Tag: antiwar movement
The Antiwar Movement Nobody Can See…Yet

The Antiwar Movement Nobody Can See…Yet

Reprinted with permission from TomDispatch.

When Donald Trump entered the Oval Office in January 2017, Americans took to the streets all across the country to protect their instantly endangered rights. Conspicuously absent from the newfound civic engagement, despite more than a decade and a half of this country’s fruitless, destructive wars across the Greater Middle East and northern Africa, was antiwar sentiment, much less an actual movement.

Those like me working against America’s seemingly endless wars wondered why the subject merited so little discussion, attention, or protest. Was it because the still-spreading war on terror remained shrouded in government secrecy? Was the lack of media coverage about what America was doing overseas to blame? Or was it simply that most Americans didn’t care about what was happening past the water’s edge? If you had asked me two years ago, I would have chosen “all of the above.” Now, I’m not so sure.

After the enormous demonstrations against the invasion of Iraq in 2003, the antiwar movement disappeared almost as suddenly as it began, with some even openly declaring it dead. Critics noted the long-term absence of significant protests against those wars, a lack of political will in Congress to deal with them, and ultimately, apathy on matters of war and peace when compared to issues like health care, gun control, or recently even climate change.

The pessimists have been right to point out that none of the plethora of marches on Washington since Donald Trump was elected have had even a secondary focus on America’s fruitless wars. They’re certainly right to question why Congress, with the constitutional duty to declare war, has until recently allowed both presidents Barack Obama and Donald Trump to wage war as they wished without even consulting them. They’re right to feel nervous when a national poll shows that more Americans think we’re fighting a war in Iran (we’re not) than a war in Somalia (we are).

But here’s what I’ve been wondering recently: What if there’s an antiwar movement growing right under our noses and we just haven’t noticed? What if we don’t see it, in part, because it doesn’t look like any antiwar movement we’ve even imagined?

If a movement is only a movement when people fill the streets, then maybe the critics are right. It might also be fair to say, however, that protest marches do not always a movement make. Movements are defined by their ability to challenge the status quo and, right now, that’s what might be beginning to happen when it comes to America’s wars.

What if it’s Parkland students condemning American imperialism or groups fighting the Muslim Ban that are also fighting the war on terror? It’s veterans not only trying to take on the wars they fought in, but putting themselves on the front lines of the gun controlclimate change, and police brutality debates. It’s Congress passing the first War Powers Resolution in almost 50 years. It’s Democratic presidential candidates signing a pledge to end America’s endless wars.

For the last decade and a half, Americans — and their elected representatives — looked at our endless wars and essentially shrugged. In 2019, however, an antiwar movement seems to be brewing. It just doesn’t look like the ones that some remember from the Vietnam era and others from the pre-invasion-of-Iraq moment. Instead, it’s a movement that’s being woven into just about every other issue that Americans are fighting for right now — which is exactly why it might actually work.

A Veteran’s Antiwar Movement in the Making?

During the Vietnam War of the 1960s and early 1970s, protests began with religious groups and peace organizations morally opposed to war. As that conflict intensified, however, students began to join the movement, then civil rights leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr. got involved, then war veterans who had witnessed the horror firsthand stepped in — until, with a seemingly constant storm of protest in the streets, Washington eventually withdrew from Indochina.

You might look at the lack of public outrage now, or perhaps the exhaustion of having been outraged and nothing changing, and think an antiwar movement doesn’t exist. Certainly, there’s nothing like the active one that fought against America’s involvement in Vietnam for so long and so persistently. Yet it’s important to notice that, among some of the very same groups (like veterans, students, and even politicians) that fought against that war, a healthy skepticism about America’s twenty-first-century wars, the Pentagon, the military industrial complex, and even the very idea of American exceptionalism is finally on the rise — or so the polls tell us.

