Are you a knee-jerk pacifist ?
Nation's patriotic fervor gives Berkeley identity crisis
BY PATRICK MAY
Mercury News
That's Berkeley. That's what they say when other words fail. Berzerkeley -- a place of anti-this and counter-that, cradle of the free-speech movement of the 1960s where they have been speaking freely with a vengeance ever since.
Lately, with patriotism in the air and American bombs falling on Afghanistan, Berkeley has been behaving very Berkeleyish. And the rest of the country is not amused.
In some ways, it's the good old days: Raucous city council meetings, an official resolution calling for a halt to the U.S. strikes, death threats, talk of a business boycott, and campus teach-ins whipping up a polemic lather.
This time, of course, it's different. With some polls showing 92 percent of Americans supporting the war effort, even the tie-dyed holdouts are having a tough time going against the grain here. Which leaves Berkeley a very conflicted corner of the country.
``People feel scared by terrorism,'' said counselor Laurie Schryver, who protested the Vietnam War here 30 years ago. ``On the other hand, they don't feel like war is the answer.''
This city that both loves and hates its reputation has been doing some serious soul-searching. Most of its 104,300 residents are as outraged as their fellow Americans about the Sept. 11 attacks and want something done about it. Yet a long, proud legacy of anti-war fervor makes it hard to jump on the patriotic bandwagon.
Cautious reaction
Even chamber of commerce chairman Reid Edwards, whose members could lose business because of the council's anti-bombing resolution, understands the city's dilemma.
``People in Berkeley are as concerned as anyone else about terrorism,'' Edwards said. ``But because of what we saw in Vietnam and that quagmire, the reaction here to the bombing is one of caution.''
Berkeley is struggling with a new kind of war. For some, dissent is lodged in long-held pacifist beliefs. For others, it's more muddled. University of California-Berkeley philosophy professor John Searle, author of a well-known account of student riots, spoke against the Vietnam War back in the mid-1960s. Yet today he talks of ``a certain knee-jerk pacifism of which Berkeley has always had its share.''
``The whole moral equation is totally different now,'' Searle said. ``People opposed to today's war are opposed on rather unintelligent grounds, thinking that this bombing will somehow lead to a greater scope. People are out there planning to kill us. It's ridiculous to think we can lay down and let them.''
In a time-honored tradition of falling out of step with the rest of the country, Berkeley's leaders wasted no time painting a bull's-eye on the city's forehead. In late September, in a move the county sheriff dubbed an act of ``stupidity,'' the city manager ordered firefighters to remove the large American flags they had draped over their trucks. The reason: concern the flags might incite anti-war protesters at an upcoming rally. Eventually, smaller flags were allowed.
Then came the council's love fest for U.S. Rep. Barbara Lee. Members officially commended the Oakland Democrat for casting the lone vote in Congress against giving President Bush full license to wage war. Lee has been viewed alternately as hero and turncoat, but her action clearly inspired council member Dona Spring, who quickly carved out the next bit of controversy for the city -- pushing for an emergency resolution asking that the United States stop its bombing campaign.
``We wanted to add our voices to Rep. Lee, whom we admire and think of as a great spiritual leader and a voice of conscience,'' Spring said. ``We were willing to put our necks on the line by calling for a solution that uses the least amount of violence to resolve the threat of worldwide terrorism. Obviously, we can't just go on bombing country after country.''
Anti-war resolution
Eventually toned down to ask that the strikes be stopped ``as soon as possible,'' the resolution passed Oct. 16, the five progressive members besting their four moderate colleagues who abstained. One of those choosing not to vote was Mim Hawley, a longtime liberal now wrestling with the same dilemma as her constituents.
``I found myself talking to people I'd known in the '70s as anti-war activists but who weren't quite as ready to condemn the bombing as my fellow council members,'' Hawley said. ``People are conflicted about this. I fly both a flag and a poster that says `Justice, Not Vengeance,' because I feel both ways.''
In true Berkeley fashion, the council's actions triggered a rousing debate. While the proclamation was fairly mild, it came at a time when the nation clearly wasn't in the mood to entertain much dissent. The news from Berkeley ignited a national firestorm of outrage, and City Hall was soon knee-deep in angry e-mails.
With threats of boycotts flying, some business owners were furious with what they saw as their elected leaders' lousy timing and arrogance in trying to dictate foreign policy. ``It's the City Council, not the United States Council,'' said Brij Misra, general manager of the Radisson Hotel Berkeley Marina, who had a Reserve Officers' Training Corps group of 250 cancel a dinner after hearing about the resolution.
Then again, some Berkeleyites felt the resolution was just what the free-speech legacy called for. In fact, Barbara Lubin, outspoken executive director of the Middle East Children's Alliance, said she thought the council didn't go far enough. The resolution ``should have been stronger, but everybody got cold feet,'' she said. ``It's distressing to see so many people wrapping themselves up in the American flag.''
Lubin said the most surprising thing about the Sept. 11 attacks was that ``it hadn't happened before now, when you see how angry people are at our government. We don't realize how much effect we have on people's lives around the world. Americans are out to lunch.''
Few flags flying
If flag-flying is any indication of support for America's new war, it's easy to assume the city still lists leftward. Certainly there are flags in Berkeley, even though the one above the main Post Office was burned recently in an anonymous act of protest. But there are not lots of flags. A recent drive through a wealthy neighborhood in the hills turned up only two, including the one Karine Zaks, 59, sports on her wooden fence.
``I think some people are afraid to put up a flag because they worry about what some of their neighbors still here from the '60s might think,'' Zaks said. ``I demonstrated here as a student, and back then I may have thought about burning the flag.
``But now I'm flying it, because this time things are completely different.''
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