Photos From the Edge 13 - WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK

Photos From the Edge 13 - WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK
Photos by David Bacon

Before Washington Square was a park, the Yelamu tribe of the Ramaytush Ohlone people lived along the Bay, and traveled up into what was then dunes and grassland, studded with oak trees.  After the San Francisco peninsula was taken from them by the first Mexican settlers arriving from the south, cattle rancher Juana Briones grew potatoes on this small patch.  Those who came after her used it as a dump and a cemetery.  

When the Italians and Chinese came, the city created a park that marked the border of their neighborhoods in North Beach and Chinatown.  Today, a century and more later, you can still hear breakneck conversations in those languages at the tables in front of Victoria Pastry, across Filbert Street.  

The park was a home for immigrants and artists.  As a teenager fresh from Udine in north Italy, Tina Modotti must have wandered through the trees intoxicated by dreams of becoming an actress.  She starred in North Beach's Italian dramas, before heading first to Hollywood, and then to Mexico where she transformed herself into a Communist photographer.  Finally she gave up her art to guide refugees from Spain after its Civil War.  Even though the U.S. government never let her return to North Beach and her family there, I imagine Washington Square Park still filtered into her sleep once in a while, to remind her of those first dreams.

I came to Washington Square Park as a teenager, cutting high school and walking down Grant Street, looking for the beatniks.  I was a little late.  The Coffee Gallery, where Alan Ginsberg and Lawrence Ferlinghetti recited poetry to jazz, was closed and gone.  Sometime during the years when I wandered through, seeking a way out of Cold War conformity, Erik Weber must have taken his famous photograph of Richard Brautigan, standing in the park next to his muse, Michaela Le Grand.  I never saw them, but the photograph was the cover for Trout Fishing in America.  The sardonic grace of Brautigan's nonconformity suited my own.  It made his book a treasured item in the small collection I hauled with me from one apartment to the next, in those wandering years of my own youth.

The other day I went back to Washington Square Park with my camera.  I had no great ambition.  I just took photographs of the people I found.

FARMWORKER YOUTH TAKE TO THE STREETS AS DEPORTATIONS AND DISPLACEMENT THREATEN THEIR PARENTS

FARMWORKER YOUTH TAKE TO THE STREETS AS DEPORTATIONS AND DISPLACEMENT THREATEN THEIR PARENTS

https://civileats.com/2025/06/03/farmworker-youth-take-to-the-streets-as-deportations-and-displacement-threaten-their-parents/

By David Bacon (words and photos)
Civil Eats, 6/2/25

In Santa Maria, California, where 80 percent of the resident farm workforce is undocumented, deportation threats are a daily reality. Growers, and the Trump administration, are focused on hiring temporary, H-2A guest workers, which means there are fewer jobs, too.



At a protest against immigration detentions in Santa Maria, CA, a young woman holds a sign honoring the work her parents have done as farmworkers.


This story was co-published and supported by the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.

This is the second of two articles about the strawberry workers of Santa Maria. Read the first story here.

Santa Maria's city center, with its gritty mix of old Western-wear stores and chain mall outlets, is the place where the valley's farmworker marches always start or end. A grassy knoll in a small park, at the intersection of Broadway and Main, provides a natural stage for people to talk to a crowd stretching into the parking lot and streets beyond.

This March 30, the day before Cesar Chavez's birthday, a high school student, Cesar Vasquez, walked up the rise, surrounded by other young protesters, all from farmworker families. He turned to face the several hundred marchers who'd paused there, and began reciting a stream of consciousness poem, fierce gestures punctuating his emotion-filled words. The noisy crowd before him grew silent.

"We're meant to work in the fields," he cried out, "[and told,] 'Don't be too loud because then you're seen as just the angry brown kid,' . . . The system has pushed us onto our knees into the rows of dirt where the berries lie. We are tired of being called essential workers but not even treated as essential humans . . . We are going to do something about it . . . We can no longer be suffocated. It is our time to breathe, our time to rise, our time to fight!"

Brave words, given that he'd helped organize the day's march to counter pervasive fear in Santa Maria of immigration raids and detentions and worry over how growers were hiring more and more workers from the H-2A labor program.  

