University of Alberta
The Canadian Student Movement in the Sixties: Three Case Studies
by
Roberta Sharon Lexier \%jj
A thesis submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy in History
Department of History & Classics
©Roberta Sharon Lexier Fall 2009 Edmonton, Alberta
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•+• Canada Examining Committee
Doug Owram, History & Classics
Guy Thompson, History & Classics
Erika Dyck, History & Classics
David Mills, History & Classics
Harvey Krahn, Sociology
Paul Axelrod, Education, York University The Canadian Student Movement in the Sixties: Three Case Studies By Roberta Lexier
This dissertation examines the Canadian student movement during the Sixties. It
analyzes student activities at three sample institutions - University of Toronto,
University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, and Simon Fraser University - in
order to reflect upon the dynamics of collective action.
A comparison of the similarities and differences at these places demonstrates that,
while the nuances differed within each school, the student movement gained
influence when individuals united in large numbers around a shared conception of
student identity and common ideological perspectives. At all three institutions,
students created alliances around demands for individual and group autonomy and
student participation in university governing structures, as a sizeable number
could identify as a distinctive group with collective interests and a mutual belief
in democracy. Yet, many students were reluctant to engage in campaigns to
increase accessibility to universities and challenge the social utility of higher
education; they could not support the positions offered by their leaders and refused to accept that student identity inherently required a radical critique of the
status quo. Ultimately, the power of the student movement rested on the
formation of alliances rooted in certain perspectives and conceptions of identity.
The Sixties, as a time of political activism, provides a unique opportunity to study the dynamics of collective action. This analysis of the English-Canadian student movement demonstrates the importance of shared ideologies and common definitions of identity to the development of organized resistance and rebellion. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This project has benefited greatly from the assistance of many individuals. First and foremost, thanks to my co-supervisors, Professors Doug Owram and Guy Thompson, whose intellectual guidance and continuing encouragement have been critical to the successful completion of my Ph.D. program. I also wish to thank Professor Erika Dyck for her dedication to my project and invaluable assistance during the writing process. In addition, I am indebted to the other members of my committee, Professors David Mills, Harvey Krahn, and Paul Axelrod, for their helpful and insightful comments and suggestions. I would also like to thank Professor James Muir for his continued support and advice.
I have received critical financial support over the course of my Ph.D. program, and wish to express my appreciation to the following for grants and scholarships that made the research for this project possible: the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the Province of Alberta, the Faculty of Graduate Studies at the University of Alberta, and the Mel and Kay Hurtig Graduate Prize in Political Reform.
Sincere thanks as well to my friends and colleagues in the Department of History and Classics. It would have been impossible to survive this process without the support and encouragement of Allan Rowe, Matthew Eisler, Teresa Maillie, Katherine Zwicker, and Matthew Neufeld, in particular. Special thanks also to Carmen Webber and Jaclyn Schmidt for their help throughout my program.
Finally, on a personal note, I want to thank my family for everything they have contributed to my education. My parents and in-laws have assisted me in too many ways to count. As well, my husband Darcy has provided tremendous love and support through the entire life of this project; I could never have completed my PhD program without his constant encouragement. TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1 The Sixties Student Movement in Canada: An Introduction Page 1
CHAPTER 2 "Students As Adult Citizens": The Emergence of the Student Movement at Canadian Universities Page 54
CHAPTER 3 Students as "one half of the equation of the university": Student Participation in University Governance and the Evolution of the Student Movement Page 130
CHAPTER 4 "The abolition of all social and financial barriers to post-secondary education": Accessibility and the Sixties Student Movement Page 194
CHAPTER 5 "As One Who Serves": The Student Movement and Debates Over the Purpose of the University Page 252
CHAPTER 6 The Canadian Student Movement: Some Conclusions Page 306
BIBLIOGRAPHY Page 331 LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS
ATS Association of Teaching Staff (University of Toronto) AUCC Association of Universities and Colleges in Canada CAUT Canadian Association of University Teachers CCF Cooperative Commonwealth Federation CEVW Committee to End the Vietnam War CSLP Canada Student Loans Program CSA Canadian Student Assembly CUCND Combined Universities Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament CUG Commission on University Governance CPUO Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario CUS Canadian Union of Students CYC Company of Young Canadians GSU Graduate Students' Union (University of Toronto) MLA Member of the Legislative Assembly (British Columbia & Saskatchewan) MPP Member of the Provincial Parliament (Ontario) NDP New Democratic Party NFCUS National Federation of Canadian University Students NLC New Left Caucus PSA Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology Department (Simon Fraser University) SAC Students' Administrative Council (University of Toronto) SCM Student Christian Movement SDU Students for a Democratic University SFSS Simon Fraser Student Society (Simon Fraser University) SFU Simon Fraser University SFUA Simon Fraser University Archives SMS Student Means Survey SRC Students' Representative Council (University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus) SUPA Student Union for Peace Action TSM Toronto Student Movement UBC University of British Columbia URA University of Regina Archives USRC University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus UTA University of Toronto Archives UTC University Tenure Committee (Simon Fraser University) VCC Vancouver Community College CHAPTER 1 The Sixties Student Movement in Canada: An Introduction
On Monday 20 November 1972, more than eight hundred furious students
at the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus (now University of Regina) packed the auditorium in the Education Building. Four days earlier,
approximately 250 of them had occupied the office of the Dean of Arts and
Science following a raucous Students' Union general meeting, outraged over his
summary rejection of their demands for student parity on decision-making bodies.
By Monday, the university administration had failed to respond. The large crowd of frustrated students then expanded their occupation to the office of the Dean of
Graduate Studies and Research, A.B. Van Cleave, and demanded his removal
from the premises. "Van Cleave was unwilling to leave," recalled one participant in the occupation, "and so we stood nose to nose with him at the door until we got the windows of his office pried open...and people poured in the windows and under his legs."1 Van Cleave was forced to surrender his office.
This occupation, as an example of the kinds of student activities that occurred at English-Canadian universities between 1965 and 1975 that have been collectively referred to as the "student movement," helps to reinforce existing
stereotypes regarding the era and student activities. The Sixties, in both myth
1 Bob Lyons, Interview with the author, 21 March 2002. 2 The Sixties have been defined and delineated in a variety of different ways, which will be discussed in detail below. For the purpose of this dissertation, the Sixties is used to refer to a period of significant social activism that lasted from the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s. Page 1 and memory, is often viewed as a period of conflict and change.3 A number of social movements developed around the world, including the civil rights, decolonization, anti-war, feminist, countercultural, environmental, and gay and lesbian movements, that confronted existing values and structures at every level of society. In Canada, too, this is remembered as a particularly turbulent period, characterized by emerging nationalist movements, growing demands for racial and gender equality, a rejection of many cultural values and norms, and opposition to the war in Vietnam. In addition, the student movement is often considered to be particularly emblematic of a period of supposed generational struggle; traditional scholarship contends that it began in the early 1960s as very small and relatively conservative, became, especially after 1968, large, radical, and confrontational, and ultimately fractured and dissolved shortly thereafter.4
Student movements, which I define here as conscious and collective efforts to insert a student perspective into the political and administrative deliberations occurring on campus in an effort to achieve institutional and social
See, for example, Marcel Martel, Not This Time: Canadians, Public Policy, and the Marijuana Question 1961-1975 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2006), 4. 4 See for example, Todd Gitlin, The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage (New York: Bantam Books, 1987); Van Gosse, Rethinking the New Left: An Interpretive History (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 6; Cyril Levitt, Children of Privilege: Student Revolt in the Sixties, A Study of Student Movements in Canada, the United States, and West Germany (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 43-53; Jeremi Suri, Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Rise of Detente (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2003); Jeremi Suri, The Global Revolutions of 1968: A Norton Casebook in History (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2007); and Mark Kurlansky, 1968: The Year that Rocked the World (New York: Balantine Books, 2004). Page 2 change, have always existed. A small number of student leaders or activists, the most politically-minded students, continuously participate in the events and activities on campus and engage in political, cultural, and social debates within their universities. However, student movements rarely achieve the dominance and influence, at least in Canada, that they did in the Sixties. At that time, in response to a prevalent belief in the need for social change around the world, characterized by the emergence of various social movements, and to changes within universities, including significantly larger student populations and a greater perceived societal importance, students were able to come together in large numbers in order to exert considerable influence over the discussions taking place on their campuses and spearhead efforts to transform their institutions. Yet, the
Sixties student movement was much more complex than conventional images of confrontation and radicalism would suggest.
This dissertation explores the dynamics of the Canadian student movement by examining the on-campus events at a sample of particularly volatile universities: University of Toronto, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, and Simon Fraser University. Although students at many schools, including York
University in Toronto, Lakehead University in Thunder Bay, and University of
5 This definition draws upon existing literature on student movements and social movements. See, for example, Mark Edelman Boren. Student Resistance: A History of the Unruly Subject (New York: Routledge, 2001); J. Angus Johnston, "Student Activism in the United States Before 1960: An Overview," in Student Protest: The Sixties and After, ed. Gerard J. DeGroot (London: Longman, 1998), 12; Erin Steuter, "Women Against Feminism: An Examination of Feminist Social Movements and Anti-Feminist Countermovements," Canadian Review of Sociology & Anthropology Vol.29, No.3 (1992), 289; and Suzanne Staggenborg, Social Movements (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2008), 48-51. Page 3 British Columbia in Vancouver, were actively engaged in attempts to achieve social change during the Sixties, this examination of three universities that differed dramatically in size, student populations, and regional and institutional contexts provides an opportunity to compare and contrast student actions and gain important insights into the evolution of the student movement in English Canada.
This research demonstrates that the student movement gained momentum in the mid-1960s in response to the decision taken by university administrators, responding to practical difficulties caused by the expansion of their institutions, to treat students as adults rather than as children. The abandonment of in loco parentis created a new identity for students as responsible individuals within the university community. In response, many student leaders began to demand a greater role in political activities on campus. At University of Toronto, as a result of its long history and well-established relationships between student leaders and administrators, such efforts remained conciliatory and cooperative. At the
University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, as a new institution that developed its structures and values during the Sixties, activists came into direct confrontation with university officials over the rights and responsibilities of students on campus.
At Simon Fraser University, which opened in 1965, administrators immediately recognized their students as mature individuals without any need for either negotiation or confrontation. Thus, although the process differed at each institution, by the mid-1960s a new student identity emerged at all three schools; students saw themselves a distinct group of responsible and politically engaged members of the university community.
Page 4 With this shift in identity, and a new focus on active participation in campus discussions and debates, many student leaders began to raise issues that they believed necessary to the improvement of their institutions. For example, at all three places, activists pressed for student participation in university governing structures. Although faculty members initially spearheaded these reform efforts, many students became actively involved in the campaign, in large part because they acknowledged that they comprised a separate group on campus which, based on a particular definition of democracy, had an inherent right to contribute to decision-making processes. At first, students at the three universities formed alliances with their professors and negotiated with university administrators in an attempt to democratize institutional governing structures; such efforts were quite successful, and students were granted seats on many administrative bodies.
However, as activists began to demand parity, or equal representation with faculty members on governing bodies, conciliation broke down and aggressive tactics, including occupations of university buildings, became prevalent at all three schools. Though the struggle for parity ultimately failed, these campaigns further convinced many students that they were a distinct group on campus and that they could benefit from working together with their peers.
At the same time, student leaders sought to mobilize the student body around efforts to remove certain barriers to higher education. Early campaigns were initiated by the national student organization, the Canadian Union of
Students, and focused on the financial inaccessibility of universities. While student leaders at University of Toronto and Simon Fraser University generally
Page 5 maintained a cooperative and collaborative relationship with university officials while raising these concerns, their counterparts in Regina organized relatively large-scale demonstrations to publicize their positions and pressure administrators and the provincial government to lower and eventually eliminate tuition fees. At all three schools, however, this campaign highlighted important ideological divisions among students as splits developed over the responsibility of individuals or the government to fund universities. As well, when activists at Toronto and
Simon Fraser later began to organize in opposition to other perceived social and cultural barriers to higher education, they used aggressive strategies in an effort to convince large numbers of students to challenge the existing power relations on campus. As tactics became more radical, many students began to question a student identity that seemed intrinsically linked to political engagement regardless of the specific issues involved. Such campaigns generally failed to address the concerns that student activists had raised.
Student leaders also criticized the existing orientation of their institutions; they were frustrated that higher education was becoming increasingly practical and utilitarian rather than critically engaged with societal problems. These concerns only rarely found their way into organized campaigns or actions and remained, for the most part, in the realm of discussion and debate. Nevertheless, they served to emphasize existing ideological fractures within the student body, as some leaders argued that universities should actively contribute to a radical transformation of society while many students accepted the job-training function of their universities. At the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus and
Page 6 Simon Fraser University, where the liberal arts model was particularly entrenched, such splits were rare. However, at University of Toronto, which was evolving into a complex multiversity by the Sixties, certain groups of students came into direct conflict over this issue. Students were thus unable to present a unified position regarding the purpose of higher education and, though some changes were implemented, there was no dramatic alteration to the functions of universities in Canadian society.
This study reveals, then, that the English-Canadian student movement was more complex than the existing stereotypes suggest. It demonstrates that the dynamics of the student activities are best understood, not in terms of a specific chronology, but rather as a result of the issues and concerns that students and their leaders debated during the period. For example, a relatively large and cohesive movement developed around demands for individual and organizational autonomy and student participation in university governing structures, as a sizeable number of students were willing to participate in a range of actions aimed at achieving these goals. At the same time, many students were reluctant to engage in campaigns organized by student leaders to increase accessibility to universities and challenge the social utility of higher education.
In addition, this research indicates that the dynamics at each university were different. At the University of Toronto, students initially maintained a cooperative relationship with administrators; however, activists pressed for a more radical approach when university officials refused to address their concerns.
Student leaders at the Regina Campus employed an antagonistic strategy in most
Page 7 of their dealings with administrators and faculty members and sought to
aggressively promote a student perspective into the debates on campus. At Simon
Fraser University, though relationships between student leaders and administrators were originally benign, many students became more and more hostile as they faced resistance from university officials. Thus, as these examples reveal, confrontation became a central component of the English-Canadian
student movement but was only one of the many tactics employed by student leaders throughout the period.
As well, students wielded considerable power and influence within their universities when they were able to unite together around a shared purpose. This conclusion confirms what English professor Mark Edelman Boren argues: "From the beginning of the modern university, student power has been tied to the collective; when students band together they can generate and wield significant economic or political power." Yet, divisions within the student body were also quite prevalent throughout the period, as individuals adopted different ideological positions and debated particular conceptions of student identity. As such, the power and influence of the student movement remained limited during the Sixties, and students were only moderately successful in achieving their demands.
Ultimately, although the dynamics of the movement differed at each university, at all three places the ability of students to ally together, and thus exert their influence, depended upon the development of shared perspectives and common definitions of identity. The movement gained momentum when a
6 Boren, 5. Page 8 significant proportion of the student body could see the value in working with their peers because they identified themselves as a distinctive group on campus with collective interests and positions that differed considerably from those of university administrators and faculty members and shared a common belief in particular concepts such as democracy. However, because such ideologies and identities constantly shifted, the student movement remained temporary and fragile and frequently fractured and divided. When a sizeable number of students could not support the positions offered by their leaders and refused to accept that their student identity inherently required a radical critique of the status quo, the movement splintered and lost much of its power and influence.
The Sixties, as a time generally defined by its political activism and confrontation, provides a unique opportunity to study the dynamics of social movements and gain insight into the various ways that rebellion and resistance operate in society. This analysis of the history of one essentially under-examined
Sixties movement, the English-Canadian student movement, demonstrates the importance of shared ideologies and common definitions of identity to the development of social movements.
LITERATURE REVIEW
Although the Sixties is often remembered or mythologized as a particularly volatile period in Canadian and global history, it is necessary to contest its romantic image in order to gain real insight into the social activism of the period. In particular, it is important to define what is meant by the term and
Page 9 how it differs from other historical periods, especially from the postwar era. In
Canada, historians initially included the years from the conclusion of the Second
World War to the end of the 1950s in what they referred to as the postwar period.
This time, they frequently argued, was one of cultural harmony, social conformity, and political consensus, which only changed with the upheaval of the
1960s. Recent scholarship has challenged this now out-dated periodization and conceptualization of the era. In their collection Cultures of Citizenship in Post war Canada Nancy Christie and Michael Gavreau maintain that the postwar period should be divided into two distinct parts. What is usually characterized as the "fifties," the era of mass consumption, state intervention, prosperity, faith in technology and expertise, growth of suburban culture, and an emulation of
American lifestyles, they insist, is more characteristic of the years 1955-1968 than the entire postwar period. For them, the years between 1943 and 1955 were culturally distinct from the "fifties," functioning as a mediator between older institutional patterns and values and the supposed "modernity" of the later 1950s.
This earlier period, they explain, is characterized, not by consensus, conformity,
Q and order, but by intense social and cultural negotiation.
7 See, for example, Robert Bothwell, Ian Drummond, and John English, Canada Since 1945: Power, Politics and Provincialism (Toronto: University of Toronto, 1989) and Doug Owram, Born at the Right Time: A History of the Baby Boom Generaion (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996). For a critique of this conceptualization see, Alvin Finkel, "Competing Master Narratives on Post-War Canada," Acadiensis Vol.28, No.2 (Spring 2000), 188-204. 8 Nancy Christie & Michael Gavreau, Cultures of Citizenship in Post-war Canada, 1940-1955 (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2003), 4-17. Page 10 Valerie Korinek also challenges some of the traditional assumptions regarding the postwar period in her study of Chatelaine magazine in the 1950s and 1960s. She maintains that universal, national affluence was a myth; postwar prosperity, she argues, is better understood as a phenomenon of the 1960s. As well, she rejects the position that the 1950s were a period of conformity, suburbanization, and domesticity. Instead, Korinek illustrates that suburban values and culture were more complex than generally assumed and were subject to contestation and negotiation throughout the period. Similarly, she shows how women challenged the various demands they faced at the time and locates the roots of the feminist movement in the late 1950s and early 1960s.9
In contrast, Magda Fahrni and Robert Rutherdale contend that the thirty years between 1945 and 1975 contain a certain historical coherence that links them into one historical period. They list six characteristics of this period: prosperity, population growth, urbanization and suburbanization, growth of the welfare state, complex relationships with the United States, and the emergence of social movements. They contend that these "thirty glorious years" are not monolithic, but argue instead that they can be united into one historical period.10
Although Fahrni and Rutherdale include the 1960s in their conceptualization of the postwar period, other scholars have conceived of the
Sixties as a distinct era. Though many now recognize that discord and contestation occurred in the 1940s and 1950s as well, they nevertheless conceive
9 Valerie Korinek, Roughing It in the Suburbs: Reading Chatelaine Magazine in the Fifties and Sixties (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000), 5-7 & 23-25. 10 Magda Fahrni & Robert Rutherdale, Creating Postwar Canada: Community, Diversity, and Dissent, 1945-75 (Vancouver: UBC Press, 2007), 2-5. Page 11 of the Sixties as a unique time of widespread confrontation and upheaval. It was a
period, according to some scholars, when the baby boom generation came of age
and sought to redefine world in which they lived. All around the globe,
individuals and groups struggled for radical changes in their immediate and
international environments.11
There is, however, a great deal of debate over how to delineate and define
the Sixties. A number of scholars, for instance, view it as the ten-year period
between 1960 and 1969. For these historians, including Todd Gitlin, Irwin Unger,
and Douglas Rossinow, the Sixties is viewed as a time of political activism tied
directly to the student movement in the United States: the Students for a
Democratic Society (SDS) was founded in 1960 and fractured and dissolved in
1969. Similarly, while Cyril Levitt examines the history of Canada and West
Germany as well as the United States, he argues that all three student movements
followed a similar trajectory and thus the period can be conceived of in decadinal
1 ^
terms; the Sixties began, he argues, in 1960 and ended in 1969-70. This
position, however, has been characterized as exclusionary and elitist and
perceptions of the Sixties have recently changed.
1' See, for example, Doug Owram, Born at the Right Time: A History of the Baby Boom Generation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996) and Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain, France, Italy, and the United States, C.1958-C.1974 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 1 0 See, Todd Gitlin, The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage (New York: Bantam Books, 1987); Irwin Unger, The Movement: A History of the American New Left, 1959-1972 (New York: Harper & Row, 1974); and Douglas Rossinow, The Politics of Authenticity: Liberalism, Christianity, and the New Left in America (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998). 13 Levitt. Page 12 Rather than viewing it as a ten-year period between 1960 and 1969, defined entirely by the student movements, other scholars contend that the era should be conceived of as a collection of social and cultural movements that extend beyond these boundaries. For example, Arthur Marwick, in his study of the cultural revolution in Britain, France, Italy, and the United States, asserts that the Sixties began in 1958 and ended in 1974. According to Marwick, a critical moment of change took place in the years 1958-59 with the emergence of a youth cultural market and the rise of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.14
As well, while he maintains that many of the trends of the Sixties continued into the 1970s, and perhaps even to the present day, he marks the end of this period in
1973-74, when ordinary people began to feel the devastating effects of the oil crisis, when many demands made in the Sixties were achieved, and when the anti war movement began to feel close to victory with the resignation of Richard
Nixon and the cutting of American aid to Saigon.15 Similarly, Maurice Isserman and Michael Kazin define the Sixties as a period of intertwined conflicts over issues such as ideology, race, gender, and war, which extends from the end of
World War II to the resignation of Richard Nixon from the presidency in 1974.16
Many of the developments that American and European scholars identify as characteristic of the Sixties are relevant to the Canadian context. In Canada, as elsewhere, there was greater economic affluence, a growing youth population, rising fears of nuclear annihilation, and new technological innovations in the
14 Marwick, 41-111 & 194-228. 15 Marwick, 7. 16 Maurice Isserman & Michael Kazin, America Divided: The Civil War of the 1960s (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), ix. Page 13 postwar period.17 Significantly, the arrival of television sets in the homes of an increasing number of Canadians by the early 1960s18 meant that many became aware of and involved in external movements that challenged the existing order, including the Civil Rights Movement in the United States, the decolonization movements in Africa and Latin America, and the emerging youth market and counterculture across the globe. As well, Canadian students could follow the actions of their counterparts in the United States, which included the drafting of the Port Huron Statement in 1960 and the Free Speech Movement at the
University of California, Berkeley in 1964.
However, if we define the Sixties as a collection of social and cultural movements, as many scholars do, we cannot see its origins in Canada until the mid-1960s. Although certain individuals are always engaged in efforts to achieve social change, the mass character of these movements was not evident until that time. One example of this new social and political activism is the Student Union for Peace Action (SUP A), which was formed in 1964 with the goal of achieving social justice and world peace.1 Its predecessor, the Combined Universities
Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CUCND) had engaged in protests against nuclear proliferation, but these actions attracted only a small number of
90 individuals and were ultimately unsuccessful. In March 1965, members of
SUPA organized a sit-in at the United States Consulate in Toronto to demonstrate
17 These are characteristics that Marwick considers central to the emergence of the Sixties. See, Marwick, 41-54. For the Canadian context, see Owram, 3-158. 18 Owram, 88-89. 19 Owram, 218. 20 Owram, 164-165. Page 14 their support for the Civil Rights Movement in the United States; this action
received significant levels of support from many members of the local and
9 I national community. As well, large-scale protests against the Vietnam War did
99
not being in earnest in Canada until 1966. The 1968 election of Pierre Trudeau
as Prime Minister was perhaps indicative of the changing social and political
context in Canada, as, for many individuals, he personified their rejection of
existing values and practices. Numerous other social and cultural movements,
including the Red Power Movement, the counterculture, English- and French-
nationalist movements, the feminist movement, and the gay and lesbian
movements, developed in Canada during the Sixties, but few examples of
organized and conscious efforts to change the social order existed prior to the
mid-1960s.
Yet, the Sixties in Canada, similar to elsewhere around the world, came to
an end by the mid-1970s. This occurred in response to a combination of
developments, including an economic downturn, growing pessimism about the 9^
possibilities for widespread change, and the end of the Vietnam War. In
addition, many demands for social and cultural change had been achieved by
1974: the voting age was lowered from 21 to 18 in 1970, which gave young
people greater access to formal structures of power and influence in Canada;
individuals had obtained greater freedom of choice in terms of their style, culture 21 See, Will demonstrate today," The Varsity, 10 March 1965, 1 and "The Sitdowners," The Toronto Star, 20 March 1965, 8. 22 See, Roberta Lexier, '"The Backdrop Against Which Everything Happened': English-Canadian Student Movements and Off-Campus Movements for Change." History of Intellectual Culture Vol.7, No.l (2007). 23 See, Marwick, 7 and Owram, 280-281. Page 15 and lifestyles; and legislation relating to divorce, homosexuality, birth control and abortion was reformed in the late 1960s, resulting in a more liberal and inclusive society. Though many people remained dissatisfied with various aspects of their national and international communities, and continued to participate in efforts aimed at widespread social change, much of the political and social activism that characterized the Sixties began to fade by the mid-1970s. Thus, in Canada, it makes the most sense to define the Sixties as the period between 1964 and 1974.
Debates regarding the scope and nature of the Sixties largely revolve around different definitions of the New Left. For most scholars, the New Left and the Sixties are synonymous, so portrayals of the former will determine conceptions of the latter. Initially, especially in the United States, the New Left was characterized by its rejection of the dogmatism of the communist left and the elevation of young people, particularly students, over the working class as the primary agents of social change. Thus, viewing students as the central force behind the activism of the period, these scholars equate the Sixties with the years of mass student action in the United States. Recent scholarship, however, has challenged this position. For example, British historians generally portray the
New Left as an intellectual movement that emerged from the Communist Party and included an older generation of political radicals rather than simply young people or students. It began, they argue, in 1956 when many individuals
24 C. Wright Mills, "Letter to the New Left," New Left Review Vol.1, No.5 (September/October 1960), 23; Tom Hayden. "Port Huron Statement," SDS, 1962; and MUA, CUCND Collection, Box 11, File "SUPA Founding Conference, Regina, December 1964." Combined Universities Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, "Draft Statement: the student and social issues in the nuclear age," December 1964. See also, Owram, 228. Page 16 abandoned the Communist Party in reaction to revelations regarding Stalin's purges and the Soviet invasion of Hungary, and it continued through to at least the mid-1970s when political activism entered into a period of decline. The
American New Left historian Van Gosse also challenges existing definitions of the New Left and the resultant periodizations of the Sixties. He argues that viewing the Sixties as the period between 1960 and 1969 emphasizes one particular wing of the New Left, the white student vanguard, while pushing other movements to the background. Instead, he insists, the New Left should be conceived of as a wider of collection of social movements that all share a commitment to a radical form of democracy and a questioning of Cold War liberalism. It should, he asserts, include the civil rights, early ban-the-bomb, student, anti-Vietnam War, Black Power, Indian and Chicano, women's, and gay liberation movements and would extend, then, from the end of World War II to the 1970s.26 This notion of a "long Sixties" provides a much more inclusive conception of the period upon which this dissertation builds.
In contrast to the vast literature on the New Left in the United States and in Britain, very little has been written on the movement in Canada. In his history of the baby boom generation, Doug Owram argues that the New Left was a mood
See, Lin Chun, The British New Left (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1993); Dorothy Thompson, "On the Trail of the New Left," New Left Review No.215 (January-February 1996), 93-100; Dennis Dworkin, Cultural Marxism in Postwar Britain: History, the New Left, and the Origins of Cultural Studies (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1997); Ellen Mieksins Wood, "A Chronology of the New Left and Its Successors, Or: Who's Old Fashioned Now," Socialist Register (1995), 22-49; and John Saville, "Edward Thompson, the Communist Party and 1956," Socialist Register (1994), 20-31. 26 Gosse. Page 17 as well as a movement, and that it maintained a dominant position on Canadian university campuses during the Sixties.27 Because his study focuses on generational identity and conflict, he emphasizes the centrality of youth as the primary driving force for social change in the New Left and insists that it was
"both a generational movement and one that, perhaps self-centeredly, saw youth as the primary agents for the redemption of modern society."28 In addition, two monographs edited by former Sixties political activist Dimitrios Roussopoulos, one in 1970 and one in 2007, both unproblematically equate the New Left with the student movement rather than as a broader collection of social movements.
Aside from these examples, almost no literature exists on the New Left in Canada.
Thus, while this work draws upon the conclusions reached by Owram,
Roussopoulos, and others, scholars must await a more comprehensive examination of the movement in this country before any further conclusions can
in be drawn regarding its character.
This study, inspired by the international literature, conceives of the
English-Canadian student movement as one constituent part of a wider tradition of social activism in the postwar period. It follows, then, that the Sixties in this work refers to a period that extends from the late 1950s to the mid-1970s.
11 Owram, 226. 28 Owram, 227-228. 29 See, Dimitrios J. Roussopoulos, ed. The New Left in Canada (Montreal: Our Generation Press - Black Rose Books, 1970) and Dimitrios Roussopoulos, ed. The New Left: Legacy and Continuity (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 2007). 30 Ian McKay, for example, has written a short history of left-wing political movements in Canada but is expected to release a book in the near future that will provide a more thorough analysis of such movements, including the New Left. See, Ian McKay, Rebels, Reds, Radicals: Rethinking Canada's Left History (Toronto: Between the Lines, 2005). Page 18 However, the movement under examination here also follows its own specific
chronology. It originated in the mid-1960s when, as a result of massive
expansions in Canadian universities in response to demographic changes and changing conceptions of higher education, students obtained greater responsibility
and student activists began to organize themselves and others around particular political issues in order to effect change within their institutions. During the decade that followed, student leaders played a central role in guiding the debates
and discussions on campus, spearheaded events that took on a mass character when large numbers of students joined in the action, and exerted considerable influence within the university. However, by the mid-1970s, as an economic recession set in, many politically active students left campus, and those who remained were paralyzed by ideological divisions, few large-scale protests or demonstrations took place at English-Canadian universities and the power of the
student movement began to wane. Thus, while recognizing that the Sixties
encompasses more than this one movement, the focus here remains on the ten- year period between 1964 and 1974 when the student movement was most active
and influential.
Scholars have demonstrated that student movements have, to a certain extent, existed since the creation of universities. "For as long as there have been colleges," explains J. Angus Johnston, "there have been students who resisted institutional authority, and times when that resistance has flared into protest."
31 J. Angus Johnston, "Student Activism in the United States Before 1960: An Overview," in Student Protest: The Sixties and After, ed. Gerard J. DeGroot (London: Longman, 1998), 12. Page 19 According to Nella Van Dyke, university students "have been one of the most politically active populations throughout history." This is, as Gerard DeGroot contends, because students
alone possess the sometimes volatile combination of youthful dynamism, naive utopianism, disrespect for authority, buoyant optimism and attraction to adventure, not to mention a surplus of spare time. They perceive themselves as the leaders of a future generation and are often over-eager to thrust themselves into the task of reshaping their society.
Overall, as Mark Edelman Boren concludes in his study of the international history of student activism, "student resistance is a continually occurring, vital, and global social phenomenon."
The Sixties student movement at English-Canadian universities can be viewed as part of this longer history of resistance and confrontation. However, the Canada movement that existed between 1965 and 1975 was also unique; students, as a result of their large numbers and growing power within the university and the wider society, consistently dominated and directed the activities occurring on most campuses and pressured all members of the university community to consider, often for the first time, student concerns. Yet, while scholarly attention to the Sixties has been growing in recent years, very little has been written on this particular component of the period. The only systematic analysis of the student movement in Canada, Children of Privilege by
Nella Van Dyke, "The Location of Student Protest: Patterns of Activism in American Universities in the 1960s," in Student Protest: The Sixties and After, ed. Gerard J. DeGroot (London: Longman, 1998), 27. Gerard DeGroot, "The Culture of Protest: An Introductory Essay," in Student Protest: The Sixties and After, ed. Gerard J. DeGroot (London: Longman, 1998), 4. 34 Boren, 3. Page 20 Cyril Levitt, offers a comparison with those in the United States and West
Germany. In this now outdated work, Levitt provides a sociological explanation for the behaviour of student radicals and does not offer a detailed historical analysis of the evolution of the student movement in Canada.35 Myrna Kostash includes a brief discussion of the student movement in her larger journalistic
study of the Sixties. Her work provides insight into the personal experiences of some of the individuals involved in certain activities and identifies some of the major issues and events of the period but does not profess to present a methodical examination of the history of the movement. Doug Owram explores the student movement as part of his wider examination of the history of the baby boom generation. The Sixties, he contends, were central to the development of a unique generational identity and the youth radicalism of the period became an
"expression of the power and purpose of the generation." Yet, Owram fuses the student movement with other forms of youth activism in the period and, as a result, gives only a brief glimpse into the evolution and character of this particular manifestation of what he argues was a generational rebellion. This dissertation builds upon many of the conclusions reached by these scholars, but also moves in a different direction; by focusing on the major issues and events on three university campuses during this period it is possible to explain much more fully
35 Levitt. 36 Myrna Kostash, Long Way From Home: The Story of the Sixties Generation in Canada (Toronto: James Lorimer & Company, 1980). 37 Owram, 217. 38 Owram, 216-247. Page 21 how and why students came together and obtained substantial influence within the university community.
In addition, these scholars concentrate almost entirely on the off-campus
activities of student leaders and organizations. They look, for example, at the
Combined Universities Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CUCND), which was, by the early 1960s, dominated primarily by students. This group organized marches and demonstrations in opposition to the proliferation of nuclear weapons
and the concept of the nuclear deterrent.39 These scholars also discuss the
emergence of the Student Union for Peace Action (SUP A) from the CUCND.
More explicitly a student organization, SUPA nevertheless focused primarily on
issues of peace and social justice rather than on issues of direct relevance to
English-Canadian universities. Its members, influenced by their counterparts in the United States, promoted concepts such as participatory democracy, direct
action, community organizing, and non-violence. SUPA dissolved in 1967 as a result of ideological divisions and competition from other political groups.4 One
such organization, which has also attracted attention from these scholars, is the
Company of Young Canadians (CYC). Created by the federal government under
Prime Minister Lester Pearson, the CYC was intended to funnel youth activism into a respectable and controlled environment. It drew many members away from
SUPA, but became increasingly radical and subject to substantial criticism by the
See, Owram, 218. See, Owram, 220-232; Kostash, 71-75; and Levitt, 158-166. Page 22 late 1960s.41 All of these organizations, while dominated primarily by students, operated mostly outside of universities and focused on issues largely tangential to these institutions. As such, while they might be incorporated into a wider definition of the student movement, they are not included in this study of the specifically on-campus activities of student leaders and the wider student body.
Focused research into the on-campus student movement results in different conclusions regarding the development of the English-Canadian student movement.
The on-campus manifestation of the student movement has received even less attention from Canadian historians. Aside from brief discussions of specific events at particular universities in the works by Kostash and Owram, and an examination of some of the complaints launched by activist students against the arts curriculum in the Sixties,43 most of the work done on the student movement has been written by historians of institutions of higher learning. In their wider investigations of the events of the Sixties, these scholars often discuss the concerns and activities of students on campus. However, these works are usually written from the perspective of administrators and faculty members rather than students and therefore do not provide the detail or analysis that this dissertation
41 See, Owram, 222-225 & 298 Levitt, 98; and Carrie A. Dickenson & William J. Campbell, "Strange Bedfellows: Youth Activists, Government Sponsorship, and the Company of Young Canadians (CYC), 1965-1970," European Journal of American Studies, Special Issue on May 68, [Online], put online Sep. 08, 2008. URL : http://ejas.revues.org/document2862.html. Consulted on Oct. 13, 2008. 42 See, Owram, 242-247 and Kostash, 77-103. 43 See, Patricia Jasen, '"In Pursuit of Human Values (or Laugh When you Say That)': The Student Critique of the Arts Curriculum in the 1960s," in Youth, University and Canadian Society, eds. Paul Axelrod & John G. Reid (Kingston & Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1989), 247-271. Page 23 does to explain how and why the student movement achieved influence, evolved, and dissolved in the manner that it did.
One exception is a recent monograph by James Pitsula, which explores student activities at the Regina Campus during the Sixties. Through a careful reading of The Carillon, the student newspaper, Pitsula analyzes how "a North
American (and to a large extent global) phenomenon expressed itself in a particular setting., .how the movements and trends of the era were experienced in a specific locale."45 Although his conclusions differ significantly from my own, primarily because his goal is to situate student actions in the wider global context of the Sixties rather than examine the specific means by which students joined together around particular issues, Pitsula's book is nevertheless a useful and interesting contribution to the student movement literature.
Some scholars have also examined the history of the national student organization, the Canadian Union of Students (CUS). Membership in this group was comprised of student associations at various universities throughout the
See, for example, Fredrick W. Gibson, Queen's University Vol.2: 1917-1961: To Serve and Yet Be Free (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1983); Stanley Frost, McGill University, For the Advancement of Learning, Volume II, 1895-1971 (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1984); Walter Johns, A History of The University of Alberta: 1908-1969 (Edmonton: University of Alberta Press, 1981); Michael Hayden, Seeking a Balance: The University of Saskatchewan 1907-1982 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1983); Martin L. Friedland, The University of Toronto: A History (University of Toronto Press, 2002); and Hugh Johnston, Radical Campus: Making Simon Fraser University (Vancouver: Douglas & Mclntyre, 2005). One exception is James M. Pitsula, As One Who Serves: The Making of the University of Regina (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006), which views students as important in their own right and not merely as a part of the administrative history of the university. 45 James M. Pitsula, New World Dawning: The Sixties at Regina Campus (Regina: Canadian Plains Research Center, 2008), 3. Page 24 country, and historians argue that it was a major component of the Sixties student movement. In his Master's thesis on CUS, Robert Clift chronicles how the group
evolved from a service organization to a political association, seeking radical
change in the universities and in the wider society. This political agenda, he
contends, divided its leadership from its membership base at the universities,
leading to dissolution in 1969.46 It is difficult, however, to judge the actual
influence and importance of CUS on the Sixties student movement at particular universities. Research into student activities at University of Toronto, University
of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, and Simon Fraser University illustrates that, while the national organization clearly inspired some of the issues chosen and the positions presented by student governments, CUS itself played a minor role in most on-campus events and activities. Some former student activists, especially
those who held leadership positions in CUS or attended annual general meetings, recalled that the organization facilitated interactions with other engaged students
across the country, which they believed were tremendously important.47
However, many student leaders contended that their focus remained local rather than national and that CUS was only a peripheral part of their movement. In this study, the national organization, like other external student groups, will only
Robert Frederick Clift, "The Fullest Development of Human Potential: The Canadian Union of Students, 1963-1969." MA Thesis, Simon Fraser University, 2002. 47 See, Bob Bossin, Interview with the author, 18 January 2006; Bob Rae, Interview with the author, 9 March 2006; Doug Ward, Interview with the author, 31 January 2006; John Cleveland, Interview with the author, 11 February 2006; and Norm Schacher, Interview with the author, 16 January 2006. 48 See, Andrew Wernick, Interview with the author, 19 February 2006; Bill Engleson, Interview with the author, 24 April 2006; and Susan Reisler, Interview with the author, 10 March 2006. Page 25 be discussed when it explicitly contributed to the activities and perspectives of student activists on each campus.
Existing scholarship on the Sixties student movement frequently explores the relationships between English- and French-Canadian student leaders.
Scholars contend that the two remained almost completely separate throughout much of the period. This, many historians argue, resulted from the desire among students in Quebec to actively engage in the major social, cultural, economic, and political transformations that were taking place in the province as a result of the
Quiet Revolution while their counterparts in English-Canadian remained almost entirely focused on issues related directly to higher education. The student movement in Quebec has received specific attention from a number of scholars.
Karine Hebert, for example, asserts that evolving conceptions of the place of youth in society created a shared self-identity among students as a unique and specific group and contributed to the development of the student movement in
Quebec.5 In her work, Nicole Neatby maintains that French-Canadian student leaders were influenced by worldwide topics, such as international peace and global cooperation, and by provincial concerns related to the social reform of
Quebec society. These wider issues inspired student activists to mobilize for social change while, at the same time, attempting to transform their universities.51
49 See, Clift, 23-24; Owram, 169 & 234; and Kostash, 73-74. 50 Karine Hebert, "Between the Future and the Present: Montreal University Student Youth and the Post-war Years, 1945-1960," in Cultures of Citizenship in Post-war Canada, 1940-1955, ed. Nancy Christie & Michael Gavreau (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2003), 163-200. 51 See, Nicole Neatby, "Student Leaders at the University of Montreal from 1950 to 1958: Beyond the 'Carabin Persona,'" Journal of Canadian Studies Vol.29, Page 26 Though this literature provides important insights into the history of student activism in Quebec, the relative absence of research on the English-Canadian student movement means that more information is required to make any comparisons or assessments of the broader national student movement. This dissertation provides an initial analysis of the latter movement as a basis for future work in this larger area.
CASE STUDIES
As a first foray into a largely untouched topic, the choice was taken to examine student activities at three universities during the Sixties and treat these as individual case studies. On the one hand, I decided to focus on English-language universities outside of Quebec. The English- and French-Canadian student movements were quite divided throughout the Sixties, as evidenced by the split within the Canadian Union of Students, and very little interaction occurred between students across the linguistic divide. Even at the English universities in
Quebec, including McGill and Sir George Williams (now Concordia), students were concerned with very different issues than their counterparts in the other provinces because of the Quiet Revolution and the various social, political, economic, and cultural changes occurring as a result. As such, I conceived of the
English-Canadian student movement as unique and separate and worthy of independent study.
No.3 (Fall 1994), 26-44 and Nicole Neatby, Carabins ou Activistes? L 'idealisme et la radicalisation de lapensee etudiante a I'Universite de Montreal au temps du duplessisme (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1997). Page 27 On the other hand, the campuses examined - University of Toronto,
University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, and Simon Fraser University - represent different sizes and student populations and diverse regional and institutional contexts; they therefore provide a useful starting point for an examination of student activities in English Canada. I chose the three schools because they had very active student movements during the Sixties, which facilitates an investigation into the dynamics of this particular form of social activism. I initially assumed that student activities at each institution were quite unique as a result of particular institutional differences. Simon Fraser University is generally perceived as a "radical campus," at which student activists achieved and maintained a prominent position during the Sixties. As the university that perhaps experienced the most turmoil during this period, SFU must be included in any study of Canadian student movements. By contrast, the University of
Toronto is, on the surface, seemingly conservative and staid. I thought that its long history and large and complex student population would have limited the ability of students to dominate the debates on campus. While this was, in part, the case, and student leaders employed more conciliatory tactics than their counterparts elsewhere because of their well-established relationships with administrators, activists nevertheless successfully inserted a student perspective into campus deliberations. University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, as a very small institution, could easily be viewed as insignificant in the history of student movements; however, I thought it intriguing that it nevertheless developed
52 This is reflected in Hugh Johnston's book on the early history of SFU. See, Johnston. Page 28 a culture of radicalism. Most students could not help but get caught up in the protests and demonstrations on campus, and student leaders were very successful in their attempts to engage in the discussions occurring on campus. These three case studies, then, provide an opportunity to compare and contrast student behaviour on each campus in order to acknowledge the uniqueness of certain experiences but also to make some generalizations about the nature of the Sixties student movement at English-Canadian universities.
The three institutions selected as case studies developed within unique regional environments. The University of Toronto, for example, is located in the most populous city and province in Canada. The province of Ontario and the city of Toronto, because of their size and locations in the centre of the country, have a great deal of influence over the political discourse of the nation. The university itself is located in downtown Toronto, which ensured its integration into the city and allowed for important connections, whether positive or negative, to be made between members of the university community and those living in its surrounding area. As a result of these factors, many students at the university felt a sense of power and entitlement to engage in the major political debates at the local, provincial, and national levels. In addition, in the postwar period, similar to other regions in Canada, Ontario experienced tremendous economic and population growth. In particular, its manufacturing and service sectors expanded dramatically, which required ever-greater numbers of educated individuals and contributed to the increasing prosperity of most social classes in the province.
Politically, the Progressive Conservative Party dominated the province for the
Page 29 entire postwar period. Their policies emphasized an expanded social security system, new infrastructure, administrative reforms, and growth of trade and industry.53
The University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, by contrast, is located in a province with a small population and a very different political culture than that of Ontario. With an economy based almost entirely on agriculture, characterized by a boom and bust nature and a continued reliance upon the business interests of the east, the province developed into "one of the most politically progressive provinces in Canada."54 This resulted in the election of the first socialist government in North America, the Cooperative Commonwealth
Federation (CCF), in 1944. The city of Regina itself, while quite small, was particularly progressive. It had a strong cultural tradition and was home to many of the most ardent supporters of the CCF, later reorganized into the New
Democratic Party (NDP). The young people who attended the university during the Sixties were often imbued with a sense of the possibility and potential for change that emerged from this unique political context. However, students also faced a different political force during their time at school. In 1964, in the wake of the controversy over the introduction of a universal medical care program in
See, Peter A. Baskerville, Sites of Power: A Concise History of Ontario (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). 208-232. 54 Lome A. Brown, Joseph K. Roberts, & John W. Warnock, Saskatchewan Politics From Left to Right, '44 to '99 (Regina: Hinterland Publications, 1999), 1. See also, Seymour Martin Lipset, Agrarian Socialism: The Cooperative Commonwealth Federation in Saskatchewan. A Study in Political Sociology (New York: Anchor Books, 1968). 55 See, for example, J. William Brennan, Regina: An Illustrated History (Toronto: James Lorimer & Company, 1989). Page 30 the province, the Liberal Party, under the leadership of conservative business
owner Ross Thatcher, was elected as the provincial government. They remained
in power until 1971.56 Thus, while inspired by the CCF tradition in the province,
students interacted with the Liberal government throughout much of the Sixties.
Simon Fraser University, located on a mountain in a suburb of Vancouver,
British Columbia, also existed within a unique regional context. The province
experienced enormous economic growth in the postwar period, largely as a result
of expanded resource development and the growth of the service sector.
Vancouver, however, stood out from the rest of the province. Less reliant upon
the resource industry and with a very large and diverse population, the city became home to a progressive political tradition and an influential counterculture
during the Sixties. While the university was located in the working-class suburb
of Burnaby and was isolated atop a large mountain, it remained intimately
connected with the city of Vancouver and the political traditions and cultures in
the province.57 From 1952 to 1972, the economically and socially conservative
Social Credit Party, under the leadership of W.A.C. Bennett, ruled the province.
Despite this dominance, the more progressive Cooperative Commonwealth
Federation and later the New Democratic Party remained a powerful force in the
province. In this way, the political culture of British Columbia was divided between two quite different ideological strains.
See, Dale Eisler, Rumours of Glory: Saskatchewan and the Thatcher Years (Edmonton: Hurtig Publishers, 1987), 139. 57 See, Jean Barman, The West Beyond the West: A History of British Columbia, 3rd Ed. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007), 286-344. Page 31 At the same time, these three universities had very different institutional histories that influenced their development and the actions of students on campus throughout the Sixties. All evolved in particular ways in response to the general
expansion of higher education in Canada during the postwar period, which will be discussed in greater detail in Chapter 2. In his study in the political economy of higher education in Ontario, Paul Axelrod outlines four processes through which the universities in that province expanded their facilities during this era: the growth of well-established institutions in response to the rising enrolments of the
1960s; the secularization of denominational institutions, which then attracted
government funding and expanded rapidly; the emergence of a number of universities from existing institutions of postsecondary education; and the
creation of new and autonomous universities.58 Although Axelrod's study
focuses on the developments in postsecondary education in Ontario, these
categories are useful for understanding the developments at the three universities included in this study.
The University of Toronto is an example of Axelrod's first category, as it
was a well-established institution that expanded dramatically in the 1960s. It was
created in 1849 when the Province of Canada passed a bill converting King's
College, opened in 1826, into a secular, government funded institution.59 In the
1880s, a number of denominational schools were federated, which cemented its
Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars, 55. 59 Martin L. Friedland, The University of Toronto: A History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), 24. Page 32 position as the provincial university. Soon afterwards, although founded as a liberal arts school,61 it began offering Medicine, Law, Dentistry, and other professional programs. As well, it became one of the only universities in Canada to offer advanced graduate degrees.62 It continued to grow and evolve throughout the 20th century, becoming the largest postsecondary institution in Canada, offering a number of professional and graduate degrees, and contributing extensively to the national and international community.63
Following the Second World War, the university faced new challenges as a result of rising enrolments and changing conceptions of higher education. 4 In preparing for expansion, in the mid-1950s the university altered its admissions standards and its curriculum requirements, raised salaries for faculty members, strengthened and expanded its graduate school, and undertook a massive construction program.65 Under a new President, Claude Bissell, the university also incorporated a number of colleges between 1960 and 1973, including New
College, Innis College, Scarborough College, Erindale College, and briefly York
60 Friedland, 99-112. 61 A.B. McKillop, Matters of Mind: The University in Ontario, 1791-1951 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), 41. 62 Friedland, 175-185. 63 See, Friedland and McKillop. 64 See, Philip Massolin, "Modernization and Reaction: Postwar Evolutions and the Critique of Higher Learning in English-Speaking Canada, 1945-1970," Journal of Canadian Studies Vol.36, No.2 (Summer 2001), 130-163; A.B. McKillop, Matters of Mind: The University in Ontario, 1791-1951 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), 563-568; and Robin Harris, A History of Higher Education in Canada, 1663-1960 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976), 457-563. These developments will also be discussed in greater detail in Chapter 2. 65 Friedland, 401-419. Page 33 University. At the same time, many multidisciplinary programs were also created, especially in the social sciences and humanities, but the institution continued to focus on research and graduate studies and expanded its professional schools.67 Overall, by the 1960s the University of Toronto had a well-established academic staff and was a very large and complex institution.
The University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus (USRC) can be seen as a hybrid of two of Axelrod's types of universities. It had roots in a denominational institution but also developed as part of the expansion of the well- established University of Saskatchewan. The Methodist Church had created
Regina College in 1911. In 1959, the decision was taken to make it a full degree granting institution under the umbrella of the University of Saskatchewan, which already had a campus, opened in 1909, in Saskatoon. Increasing enrolments were putting a serious strain on the facilities and budget of the provincial university, and administrators and government officials insisted that expansion to Regina was the only solution to this serious problem. The existing facilities of the Regina
College proved inadequate for the required growth; a new university was therefore constructed at a location that was a significant distance from the developed areas of the city, which left it relatively isolated and secluded.69 This location officially opened in 1965, though the Regina Campus had been operating
66 Friedland, 443-459. 67 Friedland, 479-498. 68 See, W.A. Riddell, The First Decade, 1960-1970 (Regina: University of Regina, 1974), 25, Hayden, 236, and James M. Pitsula, As One Who Serves: The Making of the University of Regina (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006), 126-127. 69 Hayden, 86. Page 34 since 1961. The university was still being built when students began arriving in
large numbers and they experienced the inconveniences and chaos of attending
classes at a construction site. The new two-campus structure included one board of governors, one senate, and one president, but separate councils at each location that were responsible for academic programs and policies.70 Those involved in planning the Regina Campus were explicit that it should not simply mirror what
already existed in Saskatoon. "[L]et me express the hope," Saskatchewan
Premier Woodrow Lloyd stated when laying the cornerstone of the first building
in September 1963, "that this will not be just a small scale model of that which has been done on the Saskatoon Campus."
What developed in Regina was a university focused on liberal arts programs and organized around an interdisciplinary model. Unlike the Saskatoon
Campus, which offered a number of professional programs, the USRC would provide an education based in the social sciences and humanities. In December
1963 the faculty at the Regina Campus developed the "Education Policy for the
Liberal Arts," better known as the Regina Beach Statement. This declaration
acknowledged the role of the university in preserving, transmitting, and
expanding knowledge but also affirmed its responsibility for critically evaluating
and challenging the status quo.72 As well, the USRC developed interdisciplinary
/uPitsula, 131. 71 URA, Special Events and Occasions [Programs], Premier W.S. Lloyd [Speech], Laying of the Cornerstone, First Buildings, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, 26 September 1963, Box 1, 2. 72 URA, Regina Beach Retreat, 90-27,, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus "Educational Policy for the Liberal Arts," File 1. See also, Pitsula, 161- 162. Page 35 programs and avoided the strict separation between subject areas that characterized many university curricula.
The faculty members who staffed the Regina Campus during the Sixties were vital to its early development. Although most universities had trouble hiring qualified instructors during this period, the Regina Campus found it especially difficult to find senior professors because of the limited resources for teaching and research and the enormous amount of time that would have to be spent on administrative duties, including the development of programs and curricula.
Recruitment, then, tended to attract individuals who were interested in the liberal arts and interdisciplinary programs of the university or in the political traditions of the province.74 Similar to other universities during this period, the Regina
Campus was staffed largely by recent graduates from the United States. Former
Regina Campus Principal, William Riddell, estimates that "at one stage in the
1960s there were about one-third from Canada, one-third from the United States and remaining third from other countries of the world." Many of these academics were politically active themselves and shared, in the words of one former faculty member, "an intrigue with this development of curiosity, of questioning, of challenging authority, of being daring."
Simon Fraser University (SFU) fits into Axelrod's fourth category, but with one important difference. It was a new institution created in response to
73 Riddell, 74. 74 See, Joseph Roberts, Interview with the author, 19 February 2002, Jim McCrorie, Interview with the author, 11 March 2002, and Robert Cosby, Interview with the author, 10 March 2002. 75 Riddell, 75. 76 Jim McCrorie, Interview with the author, 11 March 2002. Page 36 growing demands for higher education in British Columbia, but, unlike Axelrod's new universities that were created as a result of pressure from local community groups,77 SFU was an initiative of the provincial government. Premier Bennett commissioned a report on the future of postsecondary education, which, when it reported in 1962, recommended that a new college be opened on the mainland to alleviate the pressure on University of British Columbia, a large and well-
no established institution, for undergraduate education. In response, plans were made to open a university in the suburb of Burnaby. The so-called "instant university," constructed in approximately 18 months and opened in September
1965, was located on a twelve hundred acre site on the top of Burnaby
Mountain.79 Like the Regina Campus, Simon Fraser University was still under construction when students began to arrive and they were forced to deal with all of the mud, scaffolding, incomplete buildings, and other hassles of a brand new location. Unlike the Regina Campus, SFU was independent from the University of British Columbia, with its own board of governors, senate, and president. The early development of the institution was primarily under the control of its first chancellor, Gordon Shrum, and later, the government-appointed board of 80 governors.
Simon Fraser University offered a distinctive approach to postsecondary education. According to its first president, Patrick McTaggart-Cowan, Premier 77 Axelrod, 55. 7 John B. Macdonald, Higher Education in British Columbia and a Plan for the Future (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1962), 64-65. 79 See, Dionysios Rossi, "Mountaintop Mayhem: Simon Fraser University," MA Thesis, Simon Fraser University, 2001, 28. 80 See, Johnston, 5 and Rossi, 42. Page 37 Bennett did not "want somebody to come in and make just a copy.. .of UBC...
