http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/mcgovern_he_never_sold_his_soul_20121021
/
 
McGovern: He Never Sold His Soul
 
Chris Hedges
Truthdig: October 22, 2012
In the summer of 1972, when I was 15, I persuaded my parents to let me ride
my bike down to the local George McGovern headquarters every morning to work
on his campaign. McGovern, who died
<http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/truthdigger_of_the_week_george_mcgovern
_20121020/> early Sunday morning in South Dakota at the age of 90, embodied
the core values I had been taught to cherish. My father, a World War II
veteran like McGovern, had taken my younger sister and me to protests in
support of the civil rights movement and against the Vietnam War. He taught
us to stand up for human decency and honesty, no matter the cost. He told us
that the definitions of business and politics, the categories of winners and
losers, of the powerful and the powerless, of the rich and the poor, are
meaningless if the price for admission requires that you sell your soul. And
he told us something that the whole country, many years later, now knows:
that George
<http://www.truthdig.com/report/item/20091106_sen_george_mcgovern_on_the_pre
sidency_from_lincoln_to_obama/> McGovern was a good man.

McGovern, even before he ran for president, held heroic stature for us. In
1970 he attached to a military procurement bill the McGovern-Hatfield
Amendment, which would have required, through a cutoff of funding, a
withdrawal of all American forces from Indochina. The amendment did not
pass, although the majority of Americans supported it. McGovern denounced on
the Senate floor the politicians who, by refusing to support the amendment,
prolonged the war. We instantly understood the words he spoke. They were the
words of a preacher. 

"Every senator in this chamber is partly responsible for sending 50,000
young Americans to an early grave," he said. "This chamber reeks of blood.
Every senator here is partly responsible for that human wreckage at Walter
Reed and Bethesda Naval [hospitals] and all across our land-young men
without legs, or arms, or genitals, or faces or hopes. There are not very
many of these blasted and broken boys who think this war is a glorious
adventure. Do not talk to them about bugging out, or national honor or
courage. It does not take any courage at all for a congressman, or a
senator, or a president to wrap himself in the flag and say we are staying
in Vietnam, because it is not our blood that is being shed. But we are
responsible for those young men and their lives and their hopes. And if we
do not end this damnable war those young men will some day curse us for our
pitiful willingness to let the Executive carry the burden that the
Constitution places on us."

McGovern's moral condemnation was greeted in the chamber with stunned
silence. When one senator told McGovern he was personally offended by his
remarks, McGovern answered: "That's what I meant to do."

Here was a politician who cared more for his country and for human decency
than he did for his political ambitions or his career. Here was someone I
could believe in. I, at 15 years old, was not about to lose this moment. I
stuffed envelopes, handed out fliers and made phone calls until my dialing
fingers were red and swollen. That was the summer of my political awakening.
It taught me about the venal nature of power, the clever lies used by the
power elite to manipulate the masses, and the deep fear and loathing these
elites have of those, like McGovern, who possess the personal integrity and
moral courage to speak the truth. The business titans, the generals, the
defense contractors, the wealthy, Richard Nixon and the Democratic Party
establishment set out to destroy McGovern. They failed. 

The tiny campaign headquarters in Hamburg, N.Y., was chronically short of
money. We survived on pizza. Workers slept on the floor. I mingled that
summer with angry Vietnam veterans, hippies, anti-war activists, union
organizers and feminists. Tattered copies of "Slaughterhouse-Five," "Soul on
Ice," "The Other America" and "The Wretched of the Earth" were shoved into
my hands by older campaign workers. None of us, until that summer, had a
voice in Democratic or national politics. And the Democratic establishment,
once that summer ended, rewrote the nomination rules to make sure none of us
ever had a voice again. 

When the 1972 Democratic convention, the first and last open political
convention in American history, took place in July at the Miami Beach
Convention Center, I was being sullenly dragged to New Mexico for our family
vacation. Our Nimrod popup camper had been set up in the desert at Ghost
Ranch. I was determined to hear McGovern's nomination and his acceptance
speech. I took the keys to my father's Impala, lay down on the front seat
looking up at the canopy of stars and followed the chaotic and glorious
convention on the radio. McGovern spoke at 2 a.m. in Miami. It was midnight
in New Mexico. He closed with these words:

>From secrecy and deception in high places; come home, America.

>From military spending so wasteful that it weakens our nation; come home,
America.

>From the entrenchment of special privileges in tax favoritism; from the
waste of idle lands to the joy of useful labor; from the prejudice based on
race and sex; from the loneliness of the aging poor and the despair of the
neglected sick-come home, America.

Come home to the affirmation that we have a dream. Come home to the
conviction that we can move our country forward.

Come home to the belief that we can seek a newer world, and let us be joyful
in that homecoming, for "this is your land, this land is my land-from
California to New York island, from the redwood forest to the gulf stream
waters-this land was made for you and me."

So let us close on this note: May God grant each one of us the wisdom to
cherish this good land and to meet the great challenge that beckons us home.

And now is the time to meet that challenge.

Good night, and Godspeed to you all.

And then the battery on my father's Impala went dead. My father, the next
morning, walked down the dirt road to find someone with jumper cables. 

The history books will tell you Richard Nixon won the 1972 election, that
George McGovern went down to the worst defeat of any presidential candidate
in history. But those who write history do not take into account the moral
or the good, what is right or what is wrong, what endures and what does not.
And even the historians have to acknowledge that Nixon's victory was
attained by lies and fraudulent propaganda, by dirty tricks, by state crimes
and acts of theft and burglary. Nixon, as Hunter S. Thompson wrote, may have
embodied the "successful" politician but he "was a foul caricature of
himself, a man with no soul, no inner convictions."

"George McGovern, for all his mistakes. ," Thompson went on, "understands
what a fantastic monument to all the best instincts of the human race this
country might have been, if we could have kept it out of the hands of greedy
little hustlers like Richard Nixon. McGovern made some stupid mistakes, but
in context they seem almost frivolous compared to the things Richard Nixon
does every day of his life, on purpose.. Jesus! Where will it end? How low
do you have to stoop in this country to be President?"

I had dinner in New York a few years ago with McGovern and Rick MacArthur,
the publisher of Harper's Magazine. McGovern and I spoke about our
experience in war and the lies, deceit and empty patriotism used by
politicians and war profiteers to sustain war, of our life as the sons of
preachers and of the time each of us had spent as seminary students. I told
him about the summer I spent working for him, about the thrill of hearing
his acceptance speech and about exhausting the battery of my father's
Impala. I told him he had set the ethical and intellectual standards by
which I had attempted to live my own life. He mentioned, ruefully, the loss
of 49 states. 

"Senator," I said. "You never betrayed that 15-year-old boy."

  _____  

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