[3 articles]

Mark Rudd Emerges from the Underground

http://www.nypress.com/blog-3728-mark-rudd-emerges-from-the-underground.html

By: Stephanie Lee
3/24/09

Former radical group leader Mark Rudd of the Weather Underground, a 
1960s militant offshoot group of Columbia's Students for a Democratic 
Society (SDS), returned to New York City to celebrate his new book 
Underground: My Life with SDS and the Weathermen.

Now a retired community college instructor living in New Mexico with 
his second wife, Rudd continues to stay active locally and spreads 
his story of organization and mass movement. "It is not a heroic 
story," he says, but Rudd hopes that his personal narrative might 
point budding activists in the right direction nevertheless.

Stephanie J. Lee spoke with Rudd before his book party last night for 
an inside look on how to organize mass movements.
--

New York Press: Tell me more about this book. What inspired you to 
write it? What are you hoping to convey?

Mark Rudd: Basically the book is a story. It's my own story of good 
organizing, which is about Columbia, then it's followed by bad 
organizing, which is about the Weather Underground.  By organizing, I 
mean what people do to build a movement and some of the terrible 
mistakes you could make while doing it. Good organizing is one-on-one 
engagement with people­much like what we did at Columbia. Bad 
organizing is the belief that if you just express yourself, people 
will join you. I consider Weatherman to be that kind of 
self-expression and ineffective.

 From what I've been reading, it's unclear whether or not there was 
just one specific event that marked the founding of the Weathermen…?

That's interesting. In a way, the specific event was the townhouse 
accident­the bomb on Mar. 6, 1970 on West 11 St., where three people 
were killed. But the planning for it had begun before that. Its 
origins were in the ideas of militancy and armed struggle, you know, 
and the expression of how much we hated war and racism. That began at 
Columbia in 1968.

In a sense, this is a New York story that I am telling.

Can you speak a bit more to the evolution of the group, namely what 
it had become and your opinions on that?

Well SDS very large organization, about 400 chapters on colleges and 
high school campuses. There was quite a large number in New York 
City. Within that group, some of us took away a lesson from the 
Columbia strike of April 1968, which was more militant. That seemed 
to be the lesson from Columbia.  We linked that lesson with the 
knowledge or belief that there would be revolution around the world. 
This could be taken from the motto. We were all followers of Che Guevara.

Between 1968 and 1970, we thought [the lesson learned] is what we 
were doing. We formed a faction­Weathermen, which wanted to move the 
bigger organization into what was based on a piece of paper that 
group wrote for a convention in 1969.

After that convention, I was elected national secretary. My faction 
won control of the national office in Chicago, and yet, we didn't 
really have that many supporters. There were maybe two dozen chapters 
that supported this line of anti-imperialism. At the end of '69 we 
made a decision to go underground and begin an armed struggle. We 
thought we were applying Che's theory.

How successful do you think the Weathermen was in achieving its mission?

Not at all! Everything we set out to do…Nothing we set out to do, we 
accomplished!

How did you feel as the leader of this group? Any reflections on that role…

I think part of the problem was that I was in over my head. I was 
posing as a great revolutionary, when in fact, I didn't really know 
what to do. It didn't take too long for that to catch up with me.

Even though I was a founder of this organization, within months of 
being national secretary, I sort of went downward in the leadership. 
I demoted myself. I didn't believe I was who I was pretending to 
be­the great revolutionary leader. This is not a heroic story.

Why did you leave the group?

I was still a fugitive at the end of 1970. I was a fugitive from Mar. 
of 1970, and I officially left as a member at the end of 1970. I 
didn't really voice my criticism till much later. I thought that the 
problem was mine, that I was not strong enough to be the great heroic 
revolutionary that was needed. That's kind of one of the themes of the book.

Can you speak  more to the Ayers/Obama controversy?

I would say that I was appalled by the attempt to sort of slur Obama 
through this casual acquaintanceship with Bill. As it was happening I 
thought geez, the Weather Underground killed three people by a 
bizarre accident, and yet John McCain dropped humongous bombs on 
people from 10,000 feet in the air on villages and towns. And how 
many innocent people did he slaughter? But they all talk about Ayers 
being a terrorist. McCain was an actual terrorist! I mean that's what 
war is, especially mechanized war­it's terrorism. I think I would 
have loved it if that fact had come out. It's terroristic but it's 
called war and sanctioned by the state, and therefore it's okay.

