jf irhjgan aij Seventy-Sixth Year EDITED AND MANAGED BYSTUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSTY OF MICHIGAN UNDER AUTHORITY OF BOARD IN CONTROL OF S'TUDENT PUBLICATIONS TRAN VAN DINH The Reun iication of Vietnam: A Poem :,-- where Opinions Are Free, 420 MAYNARD ST., ANN ARBOR, MICH. Truth Will Prv 4 A T A NEws PHONE: 764-0552 Editorials printed in The Michigan Daily express the individual opinions of staff writers at the editors. This must be noted in all rebrint THURSDAY JULY 6, 1967 NIGHT EDITOR: WALLACE IMMEN Black A Bri tish Vie THE ANNUAL RACE RIOTS in the Unit- ed States now begin with the pre- dictability of the baseball season. Hot days and nights, making bad housing in- tolerable and driving young Negroes on to the streets, where they clash with an often hostile police force; these are the occasions of the trouble. The causes are as diverse as American society. Legisla- tors and lawyers, conservatives and lib- erals, white and Negroes have flounder- ed from one supposed solution to an- other. These fall into three main cate- gories: decisions from the courts, viol- ence on the streets and politico-economic action.' The role of the courts ought not to be disparaged. The historic Supreme Court decisions of the fifties brought hope and genuine advancement to Negroes such as their people had not known for a cen- tury. The recent rulings on Washington schools and California housing maintain the liberal tradition of judges on racial discrimination. But the courts can only create the framework in which men eith- er tackle or fail to tackle their problems. From the adulation of 10 years ago, many civil rights leaders have come to regard the law as, if not an ass, at best an un- certain support. The violence which has disfigured the already ugly community life of the ghet- toes is a reaction to the ultimate im- potence of the law to confer equality. In the hearts of many younger Negroes, faith in the law has given way to belief in the galvanizing effect of violence to produce action from what they call "the white power structure." Even more sad- ly, faith in integration has been replaced by an "Afro-American nationalism" as destructive as nationalism usually is. Much semantic debate has centered on the meaning of "black power." One thing is certain: the inevitable consequence of black power is white backlash, as the mid-term elections showed in many places. In the struggle betfeen these two there will be no cvitors, but the Negroes will suffer more. THERE REMAINS political and social action. An -incidental tragedy of the war in Vietnam is the slowing down of America's own Poverty Program. It is arguable that the United States economy could sustain both. There may'well be a faltering of purpose and of will, rather than of finance alone, for the American suspicion of big government runs deep. The summer job projects, aimed at the one in five of young Negroes who are unemployed; the "Head Start" classes de- signed to give underprivileged children of pre-school age some hope of successful education; the community action pro- gram: all these are needed to erode the economic and social disabilities which the Negroes, almost alone of American minority groups, have found no hope of escaping. The Poverty Program continues, of course, but at a pace which invites the despair that rioters in Cincinnati, Cleve- land, Tampa and Watts are now show- ing. To have a hope of solving its race problems, America needs a vast invest- ment in houses, schools, recreational fa- cilities and, perhaps above all, in indus- trial training. Only with a proper home, job and school for his family can the Negro hope to gain acceptance and equal- ity in a country where the stigma of failure is the sharpest form of discrimina- tion; It will not be quick, but this is the right way to start. -MANCHESTER GUARDIAN WEEKLY June 29, 1967 The Good 01' Days Thirteen years ago this month, the war between the Vietnamese people and the French colonial power ended by an agreement signed at Geneva. The agreement provided for a temporary military (not political, not permanent) de-. aellel, pending elections for re- marcation line at the 17th par- unification. When the war ended,i, about 700,000 Vietnamese from North of the 17th parallel moved to the South, the majority of the regugees being Catholics as was President Ngo Dinh Diem), the Vietnamese who served in the French armed forces, the fun- ctionaries who served in the French administration and the K Bao Dai government. It is import- ant to remember that during the war against the French, a num- ber of Catholics in the districts ofl Bui Chu-Phat Diem (North Viet- nam were armed by the French to fight against the Vietnamese revolutionaries. The exodus to the South nevertheless created a na- tional tragedy at the time whenM North Vietnam was in a period) of economic difficulty caused by the war. by a Vietnamese poet and writer, The following poem was written now in North Vietnam, Mr. Tran Dan, who followed the Vietminh army at Dien Bien Phu and auth- ored a book about this famed bat-, tle, entitled Nguoi Nguoi Lop Lop (The Human Tide) which became Who knifes me in the back? an overnight best seller. Ah! an unsharp knife BAI THO THONG NHAT Which does not cut clean- By TRAN DAN and how painful it is! THE POEM OF REUNIFICATION to split me into two. (Translated by Tran Van Din) They had wanted We live in Sinh Tu Street (I) Oh my dear compatriots, The two of us if my back ever turns cold In a small house. Please look and tell me We love each other dearly, if it really is a knife's cut, But why is our life so joyless? The unclean and painful cut. The Fatherland