive tactics. By now
they should be able to see that, apart from being morally
insupportable, such methods are politically ineffective.
But more than method is involved in measuring the propriety and utility
of protest. Even if the techniques of dissent are impeccable in their
respect for the rights of others, the substance of dissent needs to be
examined closely. Protest without purpose is a perversion of democratic
privilege. Much of the political instability in the country and on the
campuses, it seems to me, stems from the fact that the process of protest
to which I referred earlier has assumed a life of its own, considerably
independent of specific issues and problems. This is not entirely surprising,
since a number of individuals have gained a vested interest in protest
as a profession. It is a novel establishment, to be sure, but there is
good evidence that protest itself has become a kind of institution in
recent years.
The consequences of this development are many and
complex. As anyone familiar with human organization would
expect, the institutionalization of protest tends to
subordinate substance to style, to emphasize practice rather
than purpose. The focus comes to be less and less on issues
and more and more on the mechanics of protest. Social and
political problems become vehicles to be ridden instead of
barriers to be overcome. The issues are multiplied for the
sake of expediency, but the mingling of the trivial with the
substantial makes it difficult to distinguish between them.
This sort of progressive de-focusing serves to confuse,
not to clarify, political debate. The dialogue grows louder,
but less coherent. We hear talk of the "mood of protest"
gripping the nation, a vague and generalized discontent with
the state of the country and the world.
But widespread malaise creates only a context for social
change; it does not generate a program for change. One
cannot produce a constructive program for social action
without sorting out the critical issues from the less
critical and without making concrete plans to cope with the
priority problems. To demand change without some reasonable
notion of what specific kind of change is possible and
desirable amounts to little more than primitive
breast-beating.
Obviously, my remarks oversimplify the present situation.
Many protests are focused and are directed toward
well-identified goals, although that is no guarantee of
their wisdom. What I am anxious to highlight here are the
tendencies inherent in some current political action. In my
judgment these tendencies, should they proceed unchallenged,
point toward a serious and chronic corruption of the
political process.
If this apprehension is correct, it is very important to
point out these tendencies to the potential recruits of the
protest movements. As we have seen in the colleges and
universities, large numbers of these prospective recruits
are youngsters from well-to-do or middle-class families,
rather than those of more disadvantaged backgrounds. The
Students for a Democratic Society and similar groups draw
much active and latent support from what has been aptly
termed the "lumpenbourgeosie," the middle-class masses.
I think it is indisputable that these and other members
of your generation are, intellectually and otherwise, among
the more well-equipped citizens in the history of the United
States. It would be tragic if they adopted disaffection as a
way of life. They must be shown that there are definite
alternatives to perpetual protest as a means of linking
ideals to actions.
Indeed we all need such alternatives, whatever our age or
station in life. It is a common insight of psychology that
human beings need a sense of efficacy, a feeling that their
actions are effective and that they have a meaningful degree
of control over their own lives. What is true for
Individuals in their personal lives is also true in the
social realm, especially for activists. There is a craving
to understand the pace and direction of change in society,
and to be able to have some measure of influence in steering
the course the nation will follow.
But the social analysis associated with some of the contemporary protest
movements is a poor guide for Individual or collective action. The ideology
of the New Left, like that of the super-conservatism that flared briefly
in the early nineteen-sixties, is but remotely connected to the realities
of American society in our time. It is a curious hodge-podge of Marxist,
or neo-Marxist, or pseudo-Marxist, or crypto-Maoist doctrines, fascinating
to debate but irrelevant to enact.
This political potpourri mixes genuine social concern
with some wildly incorrect "lessons" of social history. Mark
Twain once observed that "One should be careful to got out
of an experience only the wisdom that is in it -- and stop
there lest we be like the cat that sits down on the hot
stove lid. She will never sit down on a hot stove lid again
-- and that's well; but she will never sit down on a cold
one either." Among many of our most sophisticated "cats,"
there is a strong temptation to over-interpret and
over-generalize. Those who aspire to effective political
activism would do well to resist that temptation.
If we are to devise sensible standards and functions for
protest or any other form of political action, vie shall
first have to develop an accurate, balanced and
comprehensive perspective on the immense social forces
already at work in our society. It will hardly do for one to
ignore, out of convenience or calculation, the facts which
do not fit some pre-conceived ideology. I do not presume to
claim that I have the scoop on the intricate eddies which
move this nation. But there are a number of major trends
which should be a factor in any projection of American
social development.
Perhaps the most fundamental of these trends is the
growing mobilization of this country's public and private
resources to deal with our domestic problems. The philosophy
of Dr. Pangloss, who proclaimed that "this is the best of
all possible worlds," has never found much favor in the
United States. But in recent years this country's citizens
and institutions have become increasingly aroused to erase
the blemishes on our body politic. In this respect the
protest movements reflect and stimulate the healthy
self-criticism taking place throughout the nation.