The US was murdering millions at the time of Vietnam, and we were all 
affected by this violence. I think we were a pale reflection of that 
terrorism. So that's what I thought about the whole business.

How do you feel about Obama?

I mean I was a strong supporter during the election. I would like to 
see him take a much more principled stand on Israel, and a more 
balanced stand rather than an unbalanced pro-Israel stand.

And for him to bring out some new economic policies while taking out 
the old Bush policies. Did you read the Paul Krugman article? The one 
today about old Bush policies?

I want him to do more and take a better, more moral position, and 
also, not pursue the war. I'm a critical supporter of Obama, you 
know, to push Obama. And I think he's open for that and that's the 
beauty of the situation.

What sort of advice do you have for protesters who are very unhappy 
with the way things are going right now, namely the War in Iraq but 
certainly the concerns of Iran and Afghanistan as well?

We've got to organize. We've got to organize a mass movement and keep 
going and keep pushing Obama. I can put it in a nut shell: We have to 
organize a movement for a second New Deal, and we have to fund it by 
taking money away from the military. I think security can be 
established by diplomacy, but we need a mass movement to make this 
happen. We need a total turnaround from the U.S.

Now back to you, why did you leave New York? Why New Mexico?

During the time I was a fugitive, I got to know New Mexico and I fell 
in love with the place. I'm literally in love with the land and the 
people, and that's where I want to be. But I when I think about it 
here in New York, I think one of the wonderful things about New 
Mexico is that there's less social segregation than in New York. 
People mix a bit more between classes and races. New York is very 
segregated internally. Even if you happen to live in the same 
building, you don't get to know people. You're stuck in the same 
class and in the same clique. I found New York to be way too 
segregated for my liking.  That's what originally drove me out, and I 
don't think it changed any. Do you?

I can live a more integrated life in terms of diversity of friends in 
New Mexico.

There was a long period of time when you had no communication with 
your parents. Can you tell me more about how your involvement with 
this group affected your family life?

Yeah we didn't speak for seven and a half years. My parents were very 
hurt and very fearful for me. It was like a time of terror. When I 
turned myself in, we made peace with each other. Oh gosh, it's been 
30 years since then. I have two children, and I'm about to have 
grandchildren. And everyone made peace, but it was a horrible time 
especially for my mother and father.

I'm very remorseful about what I put them through. I thought at the 
time that it was necessary.

Are you married? Do you have any kids?

Yes, well I'm in my second marriage. My first marriage was with a 
woman from the Weather Underground. I dedicated my book to her. I was 
a bachelor for 18 years and now I've remarried. And I have two children.

What are you doing now?

I've retired from teaching at the community college. I'm organizing 
in my neighborhood for economic justice issues. Over the years I've 
been active in peace, labor and environmental movements. I'm doing 
lots of different things.  I speak a lot at colleges and speak to 
college students about organizing. Basically, I tell my story.

--------

'Underground' by Mark Rudd

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-ca-mark-rudd29-2009mar29,0,4098976.story

A memoir by a former member of SDS and the Weathermen -- and we're 
not talking about William Ayers.

By Jon Wiener
March 29, 2009

Underground: My Life With SDS and the Weathermen
Mark Rudd
William Morrow: 326 pp., $25.99

Mark Rudd is the guy from the Weather Underground who is not Bill 
Ayers. Both were leaders of the group that worked for the violent 
overthrow of the United States government in the 1970s, but while 
Ayers remains unapologetic, Rudd is full of regrets.

Rudd is not Bill Ayers in other ways: Sarah Palin did not accuse 
Barack Obama of palling around with him, nor has he been featured on 
the New York Times op-ed page or interviewed on "Fresh Air With Terry 
Gross." Instead, he has lived in obscurity, as a community college 
math teacher in New Mexico, since the government dropped charges 
against him in 1977.

The 2003 documentary "The Weather Underground" celebrated the 
"idealistic passion" that led Ayers and his comrades to their 
campaign of bombing public buildings. At the end of the film, Rudd 
appeared briefly for the first time in 25 years, "a befuddled, 
gray-haired, overweight, middle-aged guy" full of "guilt and shame." 
At least that's the way he describes himself at the beginning of 
"Underground: My Life With SDS and the Weathermen." It was that 
image, Rudd says, that drove him to write this book -- because in the 
film "I never get to explain what I'm guilty and ashamed of."

