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A review by raskol
Days of Rage: America's Radical Underground, the FBI, and the Forgotten Age of Revolutionary Violence by Bryan Burrough
3.0
Days of Rage deals with the history of several prominent (others might say notorious) US-based underground revolutionary groups active from around the late 1960s through the mid-1980s. It also deals with some of the history of the FBI’s often criminal efforts to infiltrate and undermine various groups on the radical left as well as to apprehend members of the revolutionary underground. This book compiles lots of details from various sources as well as providing new testimony thanks to interviews personally conducted by the author, Bryan Burrough, with at least several members of the various underground groups. As a broad historical overview of the subject, Burrough’s book is engaging and reads well.
Unfortunately, this book also suffers from a major flaw.
That flaw has to do with Burrough’s generally dismissive attitude and his seeming disinterest when it comes to revolutionary politics. Despite his pledge in the prologue to try to keep his judgments to a minimum, “especially where politics is concerned,” such judgments are nevertheless evident throughout the book. In fact, immediately before his pledge, Burrough renders his verdict that “the untold story of the underground era, stretching from 1970 until the last diehards were captured in 1985, is one of misplaced idealism, naïveté, and stunning arrogance” and that his subjects were “young people who fatally misjudged America’s political winds and found themselves trapped in an unwinnable struggle they were too proud or too stubborn to give up.”
Burrough, however, never analyzes what these underground revolutionary groups were trying to do in light of what previous revolutionaries actually succeeded in doing elsewhere (e.g., in Russia, China, or Cuba), nor does he frame, let alone analyze, what these groups were doing in the broader context of urban guerrilla groups and their struggles in numerous other countries (e.g., Germany, Uruguay, Brazil, etc.). Throughout the book, Burrough never once deviates from the view that any sort of revolution in the United States during this period was simply and obviously impossible and, therefore, any attempt to spark one is only explainable as a symptom of some kind of gross irrationality on the part of his subjects, the product of either their childishness or their insanity. Consequently, Burrough offers no real insight into the rationale behind what these groups were doing, let alone any meaningful analysis of the groups’ strengths and weaknesses or the reasons they were ultimately unsuccessful.
In places, Burrough also glosses over and at times even seems to make fun or light of the politics driving some of these groups. Certain other significant political questions, such as those related to the fallout from and the politics surrounding the Sino-Soviet split among the American left, he just omits altogether. For Marxist readers, at least, such an omission will come across as evident and jarring in places. For example, part of Burrough’s Weather Underground narrative involves a bitter internal struggle between a “Marxist-Leninist” line (upheld by the Central Committee-Annie Stein faction, with their “emphasis on organizational work with the masses”) and a “Maoist” line (upheld by the Clayton Van Lydegraf faction, with their “emphasis on armed struggle”).
Moreover, because Burrough only ever vaguely glosses over the political contradictions within these groups, the really big questions not only go unanswered, they go unasked. Probably the biggest questions Burrough leaves unasked are these: How could these groups of revolutionaries, who were supposedly all steeped in Marxist-Leninist revolutionary theory, embrace an American brand of the terrorism that Lenin himself explicitly rejected at the very outset of his own political career? What theoretical and political basis did these revolutionaries use to rationalize their abandonment of Marxist-Leninist mass politics in favor of ultra-leftist adventurism and terrorism?
Burrough noticeably hints at (or, more accurately, fumbles his way around) these questions without ever actually raising them in two places. First, while talking about Weather’s disastrous “inversion” plan, he describes it as an attempt to “return Weather’s leadership to the exalted positions they had abandoned on leaving SDS four years before,” and even quotes Bernardine Dohrn’s friend Russell Neufeuld as saying, “There was a feeling...that Weather had squandered its ties to the Movement and needed to find a way to regain its leadership.” The terms Neufeld uses here are important: his talk of how “Weather had squandered its ties to the Movement” strongly indicates the underlying theoretical and political rationale for Weather’s plan had to do with their understanding of Mao Zedong’s concept of the mass line. This underscores Weather’s previous turn toward emphasizing organizational work with the masses rather than armed struggle. Burrough, however, is all too happy to allow Cathy Wilkerson to frame this episode for him as merely an opportunistic gambit on the part of Weather’s leadership. Consequently, even though he’s struck something solid here, he never digs any deeper.
Second, in the Epilogue, just ten pages from the end of the book, Sekou Odinga strongly criticizes himself and his comrades along very similar lines: “‘It was all a mistake,’ Sekou Odinga admits today. ‘People weren’t ready. People weren’t ready for armed struggle. One of the things we now know, and should’ve known then, is we were way out in front of the people. A little more study would’ve made that clear. You can be a vanguard in the struggle, but you have to have the people behind you, and they weren’t.” Odinga’s admission that they “should’ve known then” that they “were way out in front of the people” and that “[a] little more study would’ve made that clear” is striking and should have prompted Burrough to ask more questions. But he doesn’t.
Instead, Burrough uses Odinga’s self-criticism as merely a stepping stone on the way to his ultimate goal, which is harping on (one could even say gloating over) his theme that underground revolutionary groups didn’t accomplish anything and caricaturing his subjects as cultish and deluded fanatics. For this last bit, he capitalizes on the desire of Cathy Wilkerson’s attorney, Elizabeth Fink, to explain away the actions of her clients and their comrades by attributing them all to the “cult” mentality of the 1960s underground: “The sixties drove them all crazy, all of us. All they did was listen to their own people, their own opinions. By ’74, ’75, when the was is over, you should have said, you know, ‘What the fuck? The revolution isn’t happening.’ But they were crazy. I was a part of that craziness. I know this to be true. It’s just like the Middle East today, Al Qaeda, a lot of crazy people doing all this very bad shit.” Fink’s excuse here is a weak one, but Burrough allows it to go unchallenged because that’s more or less the moral of his story. As such, Burrough’s book functions less as a history than it does as a fable.
