[This is Chapter Sixteen of Murphey's book Liberalism in Contemporary America.]
Liberalism and a World in Revolution
Enormous tragedy has come to the world since 1917 from the fact that liberal thought has, with regard to one country after another that has come under attack from Communist revolution, followed a discernible pattern starting with illusion and ending with an admission of horror. The cycle has been repeated many times. The ultimate recognition of the horror has not prevented the illusion that begins the cycle from being present again and again with regard to later Communist revolutions in other countries.
This chapter will review the positions of the liberal intellectual culture before, during and after the revolutionary challenges to Russia, Spain, Western Europe, Greece, China, Taiwan, Korea, Guatemala, Cuba, Guinea, the Dominican Republic, Vietnam, Chile, Rhodesia, Nicaragua, El Salvador, South Africa and Grenada. In several cases we will be able to see the playing out of the entire cycle. In others, such as where the revolution did not succeed or is still in progress, the situation will have lent itself to only part of the cycle.
By limiting my discussion to the countries and areas named, I do not mean to suggest that there have not been others. My primary concern, as it has been throughout this book, is to analyze and illustrate the ideological elements rather than to write an exhaustive history.
Stages in the cycle of liberal response
Without caring to reach a round number for its own sake, I have identified ten related but separate components of the liberal intellectual culture's response to leftist revolutions as they have occurred throughout the world:
1. Most especially since World War II, the world Left, including the American liberal intellectual culture, has held many non-Communist countries in what we might call "simmering contempt." Accordingly, it would not be accurate to say that liberal thought has ever fully accepted the status quo within them. But it is significant that with others, at least until a revolution has gotten underway, the existing society and its government have been accepted, despite their imperfections, as normal parts of the world community.
Chiang Kai-shek and his government in China offer a good example. In August 1943, a New Republic editorial praised Chiang as both a man of action and a thinker. "The meliorism of Thorstein Veblen and J. A. Hobson he finds in harmony," the editorial said, "with the best present tendencies in Chinese thought."1
2. After the revolutionary attack on a country has begun, the liberal attitude toward the country has changed to a dramatic condemnation. The existing regime has then been painted in the darkest colors. Those identified with the government and opposed to the revolution have been pictured as corrupt oligarchs whose repressions and violations of human rights have made them examples of unmitigated evil.
If we pursue the Chinese example a step further, we see that in May 1944, just a few months after the praise I have just quoted, The New Republic's TRB began to talk about "the anti-democratic movement in China... the heavy censorship... the disregard of the tragedy of the poor" and another article spoke of "the autocratic, one-party rule of [Chiang's] Kuomintang." We know with hindsight that these were the opening volleys in what became a decades-long campaign of vilification that painted Chiang and the Kuomintang as reactionary and that continued until long after Chiang and his army had retreated to Taiwan.2
3. In casting the existing government in this light, liberal thought has abandoned the cultural relativity that it has used in so many other connections. The regime has been judged not in the context of its own society, with its unique history and conditions, but by an ideal standard.
Even more importantly, the regime has been judged without regard to the fact that it has by that time become embroiled in combating riots, anarchy and organized revolution under what have inevitably been conditions of internal war. Again with regard to China, the effects of many years of war and inflation upon the Chiang Kai-shek government were ignored. In a perceptive comment, Freda Utley observed that "to ascribe the defeat of the Chinese National Government to its 'corrupt and reactionary' character is to beg the question. What is required is an examination of the causes which led to the frustration of the great national renaissance led by the Kuomintang in the 1920s and 1930s... It was useless to expect that an economically backward country, exhausted from an eight-year