Right after the midterms last year, an organization named Foundation for Liberty and American Greatness reported mournfully that younger Americans were “turning on the country and forgetting its ideals,” with nearly half believing that this country isn’t “great” and many eyeing the U.S. flag as “a sign of intolerance and hatred.” With millennials and Generation Z rapidly becoming the largestvoting bloc in America for the next 20 years, their priorities are taking center stage. When it comes to foreign policy and war, as it happens, they’re quite different from the generations that preceded them. According to the Chicago Council of Global Affairs,

“Each successor generation is less likely than the previous to prioritize maintaining superior military power worldwide as a goal of U.S. foreign policy, to see U.S. military superiority as a very effective way of achieving U.S. foreign policy goals, and to support expanding defense spending. At the same time, support for international cooperation and free trade remains high across the generations. In fact, younger Americans are more inclined to support cooperative approaches to U.S. foreign policy and more likely to feel favorably towards trade and globalization.”

Although marches are the most public way to protest, another striking but understated way is simply not to engage with the systems one doesn’t agree with. For instance, the vast majority of today’s teenagers aren’t at all interested in joining the all-volunteer military. Last year, for the first time since the height of the Iraq war 13 years ago, the Army fell thousands of troops short of its recruiting goals. That trend was emphasized in a 2017 Department of Defense poll that found only 14% of respondents ages 16 to 24 said it was likely they’d serve in the military in the coming years. This has the Army so worried that it has been refocusing its recruitment efforts on creating an entirely new strategy aimed specifically at Generation Z.

In addition, we’re finally seeing what happens when soldiers from America’s post-9/11 wars come home infused with a sense of hopelessness in relation to those conflicts. These days, significant numbers of young veterans have been returning disillusioned and ready to lobby Congress against wars they once, however unknowingly, bought into. Look no farther than a new left-right alliance between two influential veterans groups, VoteVets and Concerned Veterans for America, to stop those forever wars. Their campaign, aimed specifically at getting Congress to weigh in on issues of war and peace, is emblematic of what may be a diverse potential movement coming together to oppose America’s conflicts. Another veterans group, Common Defense, is similarly asking politicians to sign a pledge to end those wars. In just a couple of months, they’ve gotten on board 10 congressional sponsors, including freshmen heavyweights in the House of Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Ilhan Omar.

And this may just be the tip of a growing antiwar iceberg. A misconception about movement-building is that everyone is there for the same reason, however broadly defined. That’s often not the case and sometimes it’s possible that you’re in a movement and don’t even know it. If, for instance, I asked a room full of climate-change activists whether they also considered themselves part of an antiwar movement, I can imagine the denials I’d get. And yet, whether they know it or not, sooner or later fighting climate change will mean taking on the Pentagon’s global footprint, too.

Think about it: not only is the U.S. military the world’s largest institutional consumer of fossil fuels but, according to a new report from Brown University’s Costs of War Project, between 2001 and 2017, it released more than 1.2 billion metric tons of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere (400 million of which were related to the war on terror). That’s equivalent to the emissions of 257 million passenger cars, more than double the number currently on the road in the U.S.

A Growing Antiwar Movement in Congress

One way to sense the growth of antiwar sentiment in this country is to look not at the empty streets or even at veterans organizations or recruitment polls, but at Congress. After all, one indicator of a successful movement, however incipient, is its power to influence and change those making the decisions in Washington. Since Donald Trump was elected, the most visible evidence of growing antiwar sentiment is the way America’s congressional policymakers have increasingly become engaged with issues of war and peace. Politicians, after all, tend to follow the voters and, right now, growing numbers of them seem to be following rising antiwar sentiment back home into an expanding set of debates about war and peace in the age of Trump.

In campaign season 2016, in an op-ed in the Washington Post, political scientist Elizabeth Saunders wondered whether foreign policy would play a significant role in the presidential election. “Not likely,” she concluded. “Voters do not pay much attention to foreign policy.” And at the time, she was on to something. For instance, Senator Bernie Sanders, then competing for the Democratic presidential nomination against Hillary Clinton, didn’t even prepare stock answers to basic national security questions, choosing instead, if asked at all, to quickly pivot back to more familiar topics. In a debate with Clinton, for instance, he was asked whether he would keep troops in Afghanistan to deal with the growing success of the Taliban. In his answer, he skipped Afghanistan entirely, while warning only vaguely against a “quagmire” in Iraq and Syria.

