On Friday night, May 1, 1970, hundreds of Kent State University students streamed out of downtown bars just before closing time and began harassing motorists, breaking store windows, and marking buildings with anti-war signs. We even spray-painted slogans on them. Mayor Leroy Satrom, a conservative Democrat elected by Kent voters six months ago with a tough policy against “long-haired students,” called the governor’s office the next day. The mayor said outside agitators were inciting subversion and disorder in the town and called for the National Guard to be sent to Kent.
University officials had other plans. They preferred to use university police, county sheriff’s deputies as reinforcements, and Ohio State Highway Patrol troopers to deal with the situation as a last resort. But they were not consulted.
That Saturday night, student demonstrators against the Vietnam War lit the torch at Kent State’s ROTC building. University police in riot gear eventually dispersed the protesters with tear gas. By then, Gov. Jim Rhodes had acted on the mayor’s request, and soon a convoy of armored personnel carriers, jeeps, and trucks carrying hundreds of Ohio National Guard troops arrived on campus.
The following afternoon, May 3, Mr. Rose met with state and local officials in Kent. Mr. Rose was in the final year of his second four-year term. Barred by the state constitution from running again, he was seeking the Republican Senate nomination in a primary election that was just 48 hours away. Rose, who was trailing in the polls, had positioned himself as a candidate who would use “all necessary force” to stop campus unrest in the state.
University officials were also invited to the meeting, but Mr. Rose ignored them, effectively silencing the very authorities who best understood the temperament and attitudes of the students. Instead, the governor defined the Guard’s mission as using “all force necessary to quell protests on campus.” When someone asked Rose to define a protest, he answered, “Two students walking together.”
At this point, reporters who had learned about the meeting entered the room. Rose grew up theatrically. Slamming his fist on the conference table, he angrily declared, “I’m going to stop this!” “We will eradicate the problem!” “They are the worst type of people we have hiding in America!” The table-pounding performance only added fuel to the conflict.
After the meeting, Portage County Attorney Ron Cain, an outspoken man who understood Kent State’s atmosphere better than anyone else, followed the governor into the men’s room and had a personal conversation with him. Did. Kane, away from reporters, begged Rose to shut down the university before passion waned. “We are sitting on a barrel of dynamite that could explode at any moment,” the prosecutor warned, adding pointedly that people were likely to be hurt. “No, you shouldn’t do that,” Rose replied. “We must not overdo it.”
The next morning, Monday, May 4, as many as 3,000 students gathered in the university commons for a pre-scheduled anti-war rally. Adjutant General Robert Canterbury, commander of the National Guard unit at the scene, decided to disperse the protesters. As Cain and others feared, the presence of armed groups infuriated students. What was planned as a protest against the war became a different kind of protest. “It wasn’t an anti-war rally,” the student said. “It was a complete banishment of the National Guard from campus gatherings.”
Canterbury ordered eight police officers with 96 guards to disperse the crowd. That’s roughly one guard for every 30 protesters. They received little guidance. “We had no idea how many troops we needed to commit to accomplishing the mission,” one unit member recalled. “Before we moved, there was no briefing to explain what to do and how to do it.” Years later, another Guardsman recalled, “Why the murder? “Do we put trained soldiers on college campuses to do police work?” he wondered.
Exhausted from a series of 12-hour shifts and with little sleep the night before, the troops were not in the best possible condition for the tense confrontation. “All I saw among the men was fatigue and tension,” one guard said. Some of the guards were teenagers. Some people were not familiar with using rifles. Most wore gas masks and helmets, making it difficult to hear orders.
The reckless Commissioner Canterbury also accused protesters of his men being armed with rifles loaded with high-velocity bullets, killing at 1,000 yards and killing at 200 yards, as required by the Ohio National Guard’s crowd control regulations. did not warn that it could penetrate the steel frame. Put on a helmet and pass straight through the human head. Unaware of the danger, the students advanced toward the nervous Guards, and at 12:24 p.m., several soldiers opened fire. Four Kent State University students were killed and nine others were injured, one of whom was paralyzed for life.
This completely avoidable tragedy had bloody roots in the performance at the table of politicians looking for votes. Officials including Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) and Texas Gov. Greg Abbott (R-Ky.) are calling for the use of force to quell today’s student protests over the Gaza war. For many, Rhodes should serve as a lesson. So far, demonstrations on campus have been a nuisance and even disruptive. In some cases of anti-Semitic harassment by protesters, demonstrations included reprehensible expressions of intolerance and hatred. But they have not committed violence, so we should not threaten violence in response. University officials, rather than state authorities or the military, have the best knowledge and insight to address these constitutionally protected expressions of dissent. The goal of university and college administrators should be to ensure the safety of all students while fostering civic engagement with passionately held views. This is a lesson from Kent State University.