The Weather Underground was a splinter faction of Students for a 
Democratic Society (SDS), the radical antiwar group that by the late 
1960s had chapters on hundreds of campuses. Around 1969, the 
Weathermen (who named themselves after Bob Dylan's line "You don't 
need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows") concluded that 
the American people would never stop the war in Vietnam. Rather, it 
was up to them -- a few dozen kids -- to act on behalf of the 
Vietnamese people by placing small bombs in places like the Capitol 
and the Pentagon.

The kids knew best

This, or so the logic went, would somehow spark an uprising of young 
blacks and Latinos to overthrow the government. Even the Vietnamese 
Communist leaders believed the Weathermen had the wrong strategy, 
that they should work to persuade mainstream Americans to end the 
war. But the American kids knew better.

Rudd gets right to the point in the opening pages of "Underground": 
"Much of what the Weathermen did had the opposite effect of what we 
intended," he writes. "We de-organized SDS while we claimed we were 
making it stronger; we isolated ourselves from our friends and allies 
as we helped split the larger antiwar movement around the issue of 
violence. In general, we played into the hands of the FBI. . . . We 
might as well have been on their payroll."

Rudd's story begins with his parents dropping him off at Columbia 
University the first day of freshman week 1965. What follows is a 
straightforward narrative of events, in which he and millions of 
other young Americans were radicalized by the war. The book has a 
series of climaxes: first, the triumphant student occupation of 
Columbia's administration building in the spring of 1968 and the 
brutal police bust that followed -- which made headlines 
internationally and set an example for radical students at colleges 
across the country.

Next, he details the formation of the Weathermen in 1969 and the 
disastrous explosion that killed three members in a Greenwich Village 
town house in 1970. After that came seven years of life underground, 
lonely and intermittently terrifying. Finally, we get the happy 
ending -- Rudd coming up from underground in 1977, settling his legal 
case, embracing normal life and returning to antiwar activism when 
President George W. Bush invaded Iraq.

Rebellion in bloom

Rudd conveys well the festival-like joy of the springtime campus 
uprisings of the late 1960s: passionate discussions under the trees 
about the causes of war and strategies for stopping it; music and 
drugs on all sides; dancing long into the night; "a fluorescence of 
energy and imagination such as Columbia had never seen." It was like 
that at hundreds of other schools over the next few years.

The authorities looked at these developments and saw only violence 
and destruction. The New York Times quoted a Columbia administrator's 
description of Rudd as "totally unscrupulous and morally very 
dangerous . . . an adolescent having a temper tantrum." The media 
embraced this image of him as quintessential student rebel, but to 
his credit, Rudd says that "the organizing at Columbia was the work 
of hundreds of people at least as committed, intelligent, and 
articulate as I was."

The heart of "Underground" comes about halfway through, in 1969, when 
SDS was challenged by the hard-core Maoists of the Progressive Labor 
Party. The Progressive Labor faction had a strategy for revolution: a 
"worker-student alliance" to overthrow capitalism. The national 
leadership of SDS -- Rudd and his friends -- concluded that they 
needed one too. What they came up with was to call on young people to 
become urban guerrillas to fight "Amerikka." The overwhelming 
majority of SDS rejected both perspectives, but the faction fight 
destroyed the organization.

"The destruction of SDS was probably the single greatest mistake I've 
made in my life," Rudd declares forthrightly. "It was a historical crime."

You might think all that is obvious now. But it isn't -- at least not 
to Ayers. He wrote about the Weather Underground in the New York 
Times in December 2008, declaring that "our effectiveness can be -- 
and still is being -- debated." His only real regret, he said on 
"Fresh Air," is that the violent tactics of the Weathermen didn't end 
the war. But, he added, neither did peaceful protest -- so who can 
say who was right and who was wrong?

Both Rudd and Ayers want today's activists to learn from the mistakes 
of the 1960s. But nobody opposed to the war in Iraq thinks that 
becoming an urban guerrilla and putting a bomb in the Pentagon is 
going to help bring the troops home. Rudd's historical judgments are, 
to use a phrase from the era, "right on." Still, what may be most 
striking about "Underground" is how irrelevant its lessons are for our time.
--

Wiener teaches American history at UC Irvine and is a contributing 
editor to the Nation.