[Tjhere should be room for a different style of university." While initial recommendations called for the creation of an undergraduate institution,
Chancellor Shrum made the decision to include a graduate program as well.82
The trimester system and year-round operations set SFU apart from its mainland counterpart. Other innovations included: a special category of entry for mature students over the age of 25, athletic scholarships to student-athletes, a combination of large lectures and small tutorials and seminars, and a unique administrative structure. As well, SFU was organized on an interdisciplinary model, most apparent in the creation of a single department for Political Science,
Sociology, and Anthropology (PSA). Even the architecture reflected this interdisciplinary model; in order "to encourage interdisciplinary co-operation and to break down departmental barriers...[the architects] organized space functionally rather than by academic department."
With this innovative approach to higher education and the enormous publicity the "instant university" was receiving, applications for faculty positions flooded in. However, as with USRC and other universities throughout Canada,
SFU had difficulty attracting senior scholars or Canadian academics. Seven of the eleven original department heads hired were British. As well, of the original faculty members at SFU, 19 percent received their final degrees at a Canadian
81 Quoted in Rossi, 44. 82 Johnston, 29-30. See, Johnston, 105 and Rossi, 45-46. The administrative structure called for deans to be appointed on a one-year, rotating basis, and department heads appointed for life. 4 Johnston, 48. See also, Rossi, 34. Page 38 institution, 49 percent at an American institution, and 26 percent took their last degrees in the United Kingdom. Overall, approximately two-thirds to three quarters of all instructors were not Canadian. Many of these charter professors were hired as recent graduates or before completing their doctoral degree; 48 percent did not hold a PhD. According to SFU historian Hugh Johnston, these faculty members and department heads were attracted by the possibility of a different kind of postsecondary education at SFU and were open to
Of experimentation and innovation in postsecondary education.
Largely in response to these very different regional and institutional contexts, the universities also ranged dramatically in size and had diverse student populations. At one extreme was the Regina Campus, which was initially very small with a student population of only 643 when it opened in 1961. This continued to grow throughout the period, peaking at just over 4 000 students in the fall of 1969.86 The vast majority of these students came from southern
Saskatchewan, deciding to remain closer to home or choosing specifically to attend the liberal arts Regina Campus rather than the more established university in Saskatoon.87 At the other extreme sat the University of Toronto, which in the
See, Rossi, 57-58; Johnston, 97; and SFU A, Simon Fraser University Calendar, 1965-66. The university kept no citizenship records, so one must extrapolate from the statistics available on where faculty members obtained their degrees. According to Rossi, 33 percent of charter faculty members received their first degree at a Canadian institution, 35 percent at an American institution, and 21 percent at a British institution. This, he argues, indicates that most charter faculty members were Canadian, American, or British. 86 See, J.W.T. Spinks, A Decade of Change: The University of Saskatchewan 1959-70 (Saskatoon: University of Saskatchewan, 1972) and URA, University of Saskatchewan, Annual Report, 1964-65 to 1973-74. 87 URA, University of Saskatchewan, "Annual Report," 1965-66 to 1969-70. Page 39 1963-64 academic year had an enrollment of more than 26 000 students. This increased to over 50 000 students by 1973-74. The students who attended
University of Toronto generally had exceptional academic qualifications and were perhaps attracted by the elite and long-standing tradition of Ontario's oldest university. The largest proportion of its students were from the Toronto region, though a significant percentage came from around the province, the country, and the world. The third university, Simon Fraser, was moderately sized, opening in
1965 with an enrolment of 2 528 and reaching just over 5 000 undergraduate and graduate students by 1973. Many of its students came from the university's immediate jurisdiction in the eastern Vancouver suburbs, which had a significant working class population; however, attracted by the exceptional faculty and the unique reputation of the university, a considerable number also came from across the province and from around the country and the world, especially from Great
Britain.89
The case studies demonstrate that the dynamics of the movement differed at each university. For example, exchanges between students and university officials varied quite dramatically. At University of Toronto, because of its long history, relationships between students and administrators were well established by the 1960s and remained relatively conciliatory until the late 1960s. By contrast, the creation of the Regina Campus and Simon Fraser University in the
Sixties meant that such relationships developed during a period of upheaval and
™ UTA, University of Toronto, President's Report, 1963-64 to 1973-74. 89 See, Johnston, 115 and SFUA, F-52 Office of Analytical Studies Fonds, F 52-2- 2-1, Enrollment Statistics. Page 40 change within universities, and interactions between these groups were almost immediately hostile and confrontational. The relatively small student enrolments at the latter institutions also contributed to the development of a relatively coherent student identity in comparison to University of Toronto where there existed large and diverse student population that was often fragmented and divided. In addition, youthful and politically engaged faculty members at the primarily liberal arts universities of SFU and the Regina Campus often spearheaded attempts to democratize the university and make it a more socially relevant institution, encouraging and supporting student leaders to a much greater extent than the comparatively seasoned teaching staff at the University of
Toronto, who were frequently antagonistic to student demands for widespread change. At the same time, University of Toronto was extensively integrated into its surrounding community, and students there interacted with local, provincial, and national events to a greater extent than their counterparts at the rather isolated
Regina Campus and Simon Fraser University.
However, though the dynamics differed within each university as a result of their unique characteristics, this analysis of student activities at three separate institutions reveals some shared characteristics of this social movement; at all three schools, the student movement gained influenced when significant numbers of students united together around shared ideologies and common conceptions of student identity. For instance, shared conceptions of democracy and responsibility, along with a common sense of the distinct position of students within the university community, contributed to the development of alliances
Page 41 student leaders and the student body on each campus. As well, at all three
institutions, differences of opinion over governmental versus individual responsibility and the social role of the university, as well as divisions regarding the centrality of political engagement to a student identity, limited the formation
of an influential and powerful student movement. A thread that will be developed throughout this dissertation, then, is that, while the differences between the
campuses are notable, the commonalities are more important in the history of the
Sixties student movement.
METHODOLOGY
In order to analyze how the campus-based student movement gained influence, evolved, and ultimately fractured, the research for this project focused on periods when student actions took centre stage within each institution. I decided to focus on the major events at each university, when student leaders initiated particular discussions and debates that came to dominate the activities of the campus. Examples of such activities include lobbying campaigns, autonomous actions by particular students, protests and demonstrations, and occupations of university buildings. These actions are important because they demonstrate how the student movement functioned by highlighting how issues were framed, what tactics were employed, how the student body and university officials responded, and how alliances were formed or not between students and their leaders. These brief spurts of dramatic action make visible the dynamics of the student movement.
Page 42 As well, limited by the available resources from the period and recognizing that student leaders, as a result of their consistent desire for political engagement and their roles in representing and speaking for the student body, had a dominant position within the student movement, this research revolved primarily around the records produced by these students. Since the most politically engaged students largely controlled the political events on campus and created most of the written documents of the movement, their perspectives and positions are widely available in the existing historical record; the mass of the student body is generally absent. Student leaders' definitions of issues and concerns, along with their choices regarding tactics, generally decided the direction of on-campus activities and either attracted or discouraged the participation of other students. In this way, the actions and perspectives of student leaders largely determined the path and influence of the student movement at English-Canadian universities and are accessible in the written record. Although the terms "student leaders" and "students" are often used interchangeably throughout this dissertation, the focus remains, as a result of the available sources, primarily on those individuals who took leadership roles in the
student movement during the Sixties.
My first step in this research project, then, was a comprehensive reading of the primary student newspapers at each university - The Varsity at the
University of Toronto, The Carillon at the University of Saskatchewan, Regina
Page 43 Campus, and The Peak at Simon Fraser University. The editors and reporters of these newspapers were important participants in the student movement; they were often actively engaged in the major political activities on campus and helped to disseminate the concerns and the demands of student leaders to the wider student population. These newspapers chronicled the major events and issues that activists identified as important, provided a particular analysis and opinion and indicated how such students framed their concerns, and, on occasion, provided an opportunity for other students or members of the university community to present their own opinions and perspectives.
Following this research, I undertook an investigation of the documents left behind by official student governments. These organizations held a unique position vis-a-vis students, faculty members, and university administrators: they were funded by student levies, were elected by the entire student body, or at least those who voted; were established within the administrative structures of the university; and were frequently viewed as the official voice of the student population. Although student leaders did not always hold positions in or dominate the activities of student government, those involved in this official association frequently led the student movement by identifying key issues and
Although other student groups and organizations also published newspapers or magazines, I made the decision to focus only on the campus-wide newspaper at each university. Complete runs of The Varsity, The Carillon, and The Peak are available and provided some consistency across each institution. I was also most concerned with the major issues that dominated the entire university during this period, rather than with events that occurred within specific colleges, faculties, or organizations. Finally, funded by student fees, often collected by the university administration, these campus-wide student newspapers were generally recognized as the official voice of the student body. Page 44 concerns and formulating specific positions on behalf of the entire student body.
The availability of student government records, however, varied dramatically at each institution. Few documents remain at the University of Regina Archives but substantial collections are stored at the archives of the University of Toronto and
Simon Fraser University. The records that do exist include: official minutes of student government meetings; correspondence with faculty members, university administrators, other students, and the public; position papers; and official publications, including student handbooks and yearbooks. They indicate how student governments formulated their positions and what principles and values guided their discussions and decisions. They also provide insight into the relationships between student government and other student organizations on campus, as well as other groups and individuals inside and outside the university.
Wherever possible I also examined the papers of other organizations that were part of the on-campus student movement. However, as unofficial student groups, their records were rarely retained by the university archives or in any other centralized location. The archives at McMaster University in Hamilton, though, has expended enormous effort collecting documents related to a number of social and political organizations in the Sixties. In particular, the records of national organizations such as the Student Union for Peace Action (SUPA) and the Canadian Union of Students (CUS), along with collections related to the anti-
Vietnam War movement and the Women's Liberation Movement, were inspected as part of this study. These records provide information on the concerns and demands of certain student leaders and offer insight into the development of the
Page 45 English-Canadian student movement. Yet, the inconsistent nature of these records and collections mean that there are many more student organizations that did not leave an archival trail.
The archival research for this project also included an examination of numerous records created by other members of the university community. The student movement operated within a wider institutional context that included faculty members and administrators, and the actions taken by student activists were often formulated, whether consciously or not, in response to the positions taken by these other individuals. For this reason, the records of the boards of governors, senates, President's Offices, university-wide faculty committees, departmental governing bodies, as well as the personal papers of individual professors and administrators, proved useful to this study. These documents, housed at the university archives, contained official minutes of meetings, memos between various members of the university community, correspondence with individuals on- and off-campus, and position papers and reports on a variety of topics. They provide information on the responses of faculty members and university administrators to the demands made by student leaders throughout the period, illustrate how others viewed the student movement, and indicate the positions taken by these members of the university community in the discussions and debates on campus. These papers also enable an analysis of the motivations behind particular actions taken by professors and administrators.
Along with these archival records and student newspapers, an oral history project comprised a substantial portion of the research for this dissertation.
Page 46 Although time and reflection can alter memories of an event or a time period, and people generally construct their recollections in a manner that is often inconsistent with actual happenings, interviews provide unique perspectives on the ways that individuals reflected upon their understanding of particular issues and conceptualized their identities during the Sixties and in the present. Oral history, then, was not used to obtain "facts" about certain people or activities, which are generally available in the existing documents; it was employed as a means to allow individuals who were involved in the movement an opportunity to contemplate the large significance of events, the dynamics of organizations, the justifications for specific tactics and demands, personal motivations, and individual and group identities. In these ways, the reflections of participants offered significant insight into the broader evolution of the Sixties student movement.
I attempted to contact all of the student newspaper editors and student government representatives from the Sixties, as well as many individuals identified, through the study of newspapers and archival documents, as those particularly involved as leaders of the movement. I sent letters to over one hundred people, whose addresses were obtained through various web-based directories. As well, I placed advertisements in the alumni magazines at each university asking interested parties to identify themselves and participate in an oral interview. Finally, I obtained more names through the interview process itself, as individuals were encouraged to identify others who might contribute to this research. Overall, I conducted forty interviews over the course of three
Page 47 months with former students from University of Toronto and Simon Fraser
University. These were combined with twenty-eight interviews I completed in
2002 as part of previous research for my Masters thesis on the student movement
at the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus. Most of the individuals who
participated in this project were those who were approached directly, and few
people voluntarily responded to public appeals for contributions.
In these interviews, which generally ranged from one to two hours in
length, I asked participants to identify what they remembered as the key events at
their university, the issues associated with each event, and the positions put
forward by student leaders and others within that context. I encouraged them to
consider the importance of specific values and principles to the student
movement, as well as the influence of other external social movements or events.
Finally, I gave participants a chance to reflect upon the impact or influence of the
student movement on the universities and on the wider society. Generally
speaking, individuals guided the conversations; while there were a number of
questions that I asked of all participants, their reflections and memories dictated
the direction of the interview.
OUTLINE OF THE DISSERTATION
This research demonstrates that the student movement at English-
Canadian universities during the Sixties revolved primarily around particular
issues and events and was not rooted in a specific chronology. It gained momentum and influence, for example, when significant numbers of students
Page 48 were willing to participate in actions aimed at achieving individual and group autonomy and student participation in university governing structures. It lost its energy and power when students no longer connected with the positions and tactics advocated by their leaders. In recognition of this finding, the dissertation is organized in a primarily thematic manner; each chapter focuses on a particular issue or concern and explores how it influenced the development of the student movement.
Chapter 2 sets out some of the context that influenced the emergence of the Sixties student movement and explores how and why students began to ally together around common ideas and goals. It reveals that certain actions taken by university administrators, in particular their decision to treat their students as adults rather than as children, created a new conception of students as responsible members of the university community. Student politicians quickly adopted this new identity and began to press for an even greater role for students in the political activities on campus. In response to specific demands for greater individual and organizational independence, a significant proportion of the student body began to view students as a distinct group on campus and allied together with their leaders into a relatively united and influential movement. In this way, the chapter illustrates that an influential student movement began to develop at each university around a shared student identity.
The following chapter discusses the campaign for student participation in the decision-making process on campus and its role in encouraging and facilitating the expansion of the student movement. It demonstrates that, although
Page 49 faculty members and not students initially spearheaded demands for the reform of university governing structures, student activists applied their new definitions of student identity and responsibility to this issue and insisted upon a greater role for students in a reformed system. The campaigns organized by student leaders around this issue further convinced a large number of students that they were separate, not only from the administration, but also from the majority of professors on campus, and that they could only achieve a more meaningful voice if they worked together with their peers and confronted the other groups within their institutions. Ultimately, this chapter contends that the student movement reached its peak around issues of governance as most students proved eager to participate in various events aimed at democratizing their universities.
At the same time that students united together around a shared conception of student identity and demands for greater democracy within their institutions, student leaders found it difficult to maintain alliances around other issues that they identified as important. Chapter 4 discusses the concerns that many student government officials and others raised regarding the inaccessibility of higher education. It demonstrates that, as a result of differing positions regarding the responsibilities of individuals and the state to fund higher education and the level of structural changes required within the university, many students were loath to accept the positions put forward by their student leaders or to support the tactics employed during the protests and demonstrations organized around this issue. As such, the student movement, while simultaneously gaining strength and power around other issues, fractured and divided over this particular concern.
Page 50 Similarly, Chapter 5 argues that students were largely unwilling to ally with their leaders to demand significant changes regarding the purpose of the university in Canadian society. Student leaders continued to critique the existing orientation of their institutions throughout the Sixties as part of a larger campaign to eliminate the inequalities and injustices in society. Yet, many students took a more conservative perspective than their leaders regarding the role of higher education, and attempts to mobilize significant numbers of students around a particular conception of higher education generally failed even, on occasion, creating direct conflict and confrontations between different groups of students.
Such fractures limited the unity and influence of the student movement.
Finally, the conclusion examines the various factors that led to the virtual disappearance of the student movement from English-Canadian universities by the mid-1970s and connects the English-Canadian student movement with a broader understanding of social movements in society. Although the previous chapters reveal that the cohesion of the movement was always limited, student activists nevertheless continued to guide the political activities and exert tremendous influence over all other groups on campus. However, by the mid-
1970s, these students no longer wielded significant clout and their movement became increasingly weak and ineffective. This chapter, then, argues that a number of issues, including an economic recession, the increasing violence of student actions and administrative and state responses, the move of many leaders out of the university, ideological divisions within the student leadership, and the emergence of other important social movements, contributed to the decline of the
Page 51 movement. As one example, I discuss the rise of the Women's Liberation
Movement (WLM), which arose by the end of the Sixties. However, while I had expected that gender would be a central issue throughout the evolution of the student movement, it became clear that the WLM was a separate social movement that requires further independent exploration. In addition, drawing upon a number of theories developed by social movement scholars, this chapter uses the example of the student movement to contend that collective action develops when diverse individuals come to share a common understanding of the world and a mutual definition of self. It also maintains that the alliances that form around such worldviews and identities are tremendously fragile and temporary because these conceptions are constantly shifting and changing. Ultimately, then, the
Sixties student movement is connected to wider conception regarding the dynamics of rebellion and resistance more generally.
This dissertation is fundamentally concerned with understanding the emergence, evolution, and dissolution of social movements in society. It uses three case studies of one Sixties social movement, the English-Canadian student movement, as a means to study the larger topic of collective action. It is not, however, intended as an overarching analysis of rebellion or resistance or as a comprehensive history of the Sixties in Canada. It also disregards many student activities during the period. It focuses entirely on the major political discussions and debates on campuses and largely ignores the broader social and cultural concerns of students during this period. Moreover, this dissertation does not purport to discuss the specific individuals involved in the student movement of
Page 52 the Sixties; instead, it focuses on the wider debates and discussions that transcended individual personalities.
Ultimately, by examining the major issues and events at three institutions, analyzing how student leaders outlined their concerns, and exploring how others, including the wider student population, university administrators, and faculty members, responded to these positions, this dissertation demonstrates that the student movement at English-Canadian universities gained momentum when alliances formed between student leaders and a significant proportion of the student body based on common concerns and a shared definition of what it meant to be a student. However, as perspectives and tactics concurrently shifted and changed, the student movement splintered and could not maintain its influence.
In the end, these case studies, while recognizing the differences at each institution, also demonstrate remarkable similarities and can, therefore, be used to make some important generalizations regarding the English-Canadian student movement during the Sixties. As well, the conclusion that the student movement gained influence when diverse individuals shared common positions and lost energy when divergent perspectives emerged contributes to a wider understanding of social movements and provides important insights into the dynamics of collective action.
Page 53 CHAPTER 2 "Students As Adult Citizens": The Emergence of the Student Movement at English-Canadian Universities
During the Sixties a mass student movement emerged at English-Canadian universities. This chapter explores the initial development of this movement, examining how and why students began to ally together to demand significant changes to their universities. It begins with a discussion of the position of students as irresponsible and apolitical children within the university community prior to the 1960s and analyzes how this student identity shifted by the mid-
1960s. Initially, it was the actions of university administrators, facing practical difficulties enforcing a strict disciplinary code during a period of expansion and growth, which defined students as responsible adults with the freedom to regulate their own personal behaviour. However, politically engaged students quickly adopted this new identity and began to press for even greater responsibility within the university. They demanded that the rights granted to individual students with the collapse of paternalistic disciplinary structures also be granted to student organizations, especially student governments.
Through their campaigns, these student activists more fully articulated their definition of student identity, arguing that students were a separate group on campus with their own interests and concerns and should be politically engaged members of the community, participating in the discussions and debates that determined the operations of the university. In response to specific events at each school, significant numbers of students embraced the identity presented by their leaders and viewed themselves as responsible and active members of the
Page 54 university community with distinct interests and concerns. While the dynamics of this process differed at each institution because of their unique histories, issues and events, and structures, by the late 1960s a mass student movement had developed at University of Toronto, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, and Simon Fraser University as students at each university allied around this shared identity.
BACKGROUND TO THE SIXTIES STUDENT MOVEMENT
Prior to the 1960s, students were not considered responsible adults, either by the university or the wider society, especially since the legal age of majority at the national level in Canada was twenty-one. As such, university administrators1 were charged with regulating the behaviour of their immature and dependent students. "[F]or decades - indeed for centuries," American historian David Allyn explains, "school administrators had served as foster parents, entrusted with the
1 Throughout this dissertation, I will use the terms "university administrators" and "university administration" in two different ways. On the one hand, I use it to refer specifically to the group that includes the president, the vice-presidents, the registrar, and other high-level university employees at each institution, also known as the "administrative team." On the other hand, I will use it in a more general way to refer to all those individuals charged with operating and guiding the university, including the administrative team and members of the Board of Governors and the Senate. While each university has a slightly different organizational structure, they all follow a relatively standard model. Primarily comprised of government appointees, the Board of Governors is responsible for the financial operations of the university. The Senate, with membership from the administrative team and the faculty, controls the academic functions of the university. Through their various duties, the administrative team, the Board of Governors, and the Senate together make the decisions that affect the operations of the university. As a result, it is the latter usage of "administrators" or the "administration" that will be most common throughout the dissertation as it indicates the closely integrated relationship between the various groups that run the university. Page 55 responsibility of guiding and governing their charges as they made the transition from adolescence into adulthood." In other words, the university "exercised the prerogatives of a strict but judicious parent." This relationship was known as in loco parentis, in the place of the parent, and through it administrators regulated both the academic and personal conduct of their students. Rules were therefore put in place covering sexual relations, alcohol consumption, swearing, and smoking.
The strict regulation of students' non-academic behaviour was most evident, as historians Beth Bailey and Renee Lansley point out, in the rules that governed student residences on campus. In these institutions, students lived away from home and had no one to supervise their conduct; parents held university administrators responsible for this task. Although Catherine Gidney argues that residence rules had been gradually relaxed during the first half of the twentieth-century, the behaviour of students living within residences remained largely under administrative control in the early 1960s. Such was the case at the
University of Toronto, where large numbers of students lived in residences. As
David Allyn, Make Love, Not War: The Sexual Revolution: An Unfettered History (New York: Routledge, 2001), 94. 3 UTA, P78-0693. Handbook '69, "discipline." Doug Owram, Born at the Right Time: A History of the Baby Boom Generation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), 178. 5 See, Beth Bailey, "From Panty Raids to Revolution: Youth and Authority, 1950- 1970," in Generations of Youth: Youth Cultures and History in Twentieth-Century America, eds. Joe Austin & Michael Nevin Willard (New York: New York University Press, 1998), 194 and Renee N. Lansley, "College Women or College Girls?: Gender, Sexuality, and In Loco Parentis on Campus," PhD Dissertation, Ohio State University, 2004, 12. Catherine Gidney, A Long Eclipse: The Liberal Protestant Establishment and the Canadian University 1920-1970 (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2004), 113. Page 56 late as 1967, women living on campus in Toronto faced strict curfews and had to
sign out when leaving the residence and sign back in upon their return. As well,
visits from members of the opposite sex were strictly regulated. Similarly,
though fewer students lived in residence in Regina, their behaviour was also
closely monitored. According to 1962 regulations, for example, the doors to the
women's residence were to be locked every evening at 11:00, at which time the
women were expected to be in their rooms. They could apply to stay out late on
the weekends, but the warden could approve overnight and weekend leaves only
with a signed form from the student's parent or guardian. Unauthorized visitors
were strictly prohibited, with any violation of these rules punishable by the
faculty discipline committee. However, in both Toronto and Regina, rules for
male residences were greatly relaxed in the late 1950s and early 1960s and were
much more lenient,9 illustrating what Bailey and Lansley consider the gender bias
of residence rules. Female students were considered less capable of policing their
own lives and therefore faced stricter curfews and closer supervision of their
personal behaviour than their male counterparts.10 Generally speaking, parents,
university administrators, and even students themselves largely accepted in loco parentis and its associated rules.
7 "Residence Restrictions," The Varsity 11 January 1967, 8-9. 8 URA, 75-7 Dean's/Principal's Office Files, File 401.4. "Regulations, Women's Residence, Regina Campus, University of Saskatchewan," 1962. 9 See, "Residence Restrictions"; James M. Pitsula, As One Who Serves: The Making of the University of Regina (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006), 99; and Gidney, 114. 10 See, Bailey, 194 and Lansley, 12. Page 57 This relationship also meant that university students had very little official political engagement in the university community and did not have any role in the decision-making structures of the university. Moreover, their own organizations were subject to oversight and control by university officials and remained mostly apolitical. Student governments, for example, could not organize activities without approval from the university administrators and faculty members who supervised their actions. This was relatively unproblematic in the pre-Sixties period, as student governments were primarily involved in activities such as yearbooks, dances, clubs, athletics, and other social events rather than in more political activities. Thus, before the mid-1960s, students had very few responsibilities, aside from their academic work and extracurricular social activities, within the university community.
A minority of students did participate in political organizations and activities at Canadian universities during this period. For example, some joined the youth wings of provincial and national political parties, including the Liberals, the Progressive Conservatives, and the New Democratic Party, that had branches on university campuses. These students often participated in events such as mock parliaments that debated and pretended to pass laws on issues of provincial, national, and international importance. As mock parliaments, however, these remained primarily social rather than political activities; students pretended to be something that they were not while preparing themselves for political
Page 58 participation in the future. They also developed contacts and associations that might prove useful once they left the university.
In addition, some students developed networks through their involvement in national student organizations such as the National Federation of Canadian
University Students (NFCUS), founded in 1926. However, until the mid-1960s,
NFCUS, later renamed the Canadian Union of Students (CUS), was primarily a service organization rather than a political group, and even rejected a 1962 attempt by its Quebec members to recognize students as "young intellectual workers and agents of social change." While CUS did evolve into a political organization by the mid-1960s, prior to that time, it, like other official student organizations, remained largely apolitical and indifferent to issues both on and off
Canadian university campuses.
Yet, there was a longer tradition of more serious political activity at
English-Canadian universities. For example, in the 1930s, concerns over the collapse of the capitalist economies, the rise of fascism, and the possibility of war led some students, according to historian Paul Axelrod, to participate in "efforts to transform the political and social order of Canadian society." Such individuals, he argues, often joined the Student Christian Movement (SCM), initially organized in 1921, which sponsored talks by controversial speakers and actively
James M. Pitsula, New World Dawning: The Sixties at Regina Campus (Regina: Canadian Plains Research Center, 2008), 111. 12 Robert Frederick Clift, "The Fullest Development of Human Potential: The Canadian Union of Students 1963-1969," MA Thesis, University of British Columbia, 2002, 15. Paul Axelrod, Making a Middle Class: Student Life in English Canada During the Thirties (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1990), 128. Page 59 campaigned for peace and social justice. In fact, as Catherine Gidney illustrates,
the SCM actively engaged in these forms of political activity from its founding until the mid-1960s when it was overshadowed by other political organizations on
Canadian university campuses.15 A small number of students also participated in
the Canadian Student Assembly (CSA). Organized in 1938, it had "opposed
militarism and favoured greater educational opportunity, closer relations between
French and English Canada, and the preservation of civil liberties."16 Other
students joined the Communist Party of Canada, establishing clubs at the few
universities that tolerated such activities. The Communist-led Canadian Student
League was established in 1932 and campaigned for scholarships for the poor,
freedom of speech and assembly, the abolition of campus officers' training corps,
1 7
and the overthrow of the capitalist economic system. In fact, throughout much
of the 1920s to 1950s, students continued to participate in various activities that
expressed their social activism, though frequently in "a more limited manner and 1 R
often on a local basis." For instance, the veterans who enrolled in Canadian
universities in large numbers after the war, older and more mature than traditional
university students, frequently raised concerns about world issues and events.19
Yet, this activism, despite its success in provoking discussion and debates,
"largely failed to elicit the active involvement of the vast majority of students in 14 Axelrod, Making a Middle Class, 129-130. 15 Gidney, A Long Eclipse, 56-60 and Catherine Gidney, "Poisoning the Student Mind?: The Student Christian Movement at the University of Toronto, 1920- 1965," Journal of the Canadian Historical Association Vol.8 (1997), 147-163. 1 Axelrod, Making a Middle Class, 130. 17 Axelrod, Making a Middle Class, 132-133. 18 Gidney, A Long Eclipse, 56-60. 19 See, Gidney, A Long Eclipse, 105-106 and Pitsula, New World Dawning, 75. Page 60 reform, let alone revolutionary causes." Axelrod estimates that, at best, maybe five per cent of the national student body joined or participated regularly in these
91 forms of political activity during the 1930s. Thus, while important, this activism remained limited in scope and marginal to the main activities at
Canadian universities, and did not, for sustained periods, attract or maintain the support of large numbers of students on campus.
The factionalized and local nature of these activities limited the ability of students to develop a unified national identity as students. Although clearly demarcated boundaries existed between students, faculty members, and administrators, especially in the classroom and disciplinary structures, few students consciously acknowledged that they were part of a cohesive student movement. Students, of course, had some of their own activities and interests in the university community, but these were generally developed with reference to and with the permission of the other groups on campus. Especially considering the subordinate status of student governments and other organizations, many students remained closely integrated with university administrators. Furthermore, most university students came from relatively elite backgrounds, especially from 99 the middle and upper classes in Canadian society. Most faculty members and administrators shared this elite background; they had come through the same system that, for generations, generally restricted participation to these economic 20 Paul Axelrod, "The Student Movement of the 1930s," in Youth, University and Canadian Society: Essays in the Social History of Higher Education, eds. Paul Axelrod & John G. Reid (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1989), 232. 21 Axelrod, Making a Middle Class, 135. 22 See, Axelrod, Making A Middle Class, 20-38. Page 61 classes. As a result, while students had some unique concerns, they still had a great deal in common with other members of the university community. One exception to this general pattern was the veterans who arrived in significant numbers at Canadian universities in the mid-1940s and early 1950s. Gaining access to the university in recognition of their military service, these men came from more diverse backgrounds and already had a sense of identity distinct from the university administration and professors as a result of their military experience. However, the veterans were also quite different from the other students on campus, due primarily to their age and experiences. As a result, any sense of common identity was once again splintered.
What then facilitated the development of a student movement at English-
Canadian universities? Scholars point to a number of factors that may help to answer this question. Some point, for example, to the importance of economic growth and prosperity in the postwar period. The resultant economic security, they argue, mitigated against some of the risks that generally prevent people from challenging and changing the world around them.24 Cyril Levitt argues that this economic affluence was important for another reason as well; it changed what it meant to be privileged in Canadian society and the student movement developed as a "revolt of privilege against privilege, for privilege in a society."25 Economic
See, Gidney, A Long Eclipse, 77. 24 See, for example, Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain, France, Italy, and the United States, C.1958-C.1974 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 37. 25 Cyril Levitt, Children of Privilege: Student Revolt in the Sixties, a Study of Student Movements in Canada, the United States, and West Germany (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 4. Page 62 growth and affluence were important to the development of the student movement because they allowed more young people to attend university and enabled students, seldom concerned with their basic economic survival, to engage in mass political protest. Affluence, though, cannot alone explain why the student movement emerged during the Sixties.
Other scholars emphasize the importance of the postwar population growth and rising proportion of young people in Canada. Young people, they argue, are often rebellious, but this group was particularly powerful because of its size and its shared sense of generational identity. For these scholars, then, the baby boom generation itself is a key factor in the development of what would become the Sixties student movement. The issue of generation, however, is complicated. By the late 1960s, when the student movement was most active and radical, baby boomers did dominate the student body. When the student movement began, though, its leadership was comprised of members of the postwar generation, not baby boomers. A closer reading of the origins of this movement challenges these traditional assumptions about the importance of the baby boomers.
Some scholars also insist that the Cold War, as a good-versus-evil war between democracy and communism, was a significant stimulus. Notions of democracy and its inherent superiority, they argue, dominated the rhetoric of the postwar period. Yet, while commentators continually extolled the virtues of democracy, many people soon became aware that their society was not, in
See, Owram and Francois Ricard, The Lyric Generation: The Life and Times of the Baby Boomers (Toronto: Stoddart Publishing Co., 1994). Page 63 practice, truly democratic. A significant number of people throughout the world believed that, after years of economic depression and war, and in the face of possible nuclear annihilation, change was not only necessary but also possible.
This growing desire for change led to the development of a number of social movements, including the Civil Rights Movement in the United States, the Quiet
Revolution in Quebec, and the nuclear disarmament movement throughout much
of the western world. These social movements were important in their own right, but also created engaging opportunities for students to become politically active.
A significant number of students, scholars argue, participated in these early movements and gained the skills, political knowledge, and inspiration to organize
no themselves to effect greater change. As these movements gained momentum, their efforts demonstrated the power of unified action, encouraging many students to become more politically involved within their own institutions.
Historians of higher education tend to concentrate on the university itself
as a locus of change and therefore suggest another factor that made the student movement possible, namely that universities were becoming increasingly powerful and influential institutions in Canadian society. These scholars argue that by the 1960s a significant proportion of the population viewed institutions of
See, Stewart Burns, Social Movements of the 1960s: Searching for Democracy (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1990) and Sara Evans, Personal Politics: The Roots of Women's Liberation in the Civil Rights Movement and the New Left (New York: Afred A. Knopf, 1979). 28 See, for example, Owram, 166-171; Todd Gitlin, The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage (New York: Bantam Books, 1987); Douglas Rossinow, The Politics of Authenticity: Liberalism, Christianity, and the New Left in America (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998); and W.J. Rorabaugh, Berkeley At War: The 1960s (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989). Page 64 higher education as central to the continued success of Canada and the entire western world. Faced with the perceived threat posed by the Soviet Union, especially following the 1957 launch of the satellite Sputnik, many people turned to universities as the institutions that would help maintain western dominance in the world.29 In addition, as Paul Axelrod explains, the public viewed higher education as central to continued economic growth and prosperity.30 Playing an important role in the material, technological, and ideological advancement of society, universities expanded in power and influence in Canada.
In addition to growing in public esteem, universities also physically expanded during this period. According to Philip Massolin, a greater proportion of young people attended university in this decade because of the increasing demands for an educated workforce, the emerging belief that education was a birthright rather than a privilege, and the perceived power of the university to influence and guide society. In addition, universities faced a surge in enrolments as a result of demographic changes, specifically the large baby boom generation that reached university age by the mid-1960s. This population growth, scholars argue, placed a great deal of pressure on existing schools. This resulted in the expansion of older universities and the development of new institutions, as well as significant changes to their very structures of operation as they dealt with a larger and more diverse student population; universities transformed from small places
Philip A. Massolin, "Modernization and Reaction: Postwar Evolutions and the Critique of Higher Learning in English-Speaking Canada, 1945-1970," Journal of Canadian Studies Vol.36, No.2 (Summer 2001), 130. Paul Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars: Politics, Economics, and the Universities of Ontario, 1945-1980 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982). 31 Massolin, 153. Page 65 characterized by personal interaction to much larger and more anonymous locales.32 Furthermore, universities faced a shortage of faculty members as facilities expanded and were forced to hire a large number of young, often non-
Canadian professors. Yet, while scholars have examined how such changes affected university administrators and faculty members, they have not fully examined the influence on students or the contribution to the Canadian student movement.
This diverse literature contributes to a better understanding of the evolving interests and activities of student leaders at English-Canadian universities by the mid-1960s. While previous generations of student government representatives had engaged in traditional social activities and politically active students were relatively marginal to the university, by the mid-1960s this began to change. The latter group moved into student government and, rather than engaging in the politics of mock parliaments or organizing social events, these students increasingly sought more meaningful participation in the university community.
Furthermore, many people grew increasingly cynical towards traditional political forms, including political parties and the parliamentary system, and many student activists looked to new forms of political involvement such as those exhibited in the various social movements of the period. In particular, they preferred
See, Massolin, 131; Levitt, 34-35; Robin Harris, A History of Higher Education in Canada, 1663-1960 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976); and A.B. McKillop, Matters of the Mind: The University in Ontario, 1791-1951 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994). Page 66 participation in governing structures and direct action political protest. Thus, while youth wings of political parties sometimes remained on campus, mock parliaments were generally abandoned by the mid-1960s and student leaders focused on more genuine involvement in the structures of the university. Some politically active students continued to organize externally to student government at the national level, joining or forming groups such as the Combined Universities
Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CUCND) or its successor the Student Union for Peace Action (SUP A), which largely operated off campus, or organized local groups that helped guide debates on campus.
In order to understand the origins of the student movement it is necessary to examine the early 1960s when administrators, not students, began reforming the disciplinary structures that had traditionally defined the relationship between students and university officials. Scholars have pointed to a number of reasons why disciplinary codes were altered during this period. For example, some argue that societal values, especially those regarding premarital sex and individual freedom and responsibility, were in a state of flux, especially as a result of the advent of the birth control pill in the early 1960s.34 Thus, according to historian
Michiel Horn, "The growing permissiveness of society made the parental role less relevant." University administrators could not continue to enforce a strict code
See, Anthony Hyde, "The Legacy of the New Left," in The New Left: Legacy and Continuity, ed. Dimitrios Roussopoulos (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 2007), 53-55. 34 See, Gidney, 114-116 and Owram, 249. 35 Michiel Horn. "Students and Academic Freedom in Canada." Historical Studies in Education Vol.11, No.l (1999), 29. Page 67 of conduct that was no longer acceptable to many members of the university community or the wider society.
Other scholars point to the evolving nature of adolescence and adulthood during this period as a reason for changes in disciplinary structures. The definition of adolescence as a distinct biological life-stage was popularized by G.
Stanley Hall in the early twentieth century. Hall viewed this as a time of emotional stress as children evolved into adults. By the postwar period, adolescence was largely accepted as scientific fact, referred to by psychologist
Erik Erikson as "a publicly sanctioned 'psychosocial moratorium,' bridging the
'in familial dependence of children and the worldly independence of adults."
According to some scholars, adolescence as a category became increasingly important in the years following the Second World War as a result of changing economic, social, political, and cultural circumstances. Young people, these
30 See, Owram, 139. See, Cynthia Comacchio, The Dominion of Youth: Adolescence and the Making of Modern Canada, 1920 to 1950 (Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2006), 2. More recently, scholars have questioned the acceptance of adolescence as a scientific fact. Instead, many argue that adolescence, "more than a biological and demographic classification...is, like childhood, a socio-historical product. It is subject to reformulation according to time-specific societal needs, evolving scientific theories, cultural precepts, national aspirations." In other words, for many scholars, adolescence is a "is a social construct - a subjective set of cultural characteristics shaped by the social, economic and political conditions of a particular historical context." As a social construct, then, definitions of adolescence are subject to evolution and change. See, Comacchio, 2; Bill Osgerby, Youth in Britain Since 1945 (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1998), 2; John R. Gillis, Youth and History: Tradition and Change in European Age Relations, 1770-Present, (New York: Academic Press, 1981), x; John Springhall, Coming of Age: Adolescence in Britain, 1860-1960 (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1986), 7-8; and Joe Austin & Michael Nevin Willard, Generations of Youth: Youth Cultures in Twentieth-Century America (New York: New York University Press, 1998), 2-3. Page 68 scholars point out, became more affluent in the postwar period in response to expanded employment opportunities. As a result, they exercised greater economic power and contributed to the development of a unique and influential youth culture. This youth culture became even more significant as a result of the demographic realities of the baby boom, which created a disproportionately large youth population. In addition, expanded educational opportunities locked some young people into an extended adolescence while their counterparts in the workforce wielded significant responsibilities despite their age. These changes forced a redefinition of conceptions of youth and adolescence.
For other scholars, disciplinary structures were altered in response to the changes within the university itself. As universities became more powerful institutions, administrators were being charged with training future citizens to fulfill their role in the democratic society. According to Beth Bailey, this meant that administrators were then expected to foster "responsibility, maturity, and citizenship" among their students. This could not be achieved, she explains, as
See, for example, John Clarke, Stuart Hall, Tony Jefferson & Brian Roberts, "Subcultures, Cultures and Class," in Resistance Through Rituals: Youth Subcultures in Post-war Britain, eds. Stuart Hall & Tony Jefferson (London: Hutchinson, 1975), 18-20. These changing notions of adolescence can be seen through the debates that took place among national and provincial politicians as they considered motions to lower the voting age from 21 to 18. In their discussions, politicians recognized that the distinction between adolescence and adulthood was subjective and that young people were reaching maturity at a younger age. As well, young people were seen as more mature and better informed than previous generations and capable of accepting greater responsibility in the political system. Finally, Canadian politicians invoked the rhetoric of democracy to justify the lowering of the voting age: "Democracy being our most valuable asset, it is imperative that all strata of society - even the young - be allowed to take part in it." See, House of Commons Debates Official Report, 2nd Session, Twenty-eighth Parliament, 1969-70 (Ottawa: Queen's Printer, 1970), 11, 153, 202, 207, 309, 426-427, 455, 485, 7398, 7908 & 7928. Page 69 long as university officials continued to regulate the personal behaviour of their students.39 Horn and Bailey also emphasize the importance of university expansion in the decision to alter disciplinary codes. As enrolments grew substantially throughout the early 1960s, it became very difficult for administrators to regulate individual personal behaviour. With significantly more students on campus, and fewer living in residences, "old administrative structures became insufficient."40 Universities had lost much of their personal interaction, becoming increasingly anonymous institutions, and there were more students in proportion to the number of administrators and faculty members. As such, it became unwieldy and expensive to oversee the conduct of each individual on campus. As Horn points out, the rapidly growing student population made it
"ever more difficult for university officers to supervise student behaviour."41 Yet, while these scholars have identified the various reasons why university administrators ultimately chose to revise existing disciplinary relationships, they have overlooked the ways in which this decision created the conditions necessary for the development of what would become a powerful student movement.
Of the three universities under examination here, the principle of in loco parentis was particularly entrenched in Toronto and Regina after many decades of paternalistic control by university administrators. Yet, by the mid-1960s, administrators began dismantling these disciplinary structures. Along with various external pressures, it was the practical difficulties of regulating the
^ Bailey, 190-191. 40 Bailey, 191. See also, Horn, 29. 41 Horn, 29. Page 70 individual behaviour of growing numbers of students, many of whom lived off
campus, that eventually persuaded administrators to abandon in loco parentis. It was simply too costly, draining on the university's limited resources, and unmanageable to continue to police students' conduct. Thus, while administrators might have faced opposition from parents and governments even a decade earlier had they attempted to abandon their disciplinary obligations, by the mid-1960s, as a result of changes both within the university and in the wider society, university officials acknowledged that maintaining the rules caused more difficulty than
abrogating them.
As a result, residence rules were gradually changed beginning 1966 to allow greater freedom of movement and enable students to make decisions about their own behaviour. In Toronto, curfews were abolished, visiting hours were extended, and dress codes were eliminated.42 In Regina, university administrators altered existing policies to allow students rather than faculty members to
supervise social activities and largely abandoned the in loco parentis relationship.43 Although existing rules sometimes lingered, especially at the
University of Toronto where they were deeply embedded in the system, by the mid-1960s the principle was largely rejected by administrators at both universities. At Simon Fraser University, by contrast, in loco parentis had never really taken hold. University administrators at this new institution struggled
42 See, "Whitney Hall curfews abolished," The Varsity 26 January 1966, 1; Angela Sheng, "250 females stripped of curfew," The Varsity 6 November 1968, 6; Bob Bettson, "Longer residence hours granted at St. Hilda's," The Varsity 4 February 1972, 10, 43 Pitsula, New World Dawning, 124-125. Page 71 immediately with the practical realities of regulating the individual behaviour of large numbers of students.44 As a result, as SFU historian Hugh Johnston explains, "it became obvious to everyone that in loco parentis no longer made much sense."45 At all three universities, traditional disciplinary structures were dismantled and students were no longer treated as children in need of parental supervision.
This abandonment of in loco parentis is central to the early development of the student movement by the mid-1960s. In particular, it is important because it dramatically altered the responsibility of students on campus. No longer defined by the administration as dependents, students were instead viewed as adult members of the university community. This position was clearly articulated by university officials at the time. For example, in 1966 the Dean of Students at
University of Toronto admitted that "[m]ost of the girls [living in residences] are adults and we have to treat them as such. They have to learn how to control their own lives."46 Similarly, university presidents in Ontario conceded in 1967 that
"There is a good case for regarding students as adult citizens."47 At Simon Fraser
University as well, though in loco parentis was never really established, a
At SFU a significant majority of students lived off campus and there was a large proportion of older students because of the mature student category. University administrators struggled with regulating the personal behaviour of these students and, clearly aware of the discussions occurring throughout the country over paternalistic disciplinary structures, decided to abandon the principle of in loco parentis. 45 Johnston, 136. 46 "Whitney Hall curfews abolished," The Varsity 26 January 1966, 1. 47 UTA, A1978-0028 Office of the President, File 010, "Student Participation." Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario, "Student Participation in University Government," November 1967, 12. Page 72 statement was nevertheless added to the university calendar in 1966-67 acknowledging that the university no longer assumed parental responsibilities for its students, trusting them to regulate their own social behaviour.48
This identification of students as responsible adults was a critical step towards the development of the student movement at English-Canadian universities. While university administrators abandoned in loco parentis for largely practical reasons, seeking to minimize the cost and other difficulties associated with strict disciplinary codes, by doing so they also created the space for students to begin organizing politically and collectively. University officials provided students the opportunity to begin thinking of themselves as separate from the administration and to consider what adulthood and responsibility really meant in this context. As disciplinary rules were gradually relaxed, students found themselves with increased personal freedom and individual responsibilities.
Yet, for many politically active students at these universities, this did not go far enough. These student leaders demanded that responsibility be extended to student organizations, especially to the student governments with which they were increasingly involved. While politically engaged students had always participated in social activism in order to effect change in the world, by the early Sixties a growing number of students came to believe that political engagement within the university, an increasingly important societal institution, could result in dramatic change both internally and in the outside community. Judging that change was both necessary and possible, these students sought real political engagement
SFUA, Simon Fraser University Calendar, 1966-67, 159. Page 73 within the university as a way to achieve their goals. Thus, hoping to organize politically and effect change through their activities on campus, these student politicians became frustrated with their lack of autonomy and their limited voice on campus. As a result, student leaders took the initiative and began pressing for independence for their organizations.
STUDENT GOVERNMENT AUTONOMY
Student activists at University of Toronto and University of Saskatchewan,
Regina Campus undertook campaigns aimed at achieving autonomy from the university administration by the mid-1960s, which coincided with the dismantling of the paternalistic disciplinary structures. In these campaigns, they demanded that the individual responsibility administrators had granted through the abandonment of in loco parentis be extended to student organizations as well.
Furthermore, these student leaders defined this responsibility in two different ways, firstly as a responsibility to their electors and secondly as political engagement within the university. The former definition indicates an increasing identification of students as separate from the administration and as a distinct group on campus. The latter demonstrates that student politicians had a growing desire for a more meaningful voice in the institution. According to student leaders, both forms of responsibility required that student government be free from the control of university officials.
Although student activists at both universities presented similar demands for autonomy, these campaigns took dramatically different forms at each institution. Students at University of Toronto, for example, took a somewhat
Page 74 conciliatory stance, requesting that the Board of Governors grant autonomy to the
Students' Administrative Council (SAC). In contrast, at the Regina Campus leaders developed a more adversarial relationship with their administration when the President of the Students' Representative Council (SRC) unilaterally drafted a new constitution spelling out a relationship independent from the Board of
Governors without referencing or consulting university officials. In both cases, students achieved their goal of organizational autonomy, at Toronto with permission from the Board of Governors and at Regina in spite of continued opposition from the administration. At Simon Fraser University, student leaders did not have to struggle for governmental autonomy as administrators immediately acknowledged the right of students to organize independently and freely. Through these developments, student activists increasingly identified students as a distinct group within the university community, a group with its own particular interests and independence from the administration, and pressed for a more politically active role on campus. Achieving this level of autonomy was a critical step in enabling students to organize around issues that they believed to be important.
Student government has a long history in Toronto, dating back to the early twentieth century. Section 41 of the University of Toronto Act of 1906 stated that the Board of Governors "may make provision for enabling the students of the university... to appoint a representative committee of themselves... which shall be
Page 75 the recognized official medium of communication on behalf of such students."
This "representative committee," named the Students' Administrative Council
(SAC) in 1913, was a "subsidiary" to the Board of Governors, responsible in its actions and activities to that body.50 As such, SAC was unable to control its own budget or hire its own staff without approval from the Board of Governors.51 For almost sixty years, this relationship functioned relatively smoothly as student leaders, focused on social rather than political activities, found it fairly easy to work with the university officials to whom they were responsible. However, as student government representatives began to view themselves as separate and distinct from the administration and desired greater political engagement in the university, this relationship came under attack. As a result, by the mid-1960s student leaders at the University of Toronto began working with the university administration to achieve autonomy for SAC.
Representatives from SAC brought their concerns over student government autonomy to the Board of Governors in 1963 when President Jordan
Sullivan submitted a number of constitutional changes for approval. As a subsidiary to the Board, no constitutional amendments could be made without the
University of Toronto Act (1906), s.41, as reproduced in W.J. Alexander, ed., "The University of Toronto and Its Colleges 1827-1906" (Toronto, Ontario: University Librarian, 1906), 314. See also, Charles Levi, The S.A.C. Historical Project, 1930-1950 (Self-published, 1992). Claude Bissell, Halfway Up Parnassus: A Personal Account of the University of Toronto, 1932-1971 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974), 122. 51 See, UTA, Al972-0023 Students' Administrative Council, Box 023, File 10. "Brief," [n.d.] and UTA, A1971-0011 Office of the President, Box 087, File "Students' Administrative Council." Douglas Ward, "A Report to the Board of Governors from the President of the Students' Administrative Council, February, 1964." Page 76 consent of that body. These constitutional amendments sought to give students the power to hire their own staff and the authority to decide how to spend their own funds. According to Sullivan, SAC could not function as a "students"
council if it did not control its staff or its finances. "The basic question," he
argued, referencing the University of Toronto Act, "is the autonomy of'the
committee of students' which 'may' exist to represent the students to the Board of
Governors of the University. It is incongruous that such a 'representative committee' should receive its duties and responsibilities from that very Board to which it is a representative." SAC representatives argued that students could only
effectively communicate their concerns to the administration if they are "free to
administer their own affairs."52 This marks a significant shift in the thinking of
student government leaders who had traditionally cooperated with and accepted their subservience to university officials.
In response to SAC's proposed constitutional amendments, the Board of
Governors instructed the President of the university, Claude Bissell, to strike a
committee to study the "organizational structure and constitutional aspects of the
Students' Administrative Council." Approval of any constitutional changes had to await the findings of this committee.53 It is unclear whether the Board simply wished to stall, hoping that the students would move on to other concerns, or whether they honestly felt that further study was required before such major decisions could be taken. In any case, a committee comprised of representatives
" "Brief," [n.d.]. 53 Ward, "A Report to the Board of Governors from the President of the Students' Administrative Council, February, 1964," 1. Page 77 from the Board, the university's disciplinary body Caput, and the administrative team was appointed. Interestingly, there was no student representation on the committee, although the President of SAC was asked to attend an early meeting.
At a preliminary meeting in June 1963, committee members indicated that their major concern was the Board of Governors' responsibility for the money they collected from students on behalf of SAC. The problem, as they saw it, was how to maintain this responsibility if SAC was granted "self-government."
Nevertheless, the committee recommended adoption of the requested constitutional amendments and the removal of SAC from the list of "subsidiaries" of the Board of Governors.54 The latter recommendation required the approval of the Board of Governors, which was not immediately forthcoming.
When no action had been taken by February 1964, articles began appearing in the student newspaper, The Varsity, decrying the Board's
"paternalism." In addressing the committee's concerns regarding the collection of student fees, the editor argued that "the money belongs to the students, and that the board is merely making the collection easier." The Board's attitude, he argued, was "based on the assumption that students are not mature enough, and that the SAC is not stable enough to handle the student funds." Student activists found this position "repugnant" and argued that, "[a]s a democratically elected
UTA, Al 977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 019 "Advisory Committee on Students; B.O.G. SAC Consultative Committee," File "SAC Consultative Committee." "Board of Governors' Committee on the Students' Administrative Council," 27 June 1963. Page 78 body, [SAC] should be able to control its own affairs, free from the paternalistic guidance of the board and senior administrators."55
Another article outlined two different attitudes held by members of the university community: "One view holds that students are responsible citizens in a democratic society, and as such should be responsible for their actions. The other, which has prevailed for too long, maintains that university students require supervision of their activities and affairs." The decisions made by the Board of
Governors regarding SAC autonomy, then, had a greater significance than simply the management of funds. "They involve," according to The Varsity editor, "the acceptance or rejection of the idea that the students at this university, both individually and collectively, are mature enough to be responsible for their actions."56 In using this language, the editor challenged university administrators to extend the responsibility granted to individual students through the abolition of in loco parentis to student government. These articles illustrate the ways in which the position taken by student leaders had evolved since their 1963 brief to the
Board. Instead of focusing entirely on SAC's responsibility to the students rather than the administration, student commentators now adopted the administration's own position, made explicit through the abandonment of traditional disciplinary structures, that students are mature and responsible individuals who must be free from the paternalistic control of university administrators.
Frustrated with the treatment the Board of Governors was receiving in the student press, Claude Bissell sent a letter to Douglas Ward, Sullivan's successor
55 "The Paternalists," The Varsity 17 February 1964, 4. 56 "A Responsible Decision," The Varsity 21 February 1964, 4. Page 79 as President of SAC, explaining the administration's concerns. Rather than relying on the financial issue, which the students had successfully countered,
Bissell instead focused on the Board's legal responsibility for SAC. As a creation of the Board of Governors, he argued, that body remained legally responsible for any actions that SAC might take. As such, the Board felt that it must "retain authority over the activities for which it can be held responsible."58 In this way, as student politicians effectively answered the Board's financial concerns and continued to reframe their argument for autonomy, administrators articulated new objections.
At the same time, however, Bissell approved Ward's request to present an official report to the Board of Governors further articulating SAC's position on autonomy. Accordingly, an "official communication of the Council to the Board" was made in February 1964.59 In his report, Ward repeated the earlier assertion that SAC, as a student government, must be responsible to its electors rather than to the administration. Yet, Ward also moved beyond this position by articulating a newly defined sense of responsibility among student leaders. Rather than simply representing students, SAC representatives were increasingly dedicated to
At that time, the student body elected representatives to sit on SAC, but the outgoing council chose the executive for the upcoming year. As a result, the student body had not elected Ward as President and had not, presumably, given him a mandate regarding autonomy. 58 UTA, Al 977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 011 "Students, SAC," File "SAC." Draft letter from Claude Bissell to Douglas Ward, [n.d.]. 59 Ward, "A Report to the Board of Governors from the President of the Students' Administrative Council, February, 1964," 1. Page 80 the "initiation and sponsorship of campus-wide activities." Ward explained this evolving position:
Generations have gone by since subsidiary status was affixed to Council, and we contend that our student council, and the scope and concept of student government have changed substantially in this time.... Our activities show a steadily increasing feeling of responsibility for the university community and the larger community.... Students are ready and willing to accept a greater responsibility within the University community, and they have a positive contribution to make.
Bringing focus back to their original demands, SAC members asserted that these new responsibilities required financial autonomy from the Board of Governors.