Concepcion Chavez, who went on strike briefly in 2024, described that impact.  "We are always afraid they'll replace us, because they give a preference to the contratados [H-2A workers].  That's what the supervisors say, that if we don't work hard they'll replace us and send in the contratados."

As Vasquez  spoke, the strawberry season was just getting underway-the time of year when people depend on going back to work after months of winter and unemployment. Instead of relief, however, most farmworkers this year have found themselves swinging between fear of being picked up by the migra on their way to work and anger that wages haven't gone up despite the sharp rise in rents and grocery bills. 

Cesar Vasquez shouts out his poem to the crowd of marchers on March 30.



Two young women listen to Vasquez speak at the march.



At the march, a boy from a Mixteco farmworker family with a hand-drawn portrait of Cesar Chavez.

Normally, that anger would have resulted in work stoppages. Groups of strawberry pickers often withhold their labor at the beginning of the season to negotiate better piece rates with the Santa Maria Valley's big growers. So far this year, however, there have been no strikes or slowdowns. The number of workers participating in marches like the one on March 30 for Chavez's birthday, and a second on May Day, has dropped from previous years.

Hazel Davalos, co-executive director of the Central Coast Alliance United for a Sustainable Economy (CAUSE), says her organization has collected reports of about 40 undocumented farmworkers detained in Santa Barbara and Ventura Counties since President Trump took office.

Of any city, "Santa Maria has been hit the hardest," she says. "Because of our know-your-rights work, it's hard for ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement] agents to catch people at home, so they concentrate enforcement in public spaces."

After the know-your-rights training, people understood they didn't have to open their doors to ICE agents, so now the agents wait for people to leave home. "And while they have warrants for specific people, they often go beyond those names," she said. "In a recent case, when they couldn't find one man, they took his brother. The impact is a day-to-day fear in the community. Schools report children are afraid to come to class."



At the beginning of the march, a volunteer passes out "red cards," part of a know-your-rights campaign to help immigrants facing enforcement agents.

Francisco Lozano, a longtime activist in the community of Mixteco (Indigenous Mexican) farmworkers here, says, "They follow the cars of individuals they're looking for, but if they don't find the person, they'll take some else. They wait outside homes and stop people when they leave to go to work."

ICE has not responded to requests from Civil Eats for information on detentions in Santa Maria.

According to Fernando Martinez, an organizer for the Mixteco Indigenous Community Organizing Project, as the strawberry picking starts, "Our people are having to risk going to work, to pay their rent and for their basic needs. But they go with the fear of not coming back home to their kids."

Undocumented workers are the backbone of the strawberry industry in Santa Maria.  Jamshid Damooei professor and director of the economics program at California Lutheran University, and executive director of the Center for Economics of Social Issues, collaborated with MICOP and CAUSE on a report advocating for better wages.  "Eighty percent of farmworkers in Santa Maria are undocumented," he said, "and without them there is no agriculture.  Yet the median wage, which in 2019 was $26,000 a year for farmworkers born in the U.S, was only $13,000 - half that - for the undocumented."

That fear can make workers more reluctant to demand higher wages and better conditions. "It especially affects them when employers threaten to call immigration if they start organizing. It's a big fear," Martinez said. "No one wants to get sent back to the country they left for a better future. A lot of people have kids and they've been here for 15 or 20 years. This is what people consider home."  

One purpose of the marches, therefore, is to push back against panic. This year, the key to their success has been the willingness of children who are documented to protest on behalf of their parents.

On February 18, Vasquez and his friends organized a walkout of 400 students in three high schools, three middle schools, and the local Hancock Community College to protest the threat of immigration raids. They demanded a two-mile safe zone around every high school, and even teachers participated. "Some kids marched five miles, for over two hours," he says.

According to Vasquez, over three quarters of the students at Santa Maria High School come from immigrant families, and half have worked in the fields themselves. They were motivated not just by deportation threats, but also by the unrecognized sacrifice of their parents.

"For my whole life my mom and dad would leave home at 3 a.m. and get back at 7 p.m.," he says. "They're always working to make ends meet and always stressed out at the end of the month trying to meet the rent."  