--------

Days of Rage Recalled

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123819009072860721.html

An unrepentant 1960s radical recounts his past as protester and fugitive

By STEFAN KANFER
MARCH 28, 2009

Underground
By Mark Rudd
William Morrow, 325 pages, $25.99

Mark Rudd was a prominent student leader in 1968 when the Students 
for a Democratic Society (SDS) occupied several buildings at Columbia 
University in New York. I lived across the street at the time and 
well remember their collective tantrum. Taking over the 
administrative offices by force, they issued a roster of demands. 
These included (a) the abandonment of plans for a gym that Columbia 
intended to build in Harlem -- even though community leaders had 
approved the proposal seven years earlier; (b) a break between the 
university and the Institute for Defense Analyses, a weapons-research 
think tank; (c) official denouncement of the Selective Service 
System, which was drafting college-age men for military duty in 
Vietnam; and (d) total amnesty for Mr. Rudd and the Ruddlets.

Police were brought in and hundreds of students rioted, trashing the 
campus along with parts of the surrounding neighborhood. In Mr. 
Rudd's "Underground: My Life With SDS and the Weathermen" -- a series 
of rationales for the autobiographer's toxic behavior as a young man, 
followed by one of the most unconvincing mea culpas since Bernie 
Madoff turned himself in -- he cluelessly describes the collision of 
authority and adolescence at Columbia. "It certainly didn't help that 
we antagonized the cops by calling them 'pigs' and 'm---------ers.' " 
(Mr. Rudd doesn't bother with the hyphens.) He goes on to describe 
his behavior following an argument with a professor. The prof 
actually wanted to teach students rather than help them destroy an 
institution of higher learning: "Breaking away . . . I ran down the 
street, picked up a brick I saw lying around, and, in a puny gesture, 
shattered the post-office window next door. Throwing that brick gave 
me no solace."

Not to worry. There were many other balms for self-styled militants. 
Mind-altering drugs, for example, group sex, visits to Cuba for 
training in revolutionary tactics and, in later years, grabbing 
credit for ending the Vietnam War. (In fact, because the Nixon 
administration worried about appearing to bow to the radicals' 
pressure, they actually helped prolong the conflict.) "To this day," 
Mr. Rudd writes, four decades after the uprising on the Upper West 
Side, "I encounter people who tell me the Columbia strike changed 
their lives: a woman who gave up French literature to study law and 
work for welfare clients; a male career community organizer who found 
direction for his life during the strike."

Unmentioned by Mr. Rudd are Columbia students who were pleased with 
the direction of their studies but whose classes were shut down and 
whose Ph.D. theses, in a some cases, were burned in the riot (a 
disaster in the days before the ubiquity of the copying machine). A 
more significant casualty of the Columbia violence: the suffocation 
of civilized debate on campus.

The university has never fully recovered from the traumas of 1968. 
Over the years its presidents and administrations have tacked one way 
and another as the winds of political fashion dictate, lest "the 
kids" get upset again. In September 2007, when Iranian president 
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad was invited to speak at the university, criticism 
from outside Columbia that Mr. Ahmadinejad hardly merited the 
school's hospitality prompted two ludicrous screeds, one from the 
president of the university, the other from the president of Iran. 
Both Lee Bollinger and Mr. Ahmadinejad essentially defended the 
Iranian's right to free speech in America -- this for the 
representative of a country where speaking freely is often rewarded 
with prison time. (And, of course, the U.S. military that defends 
free speech at Columbia is denied a campus presence in the form of the ROTC.)

By contrast, a year earlier another invited Columbia speaker -- Jim 
Gilchrist, founder of the Minuteman Project, an independent group 
that patrols the border between the U.S. and Mexico -- was mugged 
onstage by student intimidators in classic SDS style, and the school 
authorities issued only the mildest rebuke.

A trailblazer of that style, of course, was Mr. Rudd. After fomenting 
the Columbia brawl in 1968, he moved on to help found a more violent 
organization called the Weathermen (later renamed the Weather 
Underground). At Indiana University in September 1969, he exhorted 
students to follow his lead. In "Underground," he quotes from an FBI 
file that he says "all too accurately" captured his remarks that day: 
"Some people will get hurt, some killed, to build the revolution. We 
want whites to take risks now -- affinity groups will be the main 
tactics. Whites in twos and three will off" -- that is, murder -- 
"the pigs. . . . Don't have non-violent marches."