In this report, then, Ward combined earlier concerns that SAC be responsible to the student body rather than the administration with growing aspirations for political engagement in the university: continued administrative oversight of
Council finances, he argued, would limit the contribution that students could make to their community and would "encroach upon the integrity of the Council as responsible to its electors." '
This evolving position reflected a major debate raging among SAC representatives and other students throughout 1963 and 1964. The discussion began in October 1963 when Ward argued in his opening address to Council that student government should be concerned not only with "student dress, discipline and activities, but [also with] the role of the university in our fast-moving milieu, curricula, expansion, and academic freedom." Indicating a growing belief in bU UTA, Al 971-0011 Office of the President, Box 087, File "Students' Administrative Council." Douglas Ward, "A Report to the Board of Governors from the President of the Students' Administrative Council, February, 1964," 3-4. 61 Ward, "A Report to the Board of Governors from the President of the Students' Administrative Council, February, 1964." Page 81 students as a distinct group on campus and more clearly defining the responsibility leaders hoped to assume, he concluded that, "a well-informed and cohesive student identity which can come to the aid of the whole community, must be maintained."
However, when SAC leaders attempted to assert this new responsibility for political engagement the following fall, passing a resolution calling for research and positive action on the issue of apartheid in South Africa, the purpose and role of SAC came under intense scrutiny from students throughout the university. Students in the Medical Society and in Trinity College, the Church of
England institution established in the 1850s and federated with the University of
Toronto in 1904, objected to the resolution, arguing that SAC did not have "any authority to make such a declaration or to sponsor such a programme." "Such matters," they argued, "should not be discussed by the SAC, but should be left to voluntary action through voluntary association by individual students." These students clearly felt that their student government was not representing them and opposed attempts by SAC representatives to become more active and involved members of the university community.
In spite of this opposition, council members continued to assert their political responsibilities and to argue that SAC did represent the student masses on campus. As one commentator explained in The Varsity, SAC "is beginning to become what it ought to be - not a group elected to administer tea dances but a
62 "Ward urges SAC to expand," The Varsity 18 October 1963, 1. £."2 John R. Schrum, "SAC must re-evaluate responsibility," The Varsity 13 November 1964, 4. See also, "Attack SAC boycott policy, right to take stand on issues," The Varsity 20 November 1964, 1. Page 82 student union representing and acting for the student body in the academic
community and the community at large."64 Opposition within the student body
arose periodically as SAC representatives continued to raise political issues and
assert their role as the students' representatives, but, by 1964, student leaders
almost unanimously supported the position asserted by Ward in his brief to the
Board of Governors, that students should have more responsibility in the university community and that SAC required autonomy from the administration to
exercise its duties. This was made explicit in the definition of student government
that appeared in the 1964-65 SAC Handbook: "Student government must be responsible for influencing the direction, regulation, and control of the complete
environment of the university."65
The argument presented by student leaders influenced administrators as
they continued to consider the request for student government autonomy. Claude
Bissell, for example, later acknowledged that students were a distinct group on
campus with "their own special interests and they should be free to develop them
in whatever way they saw fit."66 In accepting this position, he contributed to the
development of a student identity separate from other groups within the university
community, reinforcing from the outside the ways students were beginning to
define themselves. At the same time, some administrators recognized that student
demands for greater responsibility reflected the more serious interests of this new
cohort of students than those in the past. Clearly aware of the events that
64 "Trinity Faces Life," The Varsity 20 November 1964, 4. 65 UTA, P78-0692. Students' Administrative Council, Velut Arbor Aevo etc... 1964-65, 8. Bissell, Halfway Up Parnassus, 122. Page 83 occurred at University of California, Berkeley in 1964, where students rallied together to demand a greater political role within the university and in the surrounding community, Registrar, Robin Ross, and University College Principal,
Moffat Woodside, could see that students "are in fact much more serious and mature and responsible than their counterparts were in the 1920's and 1930's."
The demand for independence, they believed, "is a reflection of seriousness, for freedom to the best students means responsibility." Although these administrators did not make the connection between student government autonomy and the gradual dismantling of paternalistic disciplinary codes, they nevertheless indicated their readiness to grant greater responsibility for student organizations as well as for individual students.
In addition, some university administrators welcomed a new relationship with SAC because of the practical benefits it might generate. For example, in a
November 1964 Memorandum to President Bissell, Ross and Woodside argued that granting independence to SAC would: make the organization more responsible in its schemes, plans, and activities; limit the power and influence of self-seeking politicians; negate some of the weaknesses in SAC, such as a lack of continuity between succeeding Councils; relieve university officials of their time- consuming duties related to student government; and, most importantly, prevent or eliminate tensions between student leaders and university administrators, preserving the peace on campus and making Council "an integral and supporting
6/ UTA, A1975-0021 Office of the President, Box 023, File "SAC." Robin Ross and M. St.A. Woodside, Memorandum to the President, 5 November 1964. Page 84 part of the University as a whole." Claude Bissell suggested another practical benefit of resolving the issue: "we should," he argued, "preserve our strength for the numerous problems in the expansion of the University. If we add to these the time-consuming and emotionally exhausting problems that student discontent precipitates, we shall have an impossible burden."69 Ultimately, then, university administrators in Toronto seemed convinced that student government autonomy would help limit the power of the student activists on campus through a simple divide and conquer strategy, would decrease the involvement of university officials in student government, and would reduce tension on campus before it became a major problem as it had at Berkeley.
These practical benefits, perhaps more than the arguments regarding responsibility and representation, seem to have convinced members of the Board of Governors to finally grant SAC autonomy. Following more than a year of negotiations between SAC representatives and university officials, the Board of
Governors finally agreed in December 1964 to remove SAC from its list of subsidiaries, effectively giving students control over their own budget and their
70 own staff. In the end, this was a major victory for student leaders. Through their relatively amicable negotiations with the Board of Governors, SAC representatives gained the autonomy they had been seeking. This dramatically altered the place of students within the university: it recognized them as a distinct
Ross and Woodside, Memorandum to the President, 5 November 1964. 69 UTA, 1973-0025 Board of Governors, Box 106 "SAC," File 01. Letter to Mr. Henry Borden, Chairman of the Board of Governors from Claude Bissell, President, 3 November 1964. 70 Deanna Kami el, "SAC will handle own cash; Off U of T subsidiary list," The Varsity 11 December 1964, 1. Page 85 group on campus and acknowledged that SAC leaders were responsible to their electors rather than the administration.
At the same time, the issue of student government autonomy also arose at the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, although it played out very differently than it had in Toronto. Rather than the conciliatory approach taken by
SAC members at the University of Toronto, student government representatives in Regina unilaterally implemented a new constitution without the approval and moreover against the will of the university administration. This differing approach may reflect the unique historical relationships between student governments and university administrators at each of the universities. Unlike
Toronto, where student leaders had developed a harmonious and respectful relationship with university administrators over many decades, at the newly formed Regina Campus, student government representatives were only beginning to negotiate their relationships with university officials in the mid-1960s and had few traditions to guide their actions. The student government, known as the
Students' Representative Council (SRC), had its roots in the Regina College, the denominational predecessor of the Regina Campus, but the creation of a new university led to the reevaluation of many internal relationships, including those between the SRC and the administration. Throughout its history, the SRC, similar to SAC, derived its authority from and was subject to oversight by administrators.
This meant that faculty members supervised the actions of student councillors, the administration had to approve all social activities, and a faculty advisor was
Page 86 responsible for sanctioning all financial expenditures.71 As such, the SRC, like
SAC, was not a self-governing organization. At the Regina College, where student leaders were mostly concerned with social activities, such as dances, yearbooks, and athletics, the relationship functioned relatively well. However, with the creation of a new university in Regina in 1961, and the consequent arrival of a new group of students, this paternalistic oversight came under attack, and council members at the Regina Campus drafted a new constitution, without the permission or approval of university administrators, that ultimately created an autonomous student government.
As early as 1962, when in loco parentis was still firmly ensconced and the administration had not yet publicly acknowledged the responsibility of its charges, student activists in Regina indicated their desire for self-governing student organizations. "The SRC should be completely independent," an editorial in the student newspaper stated that year. "The SRC is responsible to the students and the students are quite capable of checking them." In this way, student leaders in Regina framed the issue of student government autonomy in the same way as their counterparts in Toronto: rather than deriving authority from and being responsible to university officials, student government should be responsible to its electors, the student body.
71 URA, Students' Union Ephemerae, File "U of S, Regina College Students' Representative Council Constitution." "The Constitution of the Students' Representative Council of Regina College of the University of Saskatchewan, Regina, Saskatchewan," [I960]. 72 "Editorial," The Sheet 16 February 1962, 2. Page 87 Instead of working within the confines of the administrative structures of the university, as their counterparts in Toronto had done by asking the Board of
Governors to approve their request for autonomy, SRC members in Regina boldly asserted their independence by drafting a new constitution without approval from or reference to the university administration. One leader in particular was responsible for this audacious action. During his 1964-65 term as president of the
SRC, Simon de Jong, former leader of the campus New Democrats and future
NDP Member of Parliament, almost single-handedly drafted a new constitution for the organization. By this time, university administrators had begun to recognize the responsibility of their students and remove in loco parentis regulations; de Jong's actions sought to give similar responsibilities to student organizations as well. Under his new constitution, the SRC would have, similar to SAC, control over its finances and the power to determine its own priorities and agendas with reference to the student body rather than university officials. As well, responsibilities for all clubs and student organizations would shift from the administration to the student government. A key component of the new constitution, which went well beyond what leaders had demanded in Toronto, was that the SRC was to be incorporated under the Societies' Act of the Province of
Saskatchewan. This would give the student government independent legal status and the right to own property, borrow money, and enter into contracts without consultation with university administration.74 In these ways, the constitution
See, URA, Students' Representative Council, Survival seventy-one: Student Handbook, 1971-72, 22. 74 "The Proposed Constitution and Bylaws," The Carillon 22 January 1965, 4. Page 88 clearly identified students as a group separate from the administration and daringly asserted the independence of the student government. In fact, in de
Jong's constitution, the SRC was renamed the Students' Union, acknowledging that students now viewed themselves "as an organized force in society with rights to protect and interests to promote."
In his welcoming address to the students in the fall of 1964, de Jong explained what these rights and interests entailed and, as Doug Ward had done in
Toronto, articulated his belief that student government should be politically engaged in the university. "We have felt," he said, "that while the SRC has an important duty in coordinating social activities on the campus, we also feel that it must do more than that. It must also act as a union. It must be totally concerned with all student problems and must be willing to act on all such problems affecting students." Yet, de Jong went further than Ward in spelling out specifically what the new political responsibilities of the student government would entail. Rather than restricting its mandate to extracurricular activities, as it had done in the past, the renamed Students' Union would now be concerned with
"academic programs and how they are offered," "financial difficulties facing
students," "conditions students face in their studies," and "the guardianship and expansion of student rights."77 This meant, among other things, that student government would focus on the advancement of higher education in
Saskatchewan and issues involving tuition fees, student loans, government
James M. Pistula, As One Who Serves, 285. Quoted in James M. Pitsula, New World Dawning, 126. Quoted in Pitsula, New World Dawning, 126. Page 89 funding of the university, academic policies, and all other matters of concern to students.
Once the new constitution was drafted, council members in Regina decided to put it to the entire student body in a referendum held February 1965.
This bold move allowed their electors to approve or reject the proposed constitutional changes. With a turnout of approximately fifty per cent of the almost 1 800 eligible voters, a high participation rate for campus elections, the
70 new constitution was approved by a margin of 647 to 154. The student body overwhelmingly accepted their leaders' conception of an autonomous and politically engaged student government.
The Board of Governors, not surprisingly, objected to the new constitution, especially to the articles of incorporation. Its members continued to argue that the SRC derived its authority from the Board and was therefore responsible to that body first and not solely to the students. They also argued that the Board, which was the body ultimately responsible for student government, would have to approve any changes to the SRC constitution. Although university administrators in Regina, similar again to their counterparts in Toronto, were willing to recognize the responsibility of their individual students and remove the disciplinary codes that restricted this freedom, they were as yet unwilling to grant this responsibility to student organizations such as the SRC. To resolve the conflicts over the new constitution, the Board of Governors appointed a
See, "The Proposed Constitution and Bylaws" and Pistula, As One Who Serves, 285. 79 "Students Adopt New Constitution," Leader Post 23 February 1965, 3. Page 90 committee to negotiate with representatives of the SRC. Rather than working with student leaders to come to an amicable solution, however, committee members issued a threat, informing the SRC representatives that the university would cease collecting student activities fees, the primary source of funds for the
SRC, unless sections of the constitution deemed unsatisfactory to the Board were removed.
These threats only served to intensify divisions between student politicians and the university administration. Articles in the student newspaper, The
Carillon, urged the SRC to go ahead without the Board's consent. Contributors to the paper argued that the students, who had overwhelmingly supported the new
constitution in the February referendum, would prevent any reprisals or punishments the Board might implement. The Carillon viewed the students'
o i
support as the SRC's "ace in the hole." Although SRC representatives decided to postpone their application for incorporation under the Societies Act and
continue to negotiate with the Board of Governors over this and other issues related to the constitution, buoyed by the support of the study body, they also decided to ignore the possible consequences of their actions and unilaterally implemented the new constitution.
Two years of negotiations followed as university officials continued to resist changes to the constitution. Administrators asked for a legal opinion
80 URA, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus Executive of Council Minutes and Agendas 1966-1969. Executive of Council Agenda Item, 28 November 1966. 81 Ron Thompson, "The Waiting Game - Its Fact and Failure," The Carillon 2 March 1965,2. Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 286. Page 91 regarding their ability to block the Union's incorporation, but the University's lawyers indicated that the Students' Union was a separate legal entity and therefore responsible for its own business affairs. Legal opinion appeared to be on the side of the student leaders, recognizing the independence of the student government. Finally, in 1967 the Students' Union went ahead with incorporation, in spite of the continued objections of the university administration. The Board of Governors did not, however, follow through on its threats to suspend the collection of the students' activities fees. Perhaps to prevent the further alienation of the student body or simply because it was concerned with other issues such as funding cutbacks, the administration let the issue of the constitution rest, at least for the moment. Student leaders had achieved autonomy for student government through independent actions and the administration eventually capitulated to their demands. This campaign for autonomy took a very different route than at
Toronto, but in the end achieved the same result. The newly-named Students'
Union gained independence from the Board of Governors, was recognized as responsible primarily to its student electors, and became a more political rather than social organization. However, the acrimonious relationship that developed between student government representatives and university administrators continued to influence events at the Regina Campus throughout the 1960s, with many of the issues raised during the campaign for autonomy coming to a head with the so-called Carillon Crisis, discussed later in this chapter.
Pitsula, New World Dawning, 127. Page 92 Just as the campaigns for student government autonomy played out in unique ways at University of Toronto and University of Saskatchewan, Regina
Campus, the history of the student government at Simon Fraser University is also markedly different. SFU opened in 1965 and therefore no student government traditions or established relationships existed between student leaders and the university administration; the Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS) was created almost concurrently with the university itself. When SFU opened, the Board of
Governors asked the students to form a committee to draft a constitution for a student government.84 From the beginning, the Board, most likely aware of the debates and tensions over student government autonomy occurring elsewhere and hoping to avoid conflicts between politically engaged students and university administrators at SFU, allowed the students to determine for themselves the structures and powers of their own organization. In addition, because in loco parentis never really took root at the university, largely because administrators were aware of the difficulties involved in regulating students' personal behaviour as a result of events at other campuses, university officials immediately established a different relationship, one that was more of a partnership, with student government and other student organizations.
By 1966, then, a student government existed at SFU that acknowledged students as responsible members of the university community and as a distinct and separate group on campus. The students at Simon Fraser University inherited an autonomous student government without the struggles experienced at
84 "Student General Meeting Elects 'Paper Bag' Steering Committee," The Tartan 17 September 1965, 1. Page 93 University of Toronto or the Regina Campus. From the outset, they had a politically engaged student government that was free from the oversight and control of the university administration. At the same time, however, this resulted in the development of a very different relationship between student leaders and university administrators. Unlike at Toronto, where this relationship remained conciliatory, or in Regina, where it was aggressive and confrontational, at Simon Fraser University it became cordial but detached. Lacking the debates over student government autonomy that helped define such associations at
Toronto and Regina, it would take further issues and controversies to determine the relationship between administrators and students at SFU.
By 1967, students at all three universities had governments that were autonomous from their administrations, although they used very different means to achieve that independence. These diverse approaches to realizing the same goal produced unique relationships between the student governments and the administrators at each institution. Rather than the cooperation that existed in the past, new relationships developed between student leaders and university officials. In addition, the campaigns for student government independence offered student activists in Toronto and Regina an opportunity to press for a more engaged and responsible position within their community; student leaders asserted their desire and willingness to contribute in positive ways to the university. They also continued to argue that students comprised a distinct group on campus, independent and separate from the university administration. These campaigns
85 "Constitution in Brief," The Tartan 4 October 1965, 3-4. Page 94 also altered relationships between student leaders and the larger student bodies on campus. Whereas previous student council representatives were responsible primarily to the administration, through the briefs at the University of Toronto and the new constitution at the Regina Campus, student leaders entered into a new relationship with their student peers. This shift marks the beginning of the development of a more cohesive student identity and, in conjunction with the creation of more politically engaged student governments, helped pave the way for unified action among students and their leaders in the following years.
COORDINATED ACTION - CREATION OF THE STUDENT MOVEMENT
The establishment of autonomous student organizations at all three universities by 1967 contributed in important ways to the development of a more united student movement. The new relationships that emerged from these campaigns, along with the emergence of a political consciousness among many students, created the conditions necessary for the development of a recognizable student movement at all three universities by the late 1960s. The dynamics of this development differed at each university and were often the result of specific events, unique to each context, that redrew the lines of autonomy and put the new relationships in sharp relief. Nevertheless, at all three universities, the issues raised during the movement for autonomy provided the basis for united student action.
The emergence of cohesive student movement occurred at Simon Fraser
University in 1967 when the university administration fired five teaching
Page 95 assistants. This event accomplished what the debates over student government
autonomy had done at the University of Toronto and the Regina Campus; it
created a divide between university officials and student leaders, leading to the
development of a new relationship that was adversarial and confrontational.
Furthermore, the Board of Governors' aggressive tactics during this event
contributed to a feeling among many students that their interests and concerns were separate from those of the administration. In this way, students at SFU began to view themselves as a distinct group on campus. The so-called TA Crisis
also provided student activists with their first opportunity to assert that students were responsible and politically engaged members of the university community
and should be treated as such by the administration. Ultimately, during the crisis,
large numbers of students allied together with their leaders to confront the
administration in a coordinated manner.
The confrontation began in March 1967 when a number of politically
active students at SFU organized a demonstration at a local high school in support
of a student who had been suspended for publishing a parody of the school's
literary magazine. Reflecting back on his experiences, Martin Loney, who came
to Simon Fraser University from England and became a particularly active participant in student politics at both the local and national level, explained that politically engaged students at SFU were "always.. .on the look out for an issue, you know [that] might get a little bit of action going.. .to.. .captivate students and
*6 SFU A, Hugh Johnston Fonds, File "TA Affair." John Edmond, et al, "Open Letter to the Students at Templeton Secondary School," 10 March 1967. Page 96 get them interested in politics." As such, student leaders made a conscious
effort to create opportunities that might engage and politicize a wider base of
students and identified the suspension of Templeton High School student Peter
Haines as a particularly suitable issue.
On 10 March 1967, five SFU teaching assistants wrote an open letter to
students at the high school in Burnaby arguing that the suspension of Haines was
a violation of "a basic principle of our democracy, that of freedom of speech."88
Three days later, on 13 March, the five teaching assistants, supported by a number
of SFU students, returned to Templeton to hold an open meeting to discuss the
issue. Stating that the "right to freedom of speech is in jeopardy," the university
students encouraged their high school counterparts to take action and demand a
different type of education.89 Approximately 700 students attended this open
meeting, which dissolved into chaos when the high school football team emerged
in force to break up the rally. Fighting broke out between the football team and
what the Vancouver Sun referred to as the "long-haired, beatnik types" from
Simon Fraser.90 Following repeated attempts by the police to gain control of the
situation, SFU students Martin Loney and Thomas Tyre were arrested for
"disturbing the peace by shouting."91 The following morning, activists from SFU
decided to return to the high school and participate in a "silent vigil." Upon his return, Loney was immediately arrested and found himself back in front of the
Martin Loney, Interview with the author, 31 January 2006. Edmond, et al. SFUA, Hugh Johnston Fonds, File "TA Affair." Untitled, 13 March 1967. "SFU Pair Charged in School Melee," Vancouver Sun, 14 March 1967, 25. "Two days running: Cops cop Loney again," The Peak, 15 March 1967, 1. Page 97 magistrate who had only recently granted him bail. Meanwhile, although some
Templeton students had supported the initial meeting, a separate group of approximately 600 students clashed with the remaining SFU protesters.
Another Simon Fraser student, Patricia Javorsky, was arrested for assaulting a police constable after spitting in his face.
This demonstration did not attract a high level of support from students at
Simon Fraser University; however, the actions taken by the Board of Governors in response to the Templeton protests did mobilize a significant proportion of both the students and the faculty members on campus. On 16 March 1967, the Board of Governors announced that the five teaching assistants who had signed the open letter, John Edmond, Chris Huxley, Martin Loney, Jeff Mercer, and Phil
Stanworth, would be immediately dismissed. In taking this action, the Board of
Governors overruled the judgment of the Faculty Council, the primary disciplinary body on campus, which had decided only to reprimand the students. 4
The Board argued that the students had misused their positions, utilizing the
"umbrella of credibility that their teaching assistantships at the university provided them" to promote violence among high school students.95 This, the
Board argued, "reflected discredit on the University" 6 and "compromised the
"Two days running: Cops cop Loney again." 93 SFU A, F-112 F-112 Faculty Council Fonds, File F-l 12-1-0-0-4 "Agendas, minutes and papers, Jan.23-Nov.30, 1967." Draft Minutes of Faculty Council Meeting, 15 March 1967, 2. 94 Draft Minutes of Faculty Council Meeting, 15 March 1967, 6-7. 95 SFU A, F-70 Allan B. Cunningham Fonds, File F-70-2-0-15 "XIII Richard Lester, A View From the Board [198-]." Richard Lester, "A View From the Board," [198-], 16. 96 "Five T.A.'s Fired: Board gives its reason," The Peak 17 March 1967, 1. Page 98 university's good name." They hoped that by immediately firing the teaching assistants, the university could reclaim its "good - and apparently lost - image."
Immediately following the announcement, opposition began to surface around campus. On 17 March, Dean of Arts, Tom Bottomore, resigned his position, arguing that, while the students had acted "hastily and intemperately," it was, in fact, the Board's decision to dismiss the students from their positions without the benefit of a hearing and without consulting any faculty members on campus that damaged the image of the university. Bottomore, a well-known
British sociologist, was among the first of the original cohort of faculty members appointed to SFU and had been the main draw for four of the five teaching assistants who were fired over the Templeton affair. His distress over the unilateral actions of the Board of Governors reflected a more widespread concern among many faculty members and students about the power of administrators within the university.
Simon Fraser University was a unique institution. The provincial government had initially granted the Board of Governors extraordinary powers to undertake the rapid development of the university. As such, while at most universities, the Board of Governors had jurisdiction over financial issues and the
Senate over academic matters, at SFU the Board had authority over all aspects of the university's operations. The intention was that the power would be redistributed once the university had been designed and staffed. However, the
97 Lester, "A View From the Board," 16. 98 Sharon Yandle, The Peak, 5 April 1967, 15. 99 "Dean Bottomore's Letter of Resignation," The Peak2\ March 1967, 4. 100 Johnston, 97 & 263. Page 99 Board continued to exercise a great deal of control even after the university opened, as illustrated by the decision to overrule the university's disciplinary body. This extraordinary level of power caused a great deal of tension on campus as many faculty members came to resent the influence and interference of this non-academic body.1 1 Thus, some members of the university community protested the dismissal of the five teaching assistants because they believed that the Board was inappropriately interfering in what they saw as essentially an academic matter.
Faculty members also objected to the Board's actions due to growing concerns about academic freedom. At this time, the Faculty Association was in the midst of negotiations with the Board of Governors over the adoption of a
Statement on Academic Freedom and Tenure. As such, the dismissal of five teaching assistants, graduate students who were also instructors, greatly concerned the faculty who feared that they might also be fired for non-academic activities. They released a statement arguing that "academic incompetence is the ONLY reason for which a faculty member should be dismissed by the
University."103 Many students supported their professors in this struggle for academic freedom. In a rare show of solidarity, the Social Credit Club, the
Progressive Conservative Club, the Liberal Club, the NDP Club, the Communist
Club, and the Student Union for Peace Action issued a joint statement claiming that "the question of academic freedom is above the question of factionalized
101 Johnston, 65-66 & 196. 102 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-9-0-11 "Ephemera, 1965-68." "A University Comes of Age," [n.d.] 103 "Freedom committee statement," The Peak 17 March 1967, 1. Page 100 politics." They unanimously condemned the actions of the Board as a violation of academic freedom.1
Yet, for many students at Simon Fraser University, the issue was not academic freedom, per se, but the right of students to be treated as responsible members of the university community who could police their own behaviour.
While university administrators had, in principal, abandoned in loco parentis, supposedly recognizing students as mature and responsible individuals, many believed that the dismissal of the five teaching assistants contradicted this position. Drawing upon the administration's own justifications for dismantling the paternalistic disciplinary structures, student leaders argued that the Board of
Governors had no right to regulate the non-academic behaviour of its students.105
On 17 March 1967, a general meeting of the students passed a motion stating that
"the university could only take punitive action against students when a breach of university, and not civil, regulations had been committed."106 In a statement released that same day, the Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS) argued that the teaching assistants "on no occasion violated university regulations and therefore should not be subjected to punitive action by the Board of Governors or any other formal body at this university."107 In addition, as their counterparts had done in
Toronto and Regina, these activists asserted that students were involved and
104 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-9-0-11 "Ephemera, 1965-68." "A Statement By the United Political Organizations" [1967]. 105Yandle, 15. 106 "Confrontation Diary," The Peak, 5 April 1967, 16. 107 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-6-0-2 "Elections, 1967." Memo to the President, Simon Fraser University from the Simon Fraser Student Society, 17 March 1967. Page 101 interested members of the university community. Thus, the dismissal of the five teaching assistants was seen as a "precipitous and flagrant violation of the rights of Simon Fraser University students to engage as private individuals in activity
10S outside the university."
These arguments attracted the support of a large number of students on campus. The general meeting held on 17 March brought half of the approximately four thousand students on campus to the mall, the central plaza on campus, to discuss possible strike action against the administration.109 The SFSS had passed a motion earlier that day calling for a strike if the Board of Governors did not reinstate the five teaching assistants by 20 March 1967 at 12:30 p.m. In a report following the crisis, student leaders claimed that students at the meeting generally supported this tactic.110 Another mass meeting was held on 20 March, as the Board of Governors met to discuss the situation, and hundreds of students waited in the Administration Building for the Board's decision, which came just after midnight.11' In the end, after ten hours of meetings, the Board of Governors agreed to rescind its decision and reinstate the five teaching assistants. The combined pressure from faculty members and students forced the Board of
Governors to back down.
This crisis had a number of important results. First of all, it provided an opportunity for student leaders to define a new relationship with the
Memo to the President, Simon Fraser University from the Simon Fraser Student Society, 17 March 1967. 109 See, Johnston, 264. 110 "Confrontation Diary." 111 Johnston, 264. Page 102 administration. Since university officials at Simon Fraser University had created
an autonomous student government ahead of demands from student leaders, it was the TA Crisis that more clearly defined this relationship, one that was hostile and
confrontational. As well, these events allowed student activists to assert the position, presented previously by their counterparts in Toronto and Regina, that
students were mature and engaged members of their community who could only act as such if free from the oversight and control of university officials. Finally, it illustrated for many students that they had different interests and concerns from the administration. This contributed to a new definition of student identity, one that recognized students as distinct and separate group on campus. In this case, students were also able to join with faculty members, with whom they still had a relatively cordial relationship, in defence of academic freedom. In fact, in the aftermath of this struggle a plaque was installed in the mall renaming the area
Freedom Square "in commemoration of the rallies held here March 17-20, 1967 and the students, teaching assistants, and faculty who gave of themselves in the cause of academic freedom."112 The unique position of teaching assistants, as both students and instructors, provided an opportunity for the two groups, with different concerns and agendas, to come together and successfully resist the arbitrary actions of the university administration. Their success showed students and faculty members the power and influence of united action. For the
Simon Fraser University Plaque. This plaque was originally installed on 11 September 1968 but was stolen as a prank by the University of British Columbia engineers the following day. After being lost for almost thirty years, the plaque was finally returned in 1999 and was reinstalled in the Mall. See Johnston, 2. ill Jim Harding, Interview with the author, 20 January 2006. Page 103 moment, they were able to work together to effect change within the university.
Yet, most importantly, during the crisis, the student movement developed at
Simon Fraser University as a significant proportion of the student body allied together with their leaders in a unified and coordinated manner to participate in the events on campus.
At the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, students banded together in 1969 to resist attempts by the Board of Governors to censor and control the student newspaper, The Carillon. The previous debates surrounding student government autonomy had already created an antagonistic relationship between student councilors and the university administration, which continued in the years that followed. As well, a number of issues that arose during those earlier discussions, including the constitution and the incorporation of the
Students' Union, remained unresolved when the Board aggressively decided to suspend the collection of students' activities fees, which financed the newspaper, the Students' Union, and other student organizations. The Board's decision only aggravated their divisive relationship with student government. In framing their response to the Board's actions, student leaders reasserted their earlier position that students had the right to organize themselves without interference from the university administration. Although many students on campus objected to the political and confrontational editorial policy of the student newspaper, a surprisingly large number supported the stance presented by their leaders and rallied together in opposition to the Board's interference in their affairs. These students increasingly understood that they were separate from the administration,
Page 104 recognized their distinct place within the university community, and asserted their right to independent organization. As a result, this crisis created alliances between a significant proportion of the student body and their leaders and assisted in the development of a relatively united student movement on campus.
The confrontation over student activities fees revolved primarily around the student newspaper, The Carillon. This organ of the student body was established in 1962, not long after the creation of the university. For those interested in political organizing on campus, the student newspaper was a particularly important medium; when thinking back on their activities, many recalled that they newspaper was viewed as an effective tool to spread their message and encourage debate among the wider student body.114 In addition, student journalists argued that the newspaper could function as an alternative to the mainstream media in Regina, specifically the daily newspaper, The Leader
Post, which did not address the issues they considered most important and did not adequately engage in a critical examination of society. With these goals in mind, student activists molded The Carillon in particular ways. Editors regularly included articles on international events, such as the war in Vietnam and the Civil
Rights Movement in the United States. As well, they frequently raised questions about the role of the university in society, the place of students within the university, and the actions of university administrators and government officials.
They were particularly critical of University of Saskatchewan President, J.W.T.
Barry Lipton, Interview with the author, 20 February 2002 and Rob Milen, Interview with the author, 30 March 2002. 115 Don Kossick, Interview with the author, 9 March 2002. Page 105 Spinks, Regina Campus Principal, W.A. Riddell, the Liberal Premier of
Saskatchewan, Ross Thatcher, and the entire Board of Governors.116 In most of their articles, The Carillon editors presented a particularly left-wing ideological perspective that challenged the established structures of the university and society and encouraged students to take up a revolutionary position to transform the world. Student reporters also pressed the boundaries of accepted behaviour by including swear words, explicit visual images, and controversial subject matter related to sex, drugs, and politics in the pages of the newspaper. In these and other ways, students involved in The Carillon sought to spread their ideological message, adopt a radical image, mobilize the student body, and transform the university and the world outside.
By 1967, as student government representatives continued to press forward with their constitutional changes and incessantly confronted and challenged university and governmental authorities in the pages of the newspaper, administrators began to express their concerns over the content and structure of
The Carillon. In a 16 November letter to Principal Riddell, Spinks indicated that he "disapprove[d] extremely strongly" with the criticism waged against him in the newspaper.117 Riddell pointed out that he had discussed the issue with the editor of The Carillon, but argued that '"only drastic action [would] be effective' - namely, the withdrawal of permission for the Carillon to use the name of the
For specific examples, see Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 308-310. See, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 308. In this letter, Spinks referred specifically to the 3 November 1967 edition of The Carillon, which criticized his failure to respond appropriately to the threats made by the provincial government to take financial control over the university. This controversy will be discussed in detail in Chapter 4. Page 106 university, refusal to allow the Carillon staff to use university facilities, and
no discontinuation of the collection of student fees." Following the creation of the student government in Regina, the Board of Governors had agreed to collect a student activity fee from all students upon enrolment and then transfer that money to the SRC to finance its operations.11 Once the Students' Union had achieved autonomy, however begrudgingly, the university administration allowed the students' representatives to distribute this money to the student government, the student newspaper, and other student clubs, activities, and organizations without interference. Riddell apparently believed that the withdrawal of financial support would force the editors of The Carillon to moderate their activities; he sought to use the fees to assert administrative influence over student activities and punish student leaders.120
Although the Board of Governors initially rejected Riddell's suggestion, by the end of 1968, they were ready to take action. Despite general concern over the "tone of criticism" in this so-called "indecent publication," the final straw for administrators was the publication of a graphic drawing of a woman giving birth to a child resembling Ho Chi Minh, the Communist leader of North
Vietnam. Facing a flood of complaints from angry parents and other members of the community over this drawing, Riddell felt growing pressure to take action.
118 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 308. 119 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 285. 120 See, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 309. 121 Jim McCrorie Personal Collection. "General Report of Proceedings - Meeting held February 27, 1968," 8 March 1968. 122 URA, 78-3, Principal's/Dean's Office Files, File 2000.3. W.A. Riddell, not to file, 10 December 1968. Page 107 He and the other members of the Board of Governors argued that The Carillon
"pursued an editorial policy clearly aimed at undermining confidence in the
Senate, Board of Governors and the Administration of the university....
[Ljanguage and illustrations in The Carillon have given offence to an increasing segment of a public that expects better of an institution of higher learning."
They blamed student leaders at the Regina Campus, particularly those involved with The Carillon, for the "rising tide of public resentment directed against the
University"124 and for the lack of support for the university's fundraising campaigns. Administrators believed that the Regina Campus was in a precarious position; as a new institution with a radical reputation because of its innovative structures and politically active faculty members and students, and dependent upon the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon, any actions by students, administrators believed, could threaten the university's future. For these reasons, the Board of Governors decided to suspend the collection of activities fees until the student government "adjusts its activities and programmes so as to be in accordance with the best interests of the university." Although the
Students' Union had little control over The Carillon, which was run by an independent publication board, the administration apparently believed that punishing the student government would force the student newspaper back into
lli URA, 78-3, Principal's/Dean's Office Files, File 200.1-3. Press Release, 31 December 1968. 124 Quoted in Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 319. See, Michael Hayden, Seeking a Balance: The University of Saskatchewan, 1907-1982 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1987), 256-257. 1 Oft URA, University of Saskatchewan B.O.G. Minutes and Agendas September 1968-April 1969. Minutes of meeting, 16 January 1969, Exhibit C. Page 108 line. Overall, the Board of Governors expressed hope that public confidence in the university could be restored if it disassociated itself from The Carillon through the suspension of financial support.127
The Board announced its decision to suspend the collection of student activities fees on 31 December 1968, while students were away for their winter holidays. Nevertheless, student leaders took an immediate aggressive stance with respect to the Board's actions. Their goals throughout this conflict were to resist the interference of the university administration and to once again assert the independence of the student organizations. They hoped to emphasize, as they had during the previous debates over student government autonomy, that students were independent, responsible members of the university community who should organize and control their own activities free from administrative interference and control. The student councilors realized, however, that their success would depend on their ability to "mobilize support from all segments of the Regina campus, students, faculty, and employees," as only unified opposition could withstand the pressure of the university administration. As such, the ultimate goal of these leaders was to rally students, faculty members, and employees together in united opposition to the Board's actions. To achieve this goal, they purposefully framed the issues in a way they thought would attract and maintain the support of all members of the university community.
127 Lloyd Barber, Interview with the author, 21 March 2002. 128 URA. 78-3, Principal's/Dean's Office Files, File 2000.1-3. David Sheard, Letter to President, 2 January 1969. See also, URA, 78-3, Principal's/Dean's Office Files, File 2000.1-3. Students' Representative Council, Letter to Fellow Students, 2 January 1969, 1. Page 109 After three days of meetings immediately following the Board of
Governor's announcement, Students' Union representatives decided to organize a general meeting when students returned from holidays. This, they argued, would allow all students to decide upon an appropriate response to the Board's actions.129 At the same time, however, they formulated their own response to the suspension of financial support. On 2 January 1969, the Students' Union issued a press release and sent a letter to every student registered at the Regina Campus clearly articulating a position they hoped would generate mass support amongst students for their government and The Carillon. Acutely aware that many students on campus remained uncomfortable with, if not outright opposed to, the editorial policy of the newspaper, student leaders purposefully shifted attention away from The Carillon and argued instead that the Board's decision threatened the rights of students to organize an independent Students' Union, recently recognized through the new constitution that the student body had endorsed. As they explained to students:
Your very right to participate in and control a free and independent Students' Union, in conjunction with your fellow students, is being challenged by the action of the Administration and the Board. It should be obvious that any free and independent association of people, banded together for their common interest and well-being, should be free from outside interference and subject to direction in a democratic way by its members.130
In other words, the issue was not The Carillon, but the right of students to operate an independent organization controlled by students. Student politicians believed l2y URA. 78-3, Principal's/Dean's Office Files, File 2000.1-3. David Sheard, Letter to President, 2 January 1969. 130 Students' Representative Council, Letter to Fellow Students, 2 January 1969, 3. Page 110 that this position could attract support from across the political spectrum, despite the radical perspective of the student newspaper.
Student leaders did not completely ignore the role of The Carillon in this controversy; they argued that the Board's actions violated freedom of the press by attempting to censor the student newspaper. This issue, though, was similarly reframed to assert the right of students to organize independently. "The union," they explained, "has a right to publish a paper with independent editorial policies.
No matter what these editorial policies may be, it is up to us to establish them, and
The Board of Governors [sic] and the Administration have no right to censure our publications."131 Overall, then, the issue was not whether one agreed with the editorial policy of The Carillon, which many did not, but whether one agreed, as a previous cohort of student had four years earlier when they approved the new constitution, that students had the right to operate their own organizations and regulate their own activities free from external control.
This strategy, to deflect attention from the controversial editorial policy of
The Carillon and describe the conflict as a threat to independent student organizations, was remarkably successful. At the general meeting held 8 January
1969, The Carillon came under heavy attack but, according to an RCMP investigator's report, "it was obvious that the student body did not want to see the
Union destroyed because of the Carillon [sic].... [T]he radical element of the
S.R.C....were fairly successful in defending against the move by the Board of
Governors by steering the S.R.C. and the Students' Union in general, away from
131 Students' Representative Council, Letter to Fellow Students, 2 January 1969, 3. Page 111 the Carillon [sic] as a focal point and into a direction where it appeared the whole union was at stake." The 1 500 students in attendance, out of a total enrolment of approximately 3 700, voted overwhelmingly to censure the university administration and hold a referendum demanding that the Board of Governors resume the collection of student activities fees but "keep out of student union affairs." In the referendum held the following day, more than two-thirds of the
1 600 students who voted supported this position.134 As well, on 3 February 1969 approximately 1 000 students attended a teach-in on the conflict organized by the
Students' Union. Such events, attended by large numbers of students, made public the development of an alliance between student leaders and a very large proportion of the student body. A warning sounded by SRC President David
Sheard and Vice-President Ken Sunquist in November 1968 that drastic action by the Board of Governors "would cause a major uprising among the students," a poignant example of the charged rhetoric of the period, nevertheless proved prophetic as students joined together to oppose the university administration's actions. The administration's aggressive actions against The Carillon confirmed
LAC, RG-146, Canadian Security Intelligence Service Records, Box 97. RCMP file, University of Saskatchewan - Regina Campus - Regina, Saskatchewan, Investigators Comments, 16 January 1969. The RCMP frequently monitored student activities at the Regina Campus and at universities throughout the country. For more information on this subject see, Steve Hewitt, Spying 101: The RCMP's Secret Activities at Canadian Universities, 1917-1997 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002). 133 "1,500 students back SRC in fees dispute," The Leader Post, 9 January 1969, 1. 134 URA, University of Saskatchewan B.O.G. Minutes and Agendas September 1968-April 1969. Minutes of meeting, 16 January 1969. 135 "Teach-in a Success," The Carillon 7 February 1969, 1. 136 URA, 78-3, Principal's/Dean's Office Files, File 302.1-4. W.A. Riddell, "Statement re: Students' Representative Council," 13 November 1968. Page 112 for many students that they had different interests and concerns than university officials, and the ability of student leaders to frame the issue as an attack on the rights of students rather than on The Carillon itself successfully united a large proportion of the student body, regardless of their political perspectives or positions on The Carillon, around a common concern for the future of an independent student union.
At the same time, by characterizing the conflict in these ways, students attracted the support of other members of the university community. Both the
Faculty Association and the employees union expressed support for the students' position, also viewing the Board's action as an attack on the right of students to organize free from external control. While not all faculty members supported the students in their fight against the university administration,137 Faculty Association
President Reid Robinson released a statement decrying the interference of the
Board of Governors in student activities. As well, W.G. Bolstad, Director of the Faculty of Administration, argued that the suspension of fee collection was "a threat to the right of students to run their own affairs."139 Similarly, according to the employees union, "[t]he reform of an organization such as the Students'
Union and its publication should come as a result of its own internal examination
Reid Robinson, Interview with the author, 21 February 2002 and Robert Crosby, Interview with the author, 10 March 2002. 138 "Carillon move 'dangerous' faculty president says," Leader Post 2 January 1969, 3. 139 URA, 81-12, University of Saskatchewan Office of the Vice President, File 500.4. "Board's Action re Collection of Student Fees, Statement by W.G. Bolstad," 5 January 1969. Page 113 and not of external influence." As these statements indicated, during this particular crisis, student leaders convinced both students and other members of the university community to unite around a particular definition of the issues involved. The Faculty Association and the employees' union might also have been concerned with the future of their own organizations; if the administration was willing to take such aggressive action against the students, it might do the same in the future against faculty members and employees if they did not behave.
This alliance, however, proved temporary. In part, this was a condition of its success. The ability of student leaders to shape their conflict with the university administration in ways that appealed to large numbers of students, faculty members, and employees helped create a more united opposition to the administration, as made particularly apparent by the public displays of support throughout the crisis, and which ultimately forced the Board of Governors to negotiate a settlement to the dispute. An agreement was signed on 6 March 1969 following discussions between Students' Union representatives and the Board of
Governors. This agreement, which students saw as a complete victory because it recognized their right to organize and control an independent student government, guaranteed that the Board of Governors would collect student activities fees and could not suspend collection without providing notice one year in advance. In return, The Carillon was to adhere to a Code of Ethics, which the newspaper's editors argued already governed their operations.141
140 "Union Supporters," The Carillon, Special Edition, 8 January 1969, 3. 141 The Canadian University Press (CUP) developed this Code of Ethics. Established in 1938, CUP is a student-run co-operative news press service, which Page 114 University administrators did not achieve greater control over the student newspaper. "In the end," reflects former Regina Campus student Kenda Richards,
"[the Board of Governors] had to back down."142 University administrators were forced to recognize the right of students to organize and operate their groups free from administrative control, acknowledging the position presented by student leaders throughout the conflict. These activists were successful in this crisis because they had presented the issues in ways that many students could support, facilitating the development of an influential alliance among students and other non-administrators within the university community. As well, students recognized that their interests were often contrary to the university administration, especially as the Board of Governors proved willing to use aggressive tactics to control student activities. Yet, with the resolution of the crisis, and a perceived victory for students, this alliance achieved its goals and, thus, the rationale for its existence vanished. As a result, divisions among students at the Regina Campus reemerged once the dispute was resolved; the alliance created during the so-called
Carillon Crisis subsequently fractured and dissolved.
In the end, when faced with a direct assault from the university administration, student activists at the Regina Campus purposefully articulated a provides a news wire service and fosters connections among student newspaper editors. The Canadian University Press Code of Ethics held that student journalists should strive to be fair and accurate in reports, should observe libel and copyright laws, should not automatically exclude a point of view because it is contrary to the editorial policy, and should not condone racial bias or prejudice. See, URA, University of Saskatchewan B.O.G. Minutes and Agendas - September 1968-April 1969. Minutes of Meeting, 6 March 1969, Exhibit F, "Code of Ethics for the Canadian University Press," December 1968. See also, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 325-326. 142 Kenda Richards, Interview with the author, 18 February 2002. Page 115 position that could attract the support of large numbers of students on campus and
force the Board of Governors to abandon their attack. Realizing that many
students opposed the editorial policy of The Carillon, student leaders instead
focused on the threat this administrative action posed to the Students' Union and the right of students to organize independent organizations, free from external
control. Having only recently achieved such independence, many students were willing to support the position articulated by student leaders. As well, some
faculty members and employees at the university, perhaps concerned with their
own independence, accepted the students' position and also pressured the
administration to negotiate a settlement. Based on this shared belief of the right to autonomy and self-governance, a powerful and successful alliance developed
among large numbers of the student body.
Similar to Simon Fraser University and the University of Saskatchewan,
Regina Campus, at the University of Toronto students also developed alliances
and confronted the administration in a unified and coordinated manner around a particular issue during this period. In Toronto, the conflict emerged over the university's disciplinary codes. While the Regina Campus and SFU were relatively new institutions, working to develop policies and procedures, the
University of Toronto had a longer tradition of disciplinary practices, which made change difficult. When a dispute developed between students and university administrators over the development of new disciplinary codes, student leaders
allied with a significant proportion of the student body to assert their own position. This was achieved when these students began to articulate, as a previous
Page 116 generation of student leaders did during negotiations over student government
autonomy, the belief that they were responsible, politically engaged members of
the university community with the right to regulate their own behaviour without
interference from the administration. Again, a dispute between student leaders
and the administration changed the relationship they shared; no longer able to
maintain a cordial and accommodating relationship, student activists became
increasingly confrontational and antagonistic to university officials. In the end,
these conflicts over the university's disciplinary codes provided an opportunity
for students to ally together with their leaders and create a more unified
movement on campus.
Disciplinary procedures at the University of Toronto had evolved over
many years, but, by the 1960s, were under sustained attack. Since 1906, a body
called the Caput had handled discipline. Its membership included the deans of
each faculty and the heads of each college in the university system with the
President as chair. However, by the mid-1960s, these structures had to change
when university administrators abandoned the principle of in loco parentis. In
1968 Acting President John Sword (President Claude Bissell was on leave at
Harvard University) appointed a Presidential Advisory Committee to "review and
if necessary re-define the proper limits of the university's disciplinary jurisdiction, and to advise on whether existing machinery is adequate or needs to be changed."143 This committee, headed by Political Economy professor Ralph
Campbell, included students, faculty members, and administrators. Student
143 UTA, Al 973-0025 Board of Governors, Box 106, File 4 "Chairman's Papers - Student Discipline, 1968-69." Draft Press release, 5 February 1968. Page 117 leaders thus maintained a cooperative relationship with the administration. In his brief to the so-called Campbell Committee, SAC President Tom Faulkner indicated the attitudes and values held by student leaders when he asked its members to "study the difference between academic and non-academic crimes, the question of double jeopardy, and get rid of the treatment of students in the university as children."144 Moreover, he demanded that students be accountable only to the "laws of society" and not be subject to any kind of "double jurisdiction"; that the right to strike and protest be recognized by the university with "every effort.. .made to prevent the use of police or physical coercion"; that residence rules be determined by those who live in each residence; and that the philosophy of in loco parentis be abolished because "it prevented the student from learning from experience and realizing his [sic] full potential as a human being."145 Some of these concerns had been raised by an earlier group of student politicians when they had asked for autonomy from the administration, but some of the issues, such as double jurisdiction and the problems of police presence on campus were new; they developed in response to the confrontational strategies employed by some student activists. These activists operated largely outside the scope of the Students' Administrative Council but nevertheless helped to guide the activities on campus.
Although the University of Toronto managed to avoid major disruptions throughout much of the 1960s, by the end of the decade a new group of student
144 Louis Erlichman, "Committee to study 'outmoded' discipline methods," The Varsity 7 February 1968, 2. 145 Art Moses, "'University as Daddy' reported dead by SAC," The Varsity, 29 January 1969, 1. Page 118 activists, more confrontational than their predecessors, arrived on campus. These radical students, who entered the university following the emergence of a politically engaged student leadership in the mid-1960s, sought to use confrontation to expose the hypocrisy of the university and create a revolution that would completely transform the world.146 Their new approach to campus politics became evident when, in February 1969, students involved in the on- campus organization the Toronto Student Movement (TSM), not to be confused with the entirely separate off-campus Marxist-Leninist organization by the same name, used guerilla theatre tactics to disrupt a lecture delivered by Clark Kerr at the Royal Ontario Museum. For these activists, Kerr, who had been president of the University of California, Berkeley during the Free Speech Movement in 1964 and had popularized the concept of the "multiversity," stood for the university as a knowledge factory, serving corporate rather than societal needs. "Kerr is a bureaucrat," TSM member Andy Wernick explained. As such, his "function was to reduce tension and remove conflict." In this way, Wernick argued, Kerr helped to maintain the status quo and mask the power relations in society.147 The TSM disrupted the lecture in hopes of exposing these power relations that the multiversity reinforced.
Many members of the university community, faculty members and administrators in particular, were outraged by this disruption. Most likely
1 Greg Kealey, Interview with the author, 13 January 2006. "Radicals interrupt Kerr speech - get 15 minutes," The Varsity 7 February 1969, 1. 148 UTA, B89-0031 Claude Bissell Files, Box 6. "A Toronto Student Movement Leaflet: Why We Disrupted the Clark Kerr Lecture." Page 119 concerned that the increasing violence and disorder in the United States was moving north onto Canadian campuses, as seemed evident when students at Sir
George Williams University in Montreal destroyed a computer lab in February
1969,149 approximately 1 000 university officials signed and presented a petition to the Caput demanding punitive action. However, because disciplinary structures were under review at the time and the Caput's authority to deal with non- academic issues had been challenged, no immediate action was taken. While deploring the incident as "an example of the intolerance that runs counter to all the university stands for," the Caput concluded that "its best course now is to establish clear procedures for disciplining persons who in future are found guilty of such conduct."150 In response, the Committee to Reconstitute Caput was created in the spring of 1969 with representatives from the Association of the
Teaching Staff (ATS), SAC, and the Graduate Students' Union (GSU). In other words, faculty members and students would now be responsible for changes to the disciplinary structures. By agreeing to join the committee, SAC representatives again illustrated their willingness to cooperate with the administration in revising the university's disciplinary structures. This committee, however, decided that no major changes should be made to the Caput until the Campbell Committee had submitted its recommendations. In the meantime, it also suggested the creation of a disciplinary body with equal student-faculty representation that would deal exclusively with academic issues. In the end, the Clark Kerr incident made clear
149 See, Owram, 247. 150 UTA, Al 977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 051, File "CAPUT." R. Ross, "Statement by the Caput on Disciplinary Procedures," [March 1969]. Page 120 the increasing willingness of student radicals to use confrontation to present their
demands and illustrated the inadequacies of existing disciplinary procedures.151
Disruption continued in the fall of 1969 when the New Left Caucus
(NLC), one branch of the recently divided on-campus Toronto Student
Movement,152 initiated a campaign to interfere with the university's orientation
program. According to Wernick, the campaign was intended as a movement-
building exercise, exposing freshmen students to debates about the university and
the outside community. They were attempting, recalled NLC member and now
university administrator Greg Kealey, to reveal the evils of the university system,
which served to reinforce the status quo rather than promote revolutionary
change.154 Between 25 and 40 members of the New Left Caucus attended
orientation events at the various colleges around campus, disrupting formal
banquets and meetings by making toasts to the people of the University of
Toronto and leading chants of Power to the People.155 This was all done in an
effort to "expose the authoritarian nature of the meeting[s] and of orientations
which socialize students into attitudes of deference and docility in the face of
Claude Bissell, Halfway Up Parnassus: A Personal Account of the University of Toronto, 1932-1971 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974), 141. 152 The Toronto Student Movement split over ideological divisions. It had become increasingly Leninist in orientation, and a number of student activists, who saw themselves as Marxists but not Leninists, split from the organization and formed the New Left Caucus. This illustrates some of the fractures that were already taking place in the student movement at Toronto as ideological perspectives were defined and became increasingly rigid. See, LAC, RG-146 Canadian Security Intelligence Service Records, Vol.83, File 98-A-00079. "New Left Caucus (Toronto Student Movement): A Statement of Purpose," [n.d.]. 153 Andrew Wernick, Interview with the author, 19 February 2006. 154 Greg Kealey, Interview with the author, 13 January 2006. 155 Susan Reisler, "UC head table refuses to answer radicals," The Varsity 22 September 1969, 10. Page 121 institutionalized hierarchies." In response, President Claude Bissell issued a statement indicating that "the disruptions of any lecture, class, seminar or meeting sponsored by the University or any division of the University is a serious offence" and would be dealt with accordingly by the Caput. However, before any disciplinary action could be taken, and before the Campbell Committee could report, the university was rocked by the publication of a working paper by the
Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario (CPUO) called "Order on
Campus."158
This working paper, released 18 September 1969, was a reaction (perhaps an overreaction) by Ontario University Presidents to the growing number of demonstrations and disruptions occurring at universities throughout the province and across North America. The previous year had witnessed a number of occupations at universities throughout the United States, which had occasionally resulted in violence or property destruction. As well, the occupation in February at Sir George Williams University in Montreal resulted in more than $2 million in damage when a computer lab was destroyed. Concerned with these events, the university presidents condemned the "extremism and violence" that they believed was threatening their institutions.159 In this working paper, the presidents stated
"Radicals and administration share platform at Victoria College," The Varsity, 22 September 1969, 10. See also, Susan Reisler, "UC head table refuses to answer radicals," The Varsity, 22 September 1969, 10. 157 "Bissell issues warning about disruptions," The Varsity, 22 September 1969, 9. 158 UTA, A1977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 069, File "Discipline." Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario, "Order on the Campus," [September 1969]. 159 Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario, "Order on the Campus," [September 1969], 1. Page 122 that "violence constitutes a serious danger to the survival of the universities as places of teaching, research and scholarship. These functions at the highest level can only be performed in an environment free from coercion." The universities in
Ontario, they argued, would continue to respond to student concerns regarding the university but "will not carry on discussions or make changes in the face of threat or other forms of coercion."160 In drawing on a list produced by Harvard
University, the presidents outlined what they considered illegitimate and unacceptable activities: violence against any member or guest of the university community; deliberate interference with academic freedom and freedom of speech, including disruptions in the classroom; theft or willful destruction of university property; forcible interference with the freedom of movement of any member or guest of the university; and, in general, obstruction of the normal processes and activities essential to the functions of the university community.