A farmworker family at a march in Santa Maria in 2024 demanding a living wage.  One sign reads, "Rent very high. Pay very cheap."

This year, there's fresh urgency motivating these young protesters: Those long, exhausting workdays are harder to get. "Many of us have no work or only get four or five hours before we're sent home," Lozano says. When workers go out to a field to ask a foreman or a labor contractor for a job, he says, they're often turned away. Increasingly, people fear being displaced from jobs they've depended on for years.

Three farmworkers living in Santa Maria walk out of a field, after having been told by the foreman of a crew picking strawberries that there was no work for them.

At the same time, rents are rising and there are fewer available places to live. Both work and housing pressures, say local labor organizers, can be traced to an important element of the administration's immigration policy: increasing the numbers of H-2A workers.

The Rise in H-2A Workers

The number of seasonal workers recruited from Mexico to labor in Santa Maria Valley fields, on temporary H-2A visas, has been growing every year. That increase is part of a national trend. Twenty years ago, the Department of Labor (DOL) issued 48,336 certifications to growers for workers brought to the United States with H-2A work visas.

In 2017, Trump's first year in office, growers received 200,049 certifications, and in Biden's last year, 2024, they received 384,900. The total number of farmworkers in the U.S. is about 2 million, and today, almost a fifth are temporary workers on H-2A visas.

H-2A workers sign contracts for a maximum of 10 months per year, after which they have to return home, usually to Mexico. They can only work for the grower who recruits them, and can be fired for protesting, organizing, or simply working too slowly.

Fired workers lose their visas and must leave the country and then are usually blacklisted by recruiters. This makes them very vulnerable to pressure and illegal conditions. The wages of H-2A workers are set a little above the hourly minimum, in California currently $19.97.   



Farm workers from Mexico plant young seedlings of broccoli plants on a machine pulled through a field in Nipomo by a tractor.  A DoL job order for H-2A workers, by labor contractor Cal South Harvesting, says workers "manually load trays of product onto the transplanting machine. While seated at the waist the employees working on the platform manually pull the transplant from their tray. Then one by one the product is placed into a tube to be inserted automatically by the machine into the soil."


 
A worker swings a bunch of stock flowers he's cut onto a huge bunch in a field in Lompoc, near Santa Maria. A DoL job order for H-2A workers, by labor contractor Fresh Harvest, covers workers called " Flower Harvester (Stock and Larkspur flower types)."

In some states, the number of H-2A workers now exceeds the number of local workers. In Florida, with its draconian anti-immigrant and anti-farmworker laws, growers' 47,416 H-2A certifications last year covered over half of the 80,821 people employed on its farms. Georgia's 43,436 certifications were for over three-quarters of its 55,990 farm laborers.

In Santa Barbara County, where Santa Maria is located, and in neighboring San Luis Obispo County, the total number of farmworkers is close to 25,000. The Employer Data Hub of the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, which verifies employers' visa applications for H-2A workers, lists 29 growers and labor contractors employing a total of 8,140 workers, or at least a quarter of all the farmworkers in the two-county area. This is the highest concentration of H-2A workers in the farm labor workforce in California.

The threats from the Trump administration of increased immigration enforcement have been accompanied by offers to make it easier for growers to use the H-2A system. Even in 2020, in Trump's first term in office, then Agriculture Secretary Sonny Perdue emphasized the government's support for more H-2A workers. "That's what agriculture needs, and that's what we want," he said at the time.

In her nomination hearing, Trump's current secretary of agriculture, Brooke Rollins, told Congress that she'd modernize the H-2A program "to do everything we can to make sure that none of these farms or dairy producers are put out of business [by immigration enforcement]."

In his last term, Trump froze the wages of H-2A workers for two years, in effect lowering them because federal regulations would have required increasing them annually. The administration estimated that the move saved growers $170 million each year. In addition, Trump allowed growers to access, for H2-A housing, funds that had been earmarked for year-round farmworker housing.

He also allowed growers to use, for H-2A workers, the federal labor camps started in the 1930s for housing farmworker families at affordable rents financed by USDA.