Heading for 2020, Sanders is once again competing for the nomination, but instead of shying away from foreign policy, starting in 2017, he became the face of what could be a new American way of thinking when it comes to how we see our role in the world.

In February 2018, Sanders also became the first senator to risk introducing a war powers resolution to end American support for the brutal Saudi-led war in Yemen. In April 2019, with the sponsorship of other senators added to his, the bill ultimately passed the House and the Senate in an extremely rare showing of bipartisanship, only to be vetoed by President Trump. That such a bill might pass the House, no less a still-Republican Senate, even if not by a veto-proof majority, would have been unthinkable in 2016. So much has changed since the last election that support for the Yemen resolution has now become what Tara Golshan at Vox termed “a litmus test of the Democratic Party’s progressive shift on foreign policy.”

Nor, strikingly enough, is Sanders the only Democratic presidential candidate now running on what is essentially an antiwar platform. One of the main aspects of Elizabeth Warren’s foreign policy plan, for instance, is to “seriously review the country’s military commitments overseas, and that includes bringing U.S. troops home from Afghanistan and Iraq.” Entrepreneur Andrew Yang and former Alaska Senator Mike Gravel have joined Sanders and Warren in signing a pledge to end America’s forever wars if elected. Beto O’Rourke has called for the repeal of Congress’s 2001 Authorization to Use Military Force that presidents have cited ever since whenever they’ve sent American forces into battle. Marianne Williamson, one of the many (unlikely) Democratic candidates seeking the nomination, has even proposed a plan to transform America’s “wartime economy into a peace-time economy, repurposing the tremendous talents and infrastructure of [America’s] military industrial complex… to the work of promoting life instead of death.”

And for the first time ever, three veterans of America’s post-9/11 wars — Seth Moulton and Tulsi Gabbard of the House of Representatives, and South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg — are running for president, bringing their skepticismabout American interventionism with them. The very inclusion of such viewpoints in the presidential race is bound to change the conversation, putting a spotlight on America’s wars in the months to come.

Get on Board or Get Out of the Way

When trying to create a movement, there are three likely outcomes: you will be accepted by the establishment, or rejected for your efforts, or the establishment will be replaced, in part or in whole, by those who agree with you. That last point is exactly what we’ve been seeing, at least among Democrats, in the Trump years. While 2020 Democratic candidates for president, some of whom have been in the political arena for decades, are gradually hopping on the end-the-endless-wars bandwagon, the real antiwar momentum in Washington has begun to come from new members of Congress like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC) and Ilhan Omar who are unwilling to accept business as usual when it comes to either the Pentagon or the country’s forever wars. In doing so, moreover, they are responding to what their constituents actually want.

As far back as 2014, when a University of Texas-Austin Energy Poll asked people where the U.S. government should spend their tax dollars, only 7% of respondents under 35 said it should go toward military and defense spending. Instead, in a “pretty significant political shift” at the time, they overwhelmingly opted for their tax dollars to go toward job creation and education. Such a trend has only become more apparent as those calling for free public college, Medicare-for-all, or a Green New Deal have come to realize that they could pay for such ideas if America would stop pouring trillions of dollars into wars that never should have been launched.

The new members of the House of Representatives, in particular, part of the youngest, most diverse crew to date, have begun to replace the old guard and are increasingly signalling their readiness to throw out policies that don’t work for the American people, especially those reinforcing the American war machine. They understand that by ending the wars and beginning to scale back the military-industrial complex, this country could once again have the resources it needs to fix so many other problems.

In May, for instance, Omar tweeted, “We have to recognize that foreign policy IS domestic policy. We can’t invest in health care, climate resilience, or education if we continue to spend more than half of discretionary spending on endless wars and Pentagon contracts. When I say we need something equivalent to the Green New Deal for foreign policy, it’s this.”

A few days before that, at a House Committee on Oversight and Reform hearing, Ocasio-Cortez confronted executives from military contractor TransDigm about the way they were price-gouging the American taxpayer by selling a $32 “non-vehicular clutch disc” to the Department of Defense for $1,443 per disc. “A pair of jeans can cost $32; imagine paying over $1,000 for that,” she said. “Are you aware of how many doses of insulin we could get for that margin? I could’ve gotten over 1,500 people insulin for the cost of the margin of your price gouging for these vehicular discs alone.”

