THE NATION

War at Attica

At 9:44 on a drizzly overcast morning last week, a radio loudspeaker snapped out the order to attack. Through the stinging mist of CS pepper gas dropped by Viet Nam-style helicopters, yellow-clad troopers set off a barrage of rifle fire from atop 30-ft. prison walls. More than 500 officers--armed with shotguns, rifles, pistols and clubs--charged into the crowded compound, shooting as they ran. Sporadic firing continued for nearly an hour. When the one-sided battle was over, lawmen representing the State of New York had killed 26 convicts and nine of 38 hostages that the inmates had seized in the four-day prison riot. At least 83 prisoners were hurt seriously.

That was Attica. For some time to come in the U.S., that word will not be primarily identified with the plain upon which ancient Athens nurtured philosophy and democracy. Nor will it stand for the bucolic little town that gave its name to a turreted prison, mislabeled a "correctional facility." Attica will evoke the bloodiest prison rebellion in U.S. history.

Many of the rebels, of course, were in prison for violent and ugly crimes; many were there for lesser offenses. Yet by and large, at Attica they were treated without distinction, as numbers or niggers or animals to be caged. Most penologists point out that the key to dealing with inmates is to know them--and their leaders--well. In the end, the major failure at Attica may be that the authorities simply did not know what the desperate men behind their walls really wanted, thought or felt. This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.