LAST spring, the war in Vietnam was the subject for a genuine debate on foreign policy among most Harvard students. A substantial minority, if not the majority, sought to discern a respectable rationale for the Johnson Administration's policy of heavy military engagement in the South and sporadic bombing in the North. Many of these students were deeply troubled by the war; they often felt that American officials were not quite sincere when they spoke of "unconditional negotiations." Still, as of last June, the Vietnam war was more of an annoying problem than a genuine crisis.

All this has changed. Many students and formerly pro-Johnson Faculty members think that the President has made a catastrophic mistake in opting for a military solution in Southeast Asia. The stepping-up of the air raids into North Vietnam as well as the Administration's apparent intransigence in the face of the February peace feelers has tended to solidify opinion at Harvard against the war and has sharply changed the tenor of debate.

For much of the Harvard community, the war no longer poses an intellectual problem in American foreign relations. As one former member of the Johnson Administration put it a few days ago. "I haven't found anybody up here in quite a while who will defend the Administration's policy right down the line." This mounting "dovishness" puts partisan Democrats in a tenuous position; the national leader of their party will be in a tight election next vear, but should he defeat his Republican opponent, he might interpret his victory as a mandate for his present Vietnam policy.

The dilemma of electoral politics in 1968, however, has not yet stirred the interest of most Democratic doves at Harvard. It may be that the election poses too many problems for nonradicals to face at this time. But it is more likely that Vietnam has had the effect of diverting students from their former interests in conventional "get out the vote" politics. Many students, especially members of Students for a Democratic Society, feel that the events of the past year indicate that the two-party mechanism is incapable of dealing with the war. And aside from the fact that 1968 (to say nothing of 1966) may prove them correct, the effect on voting patterns of television images and food costs has driven students to unconventional forms of political action.

The most noteworthy of the protests this year was probably the disruptive demonstration against Secretary of Defense McNamara when he visited Harvard in November. The impulse behind those students who mobbed the Secretary and physically halted his car was one of frustration and pique--frustration at the apparent reluctance of the Administration's high officials at that time to confront the more articulate spokesmen of the strident anti- war movement, and pique at the decision of McNamara's host, the Institute of Politics, to shield him from large numbers of students.

Since the McNamara incident, however, the tenor of protest has shifted. An increasing number of students--many of whom are not members of SDS, the University's leading New Left group--have resolved on an afirmative sort of protest. Last year, only a handful of Harvard students were involved in sit-in demonstrations at U.S. Army bases and a smaller number burned their draft cards. Now almost a quarter of the undergraduates have either signed "We Won't Go" pledges or requested the government to institute "conscientious objector" status on the basis of an individual's dissent from a specific war.

The anti-draft movements has served to dramatize perhaps the most startling shift in Harvard students' attitudes on the war. It is simply one of revulsion, and it extends far beyond the students who are willing to pledge themselves to this negative form of civil disobedience.

One senior who plans to enter the Navy after graduation admitted a few days ago that he was frankly "hung up" over his desire to organize middle-class adults against the war for fear that his chances of getting into the Navy might be jeopardized. And his quandary is, in some respects, typical of the more moderate opponents of the war here.

These students, who are far more numerous than outright draft resistors, believe that the current course of U.S. action promises nothing but a possibly interminable war and the change of a military conflict with the Chinese Communists. But they are unsure whether violating federal law is a suitable form of political protest, to say nothing of the heavy personal costs they might have to pay for the rest of their lives. The main contribution of this segment of Harvard dissenters has been the petition for a new form of conscientious objection.

The dissent has become wide enough for the radicals and the moderates to get together in support of Vietnam summer, a Cambridge-based project to organize voters against the war. Despite all the enthusiasm which the project has stirred, its objectives thus far are quite unclear. In fact, the group itself will have no "party line"; each participant is free to respond as he wishes to queries on whether the U.S. should withdraw immediately, or whether the President should be opposed in 1968 even if running against a hawkish Republican. On the other hand, radical leaders who will be helping to direct Vietnam Summer are said to believe that its main function is to plant the seeds for broad-based radical politics--something never before accomplished on a long-range basis in the United States.

At any rate, the project--whether it succeeds or fails--is a clear indication that many Harvard students have resolved to take their increasingly strident objections to the war beyond the University community. They reason that the direction of American policy has become increasingly militaristic, and that its proponents have thus far failed to put forth a carefully reasoned defense. They conclude that many Americans who support the war only for traditional motives of loyalty may be particularly susceptible to persuasion by the doves.

Of the two major forms of protest that have evolved this year, the summer organizing project is likely to have a far more extensive political effect that the draft resistance; it is much easier for the average student dissenter to speak against the war than to risk jail or permanent expatriation as the price of dissidence. Also, most of those who have pledged not to serve in this war have not limited themselves to this kind of protest--and will actively support Vietnam Summer.

The main attraction of community organizing is the chance it gives Harvard dissenters to act in what they consider a constructive manner to halt the war. The current widespread alienation from the government--and the normal politics which seems to maintain it--has stimulated many students who were previously apathetic over public affairs to become involved.

But Vietnam Summer may not provide all the answers for the undergraduate who is anxious to do his bit to end the war. There is the strong probability that because of its reluctance to come to grips with electoral politics--which will appear more and more important as the presidential election looms closer--anti-war organizing may have only a marginal effect on voters' decisions. And there is still the strong chance that the Republican opponent of President Johnson will not offer much of an alternative.

But even if Vietnam Summer fails in its practical objective of significantly increasing pressure on the government to end the war in some unmilitary manner, it will have had the effect of carrying on a process that has been evident throughout the past year. Just as the Harvard chapter of SDS was able to attract a surprisingly large number of members this year because of the dearth of any other serious anti-war groups in Cambridge, so too should Vietnam Summer serve the purpose of involving moderate and formerly reluctant students with more radical forms of anti-war political protest. It will happen even more if the project is unable to rally relatively uncommitted citizens against the war.

Part of the problem of an unfocused organizing activity is its difficulty in prescribing specific political action. Yet Vietnam Summer would meet with greater difficult and the alienation of participants if it had a party line. In any event, the organizers may well be satisfied whether the project fails or not; either they will awaken a previously dormant popular minority against the war, or else they will radicalize the large numbers of moderate students who joined their broad-based coalition.

To a great extent, then, Vietnam Summer will be a testing ground for Harvard students who have been squeamish about getting together with strident New Leftists. The chances for widespread anti-Administration alienation are immeasurably increased for the simple reason that moderates this summer will have to face the shocking probability that the moderates this summer will have to face the shocking probability that the traditional political method of legal persuasion--with respect to Vietnam--has become outmoded.

This is not to say that if Vietnam Summer proves to be a rather ineffectual venture, droves of undergraduates will flock to enlist in the "We Won't Go" movement. But they will be faced with what is certain to be a political identity crisis that could serve to spur on the recent radicalization of Harvard