This December, before Trump took office, Georgia Attorney General Chris Carr (currently running for governor) asked the president-elect to discard the federal rule that set the minimum wage for H-2A workers in the state. That wage, the Adverse Effect Wage Rate (AEWR), is set by the federal government on a state-by-state basis.

AEWR is intended to keep the use of the H-2A program from undermining local wages, but they're only slightly above the minimum wage. The lowest state AEWR is $14.83 in Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana. This year, California's AEWR is $19.97, while the state's minimum wage is $16.50 per hour.  

Impact on Local Workers

In Santa Maria, the increase in H-2A employment is connected to the growth of the strawberry industry. According to a report by Marcos Lopez, a staff member at the U.C. Davis Community and Labor Center, over half of the H-2A certifications in California come from the five counties that are the heart of the state's strawberry industry, which produces 84 percent of all strawberries in the country. Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo Counties account for 40% of the state's land planted in this crop.  After the winter harvest in Mexico winds down, strawberries start coming from the central coast of California, and increasingly from Santa Maria.  "It's cheaper to grow there than areas like Oxnard or Watsonville, where there's greater urban wage competition," Lopez says.  "The H-2A program grows where the strawberry industry is growing."

While the H2-A wage is slightly higher than the state's minimum wage, the productivity of H-2A workers is higher because growers recruit young men, and then require them to work at a fast rate in order to keep their jobs. This is particularly important in strawberries because it is a highly labor-intensive crop.

Organizer Martinez thinks that deportations and displacement of longtime local workers are connected to the increase in H-2A workers. "We're concerned that employers will look for ways to replace the workers who are being picked up. Santa Maria is already one of the cities with the highest concentrations of H-2A workers," he says. "They [the Trump administration] plan to relax the restrictions on the use of H-2A workers, and we know their labor rights are violated, whether it's being denied overtime or having to live in bad housing."
 
The loosening of restrictions, Martinez suggests, could make H-2A workers even more attractive to growers.  According to Enrique Gastelum of the Worker and Farmer Labor Association "My hope would be the Department of Labor would see the fault in the rulemaking and just roll these rules back nationally." And in May 2024 Congressman Bill Huizenga (R-MI) and 119 other Representatives signed a letter to the House Appropriations Committee, saying, "We urge you to include an H-2A wage freeze in Fiscal Year 2025 appropriations legislation."As growers bring in more H-2A workers, Santa Maria farmworkers are feeling the impact -in terms of less work, rising rents, and inadequate wages.

Many local Santa Maria farmworkers, themselves immigrants but who have been living and working in the valley for years, say they are often sent home after working only four or five hours, and that they can't get steady work every day. Since they rely on the strawberry season to save enough to get through the leaner months of winter, the loss of hours can reverberate through the rest of the year.

In a study of the social impact of the H-2A program in Salinas, demographer Rick Mines predicted that "the older settled workers will be getting less work as their younger co-nationals [the H-2A] replace them in the fields." That is how the H-2A program is likely to play out in Santa Maria as well, according to Martinez and others.



Hieronyma Hernandez picks strawberries in a field near Santa Maria.

Mines also looked at housing conditions in Salinas. "There is a growing competition between the new migrants (the H-2A) and the old (the settled Mexican families). This competition affects the availability of housing as the older migrants face higher prices and increased crowding in the apartments where most live."

Sabina Cayetano, a strawberry picker, and her son Aron and other members of her family sleep in one room in their Santa Maria apartment.

Similar pressures exist in Santa Maria. Growers are obligated to provide housing to H-2A workers, and in Santa Maria, in addition to housing those workers in complexes, the growers also rent houses in working-class neighborhoods. That has led to steep rises in rents, as growers outbid residents for leases.

"I rent my house for $3,000," explains Francisco Lozano, "but the grower can pay $4,000 or $5,000 and put four people in each bedroom and the living room."  

In 2019, Santa Maria passed an ordinance requiring growers to get permits to house H-2A workers in neighborhoods with single-family homes.  In one council meeting discussing it, Jason Sharrett, representing the California Strawberry Commission, called the ordinance unnecessary and "based on erroneous findings."  Alexandra Allen, another grower, said she would have to use two units to house 12 workers instead of one, incuring greater costs.  CAUSE's Hazel Davalos responded that "The [H-2A] program itself countrywide has been fraught with abuses.", The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (under the Trump administration) threatened to sue the city for discrimination, and the city withdrew the ordinance. 