to-day The back of our Fatherland Is supposed to be at peace is bleeding today. But we are only in our first year I have been through stenuous And we still have to face a maze and depressing hours, of a thousand problems. During that whole period For all of us, when the exodus to the South Working hard during the day, was in full swing (5) a good sleep at night is our Under the rain-darkened sky sole concern Irq small bands, clinging to one And when the wife and children another, they went. are sick, our main worry is to Seeing this I became angry find medicine. And tried to use my body We are happy and forget every- to barricade their road. thing; but suddenly we rem- "Halt," I cried! ember as suddenly we forget "Where do you go? All the hundred minor pre- "What for?" occupations of daily life. "No money, no rice," We work hard and eat,'. they complained. and thriftily we live. "No Father, no Christ; How would I know that in the nothing of this, faraway misty America nothing of tht," They are plotting to destroy our lives? Some men and women We are told that in the South said life is dull lives a ganster named Ngo (2) At this place, Whose only talent is to act as And they were thirsty for wind Khuyen and Ung (3) and hungry for cloud for the Americans BUT LISTEN Whose dreadful weapon is an Our skies happen to be gloomy unsharp knife with clouds now With which to split the But they are our skies. Why country asunder. leave them behind and go I AM walking in the rains of the Beyond these clouds lies our norther land entesouds A land sodden by the drizzle (3) entire South. Suddenly I feel a sharp pain How can you believe it to be in my back the fairy land of America? And blood is dripping I feel like crying and I want to on the mud. stop every child from going, SBA RR Y GOLDWA TER___ ReublcanParty: Solidly Conseutrvative Following the recent convention of the Young Republicans, I was sadly reminded of how some senior members of the GOP have tried to turn such organizations into party-splitting, ideological battle- grounds. The attack invariably takes this form: the Young Republicans or the Republican Women's Federation or what have you are called too conservative. They are asked to become "progressive." What that means, of course, is that they should drop their Republican positions and adopt instead the positions of that minority of the GOP which wants to go further left than the Democrats in an effort to win votes, particularly among big city pressure groups. And what that means, in turn, is that this Republican minority simply does not believe in political alternatives or even the two- party system. They see socialism as the tide of the future and would be quite happy to ride it without ever fighting for a constructive, capitalist alternative. THE FACT THAT this group constitutes a minority may be documented, not just speculated upon. In the House of Representatives, for instance, 26 Republicans out of 187 constitute the solid "pro- gressive" bloc. This group provides, whenever a vote is close, the margin of victory that the Great Planned Society needs to turn its red-tape nightmare into legal realities. They are, to that extent, the mainstay of the left-wing of the Democrat Party. On the Senate side the members are even smaller, but the voices are usually louder. Loudest of all, lately, has been Sen. Hugh Scott of Pennsylvania, a man whom I supported wholeheartedly for re- election in 1966 and who has repaid the action ever since by de- nouncing everything about the campaign, including the party's plat- form. From Scott's office has come a steady stream of threats against and advice to the Young Republicans. They may be summed up simply as warning that unless the YRs turn sharply to the left, the senior party will have to "take them over." THIIS IS NONSENSE. To "take them over" would be simply to destroy them. And to suggest that they should veer to the left is to fly straight in the fact of the fact that such a shift would alienate the vast majority of the total membership. The truth is that in both the Young Republicans and the "Are you really leaving me?" And I want to cling to every tunic and to every heel y I feel like shouting, using rude words. "No, please stay Even if our piece of land is dark today, It is still better Than the fairy land of America, A million times better.". How can they forget this land so easily, My friends who are heading South? "What do you need: "A heart and a brain." My words grew harsher. But suddenly I could only cry I could only weep and sob under the stormy, rainy sky. And they were departing. But why were their feet weary? And why did they cry? What were the reasons for their despair? The earth held back their feet The winds retained their dress. For, leaving the North is like parting with existence, Like living the last minute of life Uttering the last words to every bush, every cliff Every garden, fig tree and sycamore. Speechless but sobbing They kept staring blank-eyed at the earth and the sky At the dying sunlight, at the drops of rain At the old streets and the blurred stars. Oh this beloved land, how could it be forgotten? The land where they had known warmth, cold, sweet and savory things. and the winds kept blowing But today the rain kept pouring The rain kept pouring on those who were going to leave the North. Who was leading them away? Who? And where to? And why did they weep continuously? Meanwhile the winds from all directions kept tormenting ,the sky. (O North, O South, you were leaving and your entrails were cut apart.) I bowed my head and I prayed to the rain and the storm Not to pour on their heads any more. They had suffered