In January, George B. Kistiakowsky, Abbot and James Lawrence Professor of Chemistry, resigned from a Pentagon project staff working on the planned anti-personnel barrier between North and South Vietnam. Kistiakowsky, designer of the explo- sive trigger of the atom bomb, would not speak of his resignation in any but a philosophical fashion.

"Love of my country is very important to me. At the same time, I try to live by certain moral standards. I have always tried to adhere to these standards as best I can," Kistiakowsky said.

Kistiakowsky retained a number of other governmental posts. The tension between "love of my country" and "certain moral standards" was evident."

James D. Watson, Professor of Biology, said at the time that there was "a decreasing number of people working in Washington because of a feeling of absolute futility in their efforts."

ONE OF THE country's most prestigious scientific bodies, the President's Science Advisory Committee, holds annual dinners for its current and past members. Past members have rarely failed to appear. This spring, however, only six or seven out of a possible 60 or 70 showed up.

Paul M. Doty, Professor of Chemistry, said this reflected "a great decline in the morale of scientific advisors" and blamed it on the war.

Scientists are deeply involved in the war by the very nature of their wrok. They are efficient, dedicated, and brilliant men. But they are not machines. The growing moral implications of their work has caused consternation in their ranks.

For the physical scientists, it is a problem each individual has to face alone. But for political scientists, the problem is more serious. Political science as a discipline is challenged by these moral issues.

Intellectuals fear that they have ignored contemplation of the ends of policy in favor of a scientific consideration of the means.

This reasoning may place part of the responsibility for the war in Vietnam upon the shoulders of political scientists. But in dealing with current issues, just what is the responsibility of intellectuals in general and political scientists in particular?

That is the question upon which the impact of the current debate on the history of political science will fall.

The increasing political activism and introspection is like the ripples of a stone thrown into a stream. But if that stone is big enough to redirect the stream's current, changes beyond the fighting and dying in Vietnam will take place.

Academia has found itself guilty of neglecting serious moral issues at a time when their consideration was of utmost importance.

Noam Chomsky, professor of Linguistics at MIT, expressed the feeling of the academic world when he said, "The question 'What have I done?' is one that we may well ask ourselves, as we read, each day, of fresh atrocities in Vietnam--as we create, or mouth, or tolerate the deceptions that will be used to justify the next defense of freedom.