This house in a Santa Maria neighborhood of family homes was listed as the housing for H-2A farmworkers by La Fuente Farming, Inc. The vans to transport the workers to the fields are parked in front.

The rising number of H-2A workers means growers don't have to raise wages to attract workers. As Martinez points out, "The price they're paying per box of berries this year is too low-$2.30, the same as last year and the year before. But the cost of living has gone up a lot, so in effect, wages have gone down."   

Last December MICOP and CAUSE asked Santa Barbara County (where Santa Maria is located) to consider an ordinance that would set a $26 per hour minimum wage, and increase piece rates per box enough to guarantee that minimum.  In response, Claire Wineman, president of Grower-Shipper Association of Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo counties. told supervisors, "The economic realties do not support any local minimum wage increase, much less $26 per hour."  Farmworker Celina Moreno responded, "Without fair wages, the farmworkers will remain trapped in a cycle of poverty.  The real solution is an increase of wages."


Lack of Protections for H2-A Workers

Cesar Vasquez sees workers walking and riding bikes from one of the big H-2A housing complexes  near his home. He says they've told him that three or four workers sleep in each bedroom, and that the food provided is often bad. "But they're not going to march or protest with us because they know they can be sent back to Mexico any time," he says. "I think the companies are just testing how low they can go."

A bus for transporting H-2A guest workers to the fields, in front of the housing complex where many of them live.



The housing complex.

In 2017, the city of Santa Maria filed suit against a local landlord, Dario Pini, over extreme violations of health and housing codes in hundreds of apartments in eight complexes. One of them was the North Broadway complex. City inspectors cited Pini for "deteriorated concrete walkways, accumulated trash, abandoned inoperable vehicles, plumbing leaks, unpermitted construction work, bedbug infestation, cockroach infestation, lack of hot water, faulty and hazardous electrical systems and broken windows, and missing window screens."

The violations of H-2A workers' rights continue. One case, State of California vs. Alco Harvest, claims that thousands of workers were not legally paid. Alco is the largest H-2A employer in the two-county area. Alco did not respond to requests for comment.  

Corrie Meals, an attorney for California Rural Legal Assistance (CRLA) in Santa Maria, a party to the Alco case, believes that the state's enforcement of the labor rights of H-2A workers is weak. "We try to avoid the Department of Labor," she says, describing CRLA's efforts on behalf of workers, "and there is little effective enforcement from the state housing and employment departments as well."

Weak Federal Support for Local Farmworkers

The Department of Labor (DOL) is also responsible for enforcing the requirement that growers and contractors try to hire local residents before recruiting H-2A workers, and that they pay local workers at least as much as the imported laborers. However, in 2019, out of 11,472 employers using the H-2A program, the DOL only filed cases of violations against 431 employers, and of them, 26 were barred from recruiting for three years, with an average fine of $109,098.  

The state Employment Development Department and DOL are jointly responsible for verifying that employers have made a good-faith effort to recruit local workers, but attorney Meals says they are allowed to simply post jobs on a website.

That lack of enforcement is likely to get worse. Over 2,700 DOL employees, or 20 percent of its workforce, have left the department in the wake of Trump executive orders and job cutting by Elon Musk's Department of Government Efficiency. "God only knows how much smaller it will be when the RIFs [reductions in force] are announced," one anonymous agency worker told The Guardian. DOL's new chief of staff, Jihum Han, has threatened criminal charges against any department worker who speaks to the press.

Meanwhile, the California Department of Housing and Community Development has only three inspectors for all employer-provided housing in the state, including that for H-2A workers. In 2022, it failed to issue a single citation for illegal conditions and issued permits without making inspections  In response to an investigation by CalMatters, department spokesperson Pablo Espinoza blamed budget shortfalls for lack of staffing.  Nevertheless, he said "the system seems to be working ... Nothing is ever perfect,".

Karen Ross, Secretary of the California Department of Food and Agriculture, was the keynote speaker at the Santa Maria Strawberry Industry Recognition Dinner this year, held at the Fairpark in April and sponsored by the Santa Maria Valley Chamber of Commerce. Driscolls, the largest strawberry company in the world, received the Industry Partner of the Year.