All of these activities would be considered cause for immediate suspension, and if the obstructive behaviour continued, the police would be brought in and charges laid.162 At the University of Toronto, the Caput met following the release of this report and agreed with its recommendations, arguing that "obstructive or violent expressions of disagreement by individuals and groups of individuals cannot be
Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario, "Order on the Campus," 2. 161 Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario, "Order on the Campus," 2- 3. 162 Committee of Presidents of Universities of Ontario, "Order on the Campus," 1. Page 123 tolerated as a substitute for rational discussion." Many students on campus immediately challenged this position.
For these students, the statements were problematic because they denied what student leaders had long argued, that students were politically engaged members of the community and had the right to a meaningful voice in the university. "What constitutes disruption in the University," explained an official release from SAC, "is left so vaguely defined in the CPUO-CAPUT statements that actions by most people interested in change in the university, moderate or radical, could be grounds for the most severe discipline."164 Student leaders, increasingly interested in transforming the university, viewed such disciplinary practices as a violation of their "elementary rights to free speech, to organize and to academic freedom."165 As Weraick claimed, "the administration has declared war on any political organizing on this campus."1 Using such rhetoric to defend their position, activists appealed to students who viewed themselves as responsible and active members of the university community with the right to participate in political organizing on campus. However, for many politically active students, the concern may have been more personal. The most radical students, including those involved in the New Left Caucus, insisted that
w UTA, A1977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 069, File "Discipline." Memo to Staff and Students of the University from Claude Bissell, 20 September 1969. 164 UTA, A1976-0020 Office of the President, Box 016, File "Discipline." SAC, "The CUPO [sic] Paper: What's It About, Why Back SAC," 28 September 1969. 165 UTA^ A J977.Q020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 069, File "Discipline." SAC Statement, [n.d.], 3. 166 Susan Reisler, "Discipline Committee Folds as Students Walk Out," The Varsity 24 September 1969, 1. Page 124 confrontation was the only means to create real change, and they were committed to the use of«such tactics.167 If these disciplinary practices were put in place, activist students would face suspension and possibly expulsion for the activities they organized on campus. Rooted in these concerns, they fought ardently to oppose these tighter regulations. As well, SAC representatives may have felt personally offended that their efforts to work with university administrators to revise disciplinary structures had been so summarily dismissed. Their efforts at maintaining a cooperative relationship appeared to have been wasted.
Many students on campus rallied behind their leaders. A number of organizations, including Hillel, History Students' Union, New College Student
Council, Victoria College Student Council, and Italian Club, expressed their support.168 As well, at a meeting of the Committee to Reconstitute Caput student members demanded that President Claude Bissell, recently returned from
Harvard, repudiate the two statements. When Bissell refused to do so,169 approximately 1 200 students, a large turnout for student activities at the
University of Toronto, attended a mass meeting. Bissell was also present at the meeting and restated his refusal to reject the statements. In response, the students at this somewhat spontaneous meeting passed six demands formulated by SAC and the GSU: that the president officially disassociate himself from the CPUO working paper; that the Caput withdraw its position; that no new disciplinary action be taken until after the Campbell report was published; that the university
167 Andrew Wernick, Interview with the author, 19 February 2006 and Greg Kealey, Interview with the author, 13 January 2006. 168 "The CUPO [sic] Paper: What's It About, Why Back SAC." 169 Reisler, "Discipline Committee Folds as Students Walk Out." Page 125 recognize that the Caput was not a legitimate disciplinary body and that further discipline be dealt with by a committee representative of the university community; that the Campbell report be published as soon as it was presented to the president; and that the administration reply to these demands within one week.170
The day of the deadline, 1 October 1969, another mass meeting was held in Convocation Hall and Bissell responded to this list of demands. He stated that the CPUO paper was not the policy of the University of Toronto, but had been circulated as a way to stimulate discussion throughout the province. He also agreed to release the Campbell Report immediately and indicated that it alone would determine the university's discipline policy. Finally, he agreed to establish an interim disciplinary body until such matters could be discussed more fully.171
Faced with pressure from the student body, Bissell acknowledged many of their demands and indicated his willingness to continue debates over disciplinary procedures.
This meeting, however, also illustrated the inability of activists to attract support from all students on campus. While the confrontation over discipline illustrated for many students their oppositional position in relation to the administration, some continued to identify more with university officials than with their politically engaged peers. Students in the professional faculties at the
170 UTA, Al 977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 069, File "Discipline." Mass Meeting, [n.d.]. 171 UTA, Al 977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 069, File "Discipline." Claude Bissell "Statement on Discipline to General Meeting," 1 October 1969. Page 126 University of Toronto, for example, often opposed the tactics and positions of
SAC and other radical political organizations. Such students, for whom the university provided training for future professions, generally took a more cautious and conservative approach to university politics and often found their interests more in line with university administrators than with other students.172 Many
students from Medicine and Engineering attended the meeting on 1 October to express their support for Bissell. One newspaper, The Telegram, referred to them as the "moderate student majority." During the meeting, these Engineering and
Medical students cheered Bissell's statement, honoring him with a chorus of "For
He's Jolly Good Fellow" as he left the room.174 While these students clearly supported the administration in this confrontation, it is unclear whether they objected to all of the demands made by activists on campus, or simply the tactics employed to achieve these goals. There appears to have been widespread support for the argument that students were responsible members of the university community who had a right to participate in movements for change. In fact, The
Telegram article stated that these so-called "moderate" students were "concerned with moderate reform of the university" but were nonetheless "opposed to violence."175
In the end, students developed influential, though limited, alliances through these debates over disciplinary procedures. Demanding that students be
Helen Lefkowitz Horowitz, Campus Life: Undergraduate Cultures from the End of the Eighteenth Century to the Present (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 14 & 241. 173 "jjje factors in campus peace," The Telegram 3 October 1969. 174 Friedland, 535. "The factors in campus peace." Page 127 treated as self-governing and mature individuals with a meaningful voice in the university, leaders successfully attracted the support of many students on campus.
Together they opposed attempts by the university administration to regulate their non-academic behaviour or restrict their political participation in the university.
These ideas were widely accepted by many students on campus, despite the opposition of some in the professional programs to the tactics employed by their fellow students. This concerted action to defend individual freedoms and assert a voice within the university, achieved at least moderate success, as university administrators proved willing to discuss disciplinary procedures and develop new regulations. At the same time, the confrontations transformed relationships between student leaders and the administration. SAC representatives had attempted to maintain a conciliatory relationship with university officials, but the failure of existing structures to address their concerns and the confrontational tactics employed by other student activists resulted in the development of a much more aggressive and adversarial relationship with the university administration.
In addition, through these struggles, many students began to realize their distinctiveness within the university community and rally together with other students against the administration.
CONCLUSIONS
The events at these three universities illustrate some of the ways in which students, by the late 1960s, allied together into a relatively united student movement in response to specific issues. Student leaders successfully attracted
Page 128 the support of a significant proportion of the student body, who increasingly
viewed themselves as mature members of the university community with a right
to act politically and organize independently. Reacting to the specific actions
taken by university administrations, including the suspension of students involved
in off-campus political protest at SFU, the withholding of student activities fees to
punish student newspaper editors in Regina, and the debates over disciplinary
codes at Toronto, many students also began to identify more with their peers than
with university officials. In these ways, the issues of autonomy and responsibility
helped unite students into a more cohesive movement by the late 1960s. The
development of these alliances, however, marked only the beginning of the
student movement, and its momentum accelerated as student activists continued
to debate and discuss how they might use their autonomy to effect the change they
desired. Yet, as students persistently considered their rights and responsibilities
within the university community, the relationships that were established between
student leaders and university officials and amongst students and their leaders
through the events examined in this chapter continued to influence the
development of the student movement. This movement, though, reached its peak
of cohesion around the issues of university governance that dominated the universities throughout much of the Sixties.
Page 129 CHAPTER 3 Students as "one half of the equation of the university": Student Participation in University Governance and the Evolution of the Student Movement
In the Sixties, student government representatives increasingly identified students as a separate group on campus and continually struggled to obtain a more meaningful voice in the university. Once they had achieved organizational autonomy, these students were able to organize around issues that they identified as important. One of the most important of these concerns was student participation in the decision-making structures on campus. This chapter examines how the student movement continued to develop and evolve through discussions surrounding university governance during the Sixties. Students were completely excluded from the decision-making process prior to this period. Yet, professors, not students, spearheaded demands for the reform of university government.
Encouraged by this campaign, student leaders began, by the mid-1960s, to grapple with issues of governance and demand a more significant role in university decision-making structures. Students and other members of the university community often referred to this as the Student Power Movement. For a variety of reasons, university administrators granted students seats on most governing bodies and, as this chapter documents, this success encouraged student leaders to press for equal representation in the decision-making process with their professors.
These campaigns helped convince a significant proportion of the student body that they were distinct, not only from the administration, but also from the
Page 130 majority of faculty members. As such, students recognized to an even greater extent that they could only achieve a more meaningful voice in university government if they allied together with their peers and confronted the other groups on campus. In this way, the student movement at English-Canadian universities reached its peak through the issue of governance; considerable numbers of students on each campus united together to demand a greater voice in the decision-making process on campus.
Considering the centrality of governance issues to the Sixties student movement in English-Canada, surprisingly little scholarly attention has been paid to these concerns. Myrna Kostash, for example, only mentions demands for student participation in university governance in passing and focuses instead on the educational critiques and international connections of the student movement.1
Doug Owram, in his history of the baby boom generation, examines some of the protests at Simon Fraser University during the Sixties, several of which included demands for democratization of the university, but he does not emphasize governance as a central issue throughout the period. Institutional histories of various universities, including those that comprise this study, often discuss some of the important events that occurred as students demanded a greater voice in university decision-making structures, but they generally take the perspective of
Myrna Kostash, Long Way From Home: The Story of the Sixties Generation in Canada (Toronto: James Lorimer & Co., 1980), 71-103. Doug Owram, Born at the Right Time: A History of the Baby Boom Generation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996). Page 131 the administrators and faculty members who were struggling to maintain control in the face of these claims.3
Yet, there are scholars who acknowledge the importance of campaigns for governmental reform to the student movement during the Sixties. For example, historian Michiel Horn recognizes student demands for a role in university decision-making as a serious challenge to the structures of the institution. He frames these concerns as a struggle for academic freedom for students and claims that they had a "major impact on Canadian universities."4 At the same time, Cyril
Levitt, in his sociological study of the Sixties student movements in Canada, the
United States, and West Germany, argues that the Student Power Movement, which focused its critiques specifically on the university and sought democratization of university governing structures, was central to the development of a mass student movement by the mid-1960s.5 These examples, however, are exceptional; most scholars overlook the importance of governance to the growth of the student movement during the Sixties. The case studies examined here clearly illustrate the centrality of this issue for a significant proportion of the student body throughout the period: through campaigns for participation in the decision-making structures on campus, a large number of
See, for example, James Pitsula, As One Who Serves: The Making of the University ofRegina (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006); Martin L. Friedland, The University of Toronto: A History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002); and Hugh Johnston, Radical Campus: Making Simon Fraser University (Vancouver: Douglas & Mclntyre, 2005). 4 Michiel Horn, "Students and Academic Freedom in Canada," Historical Studies in Education Vol.11, No.l (1999), 29. Cyril Levitt, Children of Privilege: Student Revolt in the Sixties, A Study of Student Movements in Canada, the United States, and West Germany (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 45-50. Page 132 students came to see themselves as members of a coherent and distinctive group on campus and allied together into a relatively united and influential movement.
Prior to the 1960s, students had no role in university governance because most members of the university community viewed them as minors.6 Students were generally unaware of how decisions were made, were rarely, if ever, consulted during the decision-making process, and had no formal representation within governmental organizations. Decision-making structures commonly included the Board of Governors, the Senate, Faculty and Departmental Councils, and various committees created by each of these bodies. Members of the board of governors were usually appointed by the provincial government to represent various public interests in the university and were responsible primarily for financial operations. The senate was comprised of academic staff, alumni, government appointees, and members of the administrative team, which included the president and vice-presidents of the university, and was responsible for all academic decisions regarding programs, curriculum, the granting of degrees, and the management of the faculties and departments. The professors in each unit controlled faculty and departmental councils, although an administration- appointed dean or chair often oversaw their operations. These bodies made decisions regarding programs and curriculum, but were subject to the final authority of the senate. All members of each governmental organization were eligible to sit on the various committees of that body. Moreover, the president of the university often acted as a liaison between the various groups and regularly
6Owram, 178. Page 133 appointed a committee to advise him (all university presidents in Canada before the 1960s were men) in his duties.
GOVERNANCE IN THE SIXTIES
In the 1960s, these governing structures came under direct attack, as faculty members, not students, spearheaded demands for reform. By the late
1950s, many professors began to argue that academic freedom, defined by
Michiel Horn as the independence of teachers and researchers to do their work without external interference or control, could only be protected if scholars had a more meaningful role in the decision-making process. Although academic staff contributed to university government at the departmental level and as members of the senate, they were always subject to the final authority of the administration, which, one faculty member contended, was an "outside body whose members may have particular interests to protect and promote." Some professors insisted that the only way to defend the "essential function of university scholars [to] pursue and propagate the truth as they see it, freely and without fear or favour," was to ensure that they had "the predominant voice in governing their own university."
See, Michiel Horn, Academic Freedom in Canada: A History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 37-39 and University Government in Canada: Report of a Commission sponsored by the Canadian Association of University Teachers and the Association of Universities and Colleges of Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1966), 7-10. Horn, Academic Freedom in Canada, 4. Quoted in Horn, Academic Freedom in Canada, 255. Horn, Academic Freedom in Canada, 255. Page 134 In response to these growing demands, members of the Canadian
Association of University Teachers (CAUT), a national organization established
in 1951, pressed for an official study of the governing structures of Canadian postsecondary institutions. The result was the Duff-Berdhal commission, which
was created by the CAUT and the National Conference of Canadian Universities
and Colleges, later renamed the Association of Universities and Colleges in
Canada (AUCC), in 1962. The explicit purpose of the commission was to
examine the charges...that universities are becoming so large, so complex, and so dependent on public funds that scholars no longer form or even influence their own policy, that a new and rapidly growing class of administrators is assuming control, and that a gulf of misunderstanding and misapprehension is widening between the academic staff and the administrative personnel, with grave damage to the functioning of both.11
In other words, the co-chairs of the commission, Sir James Duff and Professor
Robert Berdahl, were to focus on the relationships between administrators and
faculty members and determine possible ways to improve the governing structures
of Canadian universities.
The Duff-Berdahl Report was finally released in January 1966. It took
almost four years for study to be completed, in part, because the initial senior
commissioner resigned for health reasons, meaning that work did not actually begin until 1964. As well, the study involved extensive investigations of existing
structures at Canadian universities, including visits to many institutions to speak directly with administrators, professors, and students. The resulting report
emphasized the importance of faculty participation in the decision-making
University Government in Canada, 3. 19 University Government in Canada, vii. Page 135 process. It maintained that members of the academic staff were "seeking to be treated as members of a 'community of scholars' rather than as mere employees of the Board [of Governors],"13 and, as such, should participate in governance.14
Accordingly, its recommendations included minority representation for professors on the board of governors, faculty control of the senate, and the involvement of academic staff in the selection of deans and department chairmen.15 The commissioners expressed their hopes that these proposals would address the growing tensions between faculty members and university administrators caused by "the defective structure of university government."
Concerned that conflicts might also develop between students and administrators over university governing practices, the commissioners went beyond their mandate and included a discussion of students and their role in the decision-making process in their report. "Student discontent in other countries and testimony that we heard in Canada," the report explained, "both point to the probability of growing student demands for participation in university
17 government." Dissatisfaction with existing policies and operations became particularly evident during the Free Speech Movement at University of California,
Berkeley in 1964 when students demanded the right to engage in political protest
University Government in Canada, 11. 14 Although the Duff-Berdahl report was not explicit in this argument, the CAUT had argued, as early as 1960, that the university should be governed by members of the community and that faculty members should be "given the predominant voice in governing their own university." See, Horn, Academic Freedom in Canada, 255-257. University Government in Canada, 95-97. University Government in Canada, 4. 17 University Government in Canada, 11. Page 136 and participate in university governing structures. Student grievances must be addressed, the commissioners insisted, to prevent similar confrontations from occurring at Canadian universities. Failing to address these concerns might, they argued, make the negotiating tactics employed by students "increasingly unpalatable."19 In this way, though students were largely an afterthought for the commission, the Duff-Berdahl Report recognized that they could exert tremendous influence and escalate tensions within the university community.
"The issue, then, is not whether to welcome or stifle this new wave of student sentiment, but rather how to develop channels into which it can flow constructively."20
Thus, fearful of the possibility of student upheavals at Canadian universities, the commissioners recommended a greater role for students in the governing structures. This included the establishment of joint faculty/student committees at the departmental and faculty levels of the university to discuss issues of direct relevance to students, such as course offerings, teaching methods, and library facilities. However, in response to concerns over the rapid turnover in student leadership, issues of confidentiality in board of governors deliberations, and the time commitment that would be a hardship for busy student leaders, the report suggested that Canadian universities follow the example of Scottish universities and have students elect a non-student Rector who could represent them on the board of governors. As for student representation on the senate, the
18 See, W.J. Rorabaugh, Berkeley at War: The 1960s (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989). University Government in Canada, 11. University Government in Canada, 65. Page 137 Duff-Berdahl Report recommended that students sit on committees that dealt with issues of interest to students, but not as representatives on the senate itself.21 The commissioners maintained that students had the right to some representation on decision-making bodies but not necessarily direct participation.
These recommendations regarding student participation in university governing structures elicited two distinct responses from student activists. On the one hand, many became convinced that their interests coincided with those of their professors. As University of Toronto student president Tom Faulkner argued, "Both students and faculty have a valuable contribution to make to effective decision making in matters involving them directly and indirectly."
They should both, therefore, have a voice in university decision-making structures. Similarly, former Canadian Union of Students President Hugh
Armstrong recalled, "we were in a sense natural allies against a more authoritarian, hierarchical university structure." For Armstrong, who later became a professor himself, both students and academic staff were relatively powerless members of the university community and therefore could and should join together to struggle against the administration. Ultimately, several student leaders insisted that they could work with faculty members to achieve reform of university governing structures.
University Government in Canada, 66-67. 22 UTA, A1972-0023 Students' Administrative Council, Box 031, File 7 "University Government." Statement by Tom Faulkner, n.d. 23 Hugh Armstrong, Interview with the author, 7 March 2006. See also, Pat Armstrong, Interview with the author, 7 March 2006. Page 138 On the other hand, some politically engaged students were frustrated that the Duff-Berdahl Report had failed to acknowledge the contributions that they could make to their institutions.24 Although the report claimed that faculty and students "are the university," Toronto student Howard Adelman thought that the commissioners showed "no belief that the members of a community, and of the university community in particular, should have the right to create and control the destiny and aspirations of their own environment." Instead, students were not considered responsible and mature enough to help make the decisions that affect their lives. "Universities," he argued, "must and should be governed by the members of their own community - the faculty and students which make it up."
Such frustrations with the Duff-Berdahl Report portended the development of an antagonistic relationship between faculty members and students as governance continued to be debated into the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Overall, the Duff-Berdahl Report marked a significant moment in the discussions surrounding university governance in the Sixties. Although faculty associations and administrators had been debating the issue for many years, as evidenced by the creation of the commission and the activities of its chairs at
Canadian universities, the release of the report made the reform of decision making structures a public issue on campuses throughout the nation. It forced administrators and professors to consider possible ways to transform existing
24 UTA, A1972-0023, Students' Administrative Council, Box 31, File 7 "University Government." Howard Adelman, "A Report on the Duff-Berdahl Commission Report on 'University Government in Canada'," 3. University Government in Canada, 22. 26 Adelman, 4. Adelman, 8. Page 139 policies and practices, and numerous briefs and statements were released in response to the report's recommendations. In addition, by acknowledging that students should participate in the governing process, if only to prevent further upheavals, the Duff-Berdahl report encouraged student leaders to develop their own positions on the issue. As a result, activists shifted campaigns for more responsibility and political engagement in the university, which had initially focused on and generally achieved individual and group autonomy for students on campus, to demands for greater involvement in the official governing structures of the university.
While faculty members frequently argued that they had to control the decision-making process in order to protect academic freedom, many student activists insisted that participation was their democratic right. They argued that students, as members of a democratic community both nationally and within individual universities, had the inherent right to make the decisions that affected
9Q their lives. Democracy was central to the ideological framework in Canada, and
For responses to the Duff-Berdahl Report, see, for example, UTA, A1975-0005, Office of the President, File 014 "Student Participation in University Government." D.F. Forster, "Memorandum on Student Participation in University Government," 31 May 1966; UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell Collection, Box 012, File "1966-67 (President's Council)." Robin Ross, "The Implementation of the Duff-Berdahl Report at the University of Toronto: Student Participation in University Government," 23 August 1966. 29 This position was frequently presented by student leaders throughout the Sixties. For some examples, see MUA, Ontario Union of Students Fonds, Box 22, File "Student Participation in University Government." Ken Drushka, "An Approach to University Reform," August 1965, 10; David Zirnhelt, "A Student Manifesto: In Search of a Real and Human Educational Alternative," in Student Protest, ed. Gerald F. McGuigan (Toronto: Methuen, 1968), 55; UTA, B1989- 0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 003, File "Student Movement in the 1960s." "Student Power - a Study in Dissent," [1969], 11; Serge Joyal, "Student Page 140 much of the western world, in the postwar period. Politicians, journalists, and other political, cultural, and religious commentators of the time had framed the
Second World War as a battle to protect democracy from the threat of totalitarianism. As well, Western leaders employed such rhetoric within the context of the Cold War, which, they insisted, was being fought to guard against the oppressive communists. Consequently, by the 1950s and 1960s "democracy," though never clearly defined, infused all aspects of Western society. Young people born after the war, some of whom became university students during the
Sixties, were raised in the midst of this overt ideological warfare and generally internalized ideas about equality, justice, and participation that their elders insisted were central to the democratic system.
Yet, democracy, like other hegemonic principles, was very vaguely defined. L.B. Kuffert, for example, argues that the postwar cultural elite in
Canada saw democracy in terms of a citizenry active in political decision-making and cultural production, but only as a means to protect the educated elite against
Syndicalism in Quebec," Canadian Dimension Vol.2, No.3 (March, April 1965), 21; and SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-3-2-21 "Rob Walsh - Correspondence, Sept.-Dec. 1968." Letter to Mr. W.R. Sallis from Rob Walsh, December 18, 1968. 30 See, for example, Reg Whitaker and Gary Marcuse, Cold War Canada: The Making of a National Insecurity State, 1945-1957 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994); S.L. Sutherland, Patterns of Belief and Action: Measurement of Student Political Activism (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1981), 4-6; Stewart Burns, Social Movements of the 1960s: Searching for Democracy (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1990), xi-xv; and Sara Evans, Personal Politics: The Roots of Women's Liberation in the Civil Rights Movement and the New Left (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1979). Page 141 •a i the incursions of the masses. Others, however, saw democracy in terms of social and economic equality or in terms of self-determination, the right of all people to make decisions without external pressure or force. According to historians Veronica Strong-Boag and Elaine Tyler May, democracy meant participation in decision-making, but also consumption, security, and stability.33
Such imprecise explanations help to ensure that everyone can find their own ideas and beliefs within the ideology. In the case of student demands for participation in governing structures, which frequently rested on such notions of democracy, vague definitions meant that many students often saw their own positions reflected in the words used by their elected representatives and those who appointed themselves to speak on behalf of the student body, even if those individuals meant something completely different. It also meant that justifications for particular demands generally remained ambiguous and imprecise.
Since faculty members had successfully forced their demands for governmental reform to the national stage, a national group, the Canadian Union
1 L.B. Kuffert, A Great Duty: Canadian Responses to Modern Life and Mass Culture, 1939-1967 (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2003). See, for example, James Struthers, The Limits of Affluence: Welfare in Ontario, 1920-1970 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994) and Jim Harding, "SUPA: an ethical movement in search of an analysis," in Our Generation Against Nuclear War, ed. Dimitrios Roussopoulos, (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 1983), 335-343. See also, Michael Parenti, Democracy for the Few, 6th ed. (Boston: Bedford/St. Martin's, 1995), 46. 33 Veronica Strong-Boag, "Home Dreams: Women and the Suburban Experiment in Canada, 1945-60," Canadian Historical Review• Vol.72, No.4 (1991), 474 Elaine Tyler May, Homeward Bound: American Families in the Cold War Era (New York: Basic Books, 1988), 10-11. Page 142 of Students (CUS), formulated a student position on the issue. At its September
1966 Congress at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the organization, under the leadership Doug Ward, who had previously guided campaigns for autonomy as student government president at University of Toronto, passed two motions relating to university governance. CUS had become a more political group by the mid-1960s,34 and its leaders were developing campaigns that could enhance their responsibility for and influence over certain key concerns of the period, including student participation in the decision-making process on individual campuses. The first motion passed at the 1966 Congress, not long after the release of the Duff-Berdahl Report, stated that "decisions made in the government of an institution of post-secondary education should be made in a democratically open manner." The second insisted that students were "full and
34 The National Federation of Canadian University Students (NFCUS) had changed its name to the Canadian Union of Students (CUS) in 1963 in an attempt to maintain unity between French- and English-speaking members of the organization. Although this attempt was unsuccessful, and Quebec students withdrew from the organization in 1964, the name change also ushered in a new era for the national organization. CUS increasingly shifted from a service organization to a political organization and began lobbying around a number of issues related to higher education in Canada, including student loans and accessibility and democracy in university governing structures. See, Robert Frederick Clift, "The Fullest Development of Human Potential: The Canadian Union of Students 1963-1969," MA Thesis, University of British Columbia, 2002. 35 Clift, 37-38. 36 This motion was reprinted in UTA, Al972-0023 Students' Administrative Council, Box 029, File 02. Douglas Hay, Victor Hori & Jennifer Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto," 26 September 1966, Appendix B, Canadian Union of Students' Motion. Page 143 equal" members of the university community and should therefore participate in the decision-making process.
The first of these two CUS motions was drafted in response to concerns that official decisions were being made behind closed doors at Canadian universities. While this had not been an issue for the Duff-Berdahl commission, it was an important point for student leaders because they insisted that such secrecy completely excluded them from the governing structures and provided them with little knowledge as to how the decisions that affected them were actually made.
Yet, because they were only just beginning to grapple with the governance issues raised by their professors, these students initially remained unclear about their positions; the concept of "openness" in university decision-making was never clearly defined or articulated. For CUS, openness related to vague conceptions of democracy. Open decision-making was essential, the organization argued, because the "essence of higher education is open and free discussion, and...this ideal is not realized when the government of institutions of higher learning is conducted in secrecy." As well, secrecy in university decision-making produced
"unnecessary and harmful tensions" and prevented students and professors from exercising "their rights and responsibilities as members of the institution."
This motion was reprinted in URA, 80-38 Principal's Papers, Box 17, File 404.10-1 "Tripartite Committee 1973." Students' Union, "Proposal for Joint Student-Faculty Committees," 1. •30 Hay, Hori & Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto," Appendix B. 39 Hay, Hori & Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto," Appendix B. Page 144 Immediately following the 1966 CUS Congress, representatives of the
Students' Administrative Council (SAC) at University of Toronto drafted a brief
that demanded the opening of university governing bodies to public, or at least
student, scrutiny. Although this statement made direct reference to the motion
passed by the national organization, student leaders in Toronto justified their
concerns in a different way. For them, openness was an issue of accountability.
As Douglas Hay, Victor Hori, and Jennifer Penney, members of SAC's University
Committee, explained in their brief, "decisions and policies must...be justified
before all members of the academic community [and] whenever possible these
decisions and policies [should] be made in public."40 As such, SAC, continuing
to take a conciliatory stance, requested that administrators make minutes of
meetings of governing bodies widely available and allow all members of the
community to attend these meetings.41
At the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, student councilors
articulated concerns regarding secrecy in the decision-making structures even before the CUS motion was passed in 1966. As student government representatives continued to campaign for autonomy for the Students' Union,
which they argued was necessary if students were to effectively participate as politically engaged members of the university community,42 they insisted that
40 Hay, Hori & Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto," 5. 41 Hay, Hori & Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto," 6 and UTA, A1985-0031 Office of the Registrar, Box 019, File "Student Participation, Part II." "Openness at the University of Toronto," 15 May 1969, 1. 42 See Chapter 2. Page 145 knowledge of how decisions were made was also a prerequisite for such
involvement. "If the student is ever to change the University and become a
moving force within it," one article in the student newspaper argued, "he [sic]
must come to understand his environment, the workings of this institution.... For,
if ever he [sic] is to confront and challenge the university personally and directly,
he [sic] must know in detail where it affects him [sic]."43 The confrontational
tone of this statement highlights the hostile and aggressive relationship that
student leaders in Regina had developed with their administrators over the
preceding years. As discussed in Chapter 2, these students attempted to achieve
organizational autonomy for student government without reference to or
consultation of university officials and, as the Board of Governors and the
principal of the campus continued to block such efforts, student politicians
became increasingly adversarial. In order to "confront and challenge the
university" to effect change, these students demanded the right to see for
themselves how decisions were being made.
While these campaigns against secrecy in university governing structures
at University of Toronto and Regina Campus emerged by the mid-1960s, such
concerns did not attract the specific attention of student leaders at Simon Fraser
University until 1968. In part, this might be a result of the very different context
at the latter institution. It was faculty members, rather than students who initially pressed for greater student participation in university governing structures. The
academic staff at SFU was comprised primarily of young, politically active
43 "The Student, His Power and Potential," The Carillon 24 September 1965, 4. Page 146 individuals who were dedicated to the democratization of the institution. As such, many of them insisted that students had the right to participate in the university's decision-making processes. At the same time, these faculty members also wanted to attract student support for their own campaigns for greater participation in governing structures, recognizing the power and influence of students within the university community as a result of their significant numbers and potential for political engagement.44 At the outset, student activists played very little role in the campaign for increased participation and, as a result, did not really consider the problem of the closed proceedings of decision-making bodies until much later than their counterparts in Regina and Toronto.
When they eventually identified this as a concern, they justified their demands in a different way as well. Similar to CUS, student representatives at
SFU emphasized notions of democracy. However, their definition of democracy diverged from that presented by the national student organization; they stressed the importance of self-determination. As one student, Sharon Yandle, explained in reference to one governing body on campus, "[ejnding Senate secrecy is a preliminary move, long denied us, in the direction of meaningful democratic process and towards the realization of the demand now heard from students all across Canada: decisions must be made by those affected by them."45 In this way, some student leaders articulated a concern that students were being left out of the
44 See, SFU A, F-84 Senate Fonds, F-84-1-13-0-1 "Senate Ctee on Student Representation and Openness of Senate Meetings - Report, Jan. 1967." "Report of Senate Committee to Study Student Representation and Openess [sic] of Senate Meetings," January 1967. 45 Sharon Yandle, "Senate Inside and out," The Peak 31 July 1968. Page 147 governing process even though the decisions being made directly shaped their experiences at the university. They insisted that open governance, which could provide students with information about how policies were being formulated, would allow those most influenced by decisions to contribute to a greater extent to the governing process and thus make university more democratic.
Ultimately, while student representatives at all three universities failed to define the issue of openness in a clear and precise manner, administrators proved relatively responsive to their demands. However, it often took many years and continued pressure from student leaders, including their refusal to participate in or respect the decisions made by any body whose deliberations were closed to members of the university community,4 to eliminate secrecy in the decision making process. Nevertheless, by the late 1960s, interested faculty members and students could attend the meetings of most governing bodies and could obtain written accounts of all deliberations, except when clear justifications were presented for secrecy.47
While there are many possible reasons why administrators reformed their policies, their own records seem to indicate that they believed that opening their governing bodies to public scrutiny would prevent further tensions or conflicts
46 See, for example, UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 012, "1966-67 President's Council." Various letters between Tom Faulkner and Claude Bissell, 1966-1967. 47 See, UTA, A1985-0031 Office of the Registrar, Box 019, File "Student Participation, Part II." "Openness at the University of Toronto," 15 May 1969 and URA, 80-38, Principal's Papers, Box 17, File 404.10-1 "Tripartite Committee, 1973." W.A. Riddell, "Student Participation in University Government University of Saskatchewan," 28 September 1970. Page 148 from developing with their students. Ending secrecy in the decision-making process was a relatively minor and insignificant concession that would not threaten existing structures but might satisfy a substantial proportion of the student body and mitigate against further conflict. This decision, then, might have been a simple case of divide and rule; while student leaders might continue to escalate their demands and tactics, administrators may have been betting that a large number of students would be contented with these concessions and would refuse to participate in other campaigns. By the late 1960s, university officials were well aware of the potential for confrontation with their students, both as a result of events at Berkeley and other universities, but also because of their experiences with student representatives during debates over student government autonomy, discipline, and, as will be discussed in Chapter 5, the purpose of the university. As such, they may have hoped that simple concessions, that did not require a major overhaul of structures or power relations on campus, would limit additional hostilities with their students.49
Yet, at the same time that student leaders demanded access to the proceedings of university governing bodies, they also insisted that students had the right to membership on these bodies. For example, as mentioned above, the
Canadian Union of Students, in response to the recommendations of the Duff-
Berdahl Report, passed a motion in 1966 arguing that students should participate
48 See, for example, Ross, "The Implementation of the Duff-Berdahl Report at the University of Toronto," 2 and Riddell, Participation in University Government University of Saskatchewan." 49 See, Ross, "The Implementation of the Duff-Berdahl Report at the University of Toronto," 2 and Riddell, Participation in University Government University of Saskatchewan." Page 149 directly in the decision-making process. While Duff and Berdahl argued that such involvement was necessary to prevent students from employing
"increasingly unpalatable" tactics,51 many student activists, at least at the
University of Toronto and the Regina Campus, maintained that students had different concerns than other members of the university community and that these
CO must be considered by decision-makers. As those most immediately affected by policy decisions, University of Toronto SAC representatives argued, students have a "unique perspective" to contribute to the decision-making process.53 Thus, while inspired by the demands presented by their professors, these students were conceiving of students as a separate group with their own interests and concerns.
In addition, as they demonstrated during their campaigns for student government autonomy, student leaders wanted to be more involved in the political discussions occurring on campus. Many active students, especially in the mid-
1960s before they had any direct experience on decision-making bodies, seemed to have been convinced that important debates were occurring at the board of governors, the senate, departmental and faculty councils, and various committees;
Students' Union, "Proposal for Joint Student-Faculty Committees," 1. University Government in Canada, 11. 52 Students' Union, "Proposal for Joint Student-Faculty Committees," 1. See also, Hay, Hori & Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto," 9. 53 Hay, Hori & Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto," 5. Page 150 if they wanted to be responsible members of the university community, they argued, they would need to participate directly on these bodies.
Demands for direct representation on governing bodies were, like the campaign for openness, generally rooted in certain definitions of democracy. In particular, student leaders argued that all members of the community had the right to participate in making the decisions that affect their lives.55 As the editor of The
Varsity explained, "students not only have the right to know about decisions which affect their activities, they have a right to participate in the making of these decisions.... [Tjhere is no question that they should participate in making decisions affecting their own activities."56 The Students' Union in Regina also maintained that "anyone implicated by a decision should be present at the discussion leading to the decision and involved...in the actual decision-making process."57
University administrators again demonstrated a willingness to concede to these demands. At Simon Fraser University, for example, where faculty members largely spearheaded the campaign for student representation, the Senate agreed in
February 1967 to establish three seats for students, making SFU the first
See, Students' Union, "Proposal for Joint Student-Faculty Committees," 1 and Hay, Hori & Penney, "Student Participation in the Government of the University of Toronto." David Zirnhelt, "A Student Manifesto: In Search of a Real and Human Educational Alternative," in Student Protest, ed. Gerald F. McGuigan (Toronto: Methuen, 1968), 55. 56 "let's find out - now," The Varsity 26 January 1966, 4. See also, Editorial, The Peak 13 September 1967, 4. 57 MUA, NFCUS/CUS, Accrual 1, Section 4, Box 33, File "University of Saskatchewan (Regina)." D. Lapres, "Open Decision Making," [n.d]. Page 151 university in Canada with student representatives on that body. At the
University of Toronto, President Claude Bissell offered students seats on various
committees throughout the university, on most faculty, department, and college
boards, and on the President's Council, which was the primary advisory body in
the university.59 As well, at the Regina Campus, the faculty council created a
committee to study possible ways of improving student participation, and
Principal William Riddell sent a letter encouraging faculties and departments to
find ways to include students in decision-making activities.60 University of
Saskatchewan President J.W.T. Spinks also recommended the establishment of joint faculty-student committees within the wider university.61
There are many reasons why university administrators were willing to
grant direct student representation on university governing bodies. If, as Beth
Bailey argues, the university was responsible for fostering maturity,
responsibility, and citizenship, this "quite logically led them to encourage students
to take greater roles in the governance of the university." As well, as
See, "Senate accepts students," The Peak 8 February 1967, 1 and Johnston, 120. 59 See, UTA, A1977-0019 Office of the President, Box 016, File "CAPUT." "Notes by R. Ross on steps that might be taken against possible trouble in the university in the Fall," [1968], 3 and UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 012, File "1966-67 President's Council." Various letters between Tom Faulkner and Claude Bissell, 1966-1967. 60 See, URA, 78-3 USRC Office of the Principal, File 400.9. Joint Committee on Student Participation in University Government, 1966-70 and URA, Regina Council Minutes and Agendas 1970-May 1974. Memorandum to all members of faculty from Principal W.A. Riddell, 12 September 1968. 61 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 371. 62 Beth Bailey, "From Panty Raids to Revolution: Youth and Authority, 1950- 1970," in Generations of Youth: Youth Cultures and History in Twentieth-Century America, eds. Joe Austin & Michael Nevin Willard (New York: New York University Press, 1998), 192. Page 152 administrators accepted the idea that students were responsible adult members of the community, it became difficult to resist students' claims for greater involvement in the university. University officials also recognized that there was significant support among students for more participation. As Regina
Campus Principal Riddell explained, there was an "increasing demand on the part of university students for participation in university government."64
According to historian Michiel Horn, administrators may have granted student representation because they "recognized.. .that student membership on university committees.. .was more likely to lead to the co-optation of student leaders than to bring about important changes in the university's operations."65 In other words, through their participation in the governing process, student representatives would be forced to take some responsibility or even ownership for the policy decisions being made. This could potentially undermine future protests by dividing the student body from their representatives and demonstrating that students did have an opportunity to participate in the "system." In this way, university administrators acknowledged the demands presented by student leaders
63 UTA, A1971-0011 Office of the President, Box 096, File "Joint Staff-Student Committees." Memorandum to Deans, Principals, Directors, and Chairmen of Departments from Claude Bissell, President, 22 September 1966, 2. 64 URA, 80-38, Principal's Papers, Box 17, File 404.10-1 "Tripartite Committee, 1973." W.A. Riddell, "Student Participation in University Government University of Saskatchewan," 28 September 1970, 1. See also, Ross, "The Implementation of the Duff-Berdahl Report at the University of Toronto: Student Participation in University Government," 2 and Dr. Glen H. Geen, Acting Head, Department of Biology, "Letter to the Editor: SFU Clarification," Kelowna Daily Courier 28 August 1968, 4. 65 Horn, 30. Page 153 in an attempt to more effectively manage the growing student body and prevent students from uniting together into a mass movement.
Fear of the potential power of the student body may have influenced university administrators in their decision to grant students direct representation on governing bodies. They believed that governmental reforms would appease many students and quell what might have become a more radical student movement. As Claude Bissell stated: "My attitude toward student power is that it must be accepted as a fact of life and made to contribute to the orderly government of the University. If it is left outside it will become increasingly a tough and irreconcilable trade union consistently forcing issues and exercising veto over the University."66 Similarly, according to University of Saskatchewan
President Spinks, giving students a greater role in the governing process would
"place the administration in a strong position in dealing with unreasonable student protests and demonstrations." Thus, university administrators recognized the influence that the ever-expanding population of politically engaged students might exert if they banded together and they sought to prevent such alliances from forming by acquiescing to demands for greater participation in the decision making process.
In some ways, these various reasons demonstrate the contradictions that emerged in the concessions that administrators granted or resisted at each university. On the one hand, they were willing to give students a vote on
66 UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 005, File "CUG Personal Communications." Letter to M.W. McCutcheon from Claude Bissell, 30 September 1968. Quoted in, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 371. Page 154 university bodies as a way to recognize students' demands without significant structural change. Students would only have a minority voice and would therefore be unlikely to have a serious impact on policy decisions. At the same time, these concessions would mollify a significant portion of the student body and prevent the creation of a powerful and united student movement. On the other hand, as discussed in Chapter 2, student government autonomy created an independent student organization that would be incredibly difficult for the administration to control. While university officials sometimes attempted to resist calls for sovereignty, they ultimately recognized a policy change that could seriously limit their power on campus. Perhaps this contradiction can be explained by the timing of each concession; maybe once administrators recognized what they had done by granting student government autonomy they became more astute and sought ways to placate some students and separate them from their leaders while limiting the actual structural change that might occur.
Nevertheless, both decisions gave students greater responsibility within the university.
ESCALATING DEMANDS - PARITY
Having achieved a measure of success by obtaining greater influence over the governing structures of the university, a new cohort of student representatives saw, by the late 1960s and early 1970s, the potential that their campaigns and unified student action could reach and they escalated their demands. No longer satisfied with minority involvement in the decision-making process or traditional
Page 155 forms of politics, these students insisted upon equal representation with their professors on all university bodies. At all three universities, specific events, rooted in the unique historical context of each place, provided an opportunity for student leaders to struggle towards this goal. In doing so, they came into direct conflict with university administrators and, for the first time, faculty members.
As such, significant numbers of students came to recognize their distinctiveness within the university and the power that they might wield if they worked together with their peers. Students increasingly allied with their leaders into a relatively united force and the student movement reached a high point by the late 1960s and early 1970s around the issue of governance.
At Simon Fraser University, a crisis over governance offered a chance for student activists to demand even greater participation in the decision-making process. From the time SFU opened in 1965, conflicts had developed between the academic staff, who wanted a greater role in university government, and the extraordinarily powerful Board of Governors, which many faculty members insisted continued to overstep its boundaries. To ensure that SFU was designed and constructed as quickly as possible to address the growing demand for postsecondary education in British Columbia, the Board was given control over the entire decision-making process. While many people assumed that governing authority would be redistributed once the university opened, that body continued to exert exceptional influence in most areas of operation.68 These disputes culminated in a major crisis in 1968. When the Board overturned the contract of
See, Johnston, 38. Page 156 psychology professor Kenneth Burstein in 1967, interfering in what was essentially an academic matter,69 the exasperated Faculty Association called on the Canadian Association of University Teachers (CAUT) to look into the situation. The CAUT agreed to investigate and sent a committee to visit the campus in January 1968.
In February 1968, after meeting with the President, the Executive of the
Faculty Association, and a number of other professors, teaching assistants, and
70 students, the committee members released a report in which they argued that the problems at SFU lay in "an absentee management and an undemocratic 71 distribution of power along certain lines." In particular, they claimed that the major issue was the "intervention by the Board of Governors in matters that 79 properly belonged to the President." They recommended that academic decisions, such as appointments and promotions, should be made by faculty members through democratic procedures; that at least three members of the Board Burstein had been denied renewal of his contract by the head of the Psychology Department, Bernard Lyman, appointed by President McTaggart-Cowan after the former head, Lome Kendall, had taken extended medical leave. Burstein appealed to both the Faculty of Arts Committee on Salaries and Promotions and to the University Committee, both of which were composed of administration- appointed department heads. When both committees recommended a one-year renewal, Burstein appealed to the president who named a special subcommittee, which then recommended a two-year renewal. However, the Board of Governors then overturned this decision and renewed Burstein's contract for just one year. See Johnston, 266-267. 70 J.B. Milner, Alwyn Berland & J. Percy Smith, "Report on Simon Fraser University by the Special Investigating Committee of the Canadian Association of University Teachers, February 9, 1968," C.A.U.T. Bulletin Vol.16, No.4 (April 1968), 11. 71 J. Percy Smith, "Developments at Simon Fraser University," C.A.U.T. Bulletin Vol.17, No.l (October 1968), 25. 72 Smith, 7. Page 157 of Governors be elected by the academic staff from their ranks; that Department
Heads and Deans be selected democratically and for short terms; that an exclusively academic body representative of the entire teaching staff be
established; and that the university adopt an appointment and tenure policy along
CAUT guidelines.73 In other words, they supported faculty demands for control over university decision-making procedures.
When the situation had not been resolved by May 1968, the CAUT voted to censure the Board of Governors and the President.74 In response, the Board decided to remove President Patrick McTaggart-Cowan from his position and appointed John Ellis, a professor in Education, as his successor. However, the
Faculty Association rejected this appointment, insisting that Ellis was merely a
"board man" who did not actually represent the teaching staff on campus.
Lacking support, Ellis immediately resigned his position, and faculty representatives audaciously elected a Temporary Acting President, Archie
MacPherson of the Geography Department, without ever consulting the Board of
Governors. Although the chancellor, Gordon Shrum, initially declared this election illegal because the Universities Act endowed the Board of Governors with sole responsibility for appointing a president, he and the Board ultimately
/J Smith, 26-27. 74 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, F-74-3-2-20 "Martin Loney - Correspondence, May-Aug. 1968." "Resolution of Censure Against the Board of Governors and the President of Simon Fraser University," 26 May 1968. Page 158 ratified the appointment. In essence, the faculty had taken over control of the university.75
This confrontation between the academic staff and the administration provided student leaders with an opportunity to put forward their own demands.
Having already developed a confrontational relationship with university administrators over the TA Affair, discussed in Chapter 2, these students expressed their support for their professors, with whom they insisted they shared a common purpose, but also mirrored calls for the complete democratization of the university. By 1968, many students on campus seemed to have accepted the need for greater participation in the decision-making process as is evidenced by the election of a Student Power slate, comprised primarily of members of the left- wing Students for a Democratic University (SDU), to the Executive of the Simon
Fraser Student Society (SFSS) that year. Frustrated that their involvement in the decision-making process was limited to only three seats on the Senate, the slate had issued a "Programme of Action" that stressed direct and effectual involvement of "educators and students" in the university's governing structures.77 In response to the CAUT censure, the SFSS Executive issued eight demands including a restructuring of the Board of Governors and Senate with majority faculty and student control, abolition of the offices of President and
Chancellor, democratization of departmental structures, and the establishment of a
75 Dionysios Rossi, "Mountaintop Mayhem: Simon Fraser University 1965-1971," MA Thesis, Simon Fraser University, 2003, 129-133. 76 "CAUT report," The Peak, January 24, 1968, 4 77 SFUA, F-79 The Simon Fraser University Faculty Association Fonds, File F- 79-3-4-1 "CAUT censure of SFU, 1967-69." "A Programme of Action for SFU," [1968], 3. Page 159 joint student-faculty committee to supervise the implementation of these demands.78 In other words, student council members wanted full and equal participation in the university governing system. "What we want," explained student senator Sharon Yandle, drawing again upon notions of democracy, "is control over the decisions which affect us."79
A number of campus political groups, including the more right-wing
Progressive Conservatives and Socreds, and a significant proportion of the wider student body expressed their support for these demands. Following a general meeting held 30 May 1968, 89 per cent of the more than 1 600 students who voted in a referendum supported calls for the resignation of the Board of
Governors and 58 per cent approved a motion to hold a week-long "moratorium" on classes. Students, however, later overruled the use of a moratorium at another general meeting. Some students, it seems, opposed the tactics employed by their leaders. Nevertheless, a significant number voted in favour of demands for dramatic restructuring within the university.
Student activists initially maintained that success could only be achieved if they worked with their professors to reform SFU's governing structures. As the
SDU argued, "only the fullest and closest cooperation between the organizations of the faculty and the concerned students can pull us through the critical period
78 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-2-0-13 "Minutes May-Aug. 1968." Minutes of Special General Meeting, 30 May 1968. Jaan Pill, "Drastic change demanded: Board, senate reform must come," The Peak7>\ May 1968, 1. 80 Pill, "Drastic change demanded." John Jaan Pill, "No boycott; record vote fails to pass," The Peak 4 June 1968, 1. Page 160 we now face." However, it was immediately apparent that the "faculty 'take- over"' of the university did not include the students. Once the Faculty
Association no longer required the support of students to achieve their goal, they voted to exclude the students from entire process, defeating six motions aimed at giving them a voice in the selection of a new president and the development of new governing structures. This illustrated for many students the fragile nature of their alliances with other groups on campus. As one SDU leader, John
Conway, argued, "faculty representatives sold out to the [Board of Governors] in return for a slice of the privileged pie."85
When it became clear that most professors were not going to support the inclusion of students in the decision-making processes of the university, student leaders decided to take a more aggressive approach. They organized a "non- obstructive sit-in" at the entrance to the Administration Building, and forty students, mostly members of SDU, occupied the Board of Governors meeting room on 6 June 1968. The purpose of the occupation, explained SDU member
Jim Harding, who later became a professor himself, was to publicize their position that "[p]ower relations must change for real democracy to come to this campus.
Board power and student power are not reconcilable... If we lose sight of our
SFUA, F-20 The Department of Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology Fonds, File F-20-3-4-22 "Faculty dispute - handouts, 1968-74." SDU Information Bulletin Vol.1, No.l, [1968]. 83 Rossi, 133. 84 See, Rossi, 133 and David Doupe, "Faculty Decide No student voice," The Peak 6 June 1968, 1. Of SFUA, F-20 The Department of Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology Fonds, File F-20-3-4-22 "Faculty dispute - handouts, 1968-74." John Conway, "Build Student Power," September 1968. "Council sits on BoG room sit-in stand," The Peak 12 June 1968, 1. Page 161 overall goals - BOG [Board of Governors] resignation and total democratic
0*7 restructuring - then student power demands will be smothered." The occupation ended after university administrators agreed to "communicate to the board the students' request that the board meet openly with a 'committee representative of the full student body to discuss implementation of the eight student demands.'"88
The situation, however, was not so easily resolved. Although the Faculty
Association agreed to allow students to consult on the appointment of a new president and passed a motion recognizing the principle of student participation,89 discussions between professors and students soon broke down. Disputes occurred over the implementation of open meetings, and faculty members continued to reject the students' choice for the new president, Professor John Seeley. Seeley was Head of the Centre for the Study of Democratic Institutions at the University of California, Santa Barbara. He had previously acted as Chairman of Sociology at Brandeis University and had spearheaded efforts to democratize the department.90 According to two students who were members of the Presidential
Search Committee, faculty representatives refused to consider Seeley because he could not take up the position until January 1969, he was not from SFU, and he
s/ SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-9-0-11 "Ephemera, 1965-68." Jim Harding, "Where is the BOG???????" n.d. 88 "on the way," The Peak 12 June 1968, 2. 89 See, Harding, "Where is the BOG???????" and "Action by faculty, students," The Peak 12 June 1968, 1. 90 Jane Yohiko Ikeda, "The Struggle Over Decision-Making Power at Simon Fraser University 1965-1968," MA Thesis, University of Calgary, 1971, 101-103. Page 162 encouraged student involvement in decision-making. The students objected to the faculty's choice, SFU economics professor Kenneth Strand, because he "did not indicate to our satisfaction that his philosophy was in teaching people to govern themselves."
Faced with a threat from Shrum that the Board of Governors would unilaterally appoint a new president if a decision was not reached immediately, most student representatives on the committee supported Strand's election.
However, a minority maintained that the faculty committee had operated in bad faith and had abandoned the principle of student participation in decision-making at the university. As a result, many student leaders felt betrayed by their professors. As Peter Knowlden explained in an article in The Peak: "The final outcome shattered the ideological dream of faculty/student solidarity in a flurry of petty perfidy."95 While the CAUT crisis provided student leaders with their first opportunity to organize their own campaign to demand representation on university governing bodies, it also illustrated for many that their interests were significantly different from those of their professors and that they would have to
yi SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-8-0-0-7 "Student involvement in university administrative appointments, 1968." Richard Apostle and John Conway, "Minority Report of the Student Acting Presidential Search Committee," 1 August 1968, 2. 92 Quoted in Ikeda, 104. 93See,Ikeda, 105. See Apostle and Conway, "Minority Report of the Student Acting Presidential Search Committee"; and SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-5-0-9 "Presidential Search Committee, 1969." "Statement of the former members of the Student Presidential Search Committee," [1969]. Peter Knowlden, "Presidents and principles," The Peak A September 1968, 4. Page 163 adopt a more confrontational approach to achieve their goal of a more meaningful voice in the decision-making process.
In the wake of these events, which recognized the need for the democratization of SFU and the principle of student participation, some student activists shifted their attention to their individual departments and initiated a campaign for even greater involvement in the governing structures on campus.
Having developed a more hostile relationship with many faculty members, who now comprised the university administration as a result of the CAUT censure, these students faced direct opposition to their efforts. The aggressive actions taken by administrators convinced a significant number of students that they were better off working with their peers rather than their professors to achieve their goals, which had evolved to include equal representation with faculty members on decision-making bodies.
The main centre for this campaign was the Political Science, Sociology, and Anthropology (PSA) Department, which, from its establishment, had developed a unique perspective on education and a reputation for radical politics.
Under the direction of the first head of the PSA Department, Tom Bottomore, a number of politically active faculty members and students had been brought into the department. These individuals consciously developed an alternative vision of education based on three key principles: critical social science, which demanded that scholars engage critically with society; democratic control, which viewed education as a co-operative process between professors and students and recognized the need for active involvement in the governing process; and
Page 164 community integration, which challenged social scientists to serve the needs of the community rather than the needs of the wealthy and powerful. Dedicated to the principle of student participation, many of the faculty members in the department sought ways to further involve their students in governance. Both professors and students in PSA viewed the CAUT censure as only the first step on the road to democratization; in its wake they considered various ways to create a more democratic governing structure in the department and ultimately decided to open all departmental meetings to the public and move aggressively towards
equal faculty-student representation on governing bodies, also known as parity.
Based on recommendations made by the PSA course union, a student organization dominated by members of the Students for a Democratic University
(SDU), the professors in the PSA Department put into operation of system of parallel, parity structures, which gave students and their teachers equal say in all decisions made within the department. The justification for these structures was to create "an academic community of equals, without role or status distinctions"
QO by "maximizing] the real power of students." In this way, many faculty members and student representatives in the PSA Department saw themselves as equal partners within the university community who should contribute equally to the decision-making structures. Only through parity, they argued, could they fully
96 See, "PSA Statement of Principles," The Peak 16 July 1969, 8. See also, Johnston, 300-301. 97 John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006. 98 "Report of the Student Power Research Sub-Committee," PSA Department, Simon Fraser University, June 1968, 2-3. Page 165 participate in efforts to effect change within the university in line with their educational philosophies."
