However, by 1967 Woodside found that neutrality on the war had become "utterly impossible." When he returned to Harvard that year and began his thesis, he started demonstrating and speaking at teach-ins. He joined the faculty as an instructor in the fall of 1968, just when the peace movement was gaining momentum. The next spring, he offered the first sessions of "Vietnam."

Woodside was aware that new academic subjects face special prejudices, especially when they are closely related to controversial current events. He tried to tread a thin line between academic respectability and ideological honesty by going beyond the immediate events of the war to their context in Vietnamese culture.

"I tried to make it an introduction to a specific Asian civilization," he says. "I tried not to duck any of the issues raised by the war, but I wanted the students to appreciate these issues in the context of Vietnamese civilization and Vietnamese culture, the way the Vietnamese themselves appreciate these issues."

Woodside divided the course into three sections: pre-colonial Vietnam, the French colonial period, and then, the war. He found that his students, most of whom were drawn to the course out of antiwar sentiments, were receptive to his efforts to teach the war's cultural context. "My only regret is that so little of Vietnamese culture has been translated into English," Woodside says. "That makes it very hard to get the Vietnamese experience across."

His own sentiments on the war are clear, and he has fought it since 1967 in the best way he knows--educating Americans. Still, he has carefully guarded against letting his politics color his academic work. "I think it would be wrong to be a propagandist," he explains. "In this case, I think the facts are very eloquent. In any case, I think it's the function of an educator to let people judge for themselves. I don't think you can pre-fabricate a judgment. It will be damaging to your point of view. On the other hand, I don't think one should ever conceal one's opinion. One should try to be honest, but not be a stifling propagandist."

Some faculty members apparently felt that such objectivity was impossible with Vietnam, and although Woodside says he has been conscious only of the support of several professors--in particular, Fairbank, John Womack Jr. '59, Ernest R. May, and H. Stuart Hughes--his appointment to a tenured position last spring reportedly ran into strenuous opposition from faculty members who did not consider Vietnamese history a serious enough field. At the executive session, Fairbank--who chuckles, calls the story "gossip," and declines to confirm or deny it--reportedly stood, told his colleagues that Vietnamese history was important and that Woodside was the best in the country will it, and said that if Woodside was denied tenure, he himself would leave the University. Fairbank let the room, and Woodside was awarded tenure.

Characteristically, Woodside only recently learned of this story, and seemed both personally flattered at Fairbank's praise and disappointed that there had been opposition to the Vietnamese studies he himself represents. "But the point is, got tenure," he says, adding that he has enjoyed Harvard, and was pleased to stay on.

Nevertheless, it is unclear how long he will remain here. He is taking a sabbatical next year to teach at Vancouver, and sometime after that, he says he may return to Canada, which he still considers home. "I feel badly about not having done anything for my own country," he says. "I have no plans now, but it is true that the Canadian government paid for some of my training here in the early 1960s. There are obligations."

* * *

As Saigon prepared to surrender, the last lecture of "Vietnam" for 1975 was ending. Woodside facing an even larger crowd than usual, drew smile with his mixing of Eastern and Western images--"A grand Confucian funeral makes a Hollywood funeral seem emotionally modest," he explained a one point. As 1:00 drew near, he skipped some points, and began speaking faster. When the bells of Memorial Church started ringing, he still has more to say.

But Woodside cut himself short. "I know it's sort of banal to end by calling for more learning," he apologized, but he went on to do just that, asserting that Vietnamese studies are still primitive, but that studying Vietnam's history, and the history of American involvement there, still has a purpose. "Confucius said that one must look for faults to emphasize goodness," he explained.

He paused, and then added softly, "So maybe there can be some hope for us in the future."

The applause descended upon him in waves, surging for long minutes. Woodside turned his back, and began blindly erasing the blackboard in sweeps that seemed meant only to hide his embarrassment. Finally, he turned back, and gestured awkwardly, thanking his students and asking them to stop.

Then he stood there for another few minutes as students filed out for their late lunches. Several came down to the front--some to shake his hand, but most to ask him questions