Ross expressed concern about federal immigration enforcement policies, and told the grower audience, "We're very hopeful that there will be bipartisan efforts to really focus on making the H-2A program work better."

A 2024 march for higher wages passed in front of the Santa Maria Fairpark, where the strawberry festival was organized by growers to celebrate the beginning of the picking season.



An older indigenous farmworker walks outside the fence around the Fairpark, where the strawberry festival was being celebrated.

In many ways, Santa Maria's farmworkers, both local and H-2A, seem to be on their own. Yet despite the fear generated by immigration detentions, the labor violations, and, for local workers, the lack of work, Martinez believes that this spring's marches have had an impact.

"They're the way to empower our community and make people feel they're not alone," he explains. "We have to encourage them, wherever they are, to continue organizing, to take collective action to protect each other and to stand together. That's how changes are made. It is the only way."

Vasquez thinks the community's young people are up for it. "A lot more kids are rising up to the occasion," he says hopefully. "Some never spoke to a politician before, but now they're losing their fear."

At the March 30 farmworker march in Santa Maria.

WHY THE B-52 FAILED TO DEFEAT THE VIETNAMESE

WHY THE B-52 FAILED TO DEFEAT THE VIETNAMESE
By David Bacon
Foreign Policy in Focus, 5/5/25
https://fpif.org/why-the-b-52-failed-to-defeat-the-vietnamese/

Children on a fighter plane in the Army Museum, Hanoi.

On the 50th anniversary of the end of the U.S. war in Vietnam.

On the plane to Hanoi in December of 2015, I opened my morning copy of the New York Times to find an article by Dave Philipps: "After 60 Years, B-52's Still Dominate the U.S. Fleet." The piece stuck with me.  For the next two weeks as I traveled through north Vietnam I tried to unravel the U.S. attitudes it reveals towards the people of this country and what they call "the American war."

It ends by quoting a former South Vietnamese Navy officer, Phuoc Luong.  "American technology is super," he told Philipps.  "It's a great plane. In Vietnam we didn't use it enough. That's why we lost."

If anyone knows the B-52, it's the people of Hanoi. The enormous planes bombed them day and night for twelve days at Christmas in 1972.  Today there's a museum dedicated to the bomber, and the wreckage of one still sits in a small lake in the middle of the city.

When I tried to imagine what it was like living amid the constant deafening explosions, I found an earlier article in the archives of Mr. Philipps' newspaper that gives an idea.  It describes a visit by Telford Taylor, who'd been a judge at the Nuremberg war crimes trials, folksinger Joan Baez, and two other U.S. citizens in 1972.  They'd gone to Hanoi that Christmas to deliver mail to pilots of those B-52s.  Some had managed to survive being shot down while delivering President Nixon's brutal holiday greeting, and then were apprehended by the people they'd been bombing.  

Kham Thien Street after the bombing, in a photo from the Hoa Lo Museum, Hanoi.

The visitors described their fear in the midst of cataclysmic destruction, and their subsequent journey through the city and its ruins.  "The most horrible scene that I've ever seen in my life was when we visited the residential area of Khan Thieu, and as far as I could see, everything was destroyed," mourned Yale University Divinity School associate dean Michael Allen.

Thirty years later another Times writer, Laurence Zuckerman, also wrote about this iconic airplane:  "The B-52's Psychological Punch: The Enemy Knows You're Serious."  Zuckerman was reacting to a documentary on the B-52s by filmmaker Harmut Bitomsky.  Zuckerman's piece was not exactly a paean to the aging airplane, but like Philipps, he couldn't quite hide a certain admiration for its long life.  

The B-52 was built originally in the early 1950s to drop nuclear bombs on the Soviet Union.  Since then it's carried "conventional" bombs, releasing them instead over people and homes in dozens of other countries. "It is the longevity and versatility of the giant bomber, which started flying in 1952 and is expected to remain in service until 2037, that is so fascinating," Zuckerman commented.

While both writers carefully note that carpet bombing inspired massive protests both in the U.S. and internationally, what's glaringly absent in their pieces is any sense of what it means to be under the B-52, on its receiving end.