enough. They were unhappy and they should be spared the punish- ment of Nature. Their gardens and their rice fields were abandoned, their houses deserted. And the South still lay ten thousand miles away and their mountains and their rivers so sad They had left, but their heart and their soul lingered. (O Northern land, please look after them.) WE LIVE in Sinh Tu Street And my heart broke in those days. I walked And saw no Street And no house Only the rain drops On the red of the red flag. I met my sweetheart in the rain, She was hunting for a job She came back every evening downhearted "My darling," she said, "They still asked me to wait." And I did not inquire further. What could I say? It rained and rained. For three months now She has been waiting. We live for the future Day and night, like little orphans Walking sadly, clinging to one another. On she walked In the rain Her head low Her shoulders bent. And she was barely in her nineteenth year! My sweetheart! How could she know Where all our misfortunes Came from? HOW COULD SHE have known What was America and what was Ngo? I pitied her: under the rain and under the sun she walked Alone Unaware that their shadows (6) Were cast Upon the destinies Of all of us. Head low, she kept walking, and the rain kept pouring And my heart broke in those days. I kept walking And saw no street And no house Only the rain drops On the red of the red flag. WHY SHOULD our country's present misfortune Not permeate my poetry? The items displayed in the shops against whose windows my nose was pressed These unwanted products wear- ily waiting for customers; As for books, it seemed they were in demand The ones over there were written by such and such friend of mine And those by myself, they were pondering, thoughtful- looking: They were dreaming: 'Had we had the South with us The number of readers would have increased by five or seven millions." I became a man with fixed ideas, And I wish that all of us Who ask for the unification oT the country should start with such trivialities As food As sleep As private affairs. As thoughts As cajoling with babies As flirting with wives. THE RAIN kept lingering in the streets And about the North and South I did not write anything yet? I am determined now to see that my poems generate hurri- canes and tempests. But today I bend my head low Where is my poetic inspiration? Why did my verses Fail to move and turn heaven and earth? Why did they not unit borders and countries? The mountains and rivers are weeping under the rain I want to give up poetry And do some other thing But today I am dreaming and walking under the rain And with my small talent I write political poems; And my heart broke in those days. I kept walking And saw no street And no house. Only the rain drops On the red of the red flag. (1) A street in Hanoi, capital of North Vietnam. (2) The late Ngo Dinh Diem, presi- dent of South Vietnam. (3) Khuyen and Ung are the names of two gangsters in the nationally known vietnamese classical poem Kim Van Kieu. Literally in Vietnamese, khuyen means "dog." The Vietnamese term ung also has an unpleasant connotation. (4) The poet refers here to the soft rain that falls over the Red River Delta for several months out of the year and that the French called Ie crachin. (5) The terms of the 1954 Geneva Agreements permitted movement of civilians for a limited period after the partition. Approximately 700,000 people who lived in the North, many of them Catholics, left their homes and settled in the South. (6) i e., the shadows of Ngo Dinh Diem ar'1 America. FIFTY YEARS of progress, courtesy of the Ann Arbor Police: City Clerk I. G. Reynolds calls the at- tention of freshmen and the student body generally to the following ordinances: Do not drive your machine faster than 15 miles per hour within the city limits. Do not open muffler on your machine. Move at the request of an officer. The Daily is a member of the Associated Press and Collegiate Press Service. Summer subscription rate: $2.00 per term by carrier ($2.50 by mail); $4.00 for entire summer ($4.50 by mail). Daily except Monday during regular academic school year. Daily except Sunday and Monday during regular summer session. Second class postage paid at Ann Arbor, Michigan. 420 Maynard St., Ann Arbor, Michigan, 48104. Summer Editorial Staff LAURENCE MEDOW....................Co-Editor STEPHEN FIRSHEIN...................Co-Editor MARK LEVIN,...,...... Summer Supplement Editor NIGHT EDITORS: John Gray, Wallace Immen, David Knoke, Elizabeth Turner, Lucy Kennedy. ASSISTANT NIGHT EDITORS: Thomas Copi, Jill Crabtree, Jenny Stiller. ANDREW LUGG........... . .. . .....Review Editor Do not play ball in the streets. Do not ride bicycles on the sidewalks. Do not tack signs on telegraph poles. Do not try to keep a dog around without a license. Bull dogs must be muzzled even if on a chain. Do not try to run a taxi or dray with- out a license. Do not break the city ordinances and expect to get off without paying the pen- alty. -THE MICHIGAN DAILY October 4, 1916 No Comment "CHICAGO LAWN station (Police) Com- mander Martin O'Connell, whose dis- trict takes in all three communities (which witnessed violent racial disturb- ances last summer), denied the area was plagued by racial problems. "'The district is 95 per cent white, but it's integrated-each day more than 100,- 000 Negroes pass through the area on their way to work',." -THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE June 25, 19671 *~ r pf t r : r ,~1 /.r . tI .l "4 i' AIM ,,, % + !i i (Na = . t ,. i ; 1y ' ~i~f 31 Ry 1 1 j r t t 1 { { jr 3 e ^ r * r l Y f {( r dow . f hey ,f t _ a j wy.ti r J A0 34 , 1 4 I i Bb I