And while such ridiculous waste isn’t news to those of us who follow Pentagon spending closely, this was undoubtedly something many of her millions of supporters hadn’t thought about before. After the hearing, Teen Vogue created a list of the “5 most ridiculous things the United States military has spent money on,” comedian Sarah Silverman tweeted out the AOC hearing clip to her 12.6 million followers, Will and Grace actress Debra Messing publicly expressed her gratitude to AOC, and according to Crowdtangle, a social media analytics tool, the NowThis clip of her in that congressional hearing garnered more than 20 million impressions.

Not only are members of Congress beginning to call attention to such under-covered issues, but perhaps they’re even starting to accomplish something. Just two weeks after that contentious hearing, TransDigm agreed to return $16.1 million in excess profits to the Department of Defense. “We saved more money today for the American people than our committee’s entire budget for the year,” said House Oversight Committee Chair Elijah Cummings.

Of course, antiwar demonstrators have yet to pour into the streets, even though the wars we’re already involved in continue to drag on and a possible new one with Iran looms on the horizon. Still, there seems to be a notable trend in antiwar opinion and activism. Somewhere just under the surface of American life lurks a genuine, diverse antiwar movement that appears to be coalescing around a common goal: getting Washington politicians to believe that antiwar policies are supportable, even potentially popular. Call me an eternal optimist, but someday I can imagine such a movement helping end those disastrous wars.

Allegra Harpootlian is a senior media associate at ReThink Media where she works with leading experts and organizations at the intersection of national security, politics, and the media. She principally focuses on U.S. drone policies and related use-of-force issues. She is also a political partner with the Truman National Security Project. Find her on Twitter @ally_harp.

The Long Sixties: What Did We Know, And When Did We Know It?

The Long Sixties: What Did We Know, And When Did We Know It?

Patriotic Betrayal: The Inside Story of the CIA’s Secret Campaign to Enroll American Students in the Crusade Against Communism by Karen M. Paget; Yale University Press

The Burglary: The Discovery of J. Edgar Hoover’s Secret FBI by Betty Medsger; Vintage

Days of Rage: America’s Radical Underground, the FBI, and the Forgotten Age of Revolutionary Violence by Bryan Burrough; Penguin Press

In 2006, James Risen and Eric Lichtblau received the Pulitzer Prize for their stories on the Bush administration’s domestic surveillance programs. Later that year, they reported that the administration also traced the banking records of thousands of Americans with suspected ties to al Qaeda. Because Risen and Lichtblau revealed classified information in their stories, some are now calling for their prosecution under the Espionage Act, which doesn’t distinguish between investigative reporting and funneling state secrets to hostile foreign governments.

On this issue, Senator Tom Cotton argues that the system is the solution. “When people violate the espionage laws,” he told a conservative website last month, “they should be prosecuted. They believe they have First Amendment rights, and that’s a defense they can assert in court. Reporters and editors don’t get to decide for themselves what is and is not a sensitive national-security matter. That’s for the American people to decide through their elected representatives.” The Obama administration seems to agree; it has prosecuted more whistleblowers under the Espionage Act than all other administrations combined.

Is there any reason to believe that Senator Cotton’s prescription would work as outlined? That question links several recent books about national security and political dissent in the 1960s and 1970s. Taken together, they suggest an intriguing thought experiment: If everyone had followed Senator Cotton’s line, what exactly would we know about our government, and how could we use that knowledge to shape it through our elected representatives?

Karen Paget’s exhaustively researched Patriotic Betrayal suggests we would know almost nothing about the CIA. In the 1960s, Paget’s husband was an officer in the National Students Association (NSA), a private organization founded after the Second World War. As part of its Cold War strategy, the CIA not only funded the NSA but also determined its policy positions. Only top officers knew about this arrangement, and many went on to work for the agency. When Paget and her husband were briefed on the CIA connection during the 1960s, they agreed to swear an oath of secrecy under the Espionage Act. The NSA was by no means the only organization in this position; by that time, the CIA had developed an invisible network of political, cultural, and media fronts and contacts that functioned as a highly effective propaganda machine. One agency official named it the Mighty Wurlitzer, after the organ that orchestrated audience responses during the silent film era.