The Long Bien Bridge in Hanoi today.

The Christmas bombing of Vietnam was a war crime.  No U.S. official was ever tried and punished for it, and it was as irrational as it was savage.  The negotiations for the U.S. troop withdrawal from South Vietnam would reach a conclusion within a few weeks of it.  Could some minute extraction of leverage in those talks have been worth the deaths of so many?  

Throughout the eight years in which the U.S. bombed North Vietnam, its bombers had few military targets.  One airman quoted by Philipps tried to claim that bombing nevertheless had some strategic value:  "We're doing a lot more than killing monkeys and making kindling wood out of the jungle," he claimed.  The B-52s targets, however, were people and the infrastructure that held their lives together.  U.S. planes bombed dikes to try to cause flooding in Hanoi and the countryside.  They bombed the Long Bien railroad bridge - the link that brought food and coal into Hanoi so that people could eat and keep warm.  

The B-52s and their accompanying F-4s and F-14s bombed the small town of Sapa in the hills north of Hanoi, near the Chinese border.  Sapa is the cultural center for many of Vietnam's ethnic minorities.  It has no military value.  Why bomb it, if the purpose was not to terrorize people and extract revenge for their defiance?

Traveling through the north, I sometimes asked ordinary people - taxi drivers or restaurant workers - what I should see in Hanoi.  Mostly they'd tell me to go to the Army Museum.  One morning I did, and I could see why.  On the ground outside the main halls are captured tanks, a Huey helicopter, and rows of bombs.  In the courtyard pieces of shot-down planes have been welded together into a tower, topped by the tail assembly of a U.S. jet.

The Hanoi Station after the bombing, in a photo from the Hoa Lo Museum, Hanoi.

Kids are climbing all over them.  At the museum entrance sits an old MIG fighter the Vietnamese got from the Soviet Union.   Parents send their children up a small ladder bolted to the side, and there they pose for iPhone pictures, next to the 14 red stars painted on the fuselage, each representing a U.S. plane it shot down.

It was a moment for conflicting feelings. I was glad to see the instruments of war surrounded by happy families - no war anymore.  Then I thought about the pilot of the MIG.  How terrifying it must have been to fly up into the anti-aircraft and missile fire above Hanoi and shoot at the B-52s and their phalanx of fighter escorts.  And then I realized, it must have been terrifying for the U.S. pilots too.  Eighty four planes were shot down over Vietnam during the Christmas bombing, including 34 of the giant Stratofortresses, according to the museum.  

Today's remote controlled wars, with drones guided from computer screens in Colorado, seem antiseptic by comparison -- for the pilots.  Not so for those under the bombs.  For people living in the ancient cities of Gaza or Sana'a or Kunduz, the reality today is much as it was for people in Hanoi that Christmas.

I believe people also had another reason for urging me to go to the museum.  Hanoi has long since been rebuilt.  In the city and its environs Vietnam is on a building binge, and the impact of the war is no longer so visible.  Children born during the Christmas bombing are celebrating their 43rd birthdays.

Children on a fighter plane in the Army Museum, Hanoi.

People walk through the Army Museum exhibit halls, mostly lined with photographs showing all the things they did during that war.  Some show Central Committee meetings that made the decision to fight the Americans.  Some show people in demonstrations, especially in the South, demanding that the foreigners leave.  Some show the hard work of people in the north, sending food and soldiers south to drive them out.  There are many portraits of people killed, or imprisoned in the infamous tiger cages, for fighting the U.S. and the South Vietnamese government it propped up until the last helicopter took off from the roof of the U.S. Embassy on May 1, 1975.

But despite the bombing and the meticulous documentation of the war's terrible cost, I felt little hostility or bitterness in the people I met.  In the end, they'd won.  How could the war's planners back in Washington have thought it would turn out otherwise?  The Vietnamese were no latecomers to insurrectionary organizing.  They were hardly ignorant or apolitical countryfolk, although this was certainly the prevalent stereotype in Congress and the Pentagon.  