Of course, Mr. Rudd was not alone in portraying the U.S. as an 
imperialist, sexist, racist society led by Caucasian male oppressors 
-- in a word, "Amerika." There was, for example, Bernardine Dohrn, 
who styled herself as a valorous antifascist fighting the Fourth 
Reich. Speaking alongside Mr. Rudd in Chicago in October 1969, she 
told a crowd: "We refuse to be good Germans. We live behind enemy lines."

On March 16, 1970, Mr. Rudd's life as a revolutionary took an 
unexpected turn. At a townhouse on 11th Street in Greenwich Village 
where five of his "comrades" were preparing an attack on a dance at 
Fort Dix in New Jersey for noncommissioned officers and their wives 
and girlfriends, a bomb loaded with dynamite and nails exploded 
prematurely. The blast killed three Weathermen; two others survived 
and fled the scene. The group's leadership went underground to avoid arrest.

Mr. Rudd, it should be noted, was fully aware of the planned attack: 
One of the bombers who would die in the explosion had told him a few 
nights before that they were going to "kill the pigs at a dance at 
Fort Dix." The military officers, of course, were meant to "pay for 
the American crimes in Vietnam," Mr. Rudd writes. As for their 
dancing partners, well, "at that point we had determined that there 
were no innocent Americans, at least no white ones."

He stayed on the lam for seven years, dodging federal charges in the 
Fort Dix bombing conspiracy and other crimes. Mr. Rudd was unhappy 
with the revolution's failure to accomplish much of anything, but he 
certainly did not repudiate its methods. In "Underground," he 
describes participating, a few weeks after the Greenwich Village 
explosion, in a "fund-raising" event that would be colloquially 
described as armed robbery at a restaurant, and he recounts a bungled 
attempt several months later to bomb the Marin County Courthouse in 
California. But he also fell from favor within the organization, 
which was rife with political infighting, and drifted into the 
"insanely boring" life of a simple fugitive from justice. Still, he 
had talked his long-suffering wife into joining him underground, and 
in 1974 they had a baby, a son "born under an assumed name."

In 1977, Mr. Rudd finally surfaced in a well-hyped, thoroughly 
lawyered surrender to federal authorities. He gloats that at his 
arraignment he was "treated more or less as a V.I.P. rather than a 
bail jumper and an accused felon revolutionary." Another delight: 
Most of the charges against him were dropped, and he got off with two 
years' probation and a $2,000 fine.

Since then, the memoirist assures us, he became a sober 
community-college math teacher in New Mexico (he retired in 2007), 
rueful about the Weathermen's violent history -- though only faintly 
so. He is hardly contrite about trying to sow revolution. The U.S. is 
still a racist, imperialist stronghold, Mr. Rudd claims, and "there's 
no shortage of organizing work to be done." The awakening youth of 
America, he says, give him hope.

The real value of "Underground" is not its feeble repentance or its 
sham modesty. ("My part in the destruction of the Weather Underground 
was actually very small.") Mr. Rudd's essential contribution is his 
self-portrait as a youth who persuaded others to wreck rather than 
create -- and his snapshots of like-minded contemporaries.

Consider the aforementioned Bernardine Dohrn. In the 1970s, a 
"Revolutionary Committee" of fanatical leftists who had deposed her 
Weather Underground leadership group released a tape of the contrite 
Ms. Dohrn's confession of her antirevolutionary sins. On the tape, 
she owned up to "naked white supremacy, white superiority, and 
chauvinistic arrogance," Mr. Rudd reports, and to "denying support to 
Third World liberation. . . . She even named names of her 
co-conspirators." Among the "leading criminals" she denounced, the 
author notes, was Bill Ayers.

As the world knows, Mr. Ayers and Ms. Dohrn are now man and wife -- 
and professors well respected in some quarters. Such are the 
after-lives of revolutionaries. During the presidential campaign, 
because of Mr. Ayers's connection to Barack Obama, the names Ayers, 
Dohrn and Rudd were in the air again, occasioning wistful admiration 
from the left and fresh anger from the right. Few noticed that the 
superannuated rebels now operate at a safe distance from the 
barricades. The main activity of these "activists" is offering 
alibis, teaching the naïve and writing books about the days before 
Amerika got wise to their party line.
--

Mr. Kanfer is a Manhattan Institute scholar and the author, most 
recently, of "Somebody: The Reckless Life and Remarkable Career of 
Marlon Brando" (Knopf).

.


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