NSA members played their part by reporting on foreign students they met at international conferences. The CIA fed that information to other governments, which almost certainly used it to crack down on dissidents. “My God,” asked one NSA officer who later worked for the CIA, “did we finger people for the Shah?” A similar scenario played out in Iraq, where the 1963 Ba’athist coup led to 10,000 arrests and an estimated 5,000 executions. According to Paget, “It apparently never occurred to witting staff that the information [they provided] might flow through their CIA case officers into a broader CIA pipeline, a fact that haunts many of them today.” At least one senior U.S. official wasn’t haunted at all. “We were frankly glad to be rid of them,” he said of the liquidated Iraqi communists.

The NSA’s development officer, who wasn’t sworn to secrecy, spilled the beans to Ramparts magazine, which published the story in March 1967. Other news organizations picked it up and soon revealed the larger network the CIA had assembled. Congress was taken aback, and agency officials were stunned; it was the first time the CIA had received such public criticism. The brass immediately launched an investigation of Ramparts and everyone connected to it. The CIA’s charter forbade domestic operations, so the fig leaf for the investigation was that the upstart San Francisco muckraker had foreign backers. Yet even after the agency knew this was false, it continued to target the magazine. Ramparts also criticized U.S. policy in Vietnam, and the CIA soon broadened its operation, code-named MH/CHAOS, to include antiwar groups.

The Ramparts vendetta “set in motion an even larger catastrophe for the CIA,” Paget notes. “One may draw a straight line from the Ramparts exposures in 1967 to the 1975 congressional hearings on CIA activities and the revelation of the so-called Family Jewels, a collection of documents containing the deepest agency secrets, including its part in assassinations.” Those hearings, in turn, eventually led to the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) of 1978, which instituted the surveillance protocols the Bush administration pointedly ignored after the 9/11 attacks.

Nothing in Paget’s account suggests that, absent the whistleblower story, the CIA would have been responsive to American voters speaking through their elected representatives. Whatever knowledge we have of the agency and its history was obtained, at least initially, despite the government’s workaday operations and not because of them.

A similar story played out at the FBI, J. Edgar Hoover’s fiefdom for more than four decades. Although the FBI routinely carried out “black bag jobs” and illegal wiretaps, its operations received no serious scrutiny from Congress or the courts. Before 1971, only one FBI file had ever been made public, and that was over Hoover’s strenuous objection. In 1949, a Justice Department employee was charged with stealing FBI secrets on behalf of the Soviet Union; when her attorney asked that FBI files be admitted as evidence, Hoover claimed that turning them over would endanger national security. He also suggested that the court reprimand the defense attorney for even requesting the files.

As Betty Medsger’s The Burglary makes plain, all that changed in 1971 when a small group of anti-war activists broke into the FBI office in Media, Pennsylvania. The files they stole revealed a wide range of illicit surveillance and harassment by the bureau. Ironically, the same day Hoover learned of the stolen files, Assistant Attorney General William H. Rehnquist testified under oath that the federal government conducted virtually no domestic surveillance. The burglars mailed the files to five news organizations, four of which immediately returned them to the FBI. After much internal debate, The Washington Post decided to run a story by Medsger. It was another bombshell.

Two FBI programs were especially controversial. One was the Security Index, which began as a running list of dissidents to be rounded up in case of a national emergency. (The list included Carey McWilliams, who was serving in California state government and later became editor of The Nation.) The other was COINTELPRO, which flourished during the 1960s and early 1970s. According to FBI documents, its stated goal was to “expose, disrupt, and otherwise neutralize” the New Left and those connected to it. Much of the surveillance and harassment was directed at antiwar and black activists. We know that the FBI wrote a letter to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., suggesting that he take his own life. Less well known is the fact that between 1960 and 1966, FBI agents burglarized a Socialist Workers Party office at least 92 times. They also issued bomb threats to party offices and fired shots at one of them.