The Army Museum is focused on the American war.  But the half dozen other museums in Hanoi that also document Vietnam's revolutionary history make plain how long liberation took.  Sophisticated political organizations took decades to mature and gain experience.  By the time of the U.S. intervention, they'd been at it for many, many years.  That experience finally brought about the U.S. defeat.

If anything, the Vietnamese official history on display in museums is even angrier with France than with the U.S.  Long rooms and galleries of photographs show the nationalists and their first resistance to the French colonizers starting in 1858.  It joined the rising revolutionary wave of the early 20th century, and crystallized in the launch of the Indochinese Communist Party in the 1930s.  

The Long Bien Bridge in Hanoi today.

Hanoi Hoa Lo monument (now largely overshadowed by a new office and residential complex) preserves the prison where the anti-French resisters were held.  In the cells of the old French Maison Centrale, dioramas of prisoners in manacles and leg irons shout at their jailers with their fists raised.  Two guillotines, used to chop the heads off those who couldn't escape, sit in dark corners of this and the official history museum.  Even the women's museum has a floor dedicated to those imprisoned by the French.

That history of resistance went on far longer than the U.S. war - almost a hundred years.  During much of it Ho Chi Minh was not even in Vietnam to lead it.  He was first an itinerant sailor, then in Moscow working for the Comintern, and finally was sent to one country after another, to jumpstart movements like those that had already begun in his own country.  While it's possible to see why western governments feared and demonized him as a hardened revolutionary, the Vietnamese resistance movements were not dependent on any single person.  The final defeat of the U.S. came several years after Uncle Ho had died.

The language used to demonize Vietnam's Communists and nationalists by those they sought to overthrow was just as vituperative as that used in the U.S. Congress against Muslim radicals today.  Terrorist, after all, was a term used to describe anarchists and socialists for over a century.  That language of terrorism and the cold war was used to create hysteria that easily justified sending U.S. advisors, and then troops, into Vietnam once the French had been defeated in 1954.  Ultimately, it was used to justify the B-52s and the 1972 Christmas bombing.  It cost millions of Vietnamese lives, and tens of thousands of U.S. lives as well.

When President Reagan and his successors sought to overcome the "Vietnam Syndrome" to make later interventions acceptable, they once again used that language.  It justifies even today's use of the B-52s, 63 years after they began flying.  The U.S. Air Force has no intention of retiring the 76 remaining planes in its fleet.  In fact, the successors to General Curtis ("Bomb them back to the stone age") LeMay wanted to deploy them in Syria.

The Long Bien Bridge in Hanoi today.

They are institutionally unwilling to remember.  Bombing did not defeat the Vietnamese.  Phuoc Luong is wrong.  More B-52s would not have won that war.  They will not win any new war against a people willing to do whatever it takes to survive and win.  

Walking through the streets of Hanoi, I could see see why.  One morning I went out to Long Bien Bridge to take photographs at sunrise.  The trains going north leave downtown Hanoi just as it gets light.  It's a great moment to see them emerge from the warren of houses next to the tracks, their old cars flashing past as they set out across the long span over the Red River.  

Long Bien is an old bridge, and was one of the four great bridges of the world when it was built in 1902.  A plaque at one end reminds the commuters who trundle past on bicycles and scooters that it was built by Gustav Eiffel, who used the same iron that went into his tower along the Seine in Paris.  During the American war it was probably the one structure U.S. bombers could clearly see from on high, and they blew it apart over and over.

Down below the bridge abutment is the Long Bien market, where many of the city's fruit and vegetable sellers go to meet farmers bringing produce into the city.  As I took pictures of the train and the stalls below, I tried to imagine the columns of smoke, the deafening roar of jet engines and then explosions, the screams of people torn to shreds with their dogs, their pushcarts and melons. 

The Long Bien Bridge in Hanoi today.

As the trains passed I wondered if the locomotives were the same as those that must have been repaired a thousand times during the war.  They look old.  Despite the glitz of Hanoi's new wave of foreign investment, Vietnam is still a poor country.  Things must be saved and reused again and again, including railroad cars and bridges.

I felt that persistence as the sun came up.  It's why the bombing, despite its immense destruction, failed so utterly.  

Then I went down into the old quarter below, looking for a cup of Hanoi's excellent coffee.