For as much hard work as Burrough obviously put into this book, it’s disappointing to see such a rich, fascinating, and important history as this one would reduce its subjects to such lazy caricatures.
Unfortunately, this book also suffers from a major flaw.
That flaw has to do with Burrough’s generally dismissive attitude and his seeming disinterest when it comes to revolutionary politics. Despite his pledge in the prologue to try to keep his judgments to a minimum, “especially where politics is concerned,” such judgments are nevertheless evident throughout the book. In fact, immediately before his pledge, Burrough renders his verdict that “the untold story of the underground era, stretching from 1970 until the last diehards were captured in 1985, is one of misplaced idealism, naïveté, and stunning arrogance” and that his subjects were “young people who fatally misjudged America’s political winds and found themselves trapped in an unwinnable struggle they were too proud or too stubborn to give up.”
Burrough, however, never analyzes what these underground revolutionary groups were trying to do in light of what previous revolutionaries actually succeeded in doing elsewhere (e.g., in Russia, China, or Cuba), nor does he frame, let alone analyze, what these groups were doing in the broader context of urban guerrilla groups and their struggles in numerous other countries (e.g., Germany, Uruguay, Brazil, etc.). Throughout the book, Burrough never once deviates from the view that any sort of revolution in the United States during this period was simply and obviously impossible and, therefore, any attempt to spark one is only explainable as a symptom of some kind of gross irrationality on the part of his subjects, the product of either their childishness or their insanity. Consequently, Burrough offers no real insight into the rationale behind what these groups were doing, let alone any meaningful analysis of the groups’ strengths and weaknesses or the reasons they were ultimately unsuccessful.
In places, Burrough also glosses over and at times even seems to make fun or light of the politics driving some of these groups. Certain other significant political questions, such as those related to the fallout from and the politics surrounding the Sino-Soviet split among the American left, he just omits altogether. For Marxist readers, at least, such an omission will come across as evident and jarring in places. For example, part of Burrough’s Weather Underground narrative involves a bitter internal struggle between a “Marxist-Leninist” line (upheld by the Central Committee-Annie Stein faction, with their “emphasis on organizational work with the masses”) and a “Maoist” line (upheld by the Clayton Van Lydegraf faction, with their “emphasis on armed struggle”).
Moreover, because Burrough only ever vaguely glosses over the political contradictions within these groups, the really big questions not only go unanswered, they go unasked. Probably the biggest questions Burrough leaves unasked are these: How could these groups of revolutionaries, who were supposedly all steeped in Marxist-Leninist revolutionary theory, embrace an American brand of the terrorism that Lenin himself explicitly rejected at the very outset of his own political career? What theoretical and political basis did these revolutionaries use to rationalize their abandonment of Marxist-Leninist mass politics in favor of ultra-leftist adventurism and terrorism?
Burrough noticeably hints at (or, more accurately, fumbles his way around) these questions without ever actually raising them in two places. First, while talking about Weather’s disastrous “inversion” plan, he describes it as an attempt to “return Weather’s leadership to the exalted positions they had abandoned on leaving SDS four years before,” and even quotes Bernardine Dohrn’s friend Russell Neufeuld as saying, “There was a feeling...that Weather had squandered its ties to the Movement and needed to find a way to regain its leadership.” The terms Neufeld uses here are important: his talk of how “Weather had squandered its ties to the Movement” strongly indicates the underlying theoretical and political rationale for Weather’s plan had to do with their understanding of Mao Zedong’s concept of the mass line. This underscores Weather’s previous turn toward emphasizing organizational work with the masses rather than armed struggle. Burrough, however, is all too happy to allow Cathy Wilkerson to frame this episode for him as merely an opportunistic gambit on the part of Weather’s leadership. Consequently, even though he’s struck something solid here, he never digs any deeper.
Second, in the Epilogue, just ten pages from the end of the book, Sekou Odinga strongly criticizes himself and his comrades along very similar lines: “‘It was all a mistake,’ Sekou Odinga admits today. ‘People weren’t ready. People weren’t ready for armed struggle. One of the things we now know, and should’ve known then, is we were way out in front of the people. A little more study would’ve made that clear. You can be a vanguard in the struggle, but you have to have the people behind you, and they weren’t.” Odinga’s admission that they “should’ve known then” that they “were way out in front of the people” and that “[a] little more study would’ve made that clear” is striking and should have prompted Burrough to ask more questions. But he doesn’t.
Instead, Burrough uses Odinga’s self-criticism as merely a stepping stone on the way to his ultimate goal, which is harping on (one could even say gloating over) his theme that underground revolutionary groups didn’t accomplish anything and caricaturing his subjects as cultish and deluded fanatics. For this last bit, he capitalizes on the desire of Cathy Wilkerson’s attorney, Elizabeth Fink, to explain away the actions of her clients and their comrades by attributing them all to the “cult” mentality of the 1960s underground: “The sixties drove them all crazy, all of us. All they did was listen to their own people, their own opinions. By ’74, ’75, when the was is over, you should have said, you know, ‘What the fuck? The revolution isn’t happening.’ But they were crazy. I was a part of that craziness. I know this to be true. It’s just like the Middle East today, Al Qaeda, a lot of crazy people doing all this very bad shit.” Fink’s excuse here is a weak one, but Burrough allows it to go unchallenged because that’s more or less the moral of his story. As such, Burrough’s book functions less as a history than it does as a fable.
For as much hard work as Burrough obviously put into this book, it’s disappointing to see such a rich, fascinating, and important history as this one would reduce its subjects to such lazy caricatures.