The 40th anniversary of the Sterling Hall bombing has resurfaced the memory of a dark hour in the University of Wisconsin’s history, when four foolish young activists blew apart the hopes and dreams of an entire generation.
The flurry of news coverage these past weeks has largely told this story to emphasize the tragedy, painting a picture of a campus marked by violence, riots and destructive tumult. But there is another side to this story you aren’t likely to see in mainstream media, a different framing of events that transpired here during the momentous era of the ’60s and ’70s.
The death of Robert Fassnacht was a tragedy of epic proportions. His only fault was a dedication to his work that kept him in an otherwise vacant building into the early hours of the morning. His senseless death in August of 1970 is most often remembered as a dark stain on Madison’s legacy of progressive activism.
It is undeniably a black, brooding shadow that still hangs over the memory of that era. But the darkest shadows are cast by the brightest lights, and during that era Madison was a beacon that glared across the country, illuminating a revolutionary new paradigm and fueling a fervor that the world could be a better place, and that a unified student movement could make it so.
It’s easy to write off the happenings of the times as drug-induced, delusional idealism. For those who are too young to have been there, it’s easy to envision the era as dominated by the modern image of dreadlocked hippies bathing in patchouli oil and discussing abstract, existential dribble between bong hits. But to think these were the movers of that generation could not be more of a misconception.
More than any other time in history, students were united across divisions of race, gender, political orientation and social class. Engineers and history majors stood side by side in protest of a country they could no longer stand behind. Professors and faculty joined the cause. Students of every rank and file lived the Salvador Allende maxim that “to be a student and not a revolutionary is a contradiction.”
These students were right, even if some of their actions were wrong. They were right about civil rights, about the equality of race and gender, about the rights of gay men and women. They were right about the draft and about America’s involvement overseas. They were right, and they made their voices heard.
They were right because students almost always are when it comes to matters of social justice and the ideals that define our country. They were right because students are in a unique position in life; one that makes it not only possible, but natural to view the world in idealistic light, immediately recognizing injustice and wrongdoing for what it is.
Unadulterated by the financial and social obligations of adulthood, students have the liberty, time and enough education to be able to look at the world and realize it is not what it should be. They have just enough idealism to convince themselves that if they care passionately enough and work hard enough, they can make a difference. And if the time is right, and the voices are coherent, they can.
On the horizon of adulthood, when they will inherit the world they now look at with disapproving eyes, it is the students’ responsibility and theirs alone to raise the awareness and inspire the belief that will some day make a better world possible.
Students on the University of Wisconsin campus during the ’60s and ’70s understood this. Even more importantly they understood that whether this ideal was realized in their lifetime or not, it was worth fighting for. A handful of students believed this to such a degree that they were willing to sacrifice their freedom by turning themselves into some of the FBI’s most wanted criminals.
Now don’t misunderstand. These few individuals were wrong — dead wrong. They were wrong to think good and justice could be brought about by violence, wrong to think meaningful and lasting change could be created through destruction.
To generalize the dastardly actions of these few as the predominant ideology of the time would be a fatal mistake, however. Just as the actions of a few radical Muslims does not stand for the tenets of Islam, the actions of these few disillusioned visionaries cannot stand for the student movements of that era or any other.
Obviously the circumstances are different today, but this does not excuse the overwhelming silence emanating from the Madison campus. To compare the political activity on campus in 2010 to that of years past is disheartening at best, downright disgraceful at worst.
When hundreds of thousands of students across the nation coordinated one of the largest mass protests in history last spring, decrying the spiraling cost of higher education, Madison barely murmured.
Madison’s student voice is weak today, but it is not non-existent. Last semester the Student Labor Action Coalition showed just how powerful the students’ voice can be when it is loud and cohesive. Following a potent campaign against UW’s apparel contract with Nike, they successfully pressured the university into severing ties with the company over serious workers’ rights violations. The Wisconsin Public Interest Research Group also continues important social and economic campaigns, though visibility has not been their strong suit. But all in all, the Madison student voice has been dwindling, and has yet to show any signs of resurgence.
So, when you remember the Sterling Hall bombing this semester, remember the tragedy and the violence, and learn from it so such fatal mistakes are not repeated. But even more importantly, think of the powerfully passionate climate on campus during that time. Think of the masses of students who were unhappy with the world they were about to inherit and did something about it. Think about their idealism, about their devotion, about their cooperation and volume. Think about it and aspire to it. The world that will soon be ours depends on it. Have a voice and make it heard.
Kyle Mianulli ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in journalism, philosophy and political science.