Yet, the decision to implement parity brought individuals in the PSA
Department into conflict with administrators and other faculty members on campus. While the Faculty Association had, according to SFU student leader Jim
Harding, "overwhelmingly endorsed a motion giving each department the right to democratically run its affairs" during the CAUT crisis, "the faculty and administration began to have second thoughts as PSA became an example for students from other departments and other universities."100 Many professors, this assessment maintains, accepted the principles of democratization and student participation but did not approve of the way such concepts were put into practice.
Of greatest concern for these individuals was the right of students to participate in equal numbers with faculty members in making personnel decisions, including those related to tenure, promotion, and contract renewal. Students, they argued, did not have the knowledge or experience to make such decisions and would make tenure and promotion decisions based on political rather than academic considerations.101 In other words, they did not want students to have influence over pronouncements related to their careers. As such, in July 1968 the yy See, "PSA Statement of Principles." Jim Harding, "The Strike at SFU," in Student Radicalism and National Liberation: Essays from the New Left Revolt in Canada - 1964-74 Vol.1: In the Throes of Change: Writings of Jim Harding, (ed.) Jim Harding (Fort Qu'Appelle, SK: Crows Nest Publishing, 2005), 109. 101 See, SFUA, F-131 The Norman Swartz PSA Collection, F-131-0-1 "PSA Binder 1, 1/3,1969-70." Dean Sullivan, Faculty of Arts, Memorandum to All Members of the Faculty of Arts, 16 July 1969 and SFUA, F-150 Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology Collection, F-l50-0-1 "Press Releases, 1969-70." T.B. Bottomore, Press Release, 23 July 1969. Page 166 University Tenure Committee (UTC) refused to accept recommendations made by the parity committee within the PSA department, arguing that "while student opinion might be canvassed by the department's tenure committee, no parity rights nor exercise of veto would be permitted by the elected student committee nor by the P.S.A. Student Plenum as a whole."102 This decision undermined the attempts in the department to give students an equal voice in the decision-making process. The majority of professors in PSA remained committed to student parity and refused to reconsider the tenure and promotion decisions made by the departmental committees. The university administration, now dominated by faculty members, responded by placing PSA under an administrative trusteeship, which would make all of the decisions for the department. The university administration thus proved willing to use aggressive tactics to eliminate parity structures on campus.
In August 1969 the newly formed PSA Tenure Committee, comprised of administration-appointed trustees, reversed a number of the decisions made by the parity tenure and promotions committee in the department. It denied contract renewal in two cases, allowed for one-year renewals dependent upon the completion of a PhD in eight months in four other cases, and denied promotion in three of four cases.104 According to many members of the PSA Department, these
102 SFUA, F-85 Office of the Registrar Fonds, File F-85-1-0-0-1 "PSA materials, 1969-70, vol.1." Concerned Faculty and Students, "The Crunch," 9 July 1969, 1. 103 Concerned Faculty and Students, "The Crunch," 1. 104 Johnston, 309. Most surprising to those in the department was the decision regarding Kathleen Gough Aberle, a very well-respected sociologist. In this instance the Department Tenure Committee chose to make no recommendation and instead forwarded her case directly the University Tenure Committee (UTC). Page 167 decisions were an attempt to conduct a political purge by dismissing individuals whose ideological views were threatening to the university despite their academic records.105 In response, faculty members in the department issued four
"inseparable" demands to SFU President Kenneth Strand: an immediate end to the administrative trusteeship and the reinstatement of the democratically-elected chairman; the immediate rescinding of the recommendations made on tenure, promotion, and renewals by the trustee committee; acceptance of the recommendations on tenure, promotions, and renewals put forward by the PSA
Department's elected tenure committee; and a recognition of the right for departments to experiment with their organization and educational procedures.106
These demands sought to protect the parity decision-making structures in the department and prevent radical faculty members from losing their jobs. Strand immediately rejected all four demands.1 7
The aggressive tactics employed by university officials garnered an antagonistic response from many students and faculty members in the PSA
Department who joined together to resist the pressure of the administration. In
September 1969, over 400 students and professors in the department met to
The UTC then recommended that she not be given tenure and that her contract not be renewed at all. See, Rossi, 184. 105 "Tenure - Criteria," The Peak 3 September 1969, 1; See also, LAC, RG-146 Canadian Security Intelligence Service Records, File 96-A-00045, pt.50. "Simon Fraser University," 1 September 1970, 5. 106 See, SFU A, F-131 The Norman Swartz PSA Collection, File F-131-0-2 "PSA Binder 1 2/3, 1969." "An Open Letter to President Kenneth L. Strand," 8 September 1969. 107 SFU A, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-10-8-0-9 "Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology, 1969." Letter to all faculty from Kenneth Strand, 15 September 1969. Page 168 discuss the administration's actions, and they decided to create a General
Assembly, which united them in one organization. As one student explained,
"parity was designed to equalize the distribution of power within the department in the conduct of its normal operations; since the trusteeship, however, neither students nor faculty had any real power left, and the normal functioning of the department was in fact halted. What was required.. .was a new structure that would emphasize the common unity of faculty and students in their struggle with
10R the administration." Instructors, concerned about their jobs and their democratic educational experiment, and student leaders, dedicated to parity and seeking grater influence and power within the department and the university, found common cause and formed an alliance to resist the pressures from the administration. The General Assembly set a deadline of 22 September for the administration to respond to its demands and, when such a response was not forthcoming, voted to strike on 24 September 1969.109
Many members of the department contended that, in the face of strong repression, a strike was their only option. "There really wasn't much of an alternative at that point," recalled Jim Harding. "There was no room to negotiate.
They basically told the faculty that they were in trusteeship and.. .they took their authority and put it into receivership.... There was no decision-making structure left."110 Having failed to accomplish their goals through the use of so-called proper channels, students and faculty members within the PSA Department
108 „pSA Considers Strike: Monday Deadline Set," The Peak 17 September 1969, 1. 109 "PSA Considers Strike: Monday Deadline Set." 110 Jim Harding, Interview with the author, 20 January 2006. Page 169 insisted that they would have to use a more radical and confrontational approach
to forward their agenda, entering into direct warfare with the university
administration. "Looking back," John Conway explained, "you can say it was an
act of desperation, but [there was the sense] that if we don't do this, we may lose,
or we're losing anyway, piece by piece."1' *
Throughout the strike, which included the withdrawal of services by a
number of professors and teaching assistants, the creation of "counter-courses,"
the obstruction of classes by picketers, and a hunger strike, student
participation in university governance remained the central issue, at least for the
students. As Conway later recalled, "The decision by the administration was.. .to
smash the experiment. They were saying, 'You can't have parity. You can't have
democracy. You have to go back to the acceptable model.'"113 This reflection
mirrored what Norm Wickstrom, Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS) President
publicly explained during the crisis: the administration's "argument that Student
Parity was unacceptable on committees dealing with hiring and firing, sparked the
decision of Council to involve the Student Society in academic matters. We
cannot surrender the Parity issue."114 A motion by students in the Economics and
Commerce Department confirmed that, for them, "the central issue in this crisis is
111 John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006. 112 See, Harding, "The Strike at SFU," 110; Rossi, 191-192; "PSA Begins Picketing Classes," The Peak 1 October 1969, 1; and "Fasters fast," The Peak 29 October 1969, 1. 113 John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006. 1,4 SFU A, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, F-74-3-2-27 "Norm Wickstrom - Correspondence (Out), Sept.-Dec. 1969." "Article for Peak" by Norm Wickstrom, 12 September 1969. Page 170 the defense of the right of student participation." These students supported the
PSA Department "in its struggle to preserve this right for all students."115
The administration's decision to place the PSA Department under an administrative trusteeship contributed to the development of alliances among a significant proportion of the student body, both inside and outside the department.
At a campus-wide special general meeting called by the SFSS on 18 September
1969, 500 students voted to oppose the trusteeship and pressure the administration to recognize the decision-making structure in the PSA Department.116 In addition, students in both Geography and Economics and Commerce passed resolutions of support and their counterparts in History and English voted to strike in tandem
117 with the PSA Department. A petition circulated in October, "deploying] the imposition of a Trusteeship Committee on the P.S.A. department as a result of that department's initiation of student parity," was signed by approximately 1 400 of the roughly 4 500 students on campus, indicating a significant level of 1 ID opposition to the administration's actions. As SFU students John Cleveland and Brian Slocock argued soon after the strike:
At least 1000 people voted to strike at one time or another. Many more either supported or sympathized with the strike. At no time in the course of the strike did any coherent or semi-articulate opposition emerge from the students. No counter-leadership developed within
s "Economics & Commerce Supports PSA," The Peak 6 October 1969, 4. 116 "General Meeting Back PSA," The Peak 24 September 1969, 3. 117 See, "Geog Students Vote Support for PSA," The Peak 6 October 1969, 3; "Economics & Commerce Supports PSA"; "History Students Vote to Strike," The Peak 1 October 1969, 1; and "English Students Vote to Strike," The Peak 6 October 1969, 3. 118 SFU A, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, F-193-10-8-0-34 "PSA dispute - student petition, 1969." Student Petition, October 1969. Page 171 the striking departments, and even the reactionary elements on council felt too isolated to act.11
Many students on campus participated in actions related the strike in the PSA
Department, which perhaps indicates their support for the view of students as a distinct and important group on campus who had the right to participate in equal numbers in the university's governing structures.
The university administration, for its part, responded to the strike with further assertive tactics. On 3 October 1969, eight days into the strike, the administration suspended nine PSA faculty members and initiated dismissal proceedings against them. As well, President Strand requested that the British
Columbia Supreme Court take action, and on 24 October an injunction was imposed against fourteen strikers, including eleven students and three professors. This injunction prevented strikers from picketing outside classrooms or disrupting proceedings within. Members of the academic staff outside of PSA also pressured the department to end the strike. At a 6 October
Senate meeting, a resolution was passed calling for the non-suspended faculty members in the PSA Department to select a new chairman "as a necessary step towards removing the Trusteeship."122 The Senate, dominated by professors, backed the administration's position, in essence rejecting the principle of parity
119 John Cleveland and Brian Slocock, "Militancy in Passivity: the strike in retrospect," The Peak 19 November 1969, 6. 120 SFUA, F-150 Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology Collection, File F150-0-3 "Publications About PSA, 1970-1990." Don Payzant, "Dismembering a department: the history of PSA at SFU," "PSA Student Handbook," Spring 1990, 13. 121 "Strikers Face Civil Suits," The Peak 22 October 1969, 1. 122 SFUA, F-150 Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology Collection, File F-l 50-0-1 "Press Releases, 1969-70." Press Release, 7 October 1969. Page 172 and clearly demonstrating the divisions that existed within the faculty at SFU.
These groups used force to respond to the confrontational tactics employed by supporters of the PSA Department.
This strategy proved successful. Faced with dismissals and court injunctions, striking students and faculty members in the PSA Department realized that they would not triumph over the administration and agreed to halt their pickets. The strike was officially ended by a vote of the Joint Strike
Assembly, a body comprised of student leaders and professors in the PSA
Department, on 4 November 1969.124 In spite of this decision, the strike had brought large numbers of students together with their leaders and the radical scholars in the PSA Department to struggle for the principle of parity. The aggressive tactics employed against the department further illustrated for many students, as the CAUT crisis had done the year before, that their interests and concerns were completely different from the majority of faculty members on campus who now also comprised the administration. As well, the crisis intensified a relationship between student leaders and university officials that was already confrontational and hostile into direct and vicious conflict. Nevertheless, the tactics employed by the administration proved too powerful for the members of the PSA Department and the strike was ultimately unsuccessful.
At the University of Toronto, a similar process occurred as student leaders, having achieved organizational autonomy and recognition of student participation in university governance, campaigned for parity in order to gain
123 "Strikers Face Contempt of Court," The Peak 29 October 1969, 1. 124 "PSA Calls Off Strike," The Peak 5 November 1969, 1. Page 173 greater power and influence within the university community. While the situation on campus did not result in the same level of hostility as at Simon Fraser
University, largely because of the relatively good relations that still existed between student politicians and other members of the university community, students nevertheless came into direct conflict with some faculty members and many were convinced that they would be best able to achieve a more meaningful voice if they worked together with their peers. In fact, in contrast to earlier campaigns for student government autonomy and representation on university governing bodies, student activists in Toronto adopted a confrontational strategy as they became frustrated with the continued rejection, especially by faculty members, of their demands for parity.
These events revolved around attempts to dramatically restructure the governing structures of the institution. By the mid-1960s, University of Toronto
President Claude Bissell was convinced that the current decision-making system was unworkable, especially as a result of the divisions between the Board of
Governors and the Senate. The former body was responsible for the financial operations of the university, while the latter had authority over academic decisions. This division of powers led to what Bissell referred to as "double innocence." As he said in 1966, "[f]he lay members of the Board are innocent of academic problems and are proud of their innocence... For their part, the academics gracefully retreat whenever an issue reaches a point where it requires
Page 174 expression in financial terms." As a result, the Senate was making academic decisions without concern for their financial implications and the Board was making financial decisions without concern for their academic effects. Frustrated with this situation, Bissell created the Commission on University Government
(CUG) in 1968 to examine and recommend radical changes to the university's governing structures.
As originally proposed by Bissell, this committee would include two faculty members, two students, two administrators, two alumni, and two members of the Board of Governors. The Students' Administrative Council (SAC), which had rejected previous offers for seats on decision-makings bodies because university officials had made it clear that the existing structures were completely ineffectual,127 agreed to participate in the commission but only if it had a parity structure, or equal faculty-student representation. For quite some time, student leaders in Toronto had viewed students as a distinct group on campus, as became clear in their campaigns for governmental autonomy and participation in the decision-making process. However, by 1968, they conceived of students as one of only two important factions within the institution. Students and faculty
See Robin Ross, The Short Road Down: A University Changes (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 39 and Friedland, 528. 126 UTA, Bl989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 005, File "CUG Personal Comm." Claude Bissell, "The Natural History of the Commission on University Government: University of Toronto Alumni Association, September 9, 1969," 2. 127 Ross, "The Implementation of the Duff-Berdahl Report at the University of Toronto: Student Participation in University Government," 7. Page 175 members, they insisted, were the university. In addition, many politically active students, who were seeking greater power and influence on campus, had become convinced that their existing number of seats on governing bodies did not provide them with a truly meaningful voice. For these reasons, they pressed for equal representation with professors, which they referred to as parity. "[T]here must be parity between faculty and students," they argued, "in recognition of the fact that faculty and students have essentially equal, albeit different, contributions to make in the teaching-learning process."129 As such, SAC proposed that the
CUG include four students and four faculty members, with non-voting memberships for the President and two administrative appointees.130
Faculty representatives initially accepted SAC's demand for a parity structure. Following a presentation by SAC executives at a 3 October 1968 meeting, members of the Association of the Teaching Staff (ATS) approved a motion recommending the commission be composed of four faculty members, four students, the President, two non-voting members of the Board of Governors, one non-voting member of the senate to represent alumni, and a non-voting chairman.131 Reports at the time did not indicate why the association accepted what was essentially a parity structure, but Bissell later recalled that there was a great deal of hostility towards the Board of Governors, which had largely failed to
128 See, for example, The Varsity SAC Bureau, "SAC Counter Proposal: No vote for administration on presidents council," The Varsity 20 September 1968, 1 and Brian Johnson, "Faculty opposes Bissell," The Varsity 4 October 1968, 3. 129 UTA, P79-016901. Students' Administrative Council, The Last Whole Student Catalogue (1974-75), 105. 130 The Varsity SAC Bureau, "SAC Counter Proposal: No vote for administration on presidents council." 131 Johnson, "Faculty opposes Bissell." Page 176 address their own demands for greater involvement in university governing structures. As well, according to University Registrar Robin Ross, "the
Association of the Teaching Staff was a body of considerably less political acumen than...SAC... They fell easily into the pit dug for them by the students."133 Perhaps these faculty members also assumed that proposals for parity would not actually go very far and that they would still be able to maintain their dominance over students within decision-making structures. In any case, the
ATS accepted the principle of parity for the composition of the commission.
Bissell, unwilling to allow CUG to collapse before it had even begun meeting, accepted this proposal. As he reflected later, "[t]he final form of the Commission on University Government represented a victory for the radical students."134
It is not surprising, given the parity composition of the commission, that its final recommendations also called for equal faculty-student representation. In its report titled Toward Community in University Government released in October
1969, the commission stated that the university was a community of scholars, which included administrators, faculty members, and students. "Power, authority and responsibility," the commissioners agreed, "must be shared between the central structure and departments; between faculty and students; between deans, chairmen and their councils; between academics and general support staff."135
Claude Bissell, Halfway up Parnassus: A Personal Account of the University of Toronto, 1932-1971 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974), 135. 133 Ross, 42. 134 Bissell, Halfway up Parnassus, 160. 135 Toward Community in University Government: Report of the Commission on the Government of the University of Toronto (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1970), 40. Page 177 Along with other recommendations, the report called for the creation of a single governing body composed of equal numbers of students, academic staff, and lay members.
Yet, following the release of the report, it became clear that a "deep split" now existed between students and professors over the issue of parity.137 Faculty members, it seems, had accepted the principle as a way to vent their frustration with the university administration and had most likely presumed that it would not actually be implemented in a reformed governing structure. However, when it appeared that parity might actually be put into practice at the highest levels of university governance, many professors panicked and indicated their bitter opposition to the proposal. In justifying their altered position, they argued that students could not be trusted to act in the best interests of the university and would simply split governing bodies into distinct factions.139 It is also likely that these academics simply did not want to share their influence and power on campus with their students. Rather than continuing to negotiate with students and administrators to find a solution, some faculty members approached representatives of the provincial government, the body ultimately responsible for the implementation of a new governing structure, and pressured them to exclude equal student representation in the final version of the revised University Act.
Toward Community in University Government, 214. 137 Ross, 51. Bissell, Halfway Up Parnassus, 155. 139 "Peanut shells, bad tempers enliven faculty meeting," The Varsity 11 February 1970, 1. Page 178 Student leaders were under the impression that these professors had threatened to disrupt the operations of the university if students were given parity.140
The provincial government gave in to the demands of these faculty members and created a Governing Council without a parity composition. It included, instead, sixteen lay members appointed by the provincial government, eight alumni, twelve teaching staff, eight students, two presidential appointees, two administrative staff members, and the President and Chancellor as ex-officio members.141 Student leaders felt betrayed by the faculty, administrators, and the government following this final rejection. As Art Moses explained in The
Varsity:
When the Ontario Legislature decided against equal staff-student representation on the new U of T Governing Council last July, it was only the final defeat in a long series of dashed hopes and frustrated dreams for student leaders at U of T... [T]he student leadership can blame manipulative administrators, conservative faculty and opportunistic politicians for their failure.142
Student representatives had agreed to work with their professors and administrators in revising university governing structures, but their demands for parity were ultimately rejected. This engendered a growing sense of frustration among student activists, who increasingly realized that their interests diverged not only from university administrators but also from the majority of faculty members on campus. As a result, the conciliatory relationship student leaders in Toronto
140 UTA, P78-0693-05. Students' Administrative Council, Handbook '72, Volume 1: The Year of the Change, 6. 141 Ross, 55. 142 Art Moses, "How faculty, politicians crushed parity," The Varsity 15 September 1971,23. Page 179 had maintained with university officials from the beginning of the Sixties crumbled.
The strains on this relationship became apparent when the Faculty of Arts and Science undertook a review of its governing structures in response to the recommendations made in the CUG report. Throughout this process, student politicians in the faculty continued to demand that the revamped bodies include equal representation from professors and students. They insisted that "students be accepted as full and necessary members of the university community, with the power to participate on an equal basis with faculty in making decisions."143 When faculty members passed a motion in February 1970 rejecting "the concept of staff- student parity as applicable to the governing bodies of faculties, departments and colleges,"144 student leaders began to employ confrontational strategies to achieve recognition of the principle of parity.
These students abandoned further attempts to negotiate with their professors in arts and science and took their concerns directly to their peers. They organized a referendum in November 1970 in order to give students one "last chance.. .to have a direct say in the structure that governs their faculty."145 The vote indicated massive support for parity; with a turnout of almost 50 per cent, which student leaders claimed was the largest for any student referendum or election in the history of the University of Toronto, over eighty-eight per cent of students in the faculty voted in favour of the demand that "the Council of the
143 "The Faculty Council: retreat into childishness," The Varsity 24 February 1971,4. 144 "Peanut shells, bad tempers enliven faculty meeting." 145 "The referendum," The Varsity 23 November 1970, 4. Page 180 Faculty of Arts and Science be restructured to allow equal [faculty]/student representation at the departmental and college level."146 Despite this display of support and unity, however, the Faculty Council continued to reject equal faculty- student participation.
In response, a group of politically active and engaged students in the
Faculty of Arts and Science organized an "Educational Festival" to "draw attention to the issue of parity." The 250 students who attended papered the walls of the lobby of the Sidney Smith Building with slogans including: "And now abideth faith, hope, parity, these three; but the greatest of these is parity."148
They also agreed to work to mobilize students across campus, organize a boycott of classes, and hold a strike vote if their demands were not met.149 In the face of continued faculty opposition, these activists felt that they had exhausted all of the so-called proper channels and direct confrontation was the only "effective means left at [their] disposal."150 Yet, despite a large turnout of eligible voters, the strike vote failed to pass by a mere 54 votes. A slight majority of students voting did not approve of the use of this tactic, although leaders believed that there was still support for their demand for parity.
146 See, "Representation on Faculty Council: Conflict brews between faculty, students," The Varsity 11 November 1970, 3 and Ben Forster, "Students want equality in Arts and Science: 88.5% demand parity," The Varsity 27 November 1970,1. 147 UTA, A1977-0019 Office of the President, Box 042, File "Arts and Science (Faculty of) Council - issue of parity." Pamphlet, "STRIKE," [n.d.] BisseW, Halfway Up Parnassus, 156. 149 Kideckel, "Support wanted for strike." 150 Pamphlet, "STRIKE," [n.d.] 151 Kideckel, "Support wanted for strike." Page 181 These concerned students in the Faculty of Arts and Science continued to put pressure on their professors to grant them parity. At the end of January 1971 approximately 20 students took part in a sit-in at the Faculty offices152 and 40 students occupied the New Academic Building of Victoria College.153 Groups of students in arts and science also continued to disrupt Faculty Council meetings, preventing a meeting held in the Medical Sciences Building 1 February 1971 from completing its business because of the attendance of approximately 200 students who sang and jeered throughout.154 As well, a Council meeting held 21 February broke down amidst complicated procedural wrangling,155 and a meeting of the
General Committee held 1 March adjourned without completing its business after students disrupted its operations.156
Even some individuals in the Engineering faculty, traditionally a conservative and oppositional force on campus, indicated their support for demands for parity in the Faculty of Arts and Science. The Engineering Society voted in January 1971 to endorse "equal student participation in the affairs of U of
T." The President of the Engineering Society commented that "[wjhile he did not support parity as a rigid doctrine, or as essential in the Engineering faculty, he felt that parity was for Arts and Science students 'the only way to equal and active
"Protest alive as students sit-in," The Varsity 29 January 1971, 1. Eric Mills, "Parity pushes Vic mobilization," The Varsity 29 January 1971, 7. 154 "Student chorus brings faculty council to halt," The Varsity 3 February 1971, 1. 5 "Fac council suspends Rogers after procedural hassle," The Varsity 24 February 1971, 3. 156 Alex Podnick and Art Moses, "Students scuffle with cops," The Varsity 3 March 1971, 1. Page 182 1 en participation.'" As this illustrates, in the face of continued resistance among faculty members to the principle of parity, students in Arts and Science successfully built alliances with a significant proportion of the student body around this notion.
Such indications of student support, however, did not sway the professors in the Faculty of Arts and Science. A non-parity committee comprised of two students, six faculty, and the Dean of Arts and Science was established to propose a new structure for the faculty. It recommended a restructured Faculty Council with approximately 1 300 professors and 52 student members. Students were given positions on the Counseling and Curriculum committees but not on the
Admissions or Academic Standards committees.159 Some faculty members supported student demands for parity; approximately one-third of the academic staff in attendance at a 19 January 1971 Faculty Council meeting voted in favour of the principle of parity and sympathetic individuals circulated a petition supporting the students and their demands.160 However, they represented only a small minority of the professors in Arts and Science. The majority, while willing
Sutherland Brown, "Engineers back parity strike," The Varsity 27 January 1971,3. 158 UTA, Al 977-0019 Office of the President, Box 042, File "Arts and Science (Faculty of) Council - issue of parity." Letter to Faculty Members of the General Committee of the Council of the Faculty of Arts and Science from W.D. Foulds, Assistant Dean and Secretary, 8 February 1971. 159 UTA, A1977-0019 Office of the President, Box 042, File "Arts and Science (Faculty of) Council - issue of parity." "Committee to Restructure of the Council of the Faculty of Arts and Science," [n.d.]. 160 See, UTA, A1977-0019 Office of the President, File 042, File "Arts and Science (Faculty of) Council - issue of parity." "What is Going on Here?" [1971], 2-3 and UTA, A1977-0019 Office of the President, Box 042, File "Arts and Science (Faculty of) Council - issue of parity." Pamphlet, "WHY," [n.d.]. Page 183 to recognize the need for some student participation in university governance, ultimately rejected the principle of parity and refused to share power equally with their students. Despite this final rebuff, the campaign for parity further demonstrated for many students that they had unique interests within the university community, that they would could no longer work with most of their professors, and that they could exert influence over the debates and proceedings on campus if they allied together into a united movement.
In the early 1970s, a similar campaign developed at the University of
Saskatchewan, Regina Campus with comparable results as in Toronto. Like at
Toronto and at SFU, student representatives in Regina demanded equal representation on university governing bodies, faced direct opposition from many faculty members on campus, and adopted aggressive strategies, including an occupation, in an effort to achieve their stated goals. By this time, the confrontational relationship between student councilors and university administrators, which began with the campaign for student government autonomy, had become increasingly hardened. As well, students had years of experience as representatives on a number of decision-making bodies following the administration's decision to grant them seats in the late 1960s. However, because the professors in each unit were left to determine the level of student participation, major disparities existed among the various departments on campus.
Within the Division of Social Sciences, for example, by 1971 the Political
Science, Psychology, and Sociology Departments operated under the principle of
Page 184 faculty-student parity, while the Anthropology, Economics, Geography, History, and Social Studies Departments had, at most, minority student representation.161
Over the years, the professors in the former departments had come into conflict with their counterparts in other units because of differences of opinion regarding the purpose of the university and whether it should be critically and politically engaged with the wider society or should remain detached and autonomous from the outside world. Hoping that an increased number of student representatives on departmental governing bodies would help bolster their position, since many of these students shared the perspectives of these professors,163 faculty members in Political Science, Psychology, and Sociology presented a motion to the October 1972 Division of Social Sciences meting that would make parity compulsory in each unit. The motion passed on 27 October, but only after sixteen faculty members left the meeting in protest. Contributors to
The Carillon claimed that "[t]he walk-out was a deliberate attempt by the elitist group in Social Sciences.. .to deny the validity of the democratic decision-making
161 URA, USRC Division of Social Sciences Minutes and Agendas [Ephemera], Box 1. "For Election of 'C Members, Division of Social Sciences," 21 September 1971. 162 See, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 372-373; URA, University of Saskatchewan Board of Governors, Minutes and Agendas, July 1972-December 1972. Confidential Memorandum from G. Edgar Vaughan, 19 November 1972; and URA, 80-38 USRC Office of the Principal, Box 24, File 4000.6 "Student Parity 1972." Memorandum from D.W. Smythe to Principal John H. Archer, 22 November 1972. See also, Chapter 5 for a detailed discussion of debates over the purpose of higher education. 163 See, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 373. 164 URA, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus Division of Social Sciences Minutes and Agendas, Box 1. Notice of motion, October 1972. Page 185 in the Division." Nevertheless, the Division of Social Sciences acknowledged and adopted the principle of parity. However, concerned over the dramatic shift that parity would initiate in the Division, the Dean of Arts and Science, Sir Edgar
Vaughan, ruled the motion out of order on 10 November 1972. He claimed that ultimate responsibility for decision-making rested with the faculty members in each department, who must themselves determine the level of student participation.166
Although some academics had taken the first step in adopting parity throughout the division, student activists took the initiative once the motion was overruled. Frustrated that an administrator had rejected their right to parity, these students brought the issue to the Students' Union annual general meeting on 16
November. Using a very different argument than student leaders at Toronto and
Simon Fraser University, they argued that parity was necessary because, "if
[students] acquired an effective voice in making the decisions that governed their lives at this campus, then the educational process would become more meaningful to them personally and be more geared to the needs of the people of
Saskatchewan."167 Direct participation in decision-making structures, they insisted, was essential for real political engagement in the community. In this way, these students continued to employ a definition of responsibility that had originated in their campaigns for student government autonomy almost a decade earlier. In addition, taking a similar position as students at the other two
165 "Faculty Walk Out," The Carillon 3 November 1972, 1. 166 URA, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus Faculty of Arts and Science Minutes and Agendas 1971-1974. Minutes, 10 November 1972. 167 "Students Ask For Support," The Carillon 26 January 1973, 1. Page 186 institutions, former student Barry Lipton recalled his belief that students "were one half of the equation of the university" and therefore deserved an equal role in
1 ftR the decision-making structures. Student leaders in Regina, then, argued that students were not only a separate and unified group on campus, but also that they, along with faculty members, were the only constituencies that mattered in the university community. Based on these arguments, student leaders presented a motion at the general meeting to "demand the right to parity in all departments in the university including Social Sciences and... [to] censure the ruling of Sir Edgar
Vaughan."169
The students who attended this meeting approved the motion and decided,
"by general concensus [sic] of the student body," to "as a whole go immediately to Sir Edgar Vaughan's office and deliver the motion of censure in person and demand that he recind [sic] his ruling."170 Approximately three hundred students confronted Vaughan, and, when he refused to reconsider his decision "under duress," they occupied his office. Students who engaged in the occupation argued that they had to take this exceptional action because their attempts to use so-called proper channels during their campaigns for participation in governing bodies over the past four years had failed to achieve an effective and meaningful
Barry Lipton, Interview with the author, 20 February 2002. 169 Government of Saskatchewan, Department of Justice, Corporations Branch, File No. 63488. Minutes of Annual General Meting of Students' Union, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, 16 November 1972, 5. 170 Minutes of Annual General Meting of Students' Union, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, 16 November 1972, 5. 171 Reg Silvester, "Students occupy office of dean," The Leader Post 17 November 1972, 3. 172 Barry Lipton, Interview with the author, 20 February 2002 and Bob Lyons, Interview with the author, 21 March 2002. Page 187 voice for students and only an escalation in tactics could pressure the administration to respond to their demands.173 In this way, Vaughan's decision and the perceived failure of administrators and faculty members to address growing demands for representation on decision-making bodies convinced student leaders that they had to become more confrontational and use more aggressive strategies to achieve their goals.
Over the following days, a significant proportion of the student body participated in the meetings and events that surrounded the occupation. For example, approximately four hundred students attended a meeting immediately following the move to the office of the Dean of Arts and Science on Thursday, while about 1 000 students, out of a total population of roughly 3 500, were at a meeting the following day.174 Though the local newspaper, The Leader Post, claimed that only 35 to 50 students continued to occupy the dean's office over the weekend, approximately 850 students attended a general meeting held on
Monday, and, when the administration failed to respond to their demands, these students voted to extend the occupation to include the office of the Dean of
Graduate Studies, A.B. Van Cleave. Close to 250 students participated directly in
1 See, Silvester, "Students occupy office of dean," and "Occupation Supplement," The Carillon 3 December 1973. 174 See, Silvester, "Students occupy office of dean" and Reg Silvester, "Students await answer," The Leader-Post 18 November 1972, 3. 175 Silvester, "Students await answer." See, Rick Belanger, "Second dean ousted," The Leader-Post, 21 November 1972,3. Page 188 the confrontation and many participated directly in the second occupation. As well, no substantial opposition to the actions taken by student leaders developed. The refusal of administrators to grant students equal participation on decision making bodies convinced many students to take an interest in the events occurring on campus and participate directly in the struggle for parity. Nevertheless, the administration continued to reject the students' demands. At a press conference held Monday, 20 November 1972, Regina Campus Principal John Archer supported Vaughan's ruling that the parity motion passed by the Division of Social Sciences was unconstitutional and that each department 1 77 had the responsibility to make its own decisions regarding student participation. In doing so, Archer argued that there was a legal rather than administrative barrier 1 78 to parity, shifting the responsibility away from university officials. When the students rejected Archer's suggestion that they work within existing structures to amend the University Act, the legislation that set out the governing structures of the university, and expanded their occupation to include Van Cleave's office, administrators decided to implement "precautionary security measures," including closing the business office, the offices of the registrar and bursar, and the campus 17Q bookstore in an effort to discredit the students. Archer, however, decided not to 1 ori call the police, despite pressure from some administrators to do so. 177 URA, Regina Council Minutes and Agendas 1970-May 1974. John Archer, "Statement by Dr. J.H. Archer," 20 November 1972, 1. 178 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 377. 179 See, Belanger, 3 and Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 378. 180 URA, 80-38 USRC Office of the Principal, Box 24, File 4000.6 "Student Parity 1972." A.B. Van Cleave, "A Personal Statement by A.B. Van Cleave," 24 November 1972. Page 189 Maintaining that the use of force to end the occupation would intensify the crisis, as it had at other universities in Canada and the United States, including at the other two universities included in this study181 and at Sir George Williams University in Montreal and Columbia University in New York City, Archer chose 1 89 to rely on negotiation and compromise to reach a settlement. He announced publicly on 22 November that he favoured "greater participation on the part of faculty, students, and the general public in the governance of the institution," and was prepared to "urge a review of the nature and level of student participation with a view to ensuring that students have opportunity [sic] to make their full 1 8^ contribution." He appointed a commission comprised of faculty members, students, and members of the public to study the possible implementation of parity. In doing so, Archer deflected the issue into a committee in order to remove much of the urgency and support that had surrounded the occupation. In response, the students agreed at a general meeting six days after the crisis had begun to end their occupation. They decided to continue their campaign for parity 1 84. through "proper channels." The so-called Tripartite Committee began meeting in February 1973 and released a statement a month later agreeing that "in principle students have the 1 8^ right to participate in a department up to the level of, and including, parity." These events will be discussed in detail in Chapter 4. 182 See, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 378. 183 URA, Regina Council Minutes and Agendas 1970-May 1974. John Archer, Untitled, 22 November 1972. 184 Murray Knuttila, Interview with the author 6 March 2002. 185 URA, 85-54 USRC Faculty of Arts and Science, File 103-5.1.4. D. de Vlieger, "Tri-Partite Committee Tentative Recommendations," 26 March 1973. Page 190 Yet, the professors on the committee continued to reject the principle and submitted a minority report opposing its implementation. Arguing that students lack the knowledge and experience required to make decisions and cannot be held accountable for their actions in the same manner as academic staff, they insisted that each department should decide for itself whether or not to grant parity. "The faculty representatives," they stated, "cannot agree with the majority that such parity ought to be extended to students as their 'right.'"186 Another group, a sub-committee of the Senior Academic Committee of Council, had been created before the occupation to study the issue of student participation in university governance and reported in November 1973. This body, comprised entirely of faculty members, unanimously agreed that "students need to be involved in aspects of University decision-making" but that student participation should be limited to twenty per cent of the number of faculty.187 The Executive of Council in the Faculty of Arts, another organization with no student representation, made the final decision regarding parity at its meeting in January 1974 when a motion passed limiting student representation to 20 per cent, except in departments where parity already existed as long as two-thirds of the faculty in that department continued to approve of this level of student participation. The latter caveat came in response to concerns by some professors that the parity they 186 URA, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus Executive Council Minutes and Agendas, 1973-June 1974. R.H. Fowler, J.G. Locker & R.Y. Zacharuk, "Recommendations Concerning Student Involvement in University Government: A Report of a Minority of the Tripartite Committee, [n.d.], 3. 187 URA, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus Executive of Council Minutes and Agendas 1973-June 1974. "A Report on Student Participation in University Government, Regina Campus, University of Saskatchewan, by Senior Academic Committee of Council," November 1973, 23-26. Page 191 1 RR had established in their own departments would be revoked. In this way, some academics continued to support the principle of parity. Nonetheless, most acknowledged that students had the right to representation but drew the line at parity. Although a large number of students had participated in the occupation and its surrounding events, by the time the final decision was taken to reject parity, more than a year after the occupation, significant numbers of students were no longer willing to ally together in opposition to the administration or their professors. In this way, Archer's strategy was largely successful. An article appeared in The Carillon stating that the students had "been shafted" by the Faculty Council. Yet, while the author argued that "A great many of the students have not [forgotten the occupation]," student leaders failed to mobilize the student body against this final decision. It appeared as though the parity issue had "quietly died."189 Nevertheless, the issue of parity had convinced many students that their interests differed widely from those of the administration and most faculty members and encouraged many to participate in joint action with their leaders, including direct confrontation in the form of an occupation, to achieve parity. URA, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus Executive of Council Minutes and Agendas 1973-June 1974. 30 January 1974. 189 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 382. Page 192 CONCLUSIONS Campaigns for student participation in university governance, largely because they were rooted in a vague yet shared belief in democracy and were initially encouraged by faculty members, attracted the active support and participation of a significant number of students at each institution. For a variety of reasons, university administrators agreed to grant students seats on many governing bodies. While they might have hoped that this concession would prevent the further escalation of tensions on campus, it actually fueled demands for equal representation for students with faculty members; student activists discovered the success that they might achieve if they articulated particular positions and organized campaigns that could involve large numbers of students. Through the struggles for parity at all three universities, many students realized that they could no longer work with most of their professors because their interests diverged so dramatically. They also ascertained that they shared certain ideas and perspectives with their peers and could gain a more meaningful voice within the university if they worked together. In this way, debates concerning student participation in university governance contributed to the development of a relatively cohesive student movement at English-Canadian universities during the Sixties. However, while student leaders continued their attempts to organize around other topics and sought ways to develop alliances with students that would increase their power and influence on campus, no other subject achieved the same level of unity as governance and the student movement fractured and declined around these other issues. Page 193 CHAPTER 4 "The abolition of all social and financial barriers to post-secondary education": Accessibility and the Sixties Student Movement At the same time that students united together around a shared sense of their distinctiveness within the university community and a common demand for the democratization of governing structures, politically active students found it difficult to create alliances around other issues and concerns that they identified as important such as campaigns for increased accessibility to institutions of higher education. As public attention was drawn to the role universities played in national development during the postwar period, students at Canadian universities were forced to consider their potential contributions to societal progress as well as personal gains they might receive from their higher education; students were encouraged to rethink their own responsibilities within the university and in the world beyond. This chapter examines how student leaders largely internalized a belief in the importance of universities and spearheaded efforts aimed at eliminating the perceived barriers that prevented certain people from becoming students and obtaining the benefits of higher education. However, it demonstrates that this issue actually hampered the formation of an influential student movement because it revealed fundamental ideological differences and splintering identities among students. Student representatives initially focused on campaigns to remove financial obstacles, including tuition fees and student loans, which they contended excluded academically qualified individuals who could not afford university. These leaders Page 194 maintained that governments should take on a greater responsibility for funding postsecondary education because of its stated importance for national development. The response of the student body to these actions varied dramatically. Some students participated in campaigns aimed at increasing accessibility to universities, though mostly likely for personal reasons since their own costs of higher education were also rising. Other students actively opposed the position taken by their leaders; they insisted that students must pay for their own education because they would benefit directly from the degree they received. At the same time, as some radical students shifted their focus to other perceived barriers to higher education and employed particularly confrontational tactics aimed at mobilizing the student body rather than forwarding particular demands or issues, a shared conception of student identity began to break down; many students rejected the belief that being a student inherently meant engaging in a radical critique of the status quo. This chapter reveals, then, that student leaders had to contend with deep ideological divisions and a fracturing student identity, which did not emerge during campaigns for individual and organizational autonomy and greater participation in university governance, in their efforts to mobilize students around demands for greater accessibility to higher education. As such, these divergent positions limited the ability of student leaders to create a unified student movement on this issue. Page 195 CAMPAIGNS TO REMOVE FINANCIAL BARRIERS TO HIGHER EDUCATION Throughout the post-World War II period, many commentators stressed the importance of higher education in Canada. Universities had contributed extensively to the war effort, providing the "technical expertise and practical know-how" required for success in battle.1 After the war, as the Cold War raged and concerns arose over the perceived scientific and technological supremacy of the Soviet Union, universities were increasingly viewed as the protectors of western dominance.2 The end of the war also signaled the ascendancy of the American empire; many commentators in Canada fretted over the mounting economic and cultural integration of North America and frequently turned to the universities to protect national sovereignty. In addition, the Canadian workforce changed in the postwar period, becoming more modern and technological and requiring educated individuals to fill the growing number of professional and civil service positions.4 As a result of these developments, many people in Canada viewed higher education as central to national development and individual advancement. A number of national studies reflected these conceptions regarding the role of universities in post-war Canada. For example, in a report released in 1951, Philip Massolin, "Modernization and Reaction: Postwar Evolutions and the Critique of Higher Learning in English-Speaking Canada, 1945-1970," Journal of Canadian Studies Vol.36, No.2 (Summer 2001), 132, 2 Massolin, 130. 3 A.B. McKillop, Matters of the Mind: The University in Ontario, 1791-1951 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), 563. 4 Paul Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars: Politics, Economics, and the Universities of Ontario, 1945-1980 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982), 4. Page 196 the Royal Commission on National Development in the Arts, Letters and Sciences, generally referred to as the Massey Commission, concluded that universities were central to the future of Canadian society. Higher education, the report explained, encourages cultural communication between the provinces, supplies the trained individuals and expertise necessary for continued economic growth and prosperity, and contributes to the development of a cultural and intellectual community.5 They were the "nurseries of a truly Canadian civilization and culture."6 The Royal Commission on Canada's Economic Prospects, the Gordon Commission, which released its findings in 1957, also emphasized the value of education. According to the report, universities are "the source of the most highly skilled workers whose knowledge is essential in all branches of industry. In addition they make a substantial contribution to research and in the training of research scientists." The Gordon Commission argued that higher education was central to the "expanding and increasingly complex economy."8 Responding in part to these two Royal Commissions, a report published in 1965 by the Association of Universities and Colleges of Canada (AUCC) known as the Bladen Report, highlighted the personal benefits that individuals could obtain through postsecondary education. Although not explicitly stated in these terms, this report assumed that university educated Report of the Royal Commission on National Development in the Arts, Letters and Sciences 1949-1951 (Ottawa: Edmond Cloutier, 1951), 133-135. Report of the Royal Commission on National Development in the Arts, Letters and Sciences 1949-1951, 143. 7 Royal Commission on Canada's Economic Prospects: Final Report (Ottawa, 1957), 452. Royal Commission on Canada's Economic Prospects: Final Report, 452. Page 197 individuals would have almost guaranteed entry into the middle class, which, it was presumed, was the desired goal for most Canadians. "[B]y this greater concern for the individual," the report argued, "we will surely come nearer to achieving the 'good life.'"9 These three national reports emphasized different reasons why universities were important, including the cultural, economic, and personal benefits of higher education, and together reflected a sense of the value of postsecondary education in Canada during the postwar period.10 This growing attention to the significance of universities had a direct impact on how institutions of higher learning were funded. By the 1940s and 1950s, the Canadian public held governments responsible for the provision of important social services. As the above national commissions tied higher education to cultural, economic, and personal development, it was considered such a service and became a central component of the expanded welfare state in Canada; federal and provincial governments faced pressure to increase their financial contributions to universities.12 However, according to the Canadian constitution, education remained a provincial responsibility. During the Second World War, the federal government justified its provision of some funding to Financing Higher Education in Canada: Being the Report of a Commission to the Association of Universities and Colleges of Canada, Successor to the National Conference of Canadian Universities and Colleges, and its Executive Agency, the Canadian Universities Foundation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1965), 1. 10 See, Edward Sheffield, "Financing Higher Education in Canada, No.l; Financial Needs of Canadian Universities and Colleges, 1960," (Ottawa: Canadian Universities Foundation, 1960, 4. 11 See, James Struthers, The Limits of Affluence: Welfare in Ontario, 1920-1970 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), 117-141. 12 See, Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars, 77. Page 198 universities because they were contributing to the war effort in a number of important ways, especially by providing scientific and technological expertise. After the war, the federal government supplied much of the money that universities required for expansion in response to rising enrolments as veterans were given the opportunity to receive an education in recognition of their military service. This set the precedent for federal government financing of higher education. Nevertheless, once the veterans graduated, the federal government dramatically reduced its financial contributions to Canadian universities. In the early 1950s, provincial governments covered approximately 40% of the operating costs of universities and the federal government about 4%.14 Following the recommendations of the Massey Report in 1951, the federal government instituted direct grants to Canadian universities, which increased its share of university funding to 15%.15 Overall, between 1951-52 and 1959-60, provincial and federal governments provided more than half of the operating income for Canadian universities and colleges.16 The remaining costs of operation were covered primarily by tuition fees charged directly to students and 1 7 set by individual institutions depending on specific financial requirements. See, Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars, 17-20. 14 See, Edward Sheffield, "Financing Higher Education in Canada, No.2: Sources of University Support," (Ottawa: Canadian Universities Foundation, 1961), 6. 15 Sheffield, "Financing Higher Education in Canada, No.2: Sources of University Support," 6. 16 Sheffield, "Financing Higher Education in Canada, No.2: Sources of University Support," 6. 17 Sheffield, "Financing Higher Education in Canada, No.2: Sources of University Support," 6. Page 199 As universities continued to expand in response the demographic reality of the baby boom generation and the rising proportion of young people who attended the institutions in response to growing educational expectations, the costs of higher education grew exponentially. Expanding enrolments placed greater demands on universities to construct new buildings and facilities, raising the capital costs of higher education. At the same time, this growth required more support staff, faculty members, equipment, and other resources so that operating costs also increased. To keep up with these rising costs, the level of financial support that universities expected to receive from provincial and federal governments also swelled. In some places, including Ontario, high levels of provincial government funding allowed university administrators to maintain their 1 O operations without raising tuition fees for students. In other provinces, such as Saskatchewan, provincial legislators frequently balked at the increasing costs of higher education and continually sought to limit the funds available to the universities. This action forced university administrators to raise tuition fees to cover the shortfall.19 Furthermore, in 1966 the federal government ended direct financial contributions to universities, agreeing in the Federal-Provincial Fiscal Arrangements Act of 1967 to transfer its portion of the funding for higher education to provincial governments rather than to individual institutions. The 18 See, Nigel Moses, "All That Was Left: Student Struggles for Mass Student Aid and the Abolition of Tuition Fees in Ontario, 1945-1975," PhD Dissertation, University of Toronto, 1995, 376-377. 19 See, Michael Hayden, Seeking a Balance: The University of Saskatchewan, 1907-1982 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1983), 253. 20 See, David A.A. Stager, "Federal Government Grants to Canadian Universities, 1951-1966," Canadian Historical Review Vol.54, No.3 (September 1973), 297 Page 200 provinces, then, though they continued to receive money from the federal government for higher education, became solely responsible for all direct government funding to Canadian universities. Students at English-Canadian universities during the Sixties were continually bombarded with rhetoric regarding the importance of their institutions. As a result, many may have agreed that an educated and intellectual society could better ensure the continued material, technological, and social development of the nation. As well, students most likely believed that a university degree provided them access to elite positions in society and entry into the middle class. Not everyone in Canada would have shared this perspective, but students who attended university during the Sixties appear, to a large degree, to have internalized this position without conscious thought or discussion; many students seemed to implicitly assume that all individuals would attend institutions of higher education if given the opportunity, presumably because it was central to both personal and community development. The unspoken acceptance of this position is perhaps best reflected in the growing belief among Sixties students that and John Kucharczuk, "Student Aid, Federal-Provincial Relations, and University Finance," Journal of Canadian Studies Vol.19, No.3 (Fall 1984), 87-98. This shift in federal government policy was not, as it may first appear, in response to provincial challenges regarding the federal spending power. In terms of education, the federal spending power only became a major issue, except in Quebec where it had been a concern since the 1950s, in the 1970s. The decision by the federal government to transfer its portion of funding for higher education directly to the provinces rather than the universities looks to be an attempt to reduce responsibility for what was becoming an increasingly expensive social service. See, Donald C. Savage, "Trudeau and Clark: Canadian Universities and the Federal Government," Academe Vol.66 (March 1980), 77-80. See, Cyril Levitt, Children of Privilege: Student Revolt in the Sixties, A Study of Student Movements in Canada, The United States and West Germany (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 34-35. Page 201 university was their right by birth and citizenship, rather than the preserve of an 99 economic or political elite. Based these assumptions, by the mid-1960s some students began to question why some individuals were not enrolling in universities. In particular, many student leaders began to argue that postsecondary education was still largely inaccessible to all but a small minority because of the high costs associated with attendance. As such, once student governments achieved autonomy and began formulating their own political agenda, student representatives initiated campaigns aimed at eliminating financial barriers that they insisted limited access to universities. Various scholars have already examined some of the specific activities undertaken by student leaders around accessibility issues. For example, in studies of various universities, historians frequently discuss the protests and demonstrations that were organized around tuition fees and student loans. Hugh Johnston, in his history of Simon Fraser University, offers a useful overview of the national and provincial campaigns against tuition fees at that institution, arguing that such demands were "the logical culmination of a century-long progress towards free and universal education."24 In his history of the University of Regina James Pitsula insists that tuition fees were an important issue for students throughout this period. He explains that student leaders viewed such fees 22 See, Massolin, 149; McKillop, 565-566; and Doug Owram, Born at the Right Time: A History of the Baby Boom Generation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), 183. 23 This development is discussed in detail in Chapter 2. 24 Hugh Johnston, Radical Campus: Making Simon Fraser University (Vancouver: Douglas & Mclntyre, 2005), 155. Page 202 as a barrier to education for individuals from lower income families and argued that lower tuition fees would actually benefit the economy. Nigel Moses, in his PhD dissertation, examines some of the specific activities that student leaders in Ontario organized between 1945 and 1975. He argues that as a result of these struggles, students directly influenced the development of government accessibility policies. As well, Robert Clift provides a detailed analysis of the Canadian Union of Students' concerns with issues such as universal accessibility, tuition fees, and student loans and the impact that such campaigns had on the organization.27 All of these specific and individual case studies highlight the importance of accessibility issues to the development of the student movement during the Sixties and, as such, provide an excellent launching point for this broader comparative examination of the events at University of Toronto, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, and Simon Fraser University. It was the national student organization, the Canadian Union of Students (CUS), that spearheaded the struggle for improved access to universities. CUS took the lead on this issue in large part because higher education had become a national issue by the 1960s through the various commissions and funding arrangements discussed above. In fact, CUS used concerns over financial accessibility to assert "an active role on the national stage" and express its faith in James Pitsula, As One Who Serves: The Making of the University of Regina (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006), 308. 26 Nigel Moses, "All That Was Left: Student Struggles for Mass Student Aid and the Abolition of Tuition Fees in Ontario, 1945-1975," PhD Dissertation, University of Toronto, 1995. 27 Robert Clift, "The Fullest Development of Human Potential: The Canadian Union of Students 1963-1969," MA Thesis, University of British Columbia, 2002. Page 203 the power of the federal government to "correct many of the nation's problems." In addition, as CUS transitioned from a service organization to political activism by the mid-1960s, accessibility issues provided an appropriate bridge; this campaign focused directly on the well-being of students, similar to earlier activities, but expanded the purpose of the organization by increasingly challenging the status quo. Confused as to why many individuals were not attending university, despite its perceived importance, CUS members sponsored a Student Means Survey (SMS) in 1964 to "determine the social and financial characteristics of the Canadian Student" in order to discover what limited access to higher education.30 CUS intended the survey to go beyond anything previously done, examining student income and expenditures; the income, occupations, and education of their parents; the effect of income shortfall on educational programs; and plans following graduation. Undertaken with the support of the Dominion Bureau of Statistics and the advice and assistance of survey analysts, sociologists, economists, and government bureaucrats, this survey provided a sophisticated analysis of the socio-economic conditions of undergraduates at English-Canadian universities. It also confirmed what many had already suspected, that university students came primarily from the privileged classes in society. The survey showed that, while more than half of Canadian families earned less than $5 000 28 Clift, 27. 29 Clift, 7. 30 Clift, 27. 31 Robert Rabinovitch, An Analysis of the Canadian Post Secondary Student Population: Part I: A Report on Canadian Undergraduate Students (Ottawa: Canadian Union of Students, 1966), Forward. Page 204 annually, only a quarter of the university population came from this group. Another quarter of the student body were members of families that earned over $10 000 per year, even though only six per cent of the Canadian population fit into this category.32 The conclusion made by the author of the report, Robert Rabinovitch, was that "the Canadian student population is not typical of the Canadian national population."33 In response to the findings of the Student Means Survey, CUS passed a motion at its 1965 Congress adopting the principle of "universal accessibility," which it defined as "the abolition of all social and financial barriers to post- secondary education."34 By adopting this principle, CUS insisted that all academically qualified individuals should be able to attend university regardless of other considerations. As incoming CUS President Patrick Kenniff explained: We the students of today, even though we are obviously members of that privileged class...will not forsake our peers who for financial, sociological and other reasons have been denied the opportunity to partake in what we are fortunate to have... It is up to us, the student leaders of this country, to see that this inequality ceases to exist. We must be willing to fight this injustice to the maximum of our ability. In other words, CUS representatives, assuming that all individuals should have the opportunity and the desire to attend universities, for their own personal advantage and to benefit the nation, argued that current students must struggle to ensure that all academically qualified individuals could become students. Rabinovitch, 37-39. Rabinovitch, 39. Clift, 38. Quoted in Clift, 38. Page 205 Although CUS's universal accessibility motion referred to both the social and financial barriers to higher education, many student leaders identified the latter as the primary obstacle for many people. For example, in the SMS, CUS representatives argued that individuals from lower income groups were unable to attend university because of "rising tuition costs and inadequate assistance schemes for those lacking the financial resources to continue their education." This focus on financial impediments ignored other possible barriers to higher education, including the lack of educational opportunities within some racial communities and the resistance of some groups and individuals to postsecondary education and the growing dominance of intellectuals. CUS nevertheless identified the high costs of higher education as the primary barrier to accessibility. The position CUS formulated on accessibility proved popular among many student leaders across the country. At the University of Toronto, "Universal Accessibility" became "the catch phrase" for the newly independent Students' Administrative Council (SAC) during the 1965-66 academic year. As such, SAC prioritized the development of campaigns aimed at "the elimination of all social and financial barriers to higher education to assure that the only requirement for entrance to university is [academic] ability." Similarly, at the Regina Campus, student councilors insisted that "Education is a right which has to be granted to those people who are intellectually qualified (and no other Rabinovitch, Forward. UTA, Torontonensis. Mary Brewin, "Report to the Students," 'Nensis '66, 74. Page 206 qualifications should be necessary) to benefit from post-secondary education."38 In this way, student leaders in Regina clearly expressed their belief that individuals would profit in some way or another from attendance at the university. At Simon Fraser University, though not a member campus of CUS when the universal accessibility motion was passed, student representatives also indicated their support for the principle.39 In fact, some activists used the principle to promote membership in CUS and attempted to create coalitions with students at University of Victoria and University of British Columbia to organize a drive aimed at removing financial barriers to university education.40 Having identified the high cost of higher education as the primary obstacle to universal accessibility, student politicians specified how universities could be made more affordable. The Canadian Union of Students once again took the lead on this issue, passing a motion stating that the first step towards removing barriers to higher education was the elimination of tuition fees.41 Although some students raised concerns that such a move would result in overcrowding and a lowering of standards, others argued that the elimination of tuition fees would allow all 38 Ken Mitchell, "The Role of the Student," The Carillon 20 September 1965, 1. See also, URA, 78-3 Principal's/Deans Office Files, Box 28, File 200.1-2 "Students' Representative Council 1967-69." Memo "To the People of Saskatchewan from Students at the University of Saskatchewan on Why We Are Protesting," October 1968, 2. 