The Aggressive Moderates

Until recently, student protest seemed to be a bizarre happening confined to a few unusual campuses -Berkeley, say, or Cornell, or Columbia. But in the post-Cambodia climate, some of the sleepiest campuses have suddenly been stirred to varying degrees of anger and demands for change. Almost everywhere, more and more students are voicing unsuspected concern. But despite their newfound willingness to join demonstrations and their often abusive language, the new activists are still basically against violence, which is why they are being called "aggressive moderates."

Consider the University of Alabama, which has long been a bastion of idolized athletes and lionized coaches, pretty coeds, fervent fraternity men and racism. Today, Alabama is aroused -and politicized. An indication of the new mood came on May 6, when a candlelight service was held for the students slain at Kent State. Afterward, there was a march on the mansion of President F. David Mathews, where students demanded a number of parochial changes (self-regulation on hours for women, better food and such). Nothing big by up-North standards, but neither the service nor the march would have happened a few months ago. The edgy Tuscaloosa police took note.

Greeks and Freaks. One evening at midmonth, there was a good-natured confrontation outside the student union between a group of "Greeks" (fraternity types) and "Freaks" (members of the university's long-hair set). Six city police rolled up and soon were reinforced by nightstick-toting plainclothesmen. There followed what by most accounts was a police riot: the cops went berserk, clubbing students and bystanders indiscriminately. Among the casualties was Senior Richard Winstead, a former all-state basketball star and campus beau ideal. Strolling on the Dekehouse lawn with a date, Winstead was wrestled into some bushes and stick-whipped by policemen. Undergraduates were appalled. "You know," said one Greek, "we never believed the black students about police brutality. We thought the Freaks deserved whatever they got. Now it's close to home."

To be sure, the aroused students are sticking to local issues. "When they mix in 'Impeach Nixon' and 'End the war,' " says one, "I bow out." Yet last week Alabama held a memorial service for the blacks killed at Jackson State. Amid demonstrations and arrests, epithets ("Liar," "Fascist pig") have been hurled at President Mathews.

New Portals. A similar awakening is clear at Midwest models of Old Siwash like tiny Knox College (enrollment: 1,487) in Galesburg, Ill. A typical heartland school, Knox has always been quiet, conservative and content (for a weekend, Iowa City is "a real groovy town"). In recent days, though, Knox students have occupied the dean's office and demanded a referendum on closing the school for the rest of the year. Knox students, faculty and administration members have canvassed Galesburg, house by house, for signatures on an antiwar petition. Furthermore, Knox will probably -like Princeton -give its students time off in the fall for political campaigning.

Acting President Lewis S. Salter does not view more changes lightly: he is concerned lest a "small minority impose its will on the majority." Still, he says firmly, "we are going to be moving out more into the community. I like to think that the tower of learning still stands, but that there are new portals through which students and faculty can pass to the outside for political activity and through which they can return to study."

By no means is every American campus actively protesting the Administration's war or domestic policies -or even its own college policies. After all, the country has 2,500 campuses, hundreds of which remain calm. But when dissent can transform an Alabama or a Knox, it can happen anywhere.

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