Radicals Then: Professionals Now
What the fuck, Howie? You’re talking, writing about something about which you do not know. If you haven’t read Dangerous, Dirty, Violent, and Young: A Fugitive Family in the Revolutionary Underground by Zayd Ayers Dohrn [https://www.nytimes.com/2026/05/19/books/review/dangerous-dirty-violent-and-young-zayd-ayers-dohrn.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share], then why the hell are you talking about it?
Well, it’s careerism that I want to address arising from the revolutionary movements of the late 1960s and early 1970s. That the author’s parents went on to become professionals at what is regarded in US society as the highest pinnacle of success, low-level gatekeepers in this nation, is of interest to me. True, they risked jail sentences that could have put them away for life, or close to life sentences, but like others in the radical movement of that era, they went on to rise to high levels of professional life. Only because of prosecutorial incompetence did some on the political, economic, and social left miss being thrown into the dungeons of the prison system of the US that seems to have a penchant for locking up lots of people of color. Indeed, life is good here: radical in one epoch: professionals in another. None became the so-called experts that some love to adore. One of those so-called experts became a pal of sorts with Jeffrey Epstein. Interesting! Some did not fare as well, but notice that those folks either became silent, or near silent, or just faded away. I often wonder what it was like to be at the top of an era of protest and to sink into relative oblivion later in life?
Recently, I completed a search of what former radicals had to say about the Israeli-US war in Iran, a war of aggression no matter what is thought about the radical fundamentalist regime in Iran. They are in a sovereign nation, so to speak, and I could hardly find a serious word about the war. There were a few statements, but how do those who spoke out and acted against the Vietnam War, and the expanded war in Southeast Asia, fall silent? Perhaps the media as it exists now doesn’t give a shit anymore about what old radicals have to say?
In July 1971, I drove from Connecticut to Ontario, Canada, with a group of friends to visit an expat, a family friend, who was in the process of building a house there. Of the four friends, two, including my best friend at the time, went on to become careerists, one other friend became a mental health worker, and I worked in public education for most of my working life. I never wanted to become any kind of gatekeeper, but rather, only support myself and my family. I was able to speak out and remain a critic of this society, as is witnessed in the series of my published writings that I am now gathering into a series of books: Writing on the Left for a Better World.
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