None of these practices served any law-enforcement purpose. As Medsger notes:

The FBI’s spying operations did not lead to the prevention of any bombing, for instance, by the Weather Underground or any other group that planted bombs in that era. And the files led to few, if any, arrests after such bombs were detonated. Whatever the FBI was doing as it invaded lives, it was not preventing violent crimes or building cases on which arrests and successful prosecutions could be based.

She concludes that the FBI’s goal wasn’t to investigate, prosecute, and convict, but rather to harass and destroy these groups.

Hoover also deployed the bureau’s resources to neutralize his critics. “In a very real sense,” LBJ’s attorney general Nicholas Katzenbach later testified, “there was no greater crime in Mr. Hoover’s eyes than public criticism of the bureau.” Even President Nixon feared Hoover, who had amassed enough dirt to destroy most politicians. Senator Edward Long of Missouri once asked Hoover to provide records of the FBI’s electronic surveillance activities. Hoover replied that he would have to furnish all of those records, including conversations in which the Teamsters union allegedly offered Long money. After that conversation, Senator Long issued a statement that the FBI didn’t conduct wiretaps.

After the Media burglary, the FBI couldn’t maintain that fiction. Four months after the bureau closed its fruitless investigation of that heist, one of Hoover’s successors came clean. Clarence Kelley admitted that the bureau’s illicit activities were “clearly wrong and quite indefensible. We most certainly must never allow them to be repeated.” One FBI official said the burglars should have been prosecuted and then pardoned for their service to the nation.

A common denominator in these books is the Cold War consensus on communism. In effect, both major parties shared the CIA and FBI view that communists and their dupes were behind the civil rights and anti-war movements. For many in power, it was inconceivable that red-blooded Americans would oppose institutional racism or the Vietnam War as such. That category error, reinforced by a culture of secrecy, diminished the authority and effectiveness of both organizations. With the Watergate revelations, which were guided by leaks from a top FBI official, the White House’s reputation was also badly tarnished.

These events furnish the backdrop for Bryan Burrough’s Days of Rage, which focuses on radical violence of the 1970s. That violence included shooting police officers, bank robberies, kidnapping Patty Hearst, and planting thousands of bombs to protest government actions and to foment a revolution. As Burrough notes, the idea behind almost every bombing was to highlight the Establishment’s vulnerability, not to kill or injure. These groups had few options for claiming media attention, and he calls their bombings “exploding press releases.”

Burrough begins Days of Rage by challenging what he calls a myth: namely, that radical violence beginning in 1970 was a protest against the Vietnam War. “What the underground movement was truly about –what it was always about — was the plight of black Americans,” he writes. With varying degrees of accuracy, this claim applies to several groups he tracks, including the Black Liberation Army, the Family, and the Symbionese Liberation Army. But for others, the war and its effects turn out to be central to the story he tells.

Burroughs devotes more attention to the Weather Underground (originally “Weatherman”), which grew out of Students for a Democratic Society in 1969, than to any other group. The war in Vietnam swelled the ranks of SDS, and Burrough cites one of its leaders on the importance of 1968, when “people came to the conclusion that the only way to stop the war was make a revolution, and the only way to stop racism was make a revolution.” One of Weatherman’s first acts was the “Days of Rage” rampage through Chicago from which Burrough takes his title; its slogan was “Bring the War Home.” In 1971, after it changed its name to the Weather Underground, the group bombed the U.S. Capitol to protest the invasion of Laos. The next year, it bombed the Pentagon in retaliation for the U.S. bombing of Hanoi, and in 1975, it bombed the State Department building “in response to the escalation in Vietnam.” The Weather Underground was more than an anti-war group, but how Burrough can cleanly separate its history and actions from the anti-war movement is a mystery.