39 See, "Council protests fee raises," The Peak 14 February 1968, 2. 40 See, "National union: Council hears CUS report," The Peak 20 October 1965, 2; Don Pulsford, Letter to the editor, The Peak 10 November 1965, 4; and "Direct action demanded," The Peak 7 September 1966, 2. 41 Clift, 38. Page 207 academically qualified individuals, regardless of financial circumstances, to attend universities.4 Student groups at each university initiated their own campaigns aimed at eliminating tuition fees and employed a variety of tactics in an attempt to achieve this goal. At the University of Toronto and Simon Fraser University, administrators generally managed to keep tuition fees from rising throughout the 1960s,43 and fees remained at $470 and $428 per year respectively.44 Student activists, therefore, did not have to struggle against the increasing costs of their education. Nevertheless, they continually demanded greater financial accessibility to higher education; however, they used relatively conciliatory tactics that were consistent with strategies employed around issues such as student government autonomy. Most often, they passed motions calling for the reduction and eventual removal of tuition fees.45 These motions had little effect on either of their principal targets, the provincial governments, which provided a significant See, for example, John Townsend, "Fee survey finds: If Daddy pays, 'Who cares?'" The Peak 27 October 1965, 5. 43 At Simon Fraser University, President Patrick McTaggart-Cowan indicated a strong belief in the need for affordable education and did his best to avoid raising fees each year. See, "No fee increase, says McFog," The Peak 20 October 1965, 1; Mike Campbell, "Paper piques McFog no speech says he," The Peak 3 November 1965, 1; Lome Mallin, "McFog says fees to freeze: Student heads hail fee freeze stand," The Peak 9 February 1966, 1; "McFog: 'No fee raise,'" The Peak 15 March 1967, 2; and "Diamond for free education: Makes statement at meeting," The Peak 24 January 1968, 1. At the University of Toronto, according to Nigel Moses, tuition fees remained frozen throughout much of the 1960s as government funding proved sufficient to cover the rising costs of education without the need for higher tuition fees. Moses, 375-376. 44 See, UTA, Faculty of Arts and Science, Calendar, 1965-66 to 1971-72 and SFUA, Simon Fraser University, Calendar, 1965-1975. 45 See, Csaba Hadju, Letter to the Editor, The Peak 17 November 1965, 2 and Deanna Kamiel, "UNAC yessed," The Varsity 8 October 1965, 1. Page 208 proportion of the financing for higher education, and university administrators, who set the fees; although tuition fees remained frozen for much of the period at these two universities, no effort was made to abolish such them altogether. In part, the failure of student representatives in this campaign resulted from a continued reluctance on the part of governments, both provincial and federal, to supply a sufficient level of funding to enable universities to operate without additional money from students. If governments were not going to contribute the necessary funds, then universities might be forced to turn to corporations or other groups and individuals to cover their costs if they hoped to reduce their reliance on tuition fees. Such a proposition was problematic for a number of reasons. First of all, corporations and other groups and individuals generally refused to invest their own resources in higher education because they insisted that this was the government's responsibility.46 As well, if reliant on these sources of funding, universities might be compelled to respond to particular corporate or individual needs rather than other academic or societal requirements.47 Campaigns to abolish tuition fees also failed because a significant proportion of the population, including many students themselves, insisted that students should pay at least a portion of their own education; they would, it was presumed, personally benefit by gaining access to higher paying jobs and greater economic stability. As well, as historian Paul Axelrod argues, many people See, Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars. Concerns over such developments are discussed in detail in Chapter 5. Page 209 contended that students must pay for their own education in order to learn individual responsibility in a free-enterprise society. By contrast to the situation at Toronto and SFU, in Regina, tuition fees continued to increase throughout the 1960s. In response, student activists at the university employed more aggressive strategies, consistent with their concurrent campaigns for student government autonomy and participation in university governance, in their attempts to eliminate financial barriers to university. Such actions, which included marches and demonstrations, were aimed almost exclusively at the provincial government, which student leaders identified as responsible for their continually increasing tuition fees. Even though the university administration assumed final authority for setting fees, student council members argued that the provincial government should take greater responsibility for funding higher education and provide sufficient resources to allow the administration to lower and eventually eliminate tuition fees. When tuition fees were raised in 1964, the Students' Representative Council (SRC) organized a one-day boycott of university classes and a march on the provincial legislature. More than 250 of the approximately 900 students on campus participated in this action.5 In February 1968, in response to an announcement that tuition fees would increase from $320 to $400 per year, despite a substantial provincial budgetary surplus that year, five hundred students 4 Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars, 31. 49 See, Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 307-308; University of Saskatchewan Students' Union, "Student Handbook, 1970-71," 22; and "Tuition Fees Up Again," The Carillon 19 September 1969, 1. 50 University of Saskatchewan Students' Union, "Student Handbook, 1970-71," 22. Page 210 marched on the legislature to register their opposition. Carrying signs reading "Tax Potash Not Students" and "Education is Our Birthright, Not a Privilege," these students demanded that their fees be reduced and possibly eliminated.51 While some students were probably more concerned with the rising costs of their own education than with improving access for underprivileged individuals, many nevertheless participated in marches and demonstrations that demanded lower tuition fees and thus pushed accessibility issues into public discussions. Student leaders in Regina also attempted to use a more aggressive tactic to protest tuition fee increases by organizing a fees strike in 1969. They encouraged students to withhold payment of their tuition as a way to "strongly oppose this increase, and press for the reduction and ultimate abolition of all tuition fees... Education must become an inalienable right - available to all - regardless of financial resources." However, most students on campus refused to participate and generally ignored the campaign. On occasion, student representatives at Simon Fraser University and University of Toronto attempted to use similar tactics as their counterparts in Regina in their efforts to reduce or abolish tuition fees. In 1967, the student government at SFU held a referendum to initiate a fees strike whereby students would withhold their tuition payments until the university administration and provincial government agreed to reduce the cost of higher education. However, only 643 students participated in the vote and, as a result, the strike was not 51 See, Pitsula,^ One Who Serves, 307-308. 52 "Tuition Fees Up Again," The Carillon 19 September 1969, 1. 53 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 327. Page 211 implemented. At the University of Toronto, when tuition fees began to increase in the early 1970s, independent student groups also employed this strategy, working in conjunction with the Ontario Federation of Students, a provincial student association, to organize a fees strike. Faced with divisions within the student leadership over the issue, including the refusal of student government to endorse the strike, the campaign fizzled and few students withheld their fees. Although it is unclear from the surviving documents of the period why students were generally unwilling to support fees strikes, it is likely that they acknowledged the harm that such actions would cause the university. Withholding fees might place a tremendous financial burden on administrators, who relied upon such sums to run their institutions, and could therefore threaten the quality of education that students hoped to receive rather than convince officials to lower tuition. While frequently willing to protest against the provincial government to demand increased government funding for higher education and directly confront administrators over other issues, students at all three universities were generally reluctant to attack the university directly over tuition fees because of the direct impact these actions might have on their standard of education. In addition to tuition fees, student leaders also identified student loans as a financial barrier to universal accessibility, preventing academically qualified individuals from attending universities. As the individual costs of education, "Referendum set on fees," The Peak 8 February 1967, 1. 55 See, Contradictory SAC ignores students," The Varsity 27 October 1972, 4 and "SAC meeting kills its withholding campaign," The Varsity 9 February 1973, 3. Page 212 including tuition and living expenses, continued to rise throughout the Sixties, students became more dependent upon government loans to finance their education. The Canadian Student Loans Program (CSLP) was created in 1964 by a newly elected Liberal government. Although Prime Minister Lester Pearson had promised the creation of a bursary program during the election campaign, the government instead introduced a loans only system.56 Provincial governments followed with their own loan programs over the following years, and students were increasingly able to borrow money to finance their schooling. Governments argued that loans made higher education more accessible by providing the money that students without financial means required, but student leaders argued that loans actually prevented students from lower income families from attending university. Potential students from low-income families, they maintained, would be reluctant to take on massive levels of debt in order to receive a post-secondary education.57 Student loans, activists in Toronto argued, "are probably more of a deterrent than incentive to continue university attendance for students from the lower income groups." This position appears to contradict the general assumptions that many students seemed to make about the university. If postsecondary education provided an opportunity for individuals to obtain higher paying jobs and gain access to the middle class, then it should be relatively easy to pay off debts following graduation. As such, the government insisted that loans would not be a significant hardship or act as a deterrent. However, though Moses, 67. See, for example, "SAP debate tomorrow," The Varsity 26 September 1966, 1. "big deal," The Varsity 19 September 1966, 4. Page 213 never clearly articulated, perhaps student leaders recognized that working class families had different attitudes towards debt than their middle class counterparts, being generally less willing to take on excessive financial liabilities even for something that might allow for personal advancement such as a university education. Thus, instead of loans, student representatives insisted that governments should provide more funding for higher education, allowing for the elimination of tuition fees, and offer bursaries to cover any additional costs that students might incur during their time in university.5 To publicize their opposition to loans, these students, especially in Toronto and Regina, organized demonstrations against the provincial and federal governments who were responsible for such programs. In September 1966, for example, the Students' Administrative Council (SAC) in Toronto sponsored a march on the provincial legislature, Queen's Park, to protest the Ontario Student Awards Program (OSAP), demanding that the government increase the proportion of the bursary included in the award; simplify the means test used to determine eligibility; remove the requirement of mandatory parental support; and grant campus aid officers authority to adjust individual awards.60 More than 2 400 individuals from the university attended the demonstration that took place on 28 September 1966.61 Student councilors argued that this massive turnout illustrated See, Brian Cruchley, "SAC sponsors Queen's Park March," The Varsity 23 September 1966, 1. 60 Cruchley, "SAC sponsors Queen's Park March." 61 "2400 Protest Ontario Student Aid Program," The Varsity 30 September 1966, 1. Page 214 that the students in Toronto were "willing to protest an issue which hit them closely enough." These leaders, however, were unable to maintain this momentum over the following years. When the Ontario government announced further changes to the OSAP program in the fall of 1968, including tighter restrictions on funding, student leaders in Toronto, including those at University of Toronto, York University, and Ryerson Polytechnical University, organized a demonstration in protest. Participants carried signs reading, "Education is for everyone," "Education is a right," and "Break social barriers." However, despite arguments from SAC president and future Ontario MP Steven Langdon that students should not only march for themselves but also for those who are unable to attend university because of these increased restrictions, few University of Toronto students rallied in support.64 Only 1 200 students, including many from York and Ryerson, marched on Queen's Park in protest.65 In Regina, student leaders also maintained that student loans limited accessibility to higher education. While the provincial government under the leadership of Ross Thatcher remained a target for student leaders, a visit by the Prime Minister to the city provided students with an opportunity to voice their concerns to the federal government as well. Pierre Trudeau visited Regina in October 1968 to unveil a statue of Louis Riel in front of the Legislative Buildings. 62 "a good start," The Varsity 30 September 1966, 4. 63 Boody, "1,200 tell Bill Davis to 'pass the buck to us' at Wednesday's OSAP march." 64 "OSAP Queen's Park march for next week," The Varsity 13 November 1968, 8. 65 Anne Boody, "1,200 tell Bill Davis to 'pass the buck to us' at Wednesday's OSAP march," The Varsity 22 November 1968, 6. Page 215 During this event, student government sponsored a protest in order to publicize the "godawful [sic] way the Canada Student Loan Plan has been run this year. Bureaucratic slowness in processing applications and the new arbitrary qualifying criteria have made it impossible for some students to attend university this year." According to Students' Union President Dave Sheard, "it was important for those of us who do march to remember that we are marching not only for ourselves, but also for those who weren't able to make it to university this year because of the bad loan situation."66 While it is more likely that students participated in the demonstration for personal reasons, including the rising costs of their own education and their own difficulties in obtaining loans, such statements also indicate a desire on the part of student representatives to link concerns over students loans with their wider concerns that universities were inaccessible to many individuals as a result of financial barriers. In September 1968, approximately 1 200 students, including two busloads who came down from Saskatoon, attended the protest and carried placards reading "No Summer Jobs, No Student Loans, No Education," "Trudeau's Just-For-The- Rich-Society," and "The Thatcher plan: education for the rich only." Students also presented Trudeau and Thatcher with a brief demanding universal accessibility to higher education. This statement highlighted, in particular, their concerns about the inadequacies of the student loan program. Trudeau agreed to address the crowd and stated that "students were selfish for asking that student 66 "Student Loan Demonstration to be Held," The Carillon 30 September 1968, 1. 67 See, "Students carry protests to Trudeau," The Leader Post 3 October 1968, 4 and Bolen, Cameron & Graham, "1200 Students March for Loans," The Carillon 4 October 1968, 3. Page 216 loans be made available to all academically qualified students." By this, he presumably meant that the amount of government funding required to meet the students' demands would require cutbacks in other areas to the detriment of government spending for other groups and individuals in Canada. He also told students that education was a provincial, not a federal, matter and that they should use proper channels to express their concerns. Despite this response, student leaders maintained that the demonstration illustrated that significant numbers of students supported their student leaders on this issue. Not all students, however, agreed with this position. Gord Clark, for instance, wondered why taxpayers should have to pay for protestors and agitators to attend university.7 Clark and others argued that students should be responsible for financing their own education, as they would be the ones to benefit from the degree they received.72 In opposition to the current orientation of the Students' Union and The Carillon, which had spearheaded the student loans demonstration, approximately 75 students, mostly from the Faculty of Engineering and the Faculty of Administration, organized an association of self-declared "moderate" See Bolen, Cameron & Graham, "1200 Students March for Loans" and "Trudeau unveils statue; speaks to student group," The Leader Post 3 October 1968,43. 69 See Bolen, Cameron & Graham, "1200 Students March for Loans" and "Trudeau unveils statue; speaks to student group," The Leader Post 3 October 1968,43. 70 See, Bolen, Cameron & Graham, "1200 Students March for Loans" and "Sheard: 'Public now knows...'," The Leader Post 3 October 1968, 3. 71 "Admin Student in Vanguard," The Carillon 11 October 1968, 5. 72 See, "Admin Student in Vanguard," The Carillon 11 October 1968, 5 and "Demonstrators Attacked," The Carillon 11 October 1968, 10. Page 217 students. These students failed to overthrow the elected student leaders on campus, but their opposition to the protests surrounding student loans nonetheless illustrated another opinion on campus regarding accessibility issues. While student activists at all three institutions were convinced that financial barriers to university had to be eliminated to ensure that all qualified individuals could attend in order to obtain the personal and national benefits of higher education, not all students agreed; many refused to participate in campaigns aimed at improving accessibility and some actively opposed the actions of their leaders around this issue. These divisions demonstrate the ideological divisions among students on campus regarding the responsibility of governments or individuals to finance higher education. DEFINING ACCESS - THE SFU ADMISSIONS CRISIS AND THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO ROBARTS LIBRARY PROTESTS Although struggles surrounding tuition fees and student loans focused almost entirely on the alleged financial barriers to higher education, ignoring possible cultural, racial, socio-economic, or other obstacles to university attendance, student activists at Simon Fraser University and University of Toronto began, by the late 1960s and early 1970s, to define accessibility issues in different ways. At SFU, students associated with the Students for a Democratic University (SDU) challenged what they perceived as the political and class bias of university admissions policies, while student leaders in Toronto protested restrictions imposed on a new library, which they argued limited access to university 73 "Moderates Organize," The Carillon 11 October 1968, 9. Page 218 resources. At both institutions, these students employed assertive tactics in their campaigns, including the occupation of administrative buildings on campus. Through these actions, it became clear that, although increased accessibility was their stated goal, student leaders really hoped to use confrontation to engage large numbers of students in political discussions and debates and create a powerful and influential student movement that could challenge the entire structure of the university and demonstrate the power of students on campus. At Simon Fraser University, the Students for a Democratic University (SDU), a left-wing student organization that promoted radical change, including educational reform and the democratization of the university, spearheaded a campaign against the barriers to higher education created by university policies. Members of the group had been elected to the Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS) during the summer of 1968 and had guided students through the CAUT crisis. However, in October 1968, representatives of the SDU, running on a "student power slate," which focused on student participation in the decision making process,75 were defeated in a general election by a group of self-declared "moderates." According to Gordon Hardy, an SDU member and reporter for The Peak, the election had been fought between "the activists, who are honestly militant, [and] the 'moderates,' who are generally tories in disguise." In this case, the terms "activist," "radical," and "moderate" were tied directly to the 74 See, SFUA, F-79 The Simon Fraser University Faculty Association Fonds, File F-79-3-4-1 "CAUT censure of SFU, 1967-69." "A Programme of Action for SFU," [1968] and Johnston, 132. 75 "Moderates sweep to victory," The Peak 25 September 1968, 1. 76 Gordon Hardy, "By your deeds shall ye be known: Analysis by Gordon Hardy," The Peak 18 September 1968, 6. Page 219 student movement; they were used to distinguish between those who sought a major restructuring of the university, including its educational and governing functions, and were willing to use direct confrontation to achieve these goals, and those who argued for more modest changes within the university and relied upon negotiation as their primary political strategy. Most students, Hardy argued, agreed with the issues raised by the SDU, including democratization of the university, but opposed the more aggressive tactics employed by the radical students on campus.77 While Hardy's membership in the SDU clearly influenced his perspective on this matter, the election results in the fall of 1968 indicate some dissatisfaction amongst students, at least those who voted, with the policies or programs of the SDU. Having lost the election, though only by a relatively small majority, members of the SDU began searching for an issue that could once again engage students in political activities on campus, reenergize the relatively united and aggressive student movement that had emerged during the CAUT crisis, and rebuild support for their organization. Furthermore, student uprisings had occurred around the world throughout 1968. In Paris, Prague, Mexico City, Chicago, and elsewhere, students had demonstrated their power, when united together, to challenge and transform structures of power. Aware of these events and increasingly conscious of the potential influence students might wield if allied Hardy, "By your deeds shall ye be known." 78 Gordon Hardy, "Moderates still winning," The Peak! October 1968, 1. Page 220 together, SDU members probably hoped to create a similar movement within their own immediate environment, the university. With this intention, SDU leaders at Simon Fraser University looked outside their own campus for support. They met with their counterparts at University of British Columbia (UBC) and Vancouver City College (VCC), a community college in the city, to discuss the development of a joint program of action that could mobilize the students at all three institutions. At a meeting held in October 1968, VCC student leaders explained some of the problems that community college students were experiencing when attempting to transfer to Simon Fraser University. The university, they explained, refused to recognize credits for courses taken at the community colleges, thereby forcing students to on retake their classes following admission to the institution. Student leaders at SFU already had their own concerns about the admissions policies at SFU and were convinced that the Associate Registrar at their university, Doug Meyers, was discriminating against potential students. In particular, they were concerned that Meyers had arbitrarily rejected applications for admission from American draft dodgers for political rather than academic reasons. The concerns over transfer credits raised by students from VCC further substantiated these allegations of discrimination; university officials, SDU members argued, were preventing 79 Ted Richmond, "Convocation - and beyond," The Peak 15 May 1968, 9; John Cleveland, Interview with the author, 11 February 2006; John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006; and Sharon Yandle, Interview with the author 13 February 2006 80 See. George Reamsbottom, "A Chronology: From the Beginning," The Peak 28 November 1968, 8. 81 See, "Are you really a student?" The Peak 11 September 1968, 4 and Bill Fletcher, "SFU students not wanted," The Peak 23 October 1968, 5 Page 221 qualified individuals from becoming students at the university. Such claims appeared to be substantiated by official documents discovered by student representatives during their investigations into admissions policies and procedures.83 Thus, at their meeting, SDU members from the three institutions, though probably less concerned with the specific issue of admissions policies and more interested in creating an influential student movement, decided to work together on a campaign to expose these discriminatory policies and practices and pressure the university administration to make the university more accessible. While also concerned with the political discrimination faced by draft dodgers in attempting to gain admission to the university, the SDU focused primarily on the class barriers to higher education. This issue became central to the campaign because it brought students from all three institutions together around a common concern. Moreover, as SDU member and relatively privileged son of a Canadian ambassador John Cleveland later recalled, student leaders chose to concentrate on admissions policies because they "wanted to raise class issues... [W]e picked that consciously and created the confrontation."85 According to these students, the university is a system that "perpetuates an unequal system of class privilege. Although publicly financed in the main, 82 Gordon Hardy, "Strand confronts students," The Peak 23 October 1968, 1. See also, SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-l 93-19-6-0-6 "Admissions Protest, 1968." Students for a Democratic University, "Transfer and Admission," [n.d.]. 83 See, Gordon Hardy, "Strand confronts students," The Peak, 23 October 1968, 1 and "Documents," The Peak, Peak Extra, 25 November 1968, 10. 84 Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 8 85 John Cleveland, Interview with the author, 11 February 2006. See also, Gordon Hardy, Interview with the author, 10 February 2006 and Marcy Toms, Interview with the author, 5 March 2006. Page 222 entrance to university is most available to the middle and upper class population. The majority of people, the workers, the poor, ethnic minorities - rarely have access to university." Student leaders linked this perspective directly with the issue of transfer credits, arguing that many individuals from lower income families could not afford to attend to university immediately and would take courses closer to home in the community colleges before transferring to SFU in their second or third year. Students involved in the SDU argued that a failure to recognize classes taken at the community colleges and forcing students to retake them at the university unfairly penalized students from low income families and restricted access to higher education.87 University, they argued, should be available to all academically qualified individuals. To initiate the campaign and publicize their concerns with the admissions policies of the university, SDU members from the three institutions organized a rally and teach-in to be held at Simon Fraser University on 14 November 1968. SFUA, F-20 The Department of Political Science, Sociology and Anthropology Fonds, File F-20-3-4-22 "Faculty dispute - handouts, 1968-74." Simon Fraser SDU, Pamphlet, [n.d.]. 87 This position ignores some of the important the differences between universities and community colleges. While community colleges were designed, in part, to offer two years of a degree program before students would have to transfer to one of the universities to complete their program, thereby saving money by living closer to home for the first two years, the community colleges were also oriented towards vocational programs more than academic programs and were often staffed by secondary school teachers rather than university faculty members. This design made fluid transfer between the community colleges and the universities difficult as students at the former institutions may not have received the same level of education as that required for acceptance at the provinces universities. See, Johnston, 22-25. 88 SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-l 93-19-6-0-6 "Admissions Protest, 1968." Simon Fraser SDU, "Pamphlet," 14 November 1968. See also, Bill Engleson, Interview with the author, 24 April 2006. Page 223 Approximately 500 students from SFU, UBC, VCC, and Selkirk College, another community college in Vancouver, attended these events. Student leaders were apparently surprised by this turnout: according to an article in The Peak, "The rally and sit-in demonstrate^] more militancy and gain[ed] more student support on than planners at first expect[ed]." At the gathering, SDU members presented four demands to the university administration: freedom of transfer and automatic acceptance of credits within the provincial public educational system; creation of an elected parity student-faculty admissions board; the opening of all administration files to this board; and increased funding for education as a whole and equitable financing within post-secondary institutions, including an end to the existing freeze on school construction in the province. Following these events, newly-elected SFU president, Ken Strand, addressed the students who had gathered in the Administration Building. He stated that they had a "good issue" and admitted that admissions procedures at the university had developed in an ad hoc fashion. He recommended that the Senate investigate the situation and announced that its Undergraduate Admissions and Standings Committee would meet with students that evening. l Approximately two hundred students attended the meeting. However, the committee ignored the SDU's demand for freedom of transfer within the provincial educational system and voted that the establishment of a parity admissions board was outside of its sy Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 8. 90 Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 8. 91 SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-19-6-0-6 "Admissions Protest, 1968." "Occupation Crisis at S.F.U. - A Chronology," [December 1968], 1-2. Page 224 terms of reference. The Undergraduate Admissions and Standings Committee, comprised entirely of faculty members, insisted that it was powerless to address the students' concerns over admissions policies. It is unclear from the available documents whether or not this claim was accurate or merely an attempt by faculty members, who had recently succeeded in their efforts to take control of the university's governing structures, to assert their influence and resist pressure from student leaders. In either case, the refusal of the committee to respond to their four demands angered SDU members who, hoping to further escalate the crisis in order to convince more students to get involved in on-campus activities, organized another rally to be held on Monday, 20 November. The undisclosed number of students at this rally voted to attend en masse the emergency Senate meeting that had been called for that evening. At the same time, approximately one hundred students initiated a sit-in at the Administration Building. Roughly three hundred students were present at the Senate meeting and, when that body voted 18-3 to reject the SDU's demands, many of them decided to join the sit-in at the Administration Building.94 By 11:00 p.m. on 20 November, approximately 200 students occupied the building.95 By this time, the tactics employed by student activists seem to have become more important than the issues they were trying to raise. According to an article in The Peak, SDU representatives had been secretly considering an 92 "Occupation Crisis at S.F.U. - A Chronology," [December 1968], 2. 93 Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 8. 94 Reamsbotton, "A Chronology," 8. 95 "Occupation Crisis at S.F.U. - A Chronology," [December 1968], 4. Page 225 occupation as a way to pressure the administration to acknowledge their demands and convince the student body to participate in direct action to achieve greater accessibility to higher education.96 Many of these student leaders apparently believed that confrontational strategies, including an occupation, would compel the university administration to respond with force, which would presumably expose the existing power relations within the university and illustrate for students that attempts to negotiate to achieve their goals, whatever they might be, were ultimately pointless. No change could occur, these student leaders argued, within the existing structures; the structures themselves had to be destroyed.97 While some students who engaged in the occupation argued it was their "only avenue left" after attempts at negotiations had failed, others insisted that they could only achieve success, which they defined as the creation of a powerful student movement, through the escalation of their demands and tactics. As one commentator later explained, "Students agree[d] that arrests will be [the] best means of dramatizing [the] unwillingness of administrators to negotiate on anyone's terms but their own."99 These attempts to mobilize the student body through confrontation regardless of the issues involved indicate that many student 96 "Administration occupied," The Peak 21 November 1968, 1. 97 See, Hardy, ""By your deeds shall ye be known." See also, "Moderates sweep to victory," The Peak 25 September 1968, 1; "A Programme of Action for SFU," [1968]; John Cleveland, Interview with the author, 11 February 2006; and Gordon Hardy, Interview with the author, 10 February 2006. 98 Gordon Hardy, "The sit-in...," The Peak 21 November 1968, 4. 99 Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 9. Page 226 leaders continued to define, as they had since the mid-1960s, political engagement as a central component of their student identity.100 Not all student leaders at Simon Fraser University, however, agreed with this conception of student identity. The president of the Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS), Rob Walsh, issued a letter to all students on 20 November condemning the actions taken by a "minority of Simon Fraser University students (along with a few U.B.C. and Vancouver City College students and other non- students)." According to Walsh, a self-identified "moderate," the "students' council cannot condone this sit-in; a sit-in that uses people with problems in a political game."101 While SFSS members conceded that there were problems with the current admissions policies and structures on campus, they opposed the confrontational and aggressive tactics employed by the SDU and attempted 1 (Y) instead to negotiate with President Strand. These students, then, acknowledged the importance of the issues raised by the SDU but did not accept that their identity was intrinsically tied to an extreme critique of the status quo. Instead, they began to view the SDU leaders as radicals rather than as students. Yet, the president refused to negotiate with any students until the occupation ended. He stated that they had already made their point and had, in 100 See Chapter 2. 101 SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-19-6-0-6 "Admissions Protest, 1968." Letter to All Students from Rob Walsh, 20 November 1968. 102 SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-19-6-0-6 "Admissions Protest, 1968." Letter to Dr. K. Strand from D. Terry Devlin, 18 November 1968. Page 227 fact, succeeded in their demands. At its emergency meeting, the Senate agreed to establish a committee to deal with appeals regarding admissions and standings that would include two faculty members, one student member of Senate, and one student to be named by the SFSS. Senate members also established a review of all admissions and standings policies at SFU.104 The Senate, while unwilling to address the SDU's specific demands, was at the same convinced enough to study the university's structures. They apparently agreed that changes to admissions policies and procedures were required but remained hostile to the radical and confrontational factions of the student movement. In this way, they opposed the tactics employed by some student leaders rather than the demands for improved admissions standards and policies. The approximately two hundred students participating refused to end their occupation. If their goal had been to provoke a strong response from the university administration, then they were successful. Three days after the occupation began, at 2:30 a.m. on 23 November 1968, President Strand called the police to clear the Administration Building. In what many students perceived as a selfish move,105 approximately 60 students, most of them members of the SDU who argued that they might be singled out or treated unfairly if arrested, left the 1UJ See, Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 8; Pat Beirne, "Cops Bust 114," The Peak 25 November 1968, 1; and "The Occupation Crisis at S.F.U. - A Chronology," 6. 104 SFU A, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-19-6-0-6 "Admissions Protest, 1968." Kenneth Strand, Press Release, 21 November 1968. 105 John Sayre, Interview with the author, 14 February 2006. Page 228 building when given the opportunity to do so. The remaining 114 students were arrested without incident. There are a number of possible reasons why Strand used police force to end the occupation. First of all, as SFU historian Hugh Johnston argued, Strand and his advisors were frightened of how far the increasingly radical SDU might go to further inflame what was clearly becoming a more radical student movement on campus.1 Secondly, as he was new to the job, having been elected only four months earlier during the CAUT crisis, he might have seen the occupation as an opportunity to assert his power and authority within the university. Strand also may have perceived the divisions among students on campus and estimated that his actions would not actually further mobilize the student body. Ultimately, he was simply doing what many people expected and wanted. "Strand's decision to bring in the police," Johnson explained, "defined his presidency: it accurately caught the mood of the majority on the campus and in the general public; it impressed the board [of governors] and it gave him credibility with the government."109 The use of police force to end the occupation, in fact, divided the student body even further. Although the Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS) had opposed the tactics of the SDU students, it nevertheless condemned Strand for calling the police on campus "in violation of the principles of academic freedom John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006. 107 See, Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 9; "The Occupation Crisis at S.F.U. - A Chronology," 7 and Johnston, 291. 108 Johnston, 288. 109 Johnston, 283. Page 229 and of integral autonomy of the SFU community."110 The police, they argued, had no right to interfere with on-campus activities. SFSS representatives also passed a motion guaranteeing legal aid and bail for all of the students who had been arrested.1'' According to these students, this position was "not to be interpreted as any endorsement of the action these students elected to take, but rather as supporting the protection of rights of those accused." At a general meeting held the following week, an unknown number of students agreed to hold a strike vote if the SDU's demands remained unfulfilled. However, more than 67 per cent of the students who cast ballots rejected the general strike. In addition, more than 1 800 of the approximately 4 000 students on campus signed a petition supporting Strand's decision to call the police to clear the Administration Building.114 Although their petition does not indicate their motivation, it is probable that most of these students opposed the aggressive tactics used by the SDU and its supporters and, as one student later recalled, were "turned off when it became clear that a lot of the student radical leaders who had been in the building left before the arrests were made."115 SDU members were willing to put students on the line to confront the university administration in an attempt to further HU SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F193-18-4-0-5 "Student Society, 1968-69." Letter to Dr. Strand from Rob Walsh, 25 November 1968. 111 Reamsbottom, "A Chronology," 9. 112 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-2-0-14 "Minutes, Sept-Dec 1968." "Special General Meeting of the S.F.S.S. Held at 10:30 A.M. in the Mall on Tuesday, November 29, 1968." 113 SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-l 93-19-6-0-7 "Admissions Protest - working file, 1968." "Result of Strike Vote," 29 November 1968. 114 SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-19-6-0-6 "Admissions Protest, 1968." Petitions. 115 John Sayre, Interview with the author, 14 February 2006. Page 230 politicize the student body, but were unwilling to accept the personal risk that such actions entailed. Ultimately, while many groups and individuals, from the SDU and the SFSS to administrators and the Senate, agreed that admissions policies and procedures were a problem,116 the SDU failed to convince a significant majority of students on campus to participate in direct confrontation with the university administration over the issue. In part, student activists may have failed to convince a significant proportion of the student body that access to higher education was an important issue or that discriminatory admissions policies were actually a barrier to access to higher education. Even if students did accept these arguments, they seemed reluctant to participate in aggressive actions to reform university admissions policies. Tactics were central to this crisis, as SDU members sought to use an occupation to convince students to actively engage in political activities on campus; their goal was not necessarily to change admissions policies but to create a mass movement on campus that could radically transform the existing political structures of the university. However, many students actively opposed these tactics, continuing instead to believe in the efficacy of negotiation over direct confrontation and resisting the increasingly antagonistic strategies used by some student leaders. As this crisis illustrates, the student body at Simon Fraser University was, by the late 1960s, divided over the importance of the issue of accessibility, the necessity of an overhaul of the existing structures on campus, the appropriate means to be used to achieve such ends, and the centrality 116 "Jean Bergman," The Peak 21 November 1968, 2. Page 231 of political engagement to their identity as students. Thus, while these same SDU leaders had convinced many students to participate in actions aimed at achieving student participation in university governance, including direct confrontation during the PSA Strike as discussed in Chapter 3, they could not build similar alliances around the issue of accessibility or the occupation of the Administration Building. Similarly, at the University of Toronto, student leaders were, by the early 1970s, defining access to the university in a very specific way; they began to focus on the restrictions placed on university resources rather than the financial barriers to higher education. In particular, student activists organized a campaign to protest the policies being implemented at a new library that was being constructed on campus. University administrators had decided in the early 1960s that new facilities were needed for the expanding School of Graduate Studies. Graduate programs became increasingly important at universities throughout Canada during the postwar period, as highly trained individuals were required to staff the ever-growing postsecondary institutions and an expanding civil service as a result of the swelling welfare state and to contribute to the continued material and technological advancement of western society.117 At the University of Toronto, which already had a large number of graduate students, enrolments more 118 than doubled between 1963 and 1970. To address the requirements of such growth, the university, with funding from the federal and provincial governments, 117 See, Massolin, 134 and Robin Harris, A History of Higher Education in Canada, 1663-1960 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976), 552-561. 118 See, UTA, President's Report, 1963-1964, 332 and UTA, Report of the President, 1970-1971, 63. Page 232 began planning for the construction of a new Humanities and Social Sciences Research Library to be named the Robarts Library after the premier of Ontario.119 Politically engaged students, who were developing a confrontational relationship with university administrators and faculty members during debates over university governance, became concerned with these developments when the Library Council, an administrative body on campus comprised primarily of faculty members and librarians, decided that access to the stacks would be 190 restricted to professors and graduate students. Undergraduates would be able to order books, to be retrieved by librarians, but would not be allowed to enter the 191 stack areas themselves. These restrictions, according to University of Toronto Librarian Robert Blackburn, would protect the collection from theft, mutilation, and misplacement.122 Undergraduate student leaders at the University of Toronto opposed these restrictions. As early as 1967, when the library was still in its initial planning phase, the Students' Administrative Council (SAC) passed a motion calling for 19^ unrestricted access to the library stacks for all registered students. As well, 11 See, Martin L. Friedland, The University of Toronto: A History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), 474-478. 120 Friedland, 537. 121 Linda McQuaig, "Take a good look before books go," The Varsity 26 November 1971,5. 122 See, UTA, A1984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Robert H. Blackburn, "Facts About Library Access: A Statement by the Chief Librarian," 17 March 1972 and Robert H. Blackburn, Evolution of the Heart: A History of the University of Toronto Library Up to 1981 (Toronto: University of Toronto Library, 1989), 229. 123 "SAC wants universal access to stacks," The Varsity 10 February 1967, 3. It is unclear why SAC chose to address this issue in 1967. It may have been part of their desire, expressed through demands for greater participation in university Page 233 student representatives to the Library Council, who were added in 1968 in response to demands for greater participation in university governance, continued to lobby to change the policy on stack access.124 The council, however, refused to reconsider this position. By 1972, the Robarts Library was nearing completion and the Library Council was set to make its final decision regarding access policies. Student activists, who were seeking a new issue around which they could organize the student body after the confrontations in the Faculty of Arts and Science the year before, decided to press harder to force the administration to allow undergraduates full use of the library. In January 1972, SAC passed a motion reaffirming their earlier demands, while the student government at University College, one of the oldest colleges within the University of Toronto system,127 circulated a petition calling for unrestricted access for undergraduate students to the stacks of the new library.128 As well, the editors of The Varsity asked students to sign and return a "coupon" demanding direct access to the books in the library.129 More than 2 500 coupons were received by The Varsity,130 governance around the same time, to be included as full members of the university community, or it may have been connected to their concerns over the accessibility of higher education. 124 See, Blackburn, 229. 125 See, Phil Dack, Interview with the author, 16 January 2006 and Blackburn, 232. The events in the Faculty of Arts and Science are discussed in Chapter 3. 126 UTA, A1978-0028 Office of the President, Box 005, File 03. "Memorandum: Chronology of Library Access Dispute," [March 1972], 1. 127 See, Friedland, 32-37. 128 "Library decision today: Will undergrads get in?" The Varsity 2 February 1972, 1. 129 "Varsity launches appeal to open stacks to undergrads," The Varsity 17 January 1972, 1. 130 Ulli Diemer, "Library Council says 'no': Undergrads left out," The Varsity 4 February 1972, 1. Page 234 and the petitions attracted approximately 8 000 signatures by the beginning of February 1972.131 According to student representatives, access to the stacks of the new Robarts Library was important for a number of different reasons. First of all, they argued that restricting use of the library to faculty members and graduate students created unnecessary distinctions between the various groups on campus. As one editorial in The Varsity explained, "what the [Library Council's] position really does is stratify even further the false division within this university between faculty, students and other (more advanced?) students. In doing so, it negates further any attempt to create 'community' out of this university." These students were opposed to the divisions created between undergraduate and graduate students; all registered students, they argued, were members of the university community and should have access to the same services and facilities.133 Many student leaders also argued that the debate over the policies for Robarts Library related to larger questions regarding access to higher education and the resources of the universities. For example, former University of Toronto student Phil Dack recalled that the library issue illustrated "that the University was being built, run, financed for a very elitist purpose rather than.. .education for 131 Students' Administrative Council, "Submission to the Senate of the U. of T. from the Students," 1. 132 "Library Council: A good way to pass the afternoon," The Varsity 2 February 1972, 4. 133 See, "our (?) new library," The Varsity 28 February 1969, 4 and UTA, A1984- 0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Students' Administrative Council, "Submission to the Senate of the U. of T. from the Students," [n.d.], 4. Page 235 the masses." As one reporter for the student newspaper explained, "The view forwarded by the Library Council, and the view held by most senior faculty and administrators in the university, is that knowledge is a commodity to be carefully hoarded for the benefit of a select few." Instead, student activists argued that higher education and research should be of value to "the majority of people." Having apparently internalized assumptions about the importance of the university to personal and national development, they remained convinced that all Canadians actually desired access to the university and its resources. As such, they argued that everyone, rather than simply faculty members and graduate students, should have the opportunity to use the library. In this case, then, student leaders were less concerned about the actual use of books and more insistent that administrators acknowledge the principle of accessibility to higher education. Some students went even further and insisted that the "limited access to the library is symbolic of the class nature of the university and of Canadian society."137 Members of the Old Mole, a small group of "revolutionary socialists,"138 released a pamphlet arguing that the daughters and sons of the working class of Ontario find it incredibly difficult to attend university because of the high cost of tuition. This, they argued, is unacceptable: books should "be available to anyone who wants to use them" not only to "an intellectual elite 134 Phil Dack, Interview with the author, 16 January 2006. 135 "What is behind Robarts fig leaf?" The Varsity, 10 March 1972, 4. 136 UTA, A1984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Letter to Member of the Community from Students Administrative Council, [n.d.], 1. 137 UTA, A1978-0028 Office of the President, Box 005, File 2. The Old Mole, "Books for Whom? Books for What?" [n.d.]. 138 "Molers support Trotskyists," The Varsity 6 March 1972, 10. Page 236 which will use this knowledge for the maintenance of the existing order." SAC members seemed to agree with the position presented by the Old Mole and, in their January 1972 motion, called for the Library Council to investigate the possibility of allowing the general public access to the university's libraries. For many students, this demand for community access to the library became the central issue of the campaign.140 The Library Council, however, continued to ignore students' demands for policy reform. Its members consistently argued that increased access to the library would result in overcrowding, limit the availability of research materials, and result in the damage and loss of books.141 For student leaders, this constant rejection of their demands indicated the fierce opposition of faculty members to the concept of open stacks. It reinforced for these students that "senior faculty wish to preserve the sacred instruments of academe as their own private preserve."142 Such a strong statement indicates the depth of the divisions that had emerged between students and faculty members by the early 1970s, especially as a result of the adversarial campaigns for student-staff parity on decision-making bodies. The initial strategies employed by student politicians and journalists in this dispute, including the use of coupons and petitions, required only passive 139 "Books for Whom? Books for What?" 140 "Memorandum: Chronology of Library Access Dispute," 1. 141 UTA, Al 984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." "Report of the Library Council Sub-Committee on Stack Access to the Robarts Library," 27 February 1972. 142 "Maybe we can fill the fifth elevator shaft with undergrad books," The Varsity, March 1, 1972,4. Page 237 involvement of students on campus, as they merely had to sign and return a provided statement. Since these tactics failed to convince university officials to revise stack access policies, student activists decided to try other methods and new strategies that might more actively engage the student body, as the most numerous and potentially powerful group on campus, to achieve unrestricted use of the library. They created an Open Stacks Committee, which was charged with organizing a university-wide campaign. The highlight of the campaign was an Open Stacks Party held in the Sigmund Samuel Library, the main library on campus prior to the opening of the Robarts Library. Festivities included speakers, music, and food as the students managed to keep the library open all night.143 The point of the party, according to SAC representatives, was to "point out to the university that if the students wanted to open a library they could."144 In other words, the purpose was to convince university administrators of the power that students might wield if organized and actively engaged en masse. A large number of students attended the Open Stacks Party, including, according to reports in The Varsity, many who had not previously participated in political activities on campus.145 It is unclear, however, whether this was accurate or simply a strategy employed by student leaders to claim significant support among the student body Doug Hamilton, "Students win round one: Sig Sam doors kept open," The Varsity 11 February 1972, 1. 144 Students' Administrative Council, "Submission to the Senate of the U. of T. from the Students," 1. 145 See, "It was nice to see new faces," The Varsity 11 February 1972, 4 and "Plebiscite organized on Opening Robarts Library," The Varsity 7 February 1972, 1. Page 238 for their campaign and demonstrate the influence of students on campus as a result of their large numbers. SAC representatives also sent a letter to members of the community surrounding the University of Toronto explaining the situation and asking for support for the campaign for open access. By doing so, they hoped to make important connections with off-campus groups and individuals, and they received statements of support from Henry Campbell, the Toronto Public Library chief librarian, and from the Ontario Waffle, the Labour Council of Metropolitan Toronto, and the Ontario Anti-Poverty Organization.147 The final decision on policies for the Robarts Library rested with the Senate, which met on Friday, 10 March 1972. University officials moved the meeting from the Senate Chamber to the Medical Sciences Building, citing overcrowding as a result of the large numbers of students who were in attendance. Some students charged that the "change in venue was a manoeuvre on the part of 14.8 nervous administrators to get students out of the building." At the meeting, Senate members repeated previous concerns regarding overcrowding and the protection of library resources and voted by a margin of 67 to 28 to uphold the recommendations of the Library Council.149 It is probable that many of the professors who sat on the Senate believed that university resources had to be Letter to Member of the Community from Students Administrative Council. 147 See, "Noon Con Hall meeting called," The Varsity, 11 February 1972, 1; "Library access supported," The Varsity, 23 February 1972, 12; and "Groups opt for open stacks," The Varsity, 10 March 1972, 1. 148 Ulli Diemer, "Occupation began peacefully," The Varsity 13 March 1972, 3. 149 Art Moses, "Senate rubber stamps closed stacks," The Varsity 13 March 1972, 5. Page 239 protected by restricting stack access; however, it is also possible that many, especially those who had come into conflict with student leaders in the recent past, used this opportunity to reassert their power and influence on campus and reject the demands presented by student leaders. As the meeting dispersed following the vote, a number of students initiated an occupation of the university's administration building, Simcoe Hall. Approximately twenty students, "[fjoreseeing the possibility that students might want to return to the Senate Chamber later," had stayed behind to keep it open.150 These students had obviously planned in advance to escalate the confrontation by occupying the building in the event that the Senate refused their demands. Their planning meant that approximately seventy students were able to enter the building, despite the presence of campus police at the entrances, and begin an occupation of the Senate Chamber. This small group of students, which included SAC representatives and Varsity reporters, argued that they had exhausted all of the "proper-channels," from the Library Council to the Senate, but their demands remained unaddressed. "With the rules of the game so blatantly against students, who have no legitimate power to enforce their wishes," one article in The Varsity explained, "an occupation was a highly justified move." For these students, generally the most assertive and confrontational student leaders, negotiation was Diemer, "Occupation began peacefully." 151 Diemer, "Occupation began peacefully." 152 UTA, Al984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Open Stacks Committee, "Join the Open Stacks Sit-in Now," [n.d.]. 153 "When peaceful protest fails..." The Varsity 13 March 1972, 4. Page 240 an increasingly ineffective strategy; only direct confrontation could make university administrators respond to student demands. Similar to their counterparts at SFU, these students argued that an occupation would compel the university to respond with force and thus expose the power relations within the university, including the relative powerlessness of students despite their numerical majority. By doing so, student activists hoped a large number of students would be convinced to engage in aggressive political actions to help overthrow existing structures.154 According to one student, who acknowledged the potential strength of the student body, "the real power in the university lies with students if students chose to mobilize themselves."155 Thus, like the SDU at Simon Fraser University, these student leaders continued to define student identity in terms of political engagement and to view the mass mobilization of the student body as central to their responsibility within the university community. Throughout the weekend, the newly-appointed acting president of the university, Jack Sword (Claude Bissell retired 1 July 1971), and "an hoc group of senior administrators and academics" attempted to negotiate with the students to end the occupation. According to Sword, it "proved difficult to negotiate. On the one hand, the composition of the student group changed constantly and no continuing link appeared to exist between the negotiating team and the official 154 See, UTA, A1984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Flyer, "Join the Open Stacks Sit-in Now," [n.d.]; UTA, Al984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Untitled Statement from Open Stacks Committee, Students' Administrative Council, and Graduate Students' Union, [n.d]; and Phil Dack, Interview with the author, 16 January 2006. 155 "When peaceful protest fails. Page 241 representatives of the graduate and undergraduate student bodies." The students who participated in the occupation did not act on behalf of SAC or the Graduate Students' Union (GSU), even though many were, in fact, executive members of these bodies. Some of the students involved in the occupation may have been part of the Open Stacks Committee, but it is likely that the action was undertaken by an unaffiliated group of individuals who were more concerned with using aggressive tactics to put pressure on university officials and mobilize the student body in direct political protest than with the issue of access to the library. These students wanted to demonstrate the ineffectiveness of negotiations and illustrate the power of students to obstruct the operations of the university. Thus, there was probably little impetus for them to cooperate with administrators.158 "On the other hand," according to Sword, it was difficult to negotiate because "the ad hoc group of senior administrators and academics had no constitutional authority to negotiate the issues being raised by the student group." Only the Senate, he argued, could address "all the questions relating to lib UTA, A1978-0028 Office of the President, Box 005, File "Stack Access." John Sword, "Statement by Dr. John H. Sword, Acting President, University of Toronto," 12 March 1972, 1. 157 See, Flyer, "Join the Open Stacks Sit-In Now," [n.d.]; Untitled Statement from Open Stacks Committee, Students' Administrative Council, and Graduate Students' Union, [n.d]; and Phil Dack, Interview with the author, 16 January 2006. 158 See, Flyer, "Join the Open Stacks Sit-In Now," [n.d.]; Untitled Statement from Open Stacks Committee, Students' Administrative Council, and Graduate Students' Union, [n.d]; and Phil Dack, Interview with the author, 16 January 2006. Page 242 the need for and degree of access."159 As a result, negotiations to end the occupation failed. On Sunday 12 March 1972, Sword decided to call in the police to clear the Senate Chambers. Without warning, the police smashed down the door to the Senate Chamber and removed the approximately twenty-five students still inside.160 Fourteen students, including SAC president Bob Spencer and co-editor of The Varsity, now a reporter for the Toronto Star, Tom Walkom, were charged with criminal code trespass offences. Four other students were charged with trespassing along with more serious violations such as assault because they had resisted arrest.161 In an official statement, Sword tried to justify his actions, stating that the "University cannot condone the seizure of buildings carried out in order to impose solutions on matters under consideration by responsible bodies." He also claimed that "the occupation was completely unnecessary and was forced by a very small group of students interested in polarization, confrontation, and the imposition of their views."162 This latter claim was probably true. Sword explained that the occupation would interfere with the normal operations of the university if left to continue until Monday and could not, therefore, be allowed to carry on. Finally, he indicated that university officials were fearful that the 159 Sword, "Statement by Dr. John H. Sword, Acting President, University of Toronto," 1. 160 "p0jjce smasri Senate doors to reach protestors," The Varsity 13 March 1972, 3. 161 UTA, Al984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Open Stacks Committee & SAC Executive, "Mass Meeting 1:00 Monday Convocation Hall," [n.d.]. 162 Sword, "Statement by Dr. John H. Sword, Acting President, University of Toronto," 2. Page 243 occupation might extend beyond the Senate Chamber. In other words, it is likely that Sword wanted to reassert his control over the university and prevent this small group of students from disrupting the operations of the university. In contrast to the situation at Simon Fraser University, where the use of police force to finish the occupation marked the end of the conflict, at the University of Toronto, Sword's decision brought significant numbers of students together.164 On Monday, the day after the police cleared the Senate Chamber, more than 2 000 students attended a meeting organized by the Open Stacks Committee and agreed to three demands: that all charges laid on Sunday be dropped; that no police be brought on campus to resolve internal university matters; and that access to the Robarts Library stacks be equal and open. The students in attendance also voted to re-occupy Simcoe Hall, and approximately 600 students participated in this occupation.165 According Varsity reporter Marina Strauss, the students involved in the second occupation "came from many different sectors of the campus. Many had not before been directly involved with the protests over the library issue."16 Similar to the reports of the Open Stacks Party, it is unclear whether this statement was accurate or merely a strategy to try to indicate widespread support for the occupation and thus exert pressure on the university administration to capitulate to the students' demands. 163 Sword, "Statement by Dr. John H. Sword, Acting President, University of Toronto," 2-3. 164 Tom Walkom, Interview with the author, 8 March 2006. 165 UTA, Al984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." Open Stacks Committee, "600 Re-Occupy Simcoe Hall," [n.d.]. 166 Marina Strauss, "Second occupation paralyzes building," The Varsity 14 March 1972, 3. Page 244 There are many reasons why students in Toronto reacted differently than their counterparts at SFU. Most importantly, perhaps, students may have been more sympathetic to the use of aggressive and confrontational tactics by student leaders and more hostile to attempts by university administrators to settle disputes by force. During the conflicts over discipline in the 1960s, students in Toronto continually asserted their opposition to the interference of civil authorities, namely the police, in university affairs. In addition, student leaders had demonstrated the power of confrontational tactics the previous year when an occupation over the issue of day care achieved its goals. Many confrontations See, Louis Erlichman, "Committee to study 'outmoded' discipline methods," The Varsity, 7 February 1968, 2; UTA, A1976-0020 Office of the President, Box 016, File "Discipline." SAC, "The CUPO [sic] Paper: What's It About, Why Back SAC," 28 September 1969; and UTA, Al 977-0020 Office of the Executive Vice-President and Provost, Box 069, File "Discipline." SAC Statement, [n.d.]. 168 In March 1970, students and faculty members involved in the Campus Community Cooperative Day Care (CCCDC) initiated an occupation of the Senate Chambers to pressure university administrators to provide adequate facilities for their operations. Many politically active individuals on campus, including current and former Students' Administrative Council (SAC) representatives and members of a number of radical socialist organizations, such as the Worker-Student Alliance, the New Left Caucus, and other groups associated with the Trotskyist League for Socialist Action and the Maoist Canadian Party of Labour, also participated in this action. Faced with this large demonstration, Claude Bissell agreed to negotiate a settlement and offered $2 000 from the Varsity Fund to finance renovations to the current location of the day care. Although the university had not recognized its long-term responsibility to provide day care to its students and staff, as the protesters demanded, such concessions at least guaranteed the survival of the CCCDC. Day care advocates were satisfied with the outcome and halted their protests. In this way, those involved in the occupation had successfully employed this confrontational strategy to achieve their goals. See, Liz Willick and Ron Colpitts, "Day care confronts Bissell: yes or no?" The Varsity 25 March 1970, 2; "350 Occupy Simcoe Hall," The Varsity 26 March 1970, 1; "Simcoe Hall is Occupied," The Varsity 26 March 1970, 4; "Bissell to ask for $2,000," The Varsity 26 March 1970, 2; "Day Care occupation shatters a myth," The Varsity, April 3, 1970, 4; UTA, A1979-0042 Office of the President, Box 002, File "Student Discipline." Page 245 had occurred on university campuses throughout Canada and elsewhere between 1968, when the SFU occupation took place, and the Robarts Library occupation at University of Toronto in 1972, and students were perhaps more open to the use of particularly aggressive strategies and tactics.169 It is also possible that many students wanted to avoid the legal and criminal consequences associated with direct protest. The occupation undertaken to protest the police presence on campus and to demand equal access to the library included a significant proportion of the student body, which made attempts by university administrators to clear the building very difficult. As a result of these large numbers, which clearly indicated that further police action would escalate the tension on campus, Sword decided to negotiate with student leaders. Approximately six hours after the occupation began, Sword released a statement in which he agreed to call an emergency meeting of the Senate to present a proposal for equal stack access for all faculty, staff, graduate students, undergraduate students, alumni, and members of the public to be restricted only if library administrators determined that numbers had become too large. In his statement, he suggested that the public "The 'Day-Care' Sit In (March 25-26, 1970)," 6 April 1970, 2; UTA, A1976- 0020 Office of the President, Box 15, File "Day Care." Claude Bissell, Draft Statement, 6 April 1970, 1; and Claude Bissell, Halfway up Parnassus: A Personal Account of the University of Toronto, 1932-1971 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1974), 148. 169 Examples of confrontations include the occupation of the offices of the Dean of Arts and Science and the Dean of Graduate Studies at the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus discussed in Chapter 3; the occupations at Columbia University in New York City over plans to acquire land for the university; and the Kent State shootings in Ohio during a protest over the expansion of the Vietnam War to Laos and Cambodia. Page 246 would be required to pay a minimal users' fee to cover the costs associated with their registration. Sword also agreed that the university would only call the police on campus if negotiations with students failed or if there was "a clear and present danger to the essential functions of the University." Interestingly, the Robarts Library occupation seemed to meet the criteria that Sword laid down for calling the police; attempts at negotiations had failed and the operations of the university would probably have been disrupted if the occupation had continued. Nevertheless, Sword had deemed it necessary to call the police in that instance to end the protest and prevent students from creating greater disorder on campus. Finally, Sword stated that "the interests of both the University community and the public would be best served if all charges were dropped by all concerned."170 Although this statement did not guarantee that the Senate would approve the proposal or that students would not face criminal prosecution, it did acknowledge all of the demands presented by student leaders.171 As a result, the occupying student could no longer justify their actions or continue to escalate the crisis, and they decided to end their occupation. This did not, however, resolve the controversy. A number of faculty members, who had become more antagonistic towards student leaders and their demands over recent years, were angered that Sword had agreed to compromise, and they criticized the Acting President for "submitting to pressure tactics."172 170 UTA, Al 984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." "Statement by the Acting President," March 13, 1972. 