movement — a basically nonradical,nnonpolitical “peace” movement — isnbad history. The problem is that thenmovement, or rather its core of ideologues,ncontinues to exist and function:nit therefore belongs not to history but,nprecisely, to current events.nThe movement cadre never ceasednits activities, not even after the “victory”nof 1975. It formed the Coalitionnfor a New Foreign and Military Policyn(CNFMP) in the late 70’s; it formednthe backbone of the nuclear freezenproject in the early 80’s; it now formsnthe backbone of opposition to Americannattempts to block the spread ofnCommunist power in Central America.nThe ideology of these people remainsnthe same. It was best expressednby Richard Barnet in 1969: “The firstnimperative is that the world must benmade safe for revolution.” And thenbasic method used by these peoplenremains the same. They cloak attemptsnto diminish American power (a purelynpolitical objective) under the name ofnappeals to general morality (e.g., “Stopnthe War, Stop the Killing!”; “Arms arenfor Hugging”; “No War in CentralnAmerica: Nicaragua Wants Peace”).nThis is a tactic designed to mobilizenthousands of people sincerely concernednabout moral issues (hence thenenormous and frightening success ofnmovement people within the establishednchurches), in order that thenpolitical agenda of the leadership cannbe fulfilled. And as long as the educatednpublic (the real target of the movement)nhas no understanding of how itnwas manipulated in the 60’s, it willnhave.no defense against being manipulatednagain in ” the 80’s. Thus badnhistory—bad historical understandingn— can lead to disastrous present politics.nIn fact, what is most disturbing isnthat some of these people, apparentlynunencumbered by their past, have innthe 80’s achieved positions of increasingnimportance and influence. FranknBorosage, a leading light of the radicalnInstitute for Policy Studies (founded bynRichard Barnet and Cora Weiss), was anchief advisor to Jesse Jackson’s presidentialncampaign in 1988. Gareth Porter,nafter Noam Chomsky the leadingnapologist for the Khmer Rouge regimenin Cambodia, is now afi importantnfigure on the staff of Senator JohnnKerry of Massachusetts (and Kerry, inn58/CHRONICLESnturn, is a pillar of the pro-Sandinistanlobby in Congress). Richard Barnetnhimself appears as a political commentatornon the MacNeil-Lehrer NewsnHour. And in September 1988 thenDemocratic presidential nomineenspent two full days campaigning innCalifornia with Tom Hayden — TomnHayden, the pilgrim to Hanoi, thenfounder of SDS, known in the 60’s asn”the American Lenin,” and husbandnof Jane Fonda. Hayden hasn’t changednmuch: at the time, he had one of hisnchildren down in Nicaragua, “servingnthe Nicaraguan people.” Mr. Haydennis currently only a member of thenCalifornia State Assembly. But greatnthings are expected of him. Revisingnthe history of the antiwar movementnwill make the achievement of thosengreat things all the easier.nArthur M. Eckstein is a professor ofnhistory at the University of Maryland.nACADEMYnPostwar Oxfordnby Geoffrey WagnernIt was an interesting time. The SecondnWodd War had gone on twonyears longer than the First, with resultantnfatigue in England’s industrialnnorth, which gave the Labour governmentnits 1945 landslide. Such is admirablynexplained in Corelli Barnett’s ThenAudit of War, which shows how thenappeal of the shadow Attlee government,nparticularly the full employment,ncradle-to-grave promises of thennnBeveridge Plan, was understandablynirresistible to this element, as it was alsonto the services underclass, war-wearynand longing for demobilization. Nonpolitician, not even Churchill, could benagainst a guarantee of employment,nany more than could a French politiciannbe, two years later, for legal prostitution.nBut I can certainly testify that innlate 1948, when I was working as pressnofficer for ICI (Imperial Chemical Industries),nand I visited 120 factoriesnthroughout the British Isles, ranging innproducts from plastics to paints tonexplosives, not forgetting a wonderfulnsalt mine in Cheshire, almost withoutnexception I was told by my hosts thatnthe resident shop stewards were militandynCommunist. They were the onlynmen who would sacrifice their sparentime for the task of organization and,nafter all, Russia was an ally.nThose of us who had been “up” atnOxford before the war — and by OxfordnI also mean “the other place,”nCambridge — got preference in demobilizationnvia the so-called “B” release.nI was one of those returning to completenmy studies at Christ Church. Thenwar had had its rough times, of course,nbut it had introduced me to parts of thenworld I had never seen before (nornwant to again), and during it we hadnbeen generally on the move. The staticnhorrors of long trench warfare hadnbeen spared our generation. Nor had I,nexcept for a period in North Africa,nknown undue hunger. We returned tonan England that, in the first year afternthe war, had stricter rationing thannduring it. This rationing was exiguous.nIn 1947 the English were rationed ton1/2 lb. of meat a week, plus threenounces of bacon, two of butter, onenounce of cooking fat, and three ofncheese (mousetrap variety). US spamnhelped out a lot, though I confess Incan’t stare it in the face today. This wasnCrippsian austerity, with work or wantnposters everywhere, Bevin-controllednforeign currency allowing you just £25na year to take out of the countryn(strictly supervised by customs officials).nColleges supplied their own rationntickets for Hall. During my subsequentnjob with ICI, I draped a topcoatnover my knees under my desk, it wasnthat cold in unheated London.nHalf Cambridge’s size, 1946 Oxfordnconsisted of 14 small colleges, most ofnthem numbering only two or threen