The war influences Burrough’s story in other ways as well. Many of his subjects were Vietnam veterans radicalized by their military experience. The tiny Symbionese Liberation Army, which said it was targeting racism along with “all the other institutions that have made and sustained capitalism,” included two veterans. The United Freedom Front was led by Ray Levasseur, a veteran from Maine who began his activism by opposing the war. He was incarcerated on a marijuana charge, paroled in 1971, and influenced by the prison movement. Four years later, he and a handful of comrades began robbing banks. They were outraged by racism, but it’s a stretch to say that the United Freedom Front was motivated primarily by the plight of black Americans.

Burrough frequently scants or distorts the relevant historical context. COINTELPRO makes only a handful of brief appearances, even though it specifically targeted SDS and Weatherman. The War on Drugs, which Nixon aide John Erlichman later said was meant to target young people and blacks, is notable for its absence. So are revelations of CIA mischief. Burrough devotes a single sentence to police brutality at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. The Pentagon Papers are mentioned once, and Watergate is touched on lightly. There are fleeting references to Cambodia and Kent State. One chapter opens with President Nixon calling Hoover, the CIA director, and two other national security officials into the Oval Office.

Everywhere [Nixon] looked, the antiwar movement seemed to be turning increasingly violent. The deaths at Kent State were still fresh in the air. Weatherman had now declared war; its first attacks were promised any day … The president lectured Hoover and the others that ‘revolutionary terrorism’ now represented the single greatest threat against [sic] American society.

Would Burrough have us believe that the anti-war movement, and not the Ohio National Guard, was responsible for the deaths at Kent State? I don’t see any other way to read this passage.

Burrough also conflates radicals and hippies and thereby distorts the latter group’s values and influence. The two cohorts overlapped, but they were by no means interchangeable, and there was a great deal of well-documented tension between them. According to Burrough, America “had fallen in love with everything about this groovy new counterculture — except its politics.” (Here and elsewhere, groovy signals Burrough’s disdain for that period’s youth culture.) At the same time, he claims that the counterculture was a victim of its own political success; the nascent environmental and women’s liberation movements were “diverting the attention of many who had built their lives around protesting the war and racism.” Finally, he implies that the counterculture, which was nothing if not communal, fostered widespread narcissism in the broader American culture; he quotes Tom Wolfe and a contemporary article by David Horowitz to clinch that point. Never mind the muddle; this is hippie punching of the highest order.

Burrough presents himself as a journalist marshaling the facts and minimizing his political judgments, but his selection and emphasis make the radical violence of this period look even crazier than it was. Although he mentions egregious state violence, not only in Southeast Asia but also in America’s black communities, he saves his outrage for its more sensational revolutionary counterpart. Virtually no one defends these groups or their tactics today, but Burrough is surprised by the low-key press accounts of that period, “when bombings were viewed by many Americans as a semi-legitimate means of protest” or “little more than a public nuisance.” Perhaps the press struck a different balance between blown-up toilets in empty buildings and the far more lethal forms of sanctioned political violence at hand.

Critics have rightly praised Days of Rage for its original reporting; many underground figures shared their stories with Burrough for the first time, and he interviewed retired FBI agents to flesh out his account. For that reason alone, I recommend Days of Rage, especially if read alongside Medsger. Whether or not others share my misgivings about Burrough’s overall portrait, it certainly complicates Senator Cotton’s view of how our government works — and what we’re entitled to know about its workings. Nowhere does Days of Rage indicate that American voters could have shaped government policies and priorities they knew nothing about at the time.

If there are lessons to be extracted from these three books, they have as much to do with the dangers of elite consensus as with those of dissent. Today’s bipartisan support for secrecy and massive domestic surveillance, for example, seems as uncritical and self-justifying as the Cold War consensus that produced the foreign policy, intelligence, and law enforcement disasters of the 1960s and 1970s. These books show, among other things, that excessive government secrecy produced bad governance and even worse outcomes, and that a strict policy of killing the messenger turned those outcomes into catastrophes.

Peter Richardson is the book review editor at The National Memo and teaches at San Francisco State University. In 2013, he received the National Entertainment Journalism Award for Online Criticism. His new book is No Simple Highway: A Cultural History of the Grateful Dead. His history of Ramparts magazine, A Bomb in Every Issue, was an Editors’ Choice at The New York Times and a Top Book of 2009 at Mother Jones.