171 "Sword Caves In," The Varsity 14 March 1972, 1. 172 Eric Mills, "Faculty, administrators split on crisis," The Varsity 15 March 1972,3. Page 247 These professors circulated a petition stating that "It would be intolerable should we permit the constitutional processes of the university to be undermined everytime [sic] a group resorts to forcible disruption of the machinery by which we govern ourselves."173 As well, the council of the Faculty Association voted 14 to 3 to condemn the administration's actions. These faculty members argued that the university administration had usurped the Senate's authority by agreeing to negotiate on anything other than how to end the occupation and that the independence of the Senate, a body dominated by faculty members, was undermined by Sword's proposal regarding open access.175 Sword's suggested solution to the conflict strengthened divisions between the faculty and administrators, which had been largely dormant since the end of the parity crisis. The professors who voted against the resolution, referred to as "ultra- conservative members of the faculty" by student representatives, suggested that the entire library issue be postponed until the new Governing Council, created in the wake of the Commission on University Government, began operations on 1 Julyl972.176 In using these tactics, faculty members, probably more concerned with their disagreements with student leaders and administrators than the library issue itself, dug in their heels in order to assert their power and influence on campus. When the Senate finally met on 20 March, its members voted to reject Sword's proposal and referred the issue of access back to the Library Council. 173 UTA, A1984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 065, File "Library Crisis '72." "...Current Faculty Activities," [n.d.]. 174 Friedland, 538. Mills, "Faculty, administrators split on crisis." 176 UTA, Al 978-0028 Office of the President, Box 005, File 2. "No Double- cross," 20 March 1972. Page 248 This delayed a resolution regarding the policies of the Robarts Library until after i nn the completion of classes for the summer. With students no longer on campus, and thus the urgency of the dispute removed, the library issue sank into 1 no bureaucratic obscurity. Finally, when the library opened in 1973, the library staff itself decided that all students would be eligible to obtain passes to enter the stacks.179 Debates over access to the new Robarts Library had brought significant numbers of students together around a common cause. Initial demands that undergraduate students and members of the general public have equal opportunity to use the new facility convinced many students on campus to sign petitions and coupons and attend the Open Stacks Party. Yet, this support remained relatively passive. For the student activists who hoped to persuade large numbers of students to actively participate in political activities on campus, more aggressive strategies were required. Initially, most students were unwilling to engage in direct confrontation with university administrators; they likely had reservations about the suitability of such actions to deal with a relatively minor issue such as library access, had misgivings about the general efficacy or appropriateness of an occupation as a political tactic, or had anxieties regarding the possibility of their arrest for partaking in such activities. The former position is more probable as, when the police were called on to campus, many students were prepared to take 177 UTA, Al984-0019 Students' Administrative Council, Box 65, File "Library Crisis '72." Statement of Norman Hughes, Chairman of University of Toronto Senate, 20 march 1972. See also, "Senate lets Sword down, puts off vote," The Varsity 21 March 1972, 3. 178 "A committee should not a library make," The Varsity 15 January 1973, 4. 179 Friedland, 539. Page 249 direct action in protest. This conflict over stack access to the Robarts Library also highlighted various divisions that existed on the University of Toronto campus. Student leaders, faculty members, and administrators all came into conflict as each group attempted to exert its influence and authority on campus. CONCLUSIONS Having asserted their right to engage in political discussions on campus, student activists identified particular issues that they believed to be important and that might bring significant numbers of students together into a unified and powerful student movement. One of their major concerns was the perceived inaccessibility of higher education. Apparently convinced that all individuals would want to attend university if given the opportunity, student leaders campaigned first against financial barriers and later against other obstacles that they considered hindered access to higher education. They employed a number of different tactics, including the release of statements and motions, the organization of demonstrations and protests, and the occupation of university facilities. The student body on each campus responded in different ways to the concerns raised and the strategies used by these leaders. Reactions included passive and active engagement and, occasionally, direct opposition and depended, to a large degree, on both the issue involved and the tactics employed by student leaders. Overall, debates over access to higher education provided an opportunity for many students to assert their right and responsibility to participate in political discussions on campus but were not as successful as campaigns for student Page 250 participation in university governance at creating alliances between students and their leaders because of divergent ideological positions within the student body and disagreements over the use of particular tactics and strategies and the definition of student identity. Politically engaged students, however, continued to search for issues and strategies that could create and maintain a student movement. Page 251 CHAPTER 5 "As One Who Serves": The Student Movement and Debates over the Purpose of the University Similar to campaigns for increased accessibility to higher education, debates regarding the purpose of universities in Canadian society exposed entrenched ideological divisions within the student body and limited the formation of a unified student movement. Postsecondary education underwent a significant transformation in the postwar period; in order to keep up with the technological and material developments of the time and satisfy the demands of the modern workforce, it shifted from a traditional liberal arts orientation to a greater focus on utilitarian scientific research and practical job training. In response to these changes, the purpose of higher education became a central part of public and on-campus debates. This chapter examines the attempts by student representatives, using their newfound responsibility and autonomy within the university, to present a unique student perspective in these discussions. It explores how such efforts further intensified existing tensions with faculty members and administrators and, as students increasingly gave the impression that they had distinctive concerns and perspectives within the university community, helped crystallize the divergent identities on campus. As a result, these deliberations made it appear as though an organized and cohesive student movement existed on campus. However, this chapter demonstrates that students did not share a common perspective on the purpose of higher education and that these debates actually accentuated important ideological divisions within the student body. Student Page 252 activists, especially those in the Arts faculties, took a particularly radical position; they insisted that dramatic actions were required to make the world a more equitable and just place and that higher education should directly contribute to the necessary social change. They argued that the emerging practical orientation of the university, focused more on job training rather than on critical thinking, limited its ability to accomplish this task. Other students, though, took a more conservative stance in response to this argument. They generally accepted the evolving functions of their universities and frequently refused to adopt or, on occasion, actively opposed the position presented by their leaders. As such, this chapter reveals that conflicting perspectives, rooted in different ideological beliefs, emerged during discussions surrounding the purpose of higher education and signaled the limited nature of alliances among students on campus. THE CHANGING PURPOSE OF THE UNIVERSITY In conjunction with the emerging perception of higher education as central to the cultural, material, and technological development of the nation and individual efforts to enter the growing middle class in the postwar period, Canadian universities underwent a tremendous transformation. Before the Second World War, these institutions were, generally speaking, relatively small, offering a classical liberal arts education to the political and economic elite of Canadian society. Some professional programs, including Medicine, Law, and Engineering, had been slowly integrated into universities. Historians of higher education in Canada maintain that, since these programs often provided practical preparation Page 253 for specific occupations, institutions of higher education became increasingly responsible for job-training. Nevertheless, the primary purpose of postsecondary education, they insist, remained largely to impart general knowledge and develop the intellectual abilities of the nation's future leaders.1 According to historian Philip Massolin, Canadian universities had been slowly modernizing prior to World War II, but the "war accentuated existing trends away from the traditional liberal arts orientation of higher learning towards a greater pragmatism."2 Academic disciplines considered essential to the war effort, including the applied sciences and other practical programs, flourished while the humanities and theoretical sciences languished. This process continued unabated after the Second World War, especially within the context of the Cold War. Concerns over the scientific and technical dominance of the Soviet Union, confirmed for many by the 1957 launch of the Sputnik satellite, placed pressure on Canadian universities to protect "western supremacy" by investing in scientific and technological research. Universities in this period, then, became more focused on technological development rather than providing a liberal arts education.4 See, Robin Harris, A History of Higher Education in Canada, 1663-1960 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976) and A.B. McKillop, Matters of the Mind: The University in Ontario, 1791-1951 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994). 2 Philip A. Massolin, "Modernization and Reaction: Postwar Evolutions and the Critique of Higher Learning in English-Speaking Canada, 1945-1970," Journal of Canadian Studies Vol.36, No.2 (Summer 2001), 132. 3 Massolin, 132. 4 Massolin, 130. Page 254 The Canadian labour market also changed dramatically in the postwar period. The expansion of the welfare state required greater numbers of civil servants and educated professionals. Universities were expected to prepare individuals for entry into this kind of workforce. This development further accelerated the shift from the traditional liberal arts education to practical education within Canadian universities as many individuals increasingly attended universities in order to obtain specific employment following graduation. These changing expectations contributed to the dramatic growth of graduate schools and professional programs. As a result of such changes, higher education became, according to historian Paul Axelrod, valued "not for its ideals, but primarily for its products - skilled professionals who would contribute to economic prosperity."5 No longer dedicated to providing a liberal arts education to the future leaders of the nation, by the 1960s, universities were becoming large, complex, state-funded institutions and offered a more utilitarian and applied education to an ever-expanding proportion of young people. Canadian universities were developing into "mulitiversities," a term coined by University of California President Clark Kerr to explain the increasing complexity of his institution with its wide range of constituent programs, faculties, departments, and research institutes with no single vision to guide its operations.6 The word "multiversity" became central to discussions surrounding the purpose of the university by the 1960s. For some, it took on a positive Paul Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars: Politics, Economic, and the Universities of Ontario, 1945-1980 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982), 4. 6 Clark Kerr, The Uses of the University (New York: Harper & Row, 1966). Page 255 connotation, denoting the useful and important ways that universities could contribute to the continued advancement of the nation through an expanded curriculum with professional programs and research facilities. For others, especially politically active students, the multiversity was, in the words of Doug Owram, "a symbol of all that was corrupt about the modern university."7 In particular, some students rejected the multiversity because of its reliance on interests outside "the original community of masters and students," especially on governments and corporations, its lack of common vision or purpose, and its increasing focus on practical and applied research and training.8 These developments within Canadian universities did not occur unchallenged. For instance, as Massolin explains, a number of individuals, including academics and other important commentators such as Harold Innis, Donald Creighton, George Grant, Vincent Massey, Hilda Neatby, and Northrop Frye, continually complained about the shift away from the liberal arts within institutions of higher learning in the 1950s. These people, who Massolin characterizes as conservatives because of their resistance to the evolving purpose of the university, argued in favour of the liberal arts model and rejected the emerging preoccupation with science and technology and the continued expansion of professional programs. For them, higher education should contribute to social change by seeking to understand how society evolved and providing insight into possible courses of action for the future. In these ways, they insisted, universities Doug Owram, Born at the Right Time: A History of the Baby Boom Generation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), 180. 8 See, Owram, 180 and Howard Adelman & Dennis Lee (eds.), The University Game (Toronto: Anansi, 1968). Page 256 could be actively engaged with society, challenging the status quo and working to improve the world beyond the "ivory tower," rather than simply training individuals for jobs in the modern workforce. In addition, according to Massolin, these conservative academics worried that increased government funding limited academic freedom by forcing universities to respond to political concerns rather than participate in supposedly unbiased academic inquiry. Such interference, they contended, prevented universities from functioning as social critics.9 Massolin claims, however, that these critiques of the practical orientation of the university, geared to the needs of industrial society and governments rather than to social change, had been marginalized by the 1960s, as "most people within and outside the academic world were willing to accept and accommodate this fait accompli... There was somber resignation among academic observers that the day of the modern university had arrived at last."10 While these conservative critics of the university continued to rail against the changes occurring within their institutions, Massolin argues that most academics and other individuals had accepted the so-called modern university by the 1960s.11 Another historian, Patricia Jasen, demonstrates that student leaders developed their own critiques of the university, especially the arts curriculum, during the 1960s. She explores how an earlier generation of commentators had recognized the university as the most important institution in the modern society and that, as such, student leaders hoped to use it to effect social change. 9 Massolin, 137-157. 10 Massolin, 157. "Massolin, 157. Page 257 However, according to Jasen, these students quickly came to realize that the arts curriculum did not provide them with the skills they insisted they needed to effectively critique and transform society. It was in reaction to this failure of the arts curriculum to equip students with tools for social change, Jasen argues, that the student movement began to organize protests to challenge existing educational structures and offer a different perspective on the purpose of the university. Both Jasen and Massolin offer important analyses of the various campaigns that developed in the postwar period against the emerging orientation of the university as focused on job-training and applied research rather than liberal arts education. A detailed study of the events at three specific institutions, confirms the findings of these scholars but also illustrates the significance of debates over the purpose of higher education to the evolution of the English-Canadian student movement. These discussions provided an opportunity for student leaders to present a position that supposedly represented all students on campus. Such efforts further escalated divisions with faculty members and administrators but also demonstrated that student activists did not speak for all students on campus, which limited the formation of a united student movement. STUDENTS DEBATE THE PURPOSE OF THE UNIVERSITY Throughout the Sixties, students at English-Canadian universities continually debated the purpose of the university. Unlike many of the other 12 Patricia Jasen, '"In Pursuit of Human Values (or Laugh When you Say That)': The Student Critique of the Arts Curriculum in the 1960s," in Youth, University and Canadian Society, eds. Paul Axelrod & John G. Reid (Kingston & Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1989), 247-271. Page 258 concerns raised by these students, which revolved around organized campaigns and specific events, this particular issue remained primarily in the realm of discussion; many students spent a great deal of time talking about their unease regarding the emerging orientation of the university and presented their positions on the role of higher education in society but rarely initiated concerted actions around the issue. In addition, while these debates occurred at all three universities included in this study, student activists in Toronto offered a particularly consistent and articulate critique of the university, in large part because their institution was quickly evolving into a multiversity. These students, primarily located in the Arts faculties, took a radical position in these deliberations in that they hoped to effect a complete overhaul of the function of their institutions. Just as many students wanted to increase accessibility to universities to ensure that everyone could benefit from higher education, some politically active students wanted universities to profit the wider commons rather than simply the wealthy and powerful members of society. In responding to this position, another group of students assumed a more conservative stand. These students, who were more often those enrolled in professional programs on campus, are often difficult to identify because they rarely actively engaged in the political discussions and activities surrounding the purpose of the university. This lack of participation in discussions and debates implies either that many of them were not interested in the issue or were unwilling to endorse the critiques of the university presented by their leaders. Despite the generally uncoordinated nature of the discussions and the failure of student representatives to convince a significant number of other Page 259 students to engage in the debates, concerns over the purpose of the university remained central to the efforts of many student leaders at all three institutions during the period included in this study. There are a number of possible reasons why the more radical students chose to express their anxieties over the direction that their universities were taking. For instance, many student activists were seeking greater influence in the university community in a number of different ways, including through demands for greater participation in university governance as discussed in Chapter 3. As such, they may have been concerned that their disciplines, primarily the Arts, were losing dominance as professional programs became ever more central to the operations of the university. For the same reason, they may have been frustrated with their general lack of power within the classroom and in their relationships with their professors. Some students were perhaps simply bored by dull courses and teaching methods or annoyed by the increasing focus of their instructors on research rather than teaching. Many students may also have felt alienated by the growing anonymity and assembly-line educational techniques associated with their institutions that were increasingly geared to mass education. According to sociologist Cyril Levitt, a lot of students were disappointed when they arrived at the huge mulitiversities that were vastly different from the intimate academic communities that they had anticipated. "Students who had been expecting first-class passage on a luxury liner," he explains, "soon discovered that they were second-class passengers on a See, Jasen, 251. Page 260 tramp steamer." According to Levitt, students were experiencing "anticipatory alienation" as they realized that their future opportunities in the workforce would be as impersonal and bureaucratic as their encounters within the university. As well, the "massification" of higher education meant that the available jobs were "losing their exclusivity" and educated individuals were unable to gain the privileged positions they hoped to obtain.15 Thus, for Levitt, complaints regarding the purpose of higher education actually reflected frustrations regarding employment expectations. However, while job prospects were definitely a concern for some students, especially for the minority who were from the working class and for those enrolled in the professional programs that trained them for a particular occupation, Levitt perhaps overemphasizes this point. The students who guided the debates over the purpose of the university were less concerned with economic considerations, largely because of the sustained affluence they had experienced in the postwar period, and more interested in addressing the various social and political problems that they maintained existed in Canada and around the world. Generally speaking, the vision of the university that many student representatives articulated, though not always clearly or consistently, was rooted in a particularly radical view that major social change was necessary and that students should lead efforts to achieve the transformation. Despite widespread claims that democracy and capitalism were improving the lives of individual 14 Levitt, 34. 15 Levitt, 35. Page 261 Canadians,16 some students lamented the continued existence of poverty, racism, imperialism, war, and other negative aspects of western society. Looking to the world beyond the walls of the university, they claimed that significant changes were required to overcome what they perceived as the inequalities and injustices in the world. Higher education, many of these students argued, could and should play an important role in effecting the changes necessary to create a more equitable and just world by offering critiques of existing structures and values and providing the critical thinking skills necessary to consider alternatives. As a result of the widespread rhetoric of the postwar period, some student leaders had become convinced that universities were important institutions that could provide 1 8 solutions to the world's problems. Although they took a more radical position, they mimicked, while not consciously drawing upon, the arguments presented by Philip Massolin's conservative critics of the modern university in the 1950s, who maintained that the university should act as a social critic, consciously and 1 These claims were central to the ideological warfare of the Cold War. The pervasive rhetoric of the Cold War period emphasized the benefits of democracy and capitalism, including equality and justice, in contrast to the oppression and injustices of the communist system. See, for example, Reg Whitaker and Gary Marcuse, Cold War Canada: The Making of a National Insecurity State, 1945- 1957 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994); S.L. Sutherland, Patterns of Belief and Action: Measurement of Student Political Activism (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1981), 4-6; and Stewart Burns, Social Movements of the 1960s: Searching for Democracy (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1990), xi-xv. 17 See, for example, Roberta Lexier, '"The Backdrop Against Which Everything Happened': English-Canadian Student Movements and Off-Campus Movements for Change," History of Intellectual Culture Vol.7, No.l (2007). 18 Jasen, 248-250. Page 262 actively engaged in offering solutions to the various problems in the world.19 In a book published in 1973, former University of Toronto student Howard Adelman referred to this as the Mission University, which should develop "a mature set of values from which to assess and direct society," in contrast to the Mirror University, which merely accepted and reinforced the "predominant values of society." To achieve this critical engagement with society, most commentators assumed that universities would have to return to its liberal arts traditions and abandon its new practical, job-training function. A number of scholars, including historians of higher education in Canada and commentators on the current issues facing postsecondary education, demonstrate that the conception of the university as a social critic was not invented in the 1950s or the 1960s; the idea that academics should provide "direction and purpose" to the wider society dates back to the initial founding of institutions of higher learning in the thirteenth century and continued to be a central component of postsecondary education for many centuries.22 Thus, radical students were generally adopting very traditional ideas about the university and 19Massolin, 137-157. 20 Howard Adelman, The Holiversity: A Perspective on the Wright Report (Toronto: New Press, 1973), 37. 21 See, for example, Jasen, 247-271; Massolin, 140-143; George Whalley, ed. A Place of Liberty: Essays on the Government of Canadian Universities. Toronto: Clarke Irwin & Company, 1964; Michiel Horn, Academic Freedom in Canada: A History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999). 22 See, Peter C. Emberely, Zero Tolerance: Hot Button Politics in Canada's Universities (Toronto: Penguin Books, 1996); Paul Axelrod, Values in Conflict: The University, the Marketplace, and the Trials of Liberal Education (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2002); Robin Harris, A History of Higher Education in Canada, 1663-1960 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976); and A.B. McKillop, Matters of Mind: The University in Ontario, 1791- 1951 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994). Page 263 applying them to their own concerns with the developments that had been taking place since the end of the Second World War. However, few of these students acknowledged or perhaps even realized that their ideas about the university had deep historical antecedents. Some students, including Bob Bossin and Howard Adelman in Toronto, later recalled having done extensive research on the history of education and theories of educational reform during the Sixties,23 but very rarely did such analyses appear, at least explicitly, in students' critiques of the modern university. Instead, many student leaders may have thought that their positions were new and innovative. In hoping to create a university that could engage with the world beyond its walls, these politically engaged students criticized many of the emerging functions that they insisted endangered this role. For example, they frequently condemned the focus on "job-training" within the modern university, which was reflected, they argued, in the continued expansion of professional programs and in the educational system as a whole. "University education," complained the Students' Administrative Council (SAC) in Toronto, "has in fact become training, largely at public expense, for the technical and manipulative skills increasingly demanded by our corporations." 4 Bob Bossin, Interview with the author, 18 January 2006 and Howard Adelman, Interview with the author, 9 March 2006. 24 UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 005, File "CUG." "Students' Administrative Council Brief to the Commission on University Government: Adopted March 12, 1969," 9. See also, MUA, Ontario Union of Students Fonds, Box 22, File "Student Participation in University Government." Dimitrios Roussopoulos, "The Student Syndrome," December 1965, 4. Page 264 Through the universities, student leaders claimed, corporations gained access to trained personnel who were ready to enter the workforce and support the existing economic system. Higher education, for these students, was described as a factory, which mass produced degrees rather than proving a "real" education. This position was perhaps most clearly articulated by Cy Gonick, a faculty member at University of Toronto and future NDP MLA in Manitoba: The university may be regarded as a business enterprise which manufactures B.A.'s and B.Sc.'s. The students are 'goods in process'; the manufacturing process generally takes three to four years after which the student emerges as a finished product - a B.A. (B.Sc). The workers, those who fabricate the goods in process to the finished commodity stage, are the professors. The professors in turn are supervised by the plant foremen - the deans; the general manager of the plant is the university president... The goods in process are tested periodically in the various stages of production - to ensure that they conform to minimum standards and specifications. In this way, Gonick expressed concerns that students were being subjected to an explicit process that, instead of providing the skills to critically engage with the world, trained them to do a particular job and forced them into an existing corporate mold. As a traditionally elite institution, the university had always been held responsible for teaching students the customs and values required to take up positions of power within society. However, some students raised concerns that C.W. Gonick, "Self-Government in the Multiversity," in The University Game (eds.) Howard Adelman & Dennis Lee (Toronto: Anansi, 1968), 41-42. See also, SFUA, F-193 Office of the President Fonds, File F-193-18-1-0-1 "Dean of Student Affairs, 1964-68." Johan Schuyff, "A Note of Dissent," in "Student Affairs Committee Final Report," December 1968. 26 See, Paul Axelrod, Making a Middle Class: Student Life in English Canada During the Thirties (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, Page 265 the modern university now emphasized only the principles and standards of business and industry. According to the University of Toronto SAC, "Corporations count on the university both to train the technically skilled employees they need, and to socialize students to the bureaucratic realities of the employment within them." "[T]he university," these students asserted, "is designed to buttress the present economic and social system. It reproduces its own hierarchical structure, the structure of the modern corporation, and it prepares students for places in the corporate world." In their assessment of the existing functions of the university, SAC representatives contended that higher education uncritically forced students into this corporate mold in a variety of different ways: The pattern of student financing, the university governing structure, the style and content of education, the institutionalized bureaucracy, all socialize the student as well to be able to work within a corporate society. The norms are well inculcated: private self investment, passivity vis-a-vis one's environment, acceptance of and respect for authority, creativity and innovation only within limits, knowledge of and for the status quo, cynicism about the possibility of social change, definition of freedom in solely individual and negative terms (i.e., freedom from), even resigned 9Q acceptance of bureaucracy. 1990); McKillop; and Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars. See also, "On our 90th birthday, here's a look at U of T," The Varsity 7 October 1970, 4. 27 UTA, P78-0693 - 02 Students' Administrative Council, Handbook '69, "university and society." 28 UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 003, File "Student Movemenovement in the 1960s." Claude Bissell, ""RevieR w of Student Protest," [n.d.], 2. 29 "Students' Administrative Council Brief to the Commission on University Government: Adopted March 12, 1969," 10. Page 266 In other words, according to these student leaders, students were trained to be passive consumers who respected rather than challenged the authority of their instructors and had limited opportunities for creativity and critical thought. Many student leaders also decried the service the university offered to the corporate sector through its other functions. They characterized the university as "the corporate research assistant." Faculty members were doing work, including research and consulting, for those who could pay for it, primarily big business. As a result, according to some student leaders, their professors had become "servile or greedy henchmen of the ubiquitous Establishment."32 This was important because "[k]nowledge is power, and academics are increasingly willing to flog their merchandise for a profit." Thus, rather than using knowledge to challenge dominant values of society, as the more radical student leaders wanted, they maintained that faculty members were simply reinforcing the existing structures by supporting to corporate interests. While these various critiques, in part, reinforce Levitt's argument that students were concerned with the mindless conformity that they would face in the workforce, they also reflect a concern among many student activists that the transformations taking place within the university limited their ability to effect social change. "Students' Administrative Council Brief to the Commission on University Government: Adopted March 12, 1969," 11. Toward Community in University Government: Report of the Commission on the Government of the University of Toronto (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1970), 31. 32 UTA, Al 978-0028 Office of the President, Box 001, File 2. Ernest Sirluck, "Convocation Address," 13 June 1969, 8. •5-5 Toward Community in University Government, 31. Page 267 Rather than simply criticizing the emerging orientation of the university, certain student representatives also articulated an alternative vision of higher education. "There was a sense," Toronto student and now medical doctor Joel Lexchin recalled when reflecting upon his experiences of the Sixties, "that the universities were a place where new ideas would come from and that the universities would lead the way in changing society."34 Similarly, according to Simon Fraser University student Marcy Toms, some students "wanted to be able to use the University as a place from which the world really could be changed." These leaders thus tapped into traditional conceptions of the university as an institution that could actively engage in social critique and reform. "The university must be free," student representatives in Toronto argued, "to provide a critical forum for society's ills.. .and hopefully postulate some solutions to these rapidly increasing deficiencies."36 At University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus and Simon Fraser University, professors and students incorporated this perspective on the purpose of the university into their own official policies. In 1963, faculty members at the Regina Campus released the "Educational Policy for the Liberal Arts," generally referred to as the Regina Beach Statement, which outlined the "aims and aspirations of the arts and science faculty and defined what they meant by the term 'liberal education.'" The statement insisted that "the university is an Joel Lexchin, Interview with the author, 21 March 2006. 35 Marcy Toms, Interview with the author, 5 March 2006. 36 UTA, P78-0693 - 03 Handbook 1970, 5. 37 James M. Pitsula, As One Who Serves: The Making of the University of Regina (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006), 150. Page 268 important part of the critical intelligence of society, examining institutions, seeking to penetrate the future, sensitive to change, aware of the past, and of the •JQ manifold problems and dangers of the present." In other words, the university should actively engage in political debates and contribute to social change. By drafting this declaration, faculty members at the Regina Campus put forward a particular vision for the university, one that generally "served as a rallying point in and a guide for the development of the campus." At SFU, members of the Political Science, Sociology, and Anthropology (PSA) Department articulated a similar vision of the university. In July 1969, students and faculty members in the department adopted a "Statement of Principles," which declared their desire to critically analyze society and "help to overcome obstacles to the realization of human liberation." Overtly rejecting academic work that they asserted "serves the interests of the wealthy and powerful," these students and professors affirmed their desire to serve those who they deemed to be the underprivileged and underrepresented members of society. In particular, they identified workers, First Nations peoples, welfare recipients, and youth as their targets for scholarly activities. As SFU student leader John Conway reflected years later: Okay, we agree that the university is publicly funded and a public institution, and as a public institution, publicly funded in a democracy, we have a particular obligation to the community. But we don't like your definition of community, because your definition of community is the power brokers, the elite, the establishment, the rich, the corporate sector. We want to serve the 38 URA, University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, Calendar, 1964. 39 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 150. 40 "PSA Statement of Principles," The Peak 16 July 1969, 8. Page 269 people, the workers, fishermen, the aboriginals, the street people and so on.41 Although Conway, who later became a sociology professor, only articulated his position in this way decades after his involvement in the student movement, his recollections reiterate statements made during the Sixties. Students and faculty members in the PSA Department rejected many of the changes taking place within their institution and demanded the development of a university that could improve conditions for underprivileged and underrepresented members of society. Radical students also suggested a number of changes that they maintained would allow the university to become, or more accurately return to, a critically engaged institution. For example, they sometimes framed their demands for greater participation in university governing structures as an attempt to limit the influence of corporations on campus. "The lack of student or faculty representation on administrative and governing bodies in this university," argued the editor of the University of Toronto student newspaper, "is seriously hampering the development and operation of this university as anything other than a degree manufacturing corporation."42 Similarly, as John Conway stated when running for president of the Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS), "Student power must ultimately mean each student's ability to influence and direct the quality and meaning of his [sic] experience in the classroom. We stand for 41 John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006. 42 "an intolerable mystery," The Varsity 14 October 1966, 4. Page 270 education aimed at individual autonomy and social change rather than training for slots in the corporate machinery." In addressing the issue of governance, many student activists frequently asserted that the Board of Governors was particularly troublesome because individuals representing the corporate sector generally dominated its membership.44 While this concern emerged at all three universities throughout the Sixties, an article by Simon Fraser University student Sharon Yandle offers a particularly poignant analysis of this problem: The Sfoo People, inhabiting an isolated, usually fog-submerged plateau high above the habitat of more advanced people has, as we know, an elaborate caste system which...is a near-perfect pyramid, at the top of which is the priest caste. This caste is not in fact indigenous to the Sfoo People, but has been imposed by a stronger ruling class extant in the adjacent advanced civilization mentioned above. Known to its subjects by the curious name of BoG, the priest-caste (which numbers about twelve people) wields almost total control over the lives of the Sfoo. They alone are in communication with the gods (known only by secret code names such as 'shell,' 'alcan,' 'bell,' etc.) whose commands they must strictly obey.45 Simon Foulds personal papers, "Power in the Classroom," [n.d.]. 44 At all three universities, though specific structures varied slightly, the Board of Governors was comprised primarily of individuals appointed by the provincial government to represent various interests in the community. The majority of these appointees were representatives of business and corporations in the province. See, Hugh Johnston, Radical Campus: Making Simon Fraser University (Vancouver: Douglas & Mclntyre, 2005), 65 and Martin L. Friedland, The University of Toronto: A History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), 204-205 and 544. For critiques of Board of Governors membership, see for example, "Who runs U of T? - Big business and Tories," The Varsity 25 January 1965, 1 and Myrna Wood, "The business interests of the Board of Governors," The Varsity 17 January 1968, 1. 45 Sharon Yandle, "The Sfoo..." The Peak 18 January 1967, 4. Page 271 As well, Toronto student Ernie Lightman remembered, "we wanted to get rid of [all the businessmen who sat on the Board of Governors], because they were just contaminating the university."46 Along with governance issues, these student representatives also focused specifically on the educational process and contended that it had to change if the evolution of their institutions into multiversities was to be halted. They rejected the various tools that they insisted were used to fit students into the corporate agenda. For example, grading became a particular target for many student leaders at this time. According to University of Toronto SAC president and future NDP Member of Parliament in Ontario Steven Langdon, "Grading is the major reflection of.. .the very close intertwining of the University with the productive sector, the corporate world, of Canadian society. Grading is the standardization process by which employee selection is simplified for societal institutions."47 By creating prescribed norms and standards, some student leaders argued, traditional evaluation methods, including grading, provided employers with the necessary information on how a potential employee will operate within the corporate structure.48 These students also maintained that grading corrupted the true purpose of education by restricting critical thought and real learning: "[g]rading is a tool for the selection of people closest to a predetermined model, not for the Ernie Lightman, Interview with the author, 7 March 2006. 47 UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 006, File 2. Steven Langdon, "Thoughts on Aim & Objectives, S.A.C. - 1968," August 1968, 15-16. 48 SFUA, F-159 The British Columbia Student Federation Fonds, File F-159-1-2- 3 "Meeting briefs and reports, [1968], 1969-70." "Student Implementation Committee Report," [1968], 31. Page 272 evaluation of learning." "The direction we must move in," stated SFU student Brian Slocock, "is towards freeing the intellectual enterprise from the procrustean bed of quantification, competitiveness, and authoritarianism. This means an end to grading in all its forms."5 Many radical students also demanded greater power and influence in the classroom, which, in the 1960s, was largely dominated by professors. Rather than passively accepting the knowledge that faculty members provided, these student leaders argued that students must actively participate in the production of knowledge.51 Considering this issue retrospectively, SFU student and later professor Jim Harding recalled that "We saw knowledge as communal. We saw the creation of knowledge as a communal process." As such, these student leaders sought to break down the rigid faculty-student relationships they saw in the classroom. Within this new system of education, the professor would be "at best an equal partner in the learning process,"54 and students would take control of their own learning experience, formulating alternative processes of education responsive to individual student needs rather than the needs of "prospective corporate employers."55 Although framed in these idealistic terms, the demand for equal authority in the classroom was also a partly self-interested attempt by student activists to gain more control over the educational process in order to 49 Handbook '69, "learning." 50 Brian Slocock, "Grading - A radical break," The Peak 2 July 1969, 5. 51 "University: Myth and Reality: SAC tells it like it is to CUG," The Varsity 5 March 1969, 8. 52 Jim Harding, Interview with the author, 20 January 2006. 53 Horn, 26. 54 "student power - who won?" The Varsity 10 January 1969, 4. 55 "Power in the classroom." Page 273 assert their own perspectives and interests rather than acknowledging the knowledge and expertise of their professors. The apparent desire among many politically active students to create an educational system that reflected their own concerns and ideologies led to demands for more "relevant" course content. According to the radical left-wing on-campus Toronto Student Movement (TSM), "the content of the subject matter being taught is the primary force in conditioning students to accept the status quo."56 This "status-quo orientation" was apparent "both in terms of the emphasis and omissions of some departments and the direction and approach of particular courses."57 Examples raised by student leaders included the lack of courses on groups such as women and labour, an emphasis on capitalist structures and ideologies with little discussion of Marxist perspectives, and the overall American orientation of many courses. In other words, the university did not provide a curriculum that included the issues of most concern to student leaders or that conformed to their own views of the world. While this could be considered a selfish position, which privileges the positions and perspectives of the student leaders themselves over the expertise of their professors, these demands were framed as part of a wider vision of the university. Course material, student activists frequently asserted, had very little 56 LAC, MG31-D66 Peter Warrian Fonds, Vol.4, File "Miscellaneous, n.d., 1969." Bob Dewart, Bill Johnston, Steve Moore, "The Student Movement and Class Politics," [1969], 5. "Students' Administrative Council Brief to the Commission on University Government: Adopted March 12, 1969," 6. 58 See "Students' Administrative Council Brief to the Commission on University Government: Adopted March 12, 1969," 6 and "The Student Movement and Class Politics," 5. Page 274 social relevance and did not provide them with the tools they needed to "cope with and transform their environment." They argued that they needed to be educated about the inequalities and injustices in Canada and around the world in order that they might act as social critics and develop solutions to the world's problems. Framed this way, student leaders insisted on the development of classes on subjects such as ethnic minorities, the working class, women, Aboriginals, and Canadian history, literature, and politics. The overall goal was, according to one student, "a more human, critical, and socially responsible curriculum."60 Many student representatives contended that relevant courses would only be developed if students participated in promotion and tenure decisions, in developing curriculum, and in evaluating their instructors. "Course content is inevitably shaped by who is hired to give a particular course," student leaders in Toronto explained. "[T]o affect course content, and the teaching approach, will require power in the hiring and promotion of professors." The ability to influence promotions, student leaders argued, could be obtained through the use of student evaluations; students, who one editorial in The Varsity explained, are the only ones who "know what goes on in the classroom," could provide feedback on the teaching abilities of their instructors and presumably pressure university administrators to incorporate student positions when making decisions 59 "Students' Administrative Council Brief to the Commission on University Government: Adopted March 12, 1969," 7. 60 Steven Langdon, quoted in Jasen, 248. 61 Handbook '69, "why revolt." 62 "For whom does university exist?" The Varsity 26 October 1973, 4. Page 275 regarding tenure and promotion. In this way, student leaders hoped to gain grater control over the educational process and create a university that served their particular interests. These unorganized yet persistent discussions surrounding the purpose of the university met with mixed reactions. In some cases, the way the university functioned changed, in part, in response to the demands presented by student activists. For example, student evaluations of faculty members were accepted by most universities and became a standard method to judge teaching abilities. University administrators and professors may not have accepted this form of student participation because they fully accepted the argument that students should have more influence over the educational process. Instead, they mostly likely adopted student evaluations in order to give students the sense that their opinions were taken seriously and thus prevent the development of further demands for student power in the classroom. Whatever the reason, the demands presented by students influenced university policies and procedures, as these measures were routinely adopted. A number of new subject areas that dealt with many of the topics that student leaders identified as important were implemented at English-Canadian universities in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Programs such as Women's Studies and Aboriginal Studies as well as courses that focused on ethnic minorities, labour, and Canadian issues were all incorporated into university curricula. This occurred, in large part, as a result of the hiring of large numbers of new faculty members whose own interests focused on these areas. While some of Page 276 these professors may have been actively engaged in the student movement during their own studies, faculty members rather than students primarily spearheaded the development of new programs and subject areas. In other ways, some of the critiques presented by student activists regarding the purpose of the university did not alter the functioning of higher education. Grading and other forms of evaluating students were not abolished, professional schools and practical programs continued to expand, and corporate involvement in the university only increased in the years following the Sixties. To a significant extent, these roles could not change. Universities had become too integrated with the modern and technological workforce and had to continue to provide trained individuals to enter positions in the labour market. Yet, as Paul Axelrod demonstrates, once universities "produced surplus manpower, redundant programs, and a burdensome addition to the public debt, they no longer appeared to be such profitable social investments."63 As a result, provincial and federal governments became more selective in their funding of higher education and universities began to rely on financial contributions from corporations and other non-governmental organizations to maintain their operations. Such developments increased the involvement of business and industry in higher education. Thus, while the demands presented by student leaders resulted in some changes to the operations of their institutions, though generally only when accepted or promoted by administrators or faculty members for their own purposes, the general evolution of the universities into mulitiversities continued unabated as a result of Axelrod, Scholars and Dollars, 4. Page 277 widespread assumptions regarding the role of higher education and the realities of funding relationships. THE PURPOSE OF THE UNIVERSITY AND ORGANIZED PROTESTS While debates over the purpose of the university remained largely unorganized and inchoate throughout much of the Sixties, on a few occasions, especially early in the Sixties, student leaders took more direct action to oppose the new direction of higher education. Although these students sometimes took the initiative and spearheaded campaigns aimed at transforming the educational process, more often they tried to incorporate their concerns regarding the role of postsecondary education into struggles surrounding arguably unrelated issues and events. These attempts demonstrate how concerned many student activists were with the changes occurring with their universities and reveal how they tried to make discussions surrounding over the function of higher education a central topic on campus. Reponses from the wider student body to these attempts varied considerably across the three universities included in this study. At the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus, a significant number of students participated in actions that student representatives framed as part of an attack upon the emerging orientation of higher education. At Simon Fraser University, many students engaged in protests and demonstrations against an identified common "corporate" enemy, Shell Oil of Canada, but did so for a variety of different reasons that did 64 See, Emberely, Zero Tolerance and Axelrod, Values in Conflict. Page 278 not always conform to the concerns presented by student leaders. In contrast with both of these cases, at University of Toronto, attempts by student leaders to organize campaigns opposing the emerging practical orientation of the university led to direct conflict and confrontation with many of the more conservative students on campus. As student activists at all three universities employed relatively similar and aggressive tactics in these struggles, strategies alone cannot explain the diverse reactions at each university. Instead, it is likely that different institutional contexts contributed to these varied outcomes; the Regina Campus and SFU remained somewhat small, isolated, liberal arts institutions with few professional programs throughout the Sixties, while the University of Toronto was well on its way to becoming a multiversity by this time. At the former institutions, many students remained satisfied with the structures and functions of their universities. At the latter institution, many students supported the way that the university had evolved and thus tensions and fractures developed with the students who directly challenged these developments. Almost immediately after the opening of Simon Fraser University, controversy erupted over the construction of a gas station on campus. Many concerned students and faculty members, who were still able to work together prior to the CAUT Crisis and the PSA Strike, used the conflict that emerged as an opportunity to resist the developments taking place in universities throughout Canada, including the evolution toward the multiversity. While the gas station, at least on the surface, was not directly connected to the purpose of the higher education and some students and faculty members framed their objections to its Page 279 construction in different ways, the Shell Crisis provides an opportunity to examine the ways that student leaders explained their view of the university and attempted to bring their concerns to the forefront of the debates occurring on campus. As SFU was being designed and built on Burnaby Mountain, the university administrators overseeing the process came to the conclusion that a service station would be required on campus; they perceived that there would be a lot of cars coming up the mountain once the university opened that might require refueling or repair.65 The Board of Governors granted the tender to Shell Oil of Canada, which, in return for financing the construction of a men's residence on campus, was given permission to build a gas station.66 Although the initial announcement of the design for the site in February 1966 elicited little reaction on campus, when construction began that summer, some members of the university community organized protests in opposition to the Shell station. In June 1966, before the TA Crisis and other major issues had divided the campus, approximately 300 students and faculty members gathered at the mall, the central plaza on campus, and set a toy Shell gas pump on fire to indicate their objections to the station. That same month, the Simon Fraser Student Society (SFSS) passed a motion deploring the construction of the site and organized a committee to participate in potential negotiations with the university administration and Shell Oil of Canada.67 In addition, approximately forty Johnston, 258. Johnston, 258. Campbell, "Shell slams to grinding stop." Page 280 students initiated a sit-in at the construction site, which forced Shell to halt work, at least temporarily. Although student representatives reported that the chairman of the Faculty Association, Dr. R. Harper, refused to allow faculty members to participate in the sit-in, the Association also created a committee to discuss the issue and organize a protest against the service station. Protests continued in the fall of 1966 when a newly-formed committee, Students Against Shell Site, organized a rally in the mall on 23 September. Student leaders and some professors, including the chairman of the Faculty Association, the Dean of Arts, and the Acting Dean of Science, spoke out against the service station and demanded its immediate removal. Immediately following this rally, an estimated 1 500 students and faculty members "marched down to the uncompleted structure and placed a 'condemned' banner on the site." Representatives of the student body also circulated a petition opposing the construction of the gas station, which attracted signatures from more than half of the approximately three thousand students and faculty members in the university community.71 For many students and professors, the gas station represented the inappropriate interference of corporations on campus. They argued that the Campbell, "Shell slams to grinding stop." 69 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-3-1-4 "Correspondence, Jan.-Aug. 1966." "Report on Student Dissatisfaction with Shell Service Station at Simon Fraser University," [n.d.], 2. 70 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-6-0-1 "Elections, 1966." Press Release, [25 September 1966]. See also, "Bottomore blasting," The Peak 28 September 1966, 1. 71 SFUA, Hugh Johnston Papers, Series II, No.2 "Photocopies from Fonds." Letter to P.D. McTaggart-Cowan, President from John Mynott, SFSS President, 25 September 1966. Page 281 decision to build a gas station and grant the tender to Shell Oil demonstrated that the Board of Governors, with its business relationships and interests, was only concerned with creating a university that was an extension of the corporate sphere rather than a place for critical thought and free from the potentially corrupting influences of corporations. As Geoffrey Molyneaux, an English instructor, maintained, "The board is a group of people who don't see the university in an 79 aesthetic light, but choose to run it more like a factory." Student ombudsman, Stan Wong, agreed: "If the Administration had carried out one of its responsibilities, that of preventing the exploitation of the university, no commercial firm could have or should have been permitted to exploit this university." Although this position ignored the desperate need the university had for finances to build facilities on campus in the absence of adequate government funding, for these students and faculty members, the Shell Station, later referred to as a "symbol of corporate intrusion,"74 threatened their attempts to reorient the university away from corporate interests. While this debate over the purpose of the university and its relationship with the corporate sector inspired some individuals to oppose the Shell service station, other members of the university community supported the protests for different reasons. Many students and professors, for instance, insisted that the station illustrated the problems with the governmental structure at Simon Fraser 11 "A Question of Integrity," The Peak 29 June 1966, 6. 73 Quoted in Rossi, 74. 74 Simon Foulds, Interview with the author, 30 January 2006. See also, John Cleveland, Interview with the author, 11 February 2006 and Peter Knowlden, Interview with the author, 2 May 2006. Page 282 University. The Board of Governors had been given enormous power to ensure that the university would be successfully designed and constructed in a very short period of time. While most faculty members assumed that governing authority would be redistributed once the university opened, the Board of Governors continued to make decisions unilaterally and without consulting other members of the university community. As the SFSS Executive Council explained during the Shell controversy, "the Board of Governors is in the position to negotiate any decision of policy at the university and it is under no obligation whatsoever to communicate these decisions to the students and faculty who are, of course, the majority."75 In the wake of the Duff-Berdahl Report in 1966, which called for increased faculty and student participation in university governance, many individuals at SFU began demanding a greater role in the decision-making process.76 Yet, the decision to construct a gas station on campus had been taken unilaterally by the Board of Governors without reference to other members of the university community; many students and faculty members expressed their resentment over the failure of the Board of Governors to consult them before making the decision to construct a gas station on campus.77 As SFU historian Hugh Johnston asks, "How could [students and professors] be ignored in regard to no something that so profoundly affected the appearance of the campus?" Press Release, [25 September 1966]. 7 These campaigns are discussed in detail in Chapter 3. 77 See, Press Release, [25 September 1966] and "Report on Student Dissatisfaction with Shell Service Station at Simon Fraser University," 2-3. Johnston, 259. See also, Dionysios Rossi, "Mountaintop Mayhem: Simon Fraser University 1965-1971," MA Thesis, Simon Fraser University, 2003, 74-76. Page 283 This issue of the appearance of the campus also convinced many individuals to join the protests against the Shell station. In fact, opposition to the site first emerged when it became clear that the gas station would block a spectacular view of the Burrard Inlet, even though this view had been created only through the removal of trees for the construction of the building.79 "Simon Fraser University Students [sic]," explained an SFSS press release, "are up in arms over the construction of a Shell Service Station on one of the choicest locations on the campus." The SFSS passed a motion "expressing deep regret over the form the design of the service station has taken, and deep regret over the location it has 01 taken" and organized a "Save the View" committee to agitate its removal. Faculty members, too, expressed concerns over aesthetics and opposed the construction of a gas station on the chosen site. According to reports in the student newspaper, the Dean of Arts, Tom Bottomore, publicly objected to the site at the 23 September rally.82 As well, the mandate for the Faculty Association committee created in response to the construction of the gas station focused on the aesthetics of the university. These protests against the Shell gas station, while engaging a significant number of students and faculty members in the discussions and debates on campus, as evidenced by the numbers who participated in the various rallies and demonstrations and signed the petitions, did not succeed in halting construction. 79 Johnston, 258-259. 80 Press Release, [25 September 1966]. 81 Campbell, "Shell slams to grinding stop." 82 "Bottomore blasting." 83 "Report on Student Dissatisfaction with Shell Service Station at Simon Fraser University," 2. Page 284 Shell Oil of Canada attempted to address some of the concerns of the protestors and agreed to negotiate with student government, the Faculty Association, and the Board of Governors over the appearance of the gas station. Following discussions with these various groups, Shell made substantial aesthetic changes to the design of the station, including moving the service bay doors to the back of the building, replacing them with a plain stone facade in keeping with the design of neighbouring buildings, and planting a screen of trees approximately the height of the station to block the gas pumps from view. Although this concession may have satisfied some members of the university community, it did little to reassure those individuals who opposed the station because it represented the extraordinary power of the Board of Governors or the involvement of corporations on campus, and protests persisted against the gas station. Although the Shell station was ultimately constructed and continued to operate on campus until 1999, when Shell decided to shut it down, it provided a rallying point for students and faculty members who opposed the encroachment of corporations on university campuses as a sign of the changing orientation of higher education. Concerns over the autonomy of the university, while only one of many issues in the protests against the Shell station at SFU, also emerged at the University of Saskatchewan, Regina Campus at around the same time. In Regina, though, students and faculty members were worried more about the interference of the provincial government in university affairs than with the role of 84 SFUA, F-74 Simon Fraser Student Society Fonds, File F-74-3-2-4 "Alex Turner - Correspondence, May-June 1966." Press Release [n.d.] 85 Johnston, 258. Page 285 corporations on campus. The spark for such concerns was a 1967 announcement by the Premier of Saskatchewan indicating that his government would take direct control of the university's budget. This action would negate the existing arrangement whereby the provincial government, which provided the majority of funding for higher education in Saskatchewan, transferred money to the university in the form of a block grant and the Board of Governors was left to decide, free from governmental interference, how that money was spent. The financial autonomy of the university came under direct attack in Saskatchewan following the election of Liberal leader Ross Thatcher as premier. Thatcher was a conservative businessman who was very concerned with fiscal responsibility and wanted direct control over the allocation of all government funds.86 In October 1967, he announced that, as a means of controlling government spending, the University of Saskatchewan would be subject to a more rigorous budgetary process that included direct oversight from legislators. Thatcher argued that this budgetary control would not "impinge on [the] local autonomy of the university" but would give the "elected representatives of the people" more control over the enormous investment being made in publicly See, Dale Eisler, Rumours of Glory: Saskatchewan & the Thatcher Years (Edmonton: Hurtig Publishers, 1987), 208. on Thatcher announced that the University Act would be amended to give the "elected representatives of the people" greater control over the massive expenditure made to the University of Saskatchewan by allowing the government to approve the university's budget on a line-by-line basis, similar to other government departments. See, Michael Hayden, Seeking a Balance: The University of Saskatchewan, 1907-1982 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1983), 254 and URA, 78-3 Principal's/Deans Office Files, File 302.7. Ross Thatcher, speech presented at the annual convention of the Potashville Educational Association, 18 October 1967. 88 Eisler, 212. Page 286 funded institutions. However, professors at the Regina Campus maintained that the government was using it to achieve direct influence over the inner workings of the university. "Every financial decision, every decision on spending priorities," the Faculty Association claimed, "has academic significance: it is impossible to separate the two."90 In an advertisement taken out in the Regina daily newspaper to publicize their concerns, they argued that the university must establish "its own priorities and programs, under the control of its board of governors - once the elected government has established the total budget." Only in this way, they insisted, could the university prevent "political control of academic programs."91 For these faculty members, many of whom strongly endorsed the principles contained in the Regina Beach Statement, direct governmental control was perceived as a threat to their particular vision of the university. There was a danger, according to the Dean of Arts and Science, Alwyn Berland, that the government would seize control "to approve or disapprove the budget requests attached to specific academic programs or colleges or courses of study."92 This, Berland argued, would allow the government to control the type of university that would develop in Regina. Such fears were further fueled by the comments of Liberal MLA John Gardiner, a strong critic of the professors' See, Ross Thatcher, speech presented at the annual convention of the Potashville Educational Association, 18 October 1967. 90 "Faculty Assn. Expresses Concern," The Carillon 27 October 1967, 1. See also, Michael Hayden, Seeking a Balance: The University of Saskatchewan 1907- 1982 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1983), 254. 91 Advertisement, Leader Post, 24 January 1968, 14. 92 URA, 78-4 Vice-Principal/President's Office Files, File 266. Press Release, October 23,1967. Page 287 protests against Thatcher's proposals, when he outlined what he saw as two different conceptions of the university: We have Group One who says that it is a place to go to meditate, to create, to do research and philosophize. We have Group Two who say that it is a place to train young people to do the professional jobs required in our society and our economy - to provide us with the engineers, the lawyers, doctors and nurses which are so badly needed... I can tell you that a Province or a Government who gets a majority of Group One at a University Campus is in trouble. For those faculty members who wanted to create an engaged and socially relevant university in Regina, as outlined in the Regina Beach Statement, this declaration and the attempts by the provincial government to control the budget were particularly threatening; it seemed clear to them that the provincial government was intent on creating a very different type of university in the province. Student activists, who had not yet come into direct conflict with their professors as they later would over parity, joined with them in expressing concerns over the autonomy of the university and the threat budgetary control posed to academic freedom on campus. One article in The Carillon explained the position of the student leaders: We believe that extensive government supervision of the university budget will lead to partisan conflicts over specific projects and personalities. Such conflicts can have only one result: the destruction of the academic freedom that is essential to a respected centre of higher education. 4 In addition, former Students' Union President Ken Mitchell insisted that "there is no greater threat to the delicate relationship of free debate between student and teacher than that of political influence, being expressed through budgetary control Quoted in Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 307. "Letter to Premier Thatcher," The Carillon 19 January 1968, 4. Page 288 however subtly it may be disguised." 5 Student representatives also argued that students and faculty members should unite in opposition to Thatcher's proposal because "[i]f we don't, we will not have a university in this province. They may still call it a university, but it won't be one." In other words, these students insisted that governmental interference in the university would threaten the type of institution they hoped to create with their professors. Radical students, however, also had another concern. The student newspaper and the Students' Union that were largely under their control had been, for quite some time, vocal critics of the Liberal government, and a significant level of tension had developed with Thatcher. According to his biographer, "The emergence of student activism was a development that irked the premier. He 07 considered it a symptom of a society that had grown too affluent too easily." For their part, student activists claimed that Thatcher embodied the conservative QO and traditional forces they were intent on challenging. Thus, some student leaders argued that budgetary control was merely an attempt to limit student unrest and diffuse any criticism that might develop within the university. As one letter to the editor in The Carillon concluded, "Thatcher has come up with the means of destroying academic opposition with his usual flair for the uncreative and the predictable. Direct governmental control of the university budget is Thatcher's carefully chosen weapon. And it can be effective, very effective 95 Ken Mitchell, "Reply from Ken Mitchell," The Carillon 27 October 1967, 2. 