It is a very significant fact that America has identified
more precisely than ever before the nature and magnitude of
its acute social problems. Racial and social injustice is
being seen in concrete terms, as a root cause of human
misery and as a principal obstacle to the further
development of this-nation. Poverty, hunger, unemployment,
inferior education, inadequate health care -- these grave
inequities are now being recognized for what they are, the
responsibility of society as a whole as well as the
individuals involved.
From this spreading perception has emerged a wholly
different attitude toward government. Even after the Great
Depression there was a lingering reluctance to have the
government act vigorously to meet social needs. But the new
awareness that sizeable human problems still exist in this
land of plenty has created an actual demand for government
to act or to help others act to relieve them. While there is
justified skepticism regarding the effectiveness of some
programs, there is an equally justified insistence that
various programs must at least be tried.
We ought to realize that, largely because of these
altered attitudes, the United States is now well into an
unprecedented period of social and political
experimentation. In the decades since the Second World War,
the power and authority of government have been enlisted to
combat racial discrimination in education, in employment, in
voting, in housing and in other areas. New cabinet
departments have been established to cope with critical
domestic requirements: Health, Education and Welfare,
Housing and Urban Development, Transportation. A host of
other innovations have appeared: The Office of Economic
Opportunity, with Its community action agencies; the Model
Cities Program; the manpower Development and Training
Administration; the Community Relations Service.
The mere catalogue of federal agencies scarcely indicates that adequate
programs arid funds are now in existence. But it does afford a vital comparison
with the governmental organization of 1950 or even later, when there were
virtually no agencies with major responsibilities for the problems we
now see so vividly.
Has this proliferation of effort, and a parallel
expansion of private activities, had any effect? The
question is very debateable when one speaks of certain
programs, but in the main and overall, I think the answer is
a resounding "yea." We are a long way from the good society
we seek, but not nearly so far as we would have been without
the evolutionary changes which have marked private attitudes
and public institutions. We now have a valuable degree of
continuity in efforts to evaluate and cope with a broad
spectrum of social problems. There remains a great need for
experimentation and for improved use of our resources in
these areas. Still greater is the need to expand the level
of effort generally on these gigantic tasks of social
reconstruction.
It would be sheer folly to assume that, simply because we
have these new programs, things will automatically get
better. Yet it would also be foolish to propound demands for
social change in a vacuum, oblivious to the substantial
changes already in progress.
But, one may ask, is this all an institutional facade
behind which little is really accomplished? I think not.
If one takes what might be called the summary problem of our society,
the persistence of poverty amid affluence, there has been measurable progress
in these years. In 1959 some 22% of the nation's households were poor;
by 1967 those below the poverty line totalled 13.3%. One can properly
state, in viewing this trend that the bottle of poverty is still more
than half full, but it is worth noting that it is less full than before.
Special services to the disadvantaged have also been
expanding, but the key point is that the total number of
poor is now sufficiently small to contemplate rapid and
large-scale action to end poverty. The Council of Economic
Advisors now estimates the poverty gap, the sum required to
lift all Americans out of nominal poverty, is less than $10
billion a year. That figure is not vastly beyond the recent
increases in Annual expenditures on domestic programs. For
example, in the coming fiscal year, despite the tremendous
budgetary competition, President Nixon is proposing to
expand human resources funding by $5.5 billion, a 10%
increase over 1969.
At the same time there is serious thought being given to
many different aspects of the poverty problem. Attempts to
end the deprivation of children are a paramount concern. The
Administration is now committed to a $2.5 billion program to
combat hunger – still inadequate but a solid step forward.
Since most of the poor are employed full time, contrary to
the popular impression that welfare rolls are carrying most
of the poverty-stricken, special emphasis is directed toward
manpower training and upgrading of jail skills.
In short, these and numerous other important initiatives
reveal something other than a decadent society. They suggest
a nation worried about its integrity, as it should be, and
concerned about its people, as it must be. They suggest that
this is a time for pitching in, not for opting out. They
indicate the awakening of a very imperfect society, trying
to be better than it is. And that, I submit, should give a
measure of hope to us all.
My message today is a simple one. Lest it be
misunderstood in the more complicated discussion of social
trends and innovations, let we state it briefly.
This country has profound and pressing social problems on
its agenda. It needs the best energies of all its citizens,
especially Its gifted young people, to remedy these
ills.
Let us not dissipate these energies on phony Issues or
misguided missions.
Let us not mistake the vigor of protest for the value of
accomplishment.
Let us direct the zeal of every concerned American to the
real problems.
Let us forsake false drama for true endeavor.
Let us, in short, recognize that ours is a precious
community that demands and deserves the best that is in us.
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