96 "Stop Press Bulletin," The Carillon 20 October 1967, 1. 97Eisler, 116-117. 98 Eisler, 219. Page 289 indeed." These concerns related directly to the vision of the university that many student leaders shared: if the purpose of higher education was to challenge the status quo, then students should be free to criticize the government without interference or fear of losing their autonomy. Able to forge a common position on this issue, student representatives and professors established a "coalition" to initiate a campaign against Thatcher's proposal.100 In an attempt to inform the people of Saskatchewan about the issues involved in the controversy, they organized public meetings, purchased advertisements in local newspapers, and participated in television and radio open- line programs.101 As well, the Faculty Association arranged one-on-one visits with every member of Thatcher's government to ensure that all Liberal MLAs were aware of these objections to the government's proposal. A large number of students also participated in protests against the perceived interference of the provincial government in university affairs. At a meeting held 3 November 1967 to discuss Thatcher's proposal for "direct financial control over the university," more than 600 of the approximately 3 500 students on campus were in attendance. In addition, approximately 500 students attended a march held in February 1968 to oppose the rising costs of higher education103 and governmental control of the university's budget.104 yy J.F. Conway, "Letters to the Editor," The Carillon 10 November 1967, 2. 100 Reid Robinson, Interview with the author, 21 February 2002. 101 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 305. 102 Reid Robinson, Interview with the author, 21 February 2002. 103 This component of the demonstration is discussed in Chapter 4. 104 See, University of Saskatchewan Students' Union, "Student Handbook, 1970- 71," 23-24, Page 290 At the same time, acutely aware of their reliance on government funding, university administrators at the University of Saskatchewan refused to comment publicly on Thatcher's proposal. The president of the university, J.W.T. Spinks, hoped to avoid clashing with the premier and thus remained quiet and waited to see how the situation would progress.1 5 He opposed the formation of the coalition between faculty members and students because he felt that "a number of things should be done quietly behind the scenes and that he could deal with Ross Thatcher in a much more effective way than this open confrontation with faculty [and] students."106 While Thatcher's proposal could have been seen as a challenge to the competency of the Board of Governors, which was responsible for the budget of the university, Board members also remained silent on the issue.107 University administrators hoped to resolve the issue through "quiet diplomacy and behind-the-scenes negotiation." Their inaction does not necessary mean that these officials opposed the vision of the university presented by professors and students. Instead, it indicates their desire to use more discreet tactics in their negotiations with the premier. Ultimately, Ross Thatcher decided not to take direct control of the university's finances. By the time the provincial budget was released in March 1968, opposition to the proposal was widespread and Thatcher focused on other financial concerns. This budget, referred to as the Black Friday Budget because '^Hayden, 243. 106 Reid Robinson, Interview with the author, 21 February 2002. 107 F. Anderson, "Prof. Questions Board of Governors," The Carillon 17 November 1967, 2. 108 Pistula, As One Who Serves, 305. Page 291 of its introduction of new taxes and a deterrent fee for medical services, included a number of informational items related to the university but just two sub-votes, one for the operational grant and one for the capital grant.109 The government decided instead to revise the University Act, adding two more government representatives to the Board of Governors. As the Board was responsible for the university's budget, Thatcher in essence obtained the power he desired without the overwhelming controversy that direct budgetary control created. In this way, though students and faculty members generally failed to acknowledge it at the time, their attempts to preserve the traditional function of the university in the face of governmental pressure largely failed. The Regina Campus, in the years that followed, whether as a direct result of changes to the Board of Governors or wider changes in the workforce and conceptions of the university, increasingly evolved into a multiversity as more professional programs were created and the Regina Beach Statement came under attack from some faculty members and students.110 Nevertheless, during the Thatcher Crisis, many students and faculty members allied together around a common conception of the role of higher education as free from governmental control or interference. Like their counterparts at SFU and the Regina Campus, student activists in Toronto also used a specific event to publicize their concerns over the transformations that had occurred within their institution. However, in contrast to the developments on the other campuses, radical students and some of the more 109 J.W.T. Spinks, A Decade of Change: The University of Saskatchewan, 1959- 1970 (Saskatoon: University of Saskatchewan, 1972), 45. 110 See, Pistula, As One Who Serves, 349-367. Page 292 conservative students at the University of Toronto came into direct conflict with one another over their very divergent positions on the issue. While the latter group of students rarely participated in the debates over the purpose of the university, a direct challenge to their vision of the higher education motivated them to actively oppose the actions of their leaders. The controversy erupted in the fall of 1967, at the same time as the Thatcher Crisis in Saskatchewan, around the use of the University Placement Service by the Dow Chemical Company. Though student leaders in Toronto had generally maintained to this point a relatively conciliatory relationship with university administrators, they joined with some politically engaged faculty members in confrontational actions to oppose the use of this service by Dow. The University Placement Service was an employment office established on campus during the 1950s to help students get jobs after graduation; the service reinforced the emerging role of the university as a job-training facility.lu By the mid-1960s, the Dow Chemical Company had become a particular target of the anti-war movement in both the United States and Canada as the primary manufacturer of napalm, an incendiary weapon used extensively in the Vietnam War. When Dow sought to use the University Placement Service to hold interviews with potential employees from the Engineering faculty in November 1967, students Martin Friedland, The University of Toronto: A History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), 3 72. 1 n A similar protest against the Dow Chemical Company and its use of campus facilities occurred at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver. Approximately forty Simon Fraser University students actively participated in this protest. See, "SFU takes over Dow demonstration," The Peak 15 November 1967,1. Page 293 became divided over the appropriateness of the company's involvement in recruiting students, which highlighted competing visions of the university. The Committee to End the War in Vietnam (CEWV), a group led primarily by faculty members at the University of Toronto, organized a demonstration to oppose the use of university facilities by a company involved in the manufacture and sale of weaponry for use in the war in Vietnam. By the mid- 1960s, the Vietnam War had become an important issue for many politically active professors and students at universities across Canada. Significant 113 See, for example, Catherine Gidney, "War and the Concept of Generation: The International Teach-ins at the University of Toronto, 1965-1968," Forthcoming, and Lexier, '"The Backdrop Against Which Everything Happened.'" The Vietnam War was generally framed by the United States government as a Cold War struggle between democracy and communism. The American government, arguing "that the dominos of Asia were beginning to topple towards Moscow and Beijing, began a long effort to prop up the government of South Vietnam." U.S. President Eisenhower sent military advisors to Vietnam in 1956 and the American presence continued to increase under President Kennedy. When Lyndon Johnson sent 170,000 ground troops into Vietnam in 1965, the first antiwar protests began on a national scale in the United States. With thousands of young Americans serving in Vietnam, many of whom had been drafted into military service, protests against the war spread throughout the United States and internationally, continuing, often with violent results, until the end of the war in the mid-1970s. Students around the world, including those in Britain, France, Germany, the United States, and Canada, joined with thousands of citizens to protest what was to them a clear example of American imperialism. See, Joan Morrison & Robert K. Morrison, From Camelot to Kent State: The Sixties Experience in the Words of Those Who Lived It (New York: Times Books, 1987), 339-343; Marvin Gettleman, Jane Franklin, Marilyn Young & H. Bruce Franklin (eds.), Vietnam and America (New York: Grove Press, 1995); Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain France, Italy, and the United States, 1958-C.1974 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); Cyril Levitt, Children of Privilege: Student Revolt in the Sixties, A Study of Student Movements in Canada, the United States, and West Germany (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984); Jeremy Varon, Bringing the War Home: The Weather Underground, the Red Army Faction, and Revolutionary Violence in the Sixties and Seventies (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004). See also, John Cleveland, Interview with the author, 11 February 2006; Andrew Wernick, Interview with the author, 19 Page 294 numbers of students and faculty members participated in protests and demonstrations opposing the war, which University of Toronto student and now a professor of Cultural Studies Andrew Wernick later defined as "manifestly imperial and.. .manifestly brutal."114 Since Canadians had less personal stake in the war than their American counterparts who faced the military draft, by the mid- 1960s, the focus of anti-war protesters shifted to the nation's complicity in the war effort;115 anti-war activists criticized the Canadian government for promoting the U.S. position on various international commissions, publicly supporting American war aims, and providing military and political intelligence. Most disturbing for these individuals was the continual flow of arms and munitions manufactured in Canada for use by the American military in Vietnam, allowing Canadian companies and the government to profit from the sale of weapons used to kill millions of Vietnamese citizens.116 February 2006; and Ceta Ramkalawansingh, Interview with the author, 10 March 2006. 114 Andrew Wernick, Interview with the author, 19 February 2006. 115 As a number of scholars have shown, despite its supposed neutral status, Canada was intimately connected with the American war in Vietnam. See Charles Taylor, Snow Job: Canada, the United States and Vietnam (1954 to 1973) (Toronto: Anansi, 1974); Victor Levant, Quiet Complicity: Canadian Involvement in the Vietnam War (Toronto: Between the Lines, 1986); and Douglas A. Ross, In the Interests of Peace: Canada and Vietnam, 1954-1973 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984). 116 See, MUA, Canadian student social and political organizations (c.1968-1977), Radical Organizations Archive, Box 7, File "Student Association to End the War in Vietnam." Pamphlet "Ottawa's Complicity in Vietnam, a SAEWV pamphlet," [n.d.], 9-13 and MUA, Canadian student social and political organizations (c. 1968-1977), Radical Organizations Archive, Box 2, File "Canadian Student Days of Protest." University of Toronto Committee to End the War in Vietnam, pamphlet, [n.d.]. Page 295 For many anti-war students and faculty members, a related issue was the role of universities in supporting the war effort. "As we would not invade Vietnam," stated mathematics professor and activist Chandler Davis, "we should not be a cog in a machine which is invading Vietnam." Universities, these faculty members and students argued, should not be used to support the military- industrial complex, but should actively oppose the war and reject any association with a company involved in the slaughter of innocent Vietnamese civilians. "U of T," an article in the student newspaper explained, "should have nothing whatsoever to do with a company that profits from such a crime." This position was directly related to debates over the purpose of the university: rather than accepting the scientific, technological, and job-training functions of higher education that unproblematically allowed corporations access to the facilities on campus, these students and professors demanded that the university should morally oppose the Vietnam War. Approximately two hundred students and faculty members participated a sit-in organized by the CEWV at the University Placement Services on 21 November 1967, when the Dow Chemical Company had arranged to hold interviews with University of Toronto students.119 The protesters blocked all entrances to the building, preventing students from attending their interviews. As 117 Paul MacRae, "Dow job interviews provoke protest," The Varsity 20 November 1967, 1. 118 "Dow offers you more than just saran wrap," The Varsity 20 November 1967, 4. 119 UTA, A1973-0025 Board of Governors, Box 106, File 04. Memo to Mr. F.J. Westhead to Mr. T.G. Lawson, "Student Demonstration - 'Sit-In'," 7 December 1967. Page 296 well, the Dow representative, William White, was not permitted to exit the building. After three hours of virtual imprisonment, he agreed to cancel all interviews scheduled for the following two days. In addition, University of Toronto Registrar Robin Ross agreed to initiate a further study of the University Placement Service. The sit-in highlighted the significant divisions that existed within the student body. In particular, engineering students, who were hoping to obtain jobs with the Dow Chemical Company through their interviews at the University Placement Service, opposed the actions taken by this relatively small group of anti-war activists. At a general meeting on 29 November, the Engineering Society passed a motion demanding that the university administration invite Dow representatives back to the campus to complete their interview schedule. The engineering students who sought employment with Dow were, according to the motion, "deprived of their rights as students within the University, were subjected to indignities and even to personal violence." These students, the Engineering Society insisted, "should themselves have the right to make moral decisions about their employers" without interference from any other group or individual on campus.121 For a significant proportion of engineering students, the university existed to train them for employment and assist them in obtaining a good job upon graduation; the protests against the use of the Placement Service by the Dow MacRae, "Sit-in sparks SAC debate on employment recruiting." 121 UTA, B1989-0031 Claude Bissell collection, Box 3. Memo to J.F. Westhead from T.G.L. Lawson, "Anti-Dow Chemicals Demonstration," 2 January 1968, 1. Page 297 Chemical Company thus directly challenged their vision of the purpose of higher education. Engineering students decided to directly and publicly challenge the anti war protesters. The Dow Chemical Company returned to campus on 13 December to complete its interviews with University of Toronto engineering students. That day, approximately eighty anti-war students and faculty members participated in another demonstration at the University Placement Service, again opposing "the use of University facilities [by] all companies supplying the U.S.'s genocidal war." At the same time, between 120 and 150 engineering students arrived at the Placement Service to "ensure their Engineering colleagues, scheduled for interview - were not, in any way, hindered by demonstrators [sic]."123 Their presence led to direct confrontation between the two groups. An unidentified student tossed two eggs at the engineers who responded by pushing forward into the mass of protesters and disrupting their demonstration. Order was quickly restored, but this confrontation showed clearly that competing interests existed within the student body. One student, sympathetic to the anti war protestors, connected these divisions with debates over the purpose of the university: "while there were undoubtedly students wishing to take advantage of the convenience of university facilities to see the Dow recruiter, there was also a fairly sizeable group of students (paying the same fees toward the operation of the Lawson, "Anti-Dow Chemicals Demonstration," 3. Lawson, "Anti-Dow Chemicals Demonstration," 3. Lawson, "Anti-Dow Chemicals Demonstration," 4. Page 298 Placement Service) who did not wish to see their facilities turned into channels of supply for the War Machine."125 Other student groups also condemned the sit-in at the Placement Service. For example, the student council at St. Michael's College, a Roman Catholic institution that had affiliated with the University of Toronto in 1881, passed a motion stating that "This council, while recognizing the right of dissent through peaceful and orderly methods, for example picketing and boycotting, abhors violence and the restriction of the rights of students to decide for themselves what companies they wish to work for." For these students, the issue was the right of particular groups or individuals to restrict the freedom of expression and movement of others on campus. This form of demonstration was seen as "contrary to everything a university stands for." The right-wing Edmund Burke Society also demonstrated against the Dow protests, holding a counter march at the 21 November sit-in. They opposed the anti-war protestors on ideological grounds and carried signs reading, "We Dig Dow - Bomb to Win in Vietnam" and "Attention Dow - Peace Creeps do not Speak for U of T Students."128 In spite of this opposition, the Students' Administrative Council (SAC), which supposedly represented all students on campus, took the side of the anti war protesters. Following a long debate, SAC representatives agreed by a vote of 125 Paul Roch, "Civil Libertarians and campus protest," The Varsity 5 January 1968,5. 126 "St. Michael's council condemns sit-in," The Varsity 24 November 1967, 3. 127 UTA, Al 975-0021 Office of the President, Box 147, File "CAPUT." "A Statement by John H. Sword, Acting President," 21 November 1967. 128 Paul MacRae, "Sit-in sparks SAC debate on employment recruiting," The Varsity 22 November 1967, 1. Page 299 24 to 14 that "Recruiters for firms profiting from the Vietnam war are not welcome on the University of Toronto campus." They also called for the creation of an advisory board that could oversee the employment services on campus and "instructed SAC representatives on the board to oppose requests 'from companies supplying materials to parties for use directly in military action in Vietnam.'"129 Responding to this motion, a group of students, under the auspices of the so-called Ad Hoc Committee for Representative Student Government, began circulating a petition calling for the impeachment of SAC President Tom Faulkner, a first generation university graduate who later became an academic and university administrator. Because Faulkner had actively supported and voted in favour of the motion defending the actions of the Dow protestors, despite clear evidence that many of his constituents opposed this position, they insisted that he "no longer represents the students of this university."130 The issue for many of these students, who were predominantly from the Engineering and Law faculties, was that SAC was formulating policies on issues for which they were not elected. In other words, some students from the professional programs at the university opposed the involvement of their student government in "moral and political issues."131 The petition attracted more than 1 600 signatures, and Faulkner David Frank, "Vietnam war suppliers not welcome at U of T: SAC," The Varsity 24 November 1967, 1. Brian Cruchley, "Petitioners Pursue Faulkner's Resignation," The Varsity 24 November 1967, 1. 131 Mike Kesterton, "Tom Faulkner will Resign from SAC," The Varsity 27 November 1967, 1. Page 300 decided to resign his position and allow the entire student body to decide whether or not he represented their interests. In the election campaign that followed, different conceptions regarding the purpose of the university and the role of student government took centre stage. Tom Faulkner ran against law student Bill Charlton. Like his counterparts who signed the petition calling for Faulkner's resignation, Charlton, also a student in a professional program on campus, argued that SAC should not "seek the power to declare on the value of a moral position, let alone seek the power to legislate on the basis of that decision." The university, he asserted, should facilitate debate and discussion among its members rather than dictating one official truth to which all must subscribe. For Faulkner, Charlton's position denied student government the right to comment on any controversial "moral and political issues" and restricted its activities to dances, yearbooks, and other social issues.134 Elected only two years after the campaign for student government autonomy, during which student representatives insisted that their responsibility included engagement in political discussions and activities on campus, Faulkner contended that student government should debate issues that students considered important and take action in the best interests of its constituents. Refusing to take action on controversial issues, he argued, is tantamount to accepting the status quo, which is not "apolitical" or free of "power" but is "heavily value-laden." 132 Kesterton, "Tom Faulkner will Resign from SAC." 133 Bill Charlton, "The Candidates," The Varsity 13 December 1967, 5. 134 Tom Faulkner, Interview with the author, 7 February 2006. 135 The campaign for student government autonomy and the positions presented by student leaders on this issue are examined in Chapter 2. Page 301 Student government must, therefore, initiate debate and action to challenge the inequalities and injustices in society. In deciding between these competing notions, a significant proportion of the student body seemed to agree that student government should be engaged in the important contemporary debates. More than fifty per cent of the approximately 16 000 eligible voters, the majority of whom were enrolled in arts and science rather than in professional programs, cast a ballot in the election and more than five thousand voted to return Faulkner to office. In commenting on the results, Faulkner stated that the "students have chosen - they want a government which takes an active stand on issues we can deal with."137 Ultimately, it appears as though many students accepted that their government should have the right and the responsibility to engage in political activities on campus. At the same time, however, clear divisions continued to exist among students on campus, especially between student activists and students in professional programs, over the role of student government in taking an active position in certain discussions on behalf of the entire student body. In addition to these attempts to incorporate concerns regarding the role of higher education into other issues and events, a small group of students at the University of Toronto made a direct and concerted effort to develop an alternative to the multiversity that was emerging on their campus. The construction of Rochdale College, which was completed in 1968, provided these students with the 130 Tom Faulkner, "The Candidates," The Varsity 13 December 1967, 5. 137 Paul MacRae, "Faulkner returned to office by 800-vote majority," The Varsity 15 December 1967, 1. Page 302 opportunity to implement many of the ideas they had developed for transforming higher education. Most histories of this institution, including works by David Sharp, Henry Mietiewicz, and Bob Mackowycz, overlook the importance of the educational experiment or downplay it by arguing that it was simply a means to obtain tax breaks. However, Lynne Lunde argues that Rochdale College was designed specifically to reject bourgeois society and enable the development of alternative forms of education. In other words, from this perspective, those involved in Rochdale College sought to challenge the new orientation of the universities, achieve a program of "real" education, and serve the needs of those traditionally excluded from institutions of higher learning. Although initially designed as a student housing project, early organizers of Rochdale College decided to include an educational component that would remove what they perceived as the existing hierarchical, conformist, uninspiring, and disinterested structures of higher education. These organizers hoped that the college would "inject new ideas into the academic system." As University of Toronto student Bob Bossin later recalled, Rochdale was intended as a model of alternative education where one could study without the impediments of traditional education that got in the way of creative thinking.1 ' "Rejecting such established structures as curriculum, examinations, diplomas and degrees," 138 See, David Sharpe, Rochdale: The Runaway College (Toronto: Anansi, 1987) and Henry Mietiewicz & Bob Mackowycz, Dream Tower: The Life and Legacy of Rochdale College (Toronto: McGraw Hill, 1988). 139 Lynn Lunde, "Rochdale College: A 1960s Adult Education Experiment as viewed through Situated Learning Theory," MEd Thesis, University of Alberta, 1996. 140 "rochdale college," The Varsity 8 January 1964, 5 141 Bob Bossin, Interview with the author, 18 January 2006. Page 303 explained Varsity reporter Sue Helwig, "the college members will create and accept responsibility for their own educational programs."142 It was to be a place where "men and women who love wisdom can pursue it under the forms and by the avenues which seem best to them."143 Residents would make their own decisions regarding course offerings and instructors, and participate in an equitable and cooperative learning environment. In these ways, the early organizers of Rochdale College acknowledged and incorporated some of the critiques and suggestions that student leaders were offering that would, they insisted, re-orient institutions of higher learning away from practicality and corporate connections towards critical thought and engagement in social change. This attempt at alternative education did not, however, achieve its desired goals. Within seven years, Rochdale collapsed. With no formalized structures or course offerings, and with the emergence of a drug culture within the college, residents found little success with their educational experiment.145 The failure of Rochdale College perhaps highlights the inherent flaws in the vision of the university presented by student leaders. It was nevertheless a direct attempt by some students to stop simply complaining about the changes taking place in the university and actually implement their ideas regarding the purpose of higher education. 142 Sue Helwig, "Rochdale co-op experiment begins," The Varsity 20 September 1967, 10. 143 Sharpe, 16. 1 Dennis Lee, "Getting to Rochdale," in The University Game, eds. Howard Adelman & Dennis Lee (Toronto: Anansi, 1968), 78. 145 See, Sharpe, Mietiewicz & Mackowycz, and Lunde. Page 304 CONCLUSIONS During the Sixties, student activists continued to spearhead and guide debates regarding the purpose of the university in Canadian society. Though these discussions remained largely disorganized, they were nevertheless important to the evolution of the student movement at English-Canadian universities. Student leaders attempted to present a position on behalf of the entire student body and, in doing so, further articulated the distinctiveness of students from other groups on campus, including faculty members and administrators. However, as student representatives presented their radical ideas to transform the university, they received little response from the majority of the student body and could not, therefore, exert sufficient pressure to effectively reform the functions of their institutions. While some of their proposals to create institutions dedicated to social change rather than job-training and other practical purposes were integrated into the functions of the multiversity, their overall conception of higher education proved unworkable and unobtainable within the context of the increasingly modern and technological society. More importantly, when the vision proposed by student activists clashed with the conceptions other students held regarding the role of the university, direct conflict developed among different groups on campus. In this way, divergent perspectives limited the ability of students to ally together into a united and powerful movement. Thus, fundamental ideological fractures existed within the student movement at English-Canadian universities throughout the Sixties that continually limited the formation of a truly cohesive student movement. Page 305 CHAPTER 6 The English-Canadian Student Movement: Some Conclusions This dissertation explored, using three case studies, the dynamics of the on-campus English-Canadian student movement during the Sixties. This examination reveals that the movement gained enormous influence within each university when significant numbers of students united together with their leaders around a common purpose or goal. It also demonstrates that these alliances depended to a large degree upon the issues raised by student activists. When a substantial proportion of the student body agreed with the positions presented by their leaders and could see themselves as a distinctive group within the university, a relatively cohesive movement developed. However, when students rejected their leaders' perspectives, alliances could not be formed and the movement fractured and divided. This dissertation, then, asserts that the Sixties student movement at English-Canadian universities was rooted in shared ideologies and common conceptions of student identity. Previous chapters indicate that the power of the student movement was always dependent upon the ability of student leaders to form alliances rooted in shared ideologies and identities with significant numbers of students on campus. Chapter 2, for instance, reveals that the decision taken by administrators to abolish in loco parentis and begin to treat their charges as adults created a new identity for students within the university community. Student activists quickly adopted this new identity; they increasingly demanded a greater role for students in the political discussions and debates on campus and began to view students as a Page 306 distinct group on campus. In response to particular campaigns for individual and organizational autonomy at each university, a significant proportion of the student body adopted this identity and joined together with their leaders into a relatively united and influential movement. Chapter 3 explored the campaign for student participation in university governing structures and demonstrates that, although such demands were initiated by faculty members, they nevertheless provided further opportunities for students to view themselves as separate, not only from the administration, but also from the majority of professors on campus. In addition, because student representatives defined their demands in terms of widely accepted, though generally vague notions of democracy, many students could rally around what became viewed as a common cause. Through these campaigns, then, shared conceptions of student identity and common perspectives on particular issues allowed students to ally together into a powerful student movement. However, student leaders also found it difficult to maintain the alliances that they had developed during these campaigns when they attempted to organize around other issues that they identified as important. For instance, Chapter 4 shows that efforts to increase accessibility to universities exposed divergent ideological positions within the student body and limited the influence of the student movement. Different perspectives regarding the responsibilities of individuals and the state to fund higher education prevented many students from backing the demands presented by their leaders. In addition, while radical students continued to prioritize political engagement as part of their student Page 307 identity, and adopted particularly confrontational and aggressive tactics in order to mobilize the student body regardless of the issues involved, they were unable to maintain the support of a significant number of students. Many students increasingly rejected their leaders' definition of student identity and began to see many politically active students as radicals rather than as students. This chapter, then, illustrates how divisions over identity and ideology splintered the student movement. Similarly, Chapter 5 argues that students were largely unwilling to ally with their leaders to demand significant changes regarding the purpose of the university in Canadian society. Ideological divisions, specifically surrounding the role of higher education in social change, compromised efforts by student leaders to convince significant numbers of students to join their campaigns and even, on occasion, resulted in direct conflict between various groups of students. As well, during these debates, students were divided by their areas of study, such as the Arts or professional programs, more than they were united around a common identity as students. Like campaigns for accessibility, then, debates over the purpose of higher education exposed fractures within the student body and limited the unity and strength of the student movement. THE DECLINE OF THE STUDENT MOVEMENT Despite the limitations of the student movement, student activists were nevertheless tremendously successful in initiating and guiding the debates and discussions on their campuses throughout the Sixties. However, by the mid- Page 308 1970s, the student movement was no longer as active or as influential as it had been during the preceding decade. Many scholars suggest that the disintegration of the movement was related to an economic recession, which began with the 1973 oil crisis and severely curtailed social activism around the globe, including within the universities.1 For instance, by the early 1970s, Canadian economists were talking about "stagflation," the supposedly impossible combination of slow growth, high unemployment, and high inflation. Real growth measured by the Gross Domestic Product fell to 4.4 per cent in 1974, from 7.7 per cent the year earlier, and to 2.6 per cent in 1975.2 At the same time, unemployment rose from 4.7 per cent in 1969 to 6.3 per cent in 1972, and inflation increased by 38 percent between 1971 and 1974.3 These developments signaled the end of the relatively consistent postwar economic boom. In response, by the late 1960s, articles began appearing in student newspapers decrying the gloomy economic prospects facing students as they sought summer jobs and permanent employment following the See, for example, Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain, France, Italy, and the United States, C.1958-C.1974 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998); James M. Pitsula, As One Who Serves: The Making of the University ofRegina (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006), 383; Doug Owram, Born at the Right Time: A History of the Baby Boom Generation (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996), 306; Cyril Levitt, Children of Privilege: Student Revolt in the Sixties, A Study of Student Movements in Canada, the United States, and West Germany (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 94-97; and Douglas Rossinow, The Politics of Authenticity: Liberalism, Christianity, and the New Left in America (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998), 337. 2 Kenneth Norrie, Douglas Owram & J.C. Herbert Emergy, A History of the Canadian Economy, 3rd ed. (Toronto: Thompson Nelson, 2002), 402. 3 Owram, 306. Page 309 completion of their degrees. If, as Arthur Marwick and others argue, the economic prosperity of the postwar period provided an opportunity for people to think about larger issues than basic material survival and press for widespread social change,5 then the reverse is mostly likely also true. Once students had to worry about their employment prospects, something they had taken for granted throughout the 1960s, issues such as governance, access to higher education, and educational reform became less relevant and immediate and the potential risks involved in protests and demonstrations became less palatable. Some scholars also insist that increasing violence both in the tactics employed by student protesters and in the response of university administrators and the state to particular events destroyed a sense of idealism and optimism that had, according to these scholars, been central to the emergence and development of the movements of the period.7 In the United States, student leaders clashed with police and other authorities as protest strategies became increasingly hostile and aggressive. Yet, even when demonstrations remained peaceful, violence could occur, as evidenced by the shooting of four students at Kent State 4 See, for example, "Radicals, moderates clash again," The Peak 21 May 1969, 3; Special Unemployment Edition, The Carillon 13 April 1971; "That's Not Performance," The Carillon 28 May 1971, 7; Tom Walkom, "SAC shouldn't be axed," The Varsity 26 November 1971, 4; and "Make-work programs obscure unemployment," The Varsity 6 October 1972, 4. 5 See, for example, Arthur Marwick, The Sixties: Cultural Revolution in Britain, France, Italy, and the United States, C.1958-C.1974 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 37. 6 See, for example, Alex Podnick, "Jottings of a retiring editor: Conservatism regains its grip on campus," The Varsity 28 March 1973, 7; Pitsula, ^s One Who Serves, 383; and Owram, 306. 7 See, for example, Levitt, 104-106; Owram, 285-290; Rossinow, 337-338; and James M. Pitsula, New World Dawning: The Sixties at Regina Campus (Regina: Canadian Plains Research Center, 2008), 246-250. Page 310 University in Ohio in May 1970. In Canada, too, disruption and confrontation became more common by the end of the Sixties. At Sir George Williams University in Montreal, for example, students occupied a computer lab in response to the perceived failure of the university administration to address their complaints of racial discrimination by a particular faculty member. On 11 February 1969, a fire broke out in the computer centre, causing an estimated $2 million in damage.8 Although student protests at the universities included in this study did not reach the same level of violence and destruction as in the United States and at Sir George Williams, aggressive tactics, especially occupations, became more frequent. University administrators responded with physical force and many students rejected the radical tactics employed by their leaders. For example, the occupation of the Administration Building at Simon Fraser University over admissions policies and of Simcoe Hall at University of Toronto during the controversy over the Robarts Library provoked such a reaction from officials at those institutions. Other historians contend that, as the leading edge of the baby boom generation, which had swelled enrolments at Canadian universities, moved out of the institution, the power of the student body deteriorated. As James Pitsula states, "The student power of the baby boomers had always been based on numbers. As the numbers declined, so did the power."9 However, while enrolments at the Regina Campus reached their peak in the fall of 1969 and 8 See, Owram, 247. 9 Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 383. See also, Owram, 306. Page 311 steadily declined in the years the followed, the reverse actually occurred at the University of Toronto and Simon Fraser University." In addition, it is difficult to determine the role of generation in the English-Canadian student movement. Enrolments at Canadian universities grew during the Sixties, in part, in response to the demographic shift of the baby boom generation but also as a result of the growing importance of higher education in the postwar era. As well, early student activists were not, in fact, baby boomers, and it is relatively arbitrary to determine a cut-off point for the first wave of the generation as differentiated from those who followed. However, it is important to note that a significant proportion of the student leaders of the Sixties had left their universities by the early 1970s. At all three institutions, many of these students completed their degrees and moved into graduate programs elsewhere or into various positions in the workforce.1 As well, at Simon Fraser University, many politically active students left campus in w URA, University of Saskatchewan, "Annual Report," 1965-66 to 1969-70. 11 See, UTA, University of Toronto, President's Report, 1963-64 to 1973-74; Hugh Johnston, Radical Campus: Making Simon Fraser University (Vancouver: Douglas & Mclntyre, 2005), 115; and SFUA, F-52 Office of Analytical Studies Fonds, F 52-2-2-1, Enrollment Statistics. 12 At the Regina Campus some of the most active student leaders, including John Conway and Jim Harding, moved to Simon Fraser University to commence graduate studies and assumed leadership positions in the student movement at that institution. At the University of Toronto, many student leaders, including Bob Rae, Steven Langdon, Greg Kealey graduated in the late 1960s and early 1970s and either entered graduate programs at other institutions, frequently outside of Canada, or found work outside the university. Bob Rae left the University of Toronto in the fall of 1969 to complete graduate studies at Oxford University. Steven Langdon also graduated from the university in 1969 and went on to a career as an academic and politician. Greg Kealey graduated in 1970 and entered graduate studies at the University of Rochester. Page 312 the wake of the PSA Strike in 1969. Thus, while it may not be sufficient to claim that the numerical strength of the baby boom generation on campus declined, as enrolment figures seem to indicate, it is true that the influence of many political engaged students diminished as they moved away from their universities. Many later became actively involved in off-campus politics, but their participation in the student movement ended when they graduated. Even more important than these other factors, the student movement at English-Canadian universities declined as a result of ideological fractures within the student leadership. "Internal ideological strife," Cyril Levitt claims, "led to functional organizational paralysis and chaos within the movement."14 While different political positions had always existed among students and limited the formation of a coherent and unified movement, student activists generally remained united throughout the Sixties. By the 1970s, this unified position became increasingly impossible to attain as a result of internal divisions within the student leadership. One of the most obvious splits occurred within the New Left. Those who adopted this position initially rejected the rigid ideologies of the Communist Left. However, as radical students continued to search for the means to achieve the 13 As a result of their involvement in this conflict, many were denied teaching assistant positions for the following year. This made it increasingly difficult for them to finance their education and created significant consequences for participating in such protests. See, John Cleveland, Interview with the author, 11 February 2006; Gordon Hardy, Interview with the author, 10 February 2006; Jim Harding, Interview with the author, 20 January 2006; and John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006. 14 Levitt, 177. See also, Owram, 280-286; Pitsula, As One Who Serves, 111; and Pitsula, New World Dawning, 249. Page 313 dramatic transformations that they argued were necessary and possible, they frequently turned to various left-wing organizations for guidance.15 By this time, such perspectives proliferated, and students followed different paths associated with the varying branches loosely grouped together under leftist organizations. Some turned to Marxism-Leninism for answers, while others favoured Maoism or Trotskyism.16 As former Canadian Union of Students (CUS) President and now academic Peter Warrian later recalled, the student movement "became factionalized, largely over political ideologies." At the same time, a significant number of politically active individuals at these universities became more concerned with a variety of "non-student" issues 15 To a significant degree, the New Left's identification of students as agents of social change had proven inadequate. Politically active students became aware that the changes they had attempted to initiate on campus had done little to eliminate the inequalities and injustices that they perceived in the world outside their institutions. As well, many of these students discovered that the tactics they had employed as part of the student movement were largely inappropriate or insufficient for engaging in off-campus political discussions. These tactics generally failed to move protests beyond the university or to create alliances with other social actors in the community. Students were also somewhat protected from the legal consequences of their actions; off-campus protests left students more directly vulnerable to societal authorities without the potentially mediating role of the university administration. 16 Although similar fractures developed within the student leadership at all three universities, the University of Toronto perhaps provides the clearest example. By 1969, Toronto student Andy Wernick could point to at least eight separate groups of what he called "activists" on campus, including the Young Socialists, the youth wing of the Trotskyist League for Socialist Action; the Canadian Party of Labour, a militant group connected with the Progressive Labor Party in the United States; the Maoist Canadian Student Movement; and the anti-capitalist and anti- imperialist New Left Caucus. In explaining the distinctions between these groups, Wernick said that they each gave different answers to questions of how imperialism was to be defeated, how to build socialism in Canada, what kind of socialism to construct, and how groups should operate on campus. Andy Wernick, "A Guide to the Student Left," The Varsity 24 September 1969, 8-9. 17 Peter Warrian, Interview with the author, 9 March 2006. Page 314 and began to develop or join other social movements that could address their specific interests. Examples include English-Canadian nationalism, the Waffle, the environmental movement, the women's movement, and gay and lesbian liberation movements. In each of these cases, the perspectives and tactics employed by the student movement became less relevant as people focused more 1 & and more on off-campus problems and on their other, non-student identities. On the English-Canadian nationalist movement see, for example, Jeffrey Cormier, The Canadianization Movement: Emergence, Survival and Success (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004); Stephen Azzi, Walter Gordon and the Rise of Canadian Nationalism (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1999); Ryan Edwardson, '"Of War Machines and Ghetto Scenes': English-Canadian Nationalism and the Guess Who's 'American Woman'," American Review of Canadian Studies Vol.33, No.3 (2003), 339-356; Robert Hackett, "Pie in the Sky: A History of the Ontario Waffle," Canadian Dimension Vol.15, No. 1&2 (October-November 1980), 1-72; Gregory Albo, "Canada, Left-Nationalism, and Younger Voices," Studies in Political Economy No.33 (Autumn 1990), 161-174; John Bullen, "The Ontario Waffle and the Struggle for an Independent Socialist Canada: Conflict Within the NDP," Canadian Historical Review Vol.64, No.2 (1983), 188-215; and Peter Borch, "The Rise and Decline of the Saskatchewan Waffle, 1966-1973," MA Thesis, University of Regina, 2005. On the Women's Liberation Movement, see, for example, Naomi Black, "The Canadian Women's Movement: The Second Wave," in Changing Patterns: Women in Canada, eds. Sandra Burt, Lorraine Code, & Lindsay Dorney (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1993), 151-175; Judy Rebick, Ten Thousand Roses: The Making of a Feminist Revolution (Toronto: Penguin Canada, 2005); Jill Vickers, "The Intellectual Origins of the Women's Movements in Canada," in Challenging Times: The Women's Movement in Canada and the United States, eds. Constance Backhouse & David H. Flaherty (Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1992), 39-60; and Roberta Lexier, "How Did the Women's Liberation Movement Emerge From The Sixties Student Movements: The Case of Simon Fraser University," Women and Social Movements in America, 1600-2000 (Forthcoming). On the Environmental Movement see, for example, Frank Zelko, "Making Greenpeace: The Development of Direct Action Environmentalism in British Columbia," BC Studies No.142-143 (2004), pp.197-239; Jennifer Read, '"Let us heed the voice of youth': Laundry Detergents, Phosphates and the Emergence of the Environmental Movement in Ontario," Journal of the Canadian Historical Association, Vol.7 (1996), pp.227-250. On the Gay and Lesbian Liberation Movements see, for Page 315 Ultimately, then, the eventual decline of the relatively powerful, though always fragile, Sixties student movement was largely a result of splinters within its leadership over identity and ideology. SOCIAL MOVEMENT THEORIES In the literature, social movements are generally understood as conscious and collective efforts to bring about widespread social change.1 An important question that arises throughout this dissertation is whether or not the English- Canadian student movement is, in fact, an example of a social movement. It can be argued that the activities discussed above were spearheaded by a small group of student leaders and only rarely attracted the attention and support of the wider student body. In addition, the student movement was always fragile and temporary, gaining or losing momentum depending upon the issues and perspectives presented by activists. As such, is it possible to define the student movement as a social movement? Despite these important limitations, many students during the Sixties joined in a collective and conscious effort to insert their viewpoints into the debates occurring on campus in an effort to achieve institutional and social change. Though never supported by all students on campus, campaigns organized by student leaders were nevertheless cooperative example, Tom Warner, Never Going Back: A History of Queer Activism in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002). 19 See, Erin Steuter, "Women Against Feminism: An Examination of Feminist Social Movements and Anti-Feminist Countermovements," Canadian Review of Sociology & Anthropology Vol.29, No.3 (1992), 289; Suzanne Staggenborg, Social Movements (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2008), 48-51 and Mark Edelman Boren. Student Resistance: A History of the Unruly Subject (New York: Routledge, 2001). Page 316 and deliberate efforts to transform the university and the outside society. In this way, the English-Canadian student movement during the Sixties can be seen as a social movement. Overall, then, the preceding analysis of the evolution of the English- Canadian student movement provides an opportunity to consider the relevance of various hypotheses that scholars, especially in sociology, have developed to explain the dynamics of collective action more broadly. While this is a vast field, with a tremendously diverse literature, a small sample of some of the key contributions of this work can help connect the English-Canadian student movement with a broader understanding of social movements in society. In the 1970s, scholars in the United States began to emphasize the importance of resource mobilization to the growth of social movements. In summarizing this theory, noted Canadian sociologist William K. Carroll explains: On the basis of felt grievances stemming from shared interest, the constituents of a movement pool their resources, and secure other resources, in order to pursue collective goods.... As resources of various kinds become pooled, a group gains the capacity to mount collective actions in pursuit of its common interest; that is to say, it becomes mobilized.2 These resources, according to Suzanne Staggenborg, can be both tangible, including funding and organizational structures, and intangible, such as the commitment of participants. Social movement organizations and their leaders William K. Carroll, "Social Movements and Counterhegemony: Canadian Contexts and Social Theories," in Organizing Dissent: Contemporary Social Movements in Theory and Practice, ed. William K. Carroll, 2n ed. (Toronto: Garamond Press, 1997), 9. 21 Suzanne Staggenborg, Social Movements (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2008), 16. Page 317 are central to this theory of collective action; organizations with formal and bureaucratic structures, theorists argue, are generally more successful in maintaining a movement over time, "whereas informal organizations are better at innovating tactics and taking quick action in response to events."22 Around the same time that the resource mobilization theory came to the fore, some scholars also began to employ the political process theory, which emphasizes the "interactions of social movement actors with the state and the role of political opportunities in the mobilization and outcomes of social movements." These academics maintain that movements develop when potential actors perceive that the political conditions are favourable to mass action. Sydney Tarrow, for example, proposes that openness in the polity, fractures within dominant groups, alterations in political alignments, the prevalence of existing allies, and repression or facilitation by the state all contribute to improved political opportunity. According to Tarrow, when such prospects expand, a large number of movements may develop, resulting in what he calls a "cycle of contention," a period of "heightened conflict across the social system."25 Early movements in this cycle will influence those that come later by developing "collective action frames" that construct the meanings and ideas that stimulate protest. They also help to create the opportunities for further collective Staggenborg, 17. 23 Staggenborg, 17. Sydney Tarrow, Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 77-80. 25 Tarrow, 142. Page 318 action. Sociologist Suzanne Staggenborg argues that a protest cycle developed during the Sixties as a large number of social movements emerged out of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.27 Independent of North American approaches such as the resource mobilization and political process theories, European scholars developed the new social movement theory in an attempt to understand the prevalence of unique forms of collective action in the late twentieth century. Theorists in this field argue that social movements that developed in "post-industrial" or "advanced capitalist" society, including the peace, student, environmental, women's, and gay and lesbian movements, "differ in structure, type of constituents, and ideology from 'old' movements of industrial society, notably the labour movement." Scholars who employ this method emphasize the importance of "collective identity, which refers to the sense of shared experiences and values that connects individuals to movements and gives participants a sense of 'collective agency' or feeling that they can effect change through collective action." Collective identities, they argue, develop around discursive practices that construct meanings and relationships.30 Throughout the life of a social movement, these practices must be continually renegotiated in order to maintain unity and solidarity among See, Robert D. Benford & David A Snow, "Framing Processes and Social Movements: An Overview and Assessment," Annual Review of Sociology Vol.26 (2000), 611-639. 27 Staggenborg, 43-53. 28 Staggenborg, 20. 29 Staggenborg, 21. 30 Carroll, 17. Page 319 participants. Otherwise, tensions and fractures may develop within groups and organizations. ' As part of this new social movement school, other scholars, including William Carroll and Stuart Hall, draw upon Antonio Gramci's notion of hegemony to explain the existence and operation of social movements. Hegemony was defined by Gramsci as "the 'spontaneous' consent given by the great masses of the population to the general direction imposed on social life by the dominant fundamental group."32 As Carl Boggs explains: By hegemony Gramsci meant the permeation throughout civil society - including a whole range of structures and activities like trade unions, schools, the churches, and the family - of an entire system of values, attitudes, beliefs, morality, etc. that is in one way or another supportive of the established order and the class interests that dominate it. Hegemony in this sense might be defined as an 'organizing principle', or world-view (or combination of such world- views), that is diffused by agencies of ideological control and socialization into every area of daily life. According to Gramsci, hegemony operates not through domination, but through the consent of the people.34 In other words, it rests on the acceptance by the subordinate groups in society of the ideological framework established by the ruling class.35 In this way, Gramsci states, "The fact of hegemony undoubtedly presupposes that the interests and tendencies of the groups over which hegemony is to be exercised are taken into account, that there is a certain equilibrium of 31 Staggenborg, 21. Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the Prison Notebooks, trans. & eds. Quintin Hoare & Geoffrey Nowell Smith (New York: International Publishers, 1971), 12. 33 Carl Boggs, Gramsci's Marxism (London: Pluto Press, 1976), 39. 34 Gramsci, 12. See also, T.J. Jackson Lears, "The Concept of Cultural Hegemony: Problems and Possibilities," American Historical Review Vol.90, No.3 (1985), 568. 35 James Joll, Gramsci (Glasgow: Fontana/Collins, 1977), 99. Page 320 compromise." Since hegemony requires consent to operate, it also provides an opportunity for resistance, as individuals and groups can challenge the dominant framework. For Carroll, social movements can be viewed as counterhegemonic because they oppose the existing order. Gramsci also theorized that, as different social groups negotiate the values and ideas that shape their community, each "will find some values more congenial than others, more resonant with its own everyday experience," and "may develop its own particular worldview." The development of this common ideology will cement a particular group into what Gramsci referred to as a "historical bloc." According to Stuart Hall, the formation and reformation of historical blocs is rooted in notions of identity, which is similar to the collective identities that form the basis of new social movement theory. Hall argues that each individual is comprised of a number of 'selves' or identities. Such identities are never unified but are fragmented and fractured, "constructed across different, often intersecting and antagonistic, discourses, practices and positions." They are rooted in particular historical moments, constantly shifting and changing, and must be examined as discourses produced in "specific historical and institutional sites." When certain people share common identifications, they will ally into a historic bloc through a process of "articulation," "the complex set of historical practices by which we struggle to produce identity or structural unity out of, on top of, ib Quoted in Joll, 100. 37 Carroll, 23-32. 38Lears, 571. 39 Stuart Hall, "Introduction: Who Needs 'Identity'?" in Questions of Cultural Identity, eds. Stuart Hall & Paul du Gay (London: Sage Publications, 1996), 4. Page 321 complexity, difference, contradiction." At different historical moments, for a variety of reasons, groups form around some shared characteristic or position, despite other divisions such as gender, ethnicity, race, and class, and will challenge the dominant hegemonic framework. THE ENGLISH-CANADIAN STUDENT MOVEMENT AND SOCIAL MOVEMENT THEORIES To varying degrees, each of the theories discussed above can be applied to the Sixties student movement at English-Canadian universities. For example, the resource mobilization theory might help to explain why student activists initially sought to use organizations that were already in place, namely student government, to gain a more meaningful voice within their institutions. Students who obtained elected seats on student councils could rally numerous resources, including finances through student fees, formal bureaucratic structures, official recognition within the university, and the commitment of certain individuals. Yet, student representatives also realized very early on that their ability to employ such resources for their own purposes required organizational autonomy. As discussed in Chapter 2, these students insisted that they could only be responsible to their electors and actively engage in political discussions if student government was independent from university officials. Having achieved this goal by the mid- 1960s, student leaders were able to use their positions on these bodies to raise issues that they insisted were important and position themselves as the official 40 Lawrence Grossberg, "History, Politics and Postmodernism: Stuart Hall and Cultural Studies," in Stuart Hall: Critical Dialogues in Cultural Studies, eds. David Morley & Kuan-Hsing Chen (London: Routledge, 1996), 154. Page 322 voice of the entire student body in the debates on campus. As a result, student governments largely spearheaded demands for greater participation in university governing structures and for the removal of financial barriers to higher education. However, many informal student organizations were also central to the Sixties student movement. Politically engaged students did not necessarily require the resources available through official organizational structures to guide the political activities within their institutions or to assert their right to speak on behalf of all students. For example, students associated with the Students for a Democratic University (SDU) at Simon Fraser University dominated discussions regarding governance, access, and the purpose of higher education and frequently convinced significant numbers of students to participate in various political actions on campus. Though members of this organization also occasionally held seats on student government, former SDU member John Conway later recalled that: student council was never the key focus, anyway. [SDU] was. We ran a slate. We won, so we were able to use student council office and positions to push some of the things we did, and I think we provided good student government, too. But when we lost control of council...it didn't change our activity at all.41 Similarly, at University of Toronto, organizations such as the New Left Caucus (NLC), the Toronto Student Movement (TSM), the Old Mole, and others often organized campaigns and presented positions that greatly influenced events on campus. For example, the NLC orientation exercises and the protest against a speech by Clark Kerr, discussed in Chapter 2, helped initiate discussions 41 John Conway, Interview with the author, 24 January 2006. Page 323 regarding disciplinary policies, and critiques presented by the TSM and the Old Mole regarding the existing university structures contributed in significant ways to debates surrounding the purpose of the university. In addition, at all three universities, student organizations located in specific faculties or disciplines, including the Political Science, Sociology, and Anthropology (PSA) Department at Simon Fraser, the Division of Social Sciences at the Regina Campus, and the Faculty of Arts and Science at University of Toronto, were central to the emergence of a perceived cohesive student voice at each campus. As such, while the Sixties student movement demonstrates that organizational resources could be used to exert tremendous influence on campus, less formal associations that often lacked significant financial or bureaucratic resources could also guide political activities and claim to speak on behalf of the student body. The political process theory can also help explain the dynamics of the student movement. Its emphasis on the emergence of favourable political conditions for the development of collective action highlights the importance of changing opportunities for students throughout the Sixties. In particular, the decision taken by university administrators to treat students as adults rather than children created an opening for students to engage in political discussions and debates. As well, campaigns spearheaded by professors for greater participation in university governance provided the impetus for student representatives to also consider their lack of power in the decision-making process. On a larger scale, the widespread global activism in the postwar period and the Sixties encouraged students to consider the various ways that they might become involved in political Page 324 activities within their own environment. In this way, the notion of a "cycle of contention" is particularly useful; the student movement drew in significant ways from the collective action frames developed within the Civil Rights Movement, the peace movement, the Free Speech Movement, and other examples of social activism at the time. Additionally, the various social movements that developed by the late 1960s and early 1970s, including the nationalist movement, the women's movement, and gay and lesbian movements, developed out of earlier forms of protest and are, therefore, part of a larger cycle of protest.42 However, while these expanded political opportunities were important for the early development of the student movement, by the mid-1960s, student leaders increasingly created their own prospects for political involvement on campus. For example, although university administrators recognized students as responsible, adult members of the university community, student activists themselves used this definition of their identity to actively campaign for organizational autonomy. In doing so, they were able to raise issues that they identified as important and to speak on behalf of the student body. As well, student leaders initially employed definitions of democracy expounded by the Civil Rights Movement and other social movements, in particular the notion of self-determination. Yet, by the late 1960s, in response to their own experiences, they went well beyond these ideas and articulated demands for equal participation in university governing structures. Thus, external social movements and internal administrative decisions created favourable conditions for united student action, See, for example, Staggenborg, 43-53. Page 325 but student activists ultimately pushed beyond these frames and produced their own space for political activities on campus. Finally, new social movement theory offers important insights into the development of the student movement at English-Canadian universities throughout the Sixties. In drawing upon Antonio Gramsci's notion of hegemony, it can be argued that institutions of higher education are guided by a particular system of values, practices, and beliefs that represent the interests of the dominant groups. This hegemonic framework is closely connected with national and provincial structures and activities but is also unique in important ways. For example, universities have their own governing structures and disciplinary practices that function quite differently from the rest of society. As well, the dominant authorities on campus are university administrators and, sometimes, faculty members. The student movement, like other social movements, was counterhegemonic; it fundamentally challenged the existing order on campus. Student activists demanded a complete overhaul of university governing structures to limit the power of administrators and professors and to instead increase the influence of the student body. Many also challenged existing funding arrangements and the emerging orientation of their institutions, which, in many ways, confronted the principles and ideals associated with higher education at the time. At the same time, the concepts of collective identity and historical blocs relate directly to the evolution of the student movement during the Sixties. The movement was a historical bloc in that it brought together diverse groups of Page 326 individuals around a common ideology. When students and their leaders shared similar perspectives on particular issues or concerns, they allied together and engaged in collaborative political activities. For instance, a mutual belief in democracy and responsibility, however vaguely defined, encouraged many students to support campaigns for personal and group autonomy and increased participation in the decision-making process. Similarly, at specific historical moments, and around certain issues, students were able to produce a group identity despite their numerous and unique characteristics. As students became aware of their distinctive position within the university in relation to administrators and faculty members through various campaigns, they developed a shared sense of what it meant to be a student within the institution. In doing so, they were able to create a relatively unified movement. However, as social movement scholars contend, identities and ideologies constantly shift and change, making historical blocs and collective identities temporary and fragile. Practices that make the meanings and activities of a social movement must be continually reconstructed to prevent strains and splinters from developing. Throughout the Sixties, student leaders were unable to sustain relevant or acceptable identities and ideologies and the movement frequently fractured. Certain issues, such as accessibility to higher education and the role of universities as social critics, highlighted the varied ideological perspectives within the student body and limited the formation of a cohesive student movement. Additionally, as many student leaders continued to insist that student identity was essentially defined as a radical opposition to authority and the existing structures, Page 327 values, and principles of their institution, it became ever more difficult to attract the support of more moderate and conservatives students on campus. As well, at specific historical moments, students defined their sense of self in numerous ways and often prioritized other identities over their shared student identity. Membership in particular academic programs or disciplines often divided different groups of students, such as the splits that developed between some arts students and students in professional faculties. Also, by the end of the period, identities rooted in gender, sexual orientation, race, and class became more important to many students on campus. Likewise, though many students sometimes acknowledged their broader role as scholars, finding common purpose with their professors during particular campaigns, this group identity fractured as certain issues and events highlighted the different interests and concerns of each faction. Unable to maintain a common identity, student activists were largely powerless to preserve any sense of unity with significant numbers of students and the movement lost much of its influence. CONCLUSIONS In the end, this dissertation investigated the history of one generally overlooked Sixties social movement, the on-campus English-Canadian student movement, to gain greater insights into the dynamics of rebellion and resistance in society. Through an examination of three specific case studies, it becomes clear that the student movement gained power when student leaders successfully joined together with a large proportion of the student body around shared goals. Page 328 In fact, what sets this movement apart from other examples of collective action was the mass character of student actions. By exploring the major events that took place on each campus, this research shows that these alliances revolved around the issues raised by student activists. In particular, it demonstrates that the ability of students to connect with one another into a relatively cohesive student movement depended to a considerable degree upon the development of common perspectives and collective definitions of what it meant to be a student. Ultimately, the student movement achieved influence on campus when a considerable percentage of students accepted certain concepts framed by their leaders in specific ways and viewed themselves as a distinctive group within the university with shared interests and positions. Yet, such ideologies and identities gradually shifted, and the student movement frequently fractured. When many students did not support the positions offered by their leaders and no longer shared a common definition of their identity, the movement fractured and lost much of its momentum. Although these conclusions were reached from an examination of only one particular social movement, they help to explain resistance and rebellion more broadly. Collective action develops, this study suggests, when individuals with diverse ideologies and identities can overcome their differences and struggle together for a common purpose. However, particular positions and perspectives must be frequently renegotiated throughout the life of the social movement to ensure that they continue to represent the shared interests of all those involved. Otherwise, cracks and divisions can emerge that severely curtail the power and Page 329 influence of the movement. Collective action, then, depends to a considerable degree upon the formation of alliances rooted in shared worldviews and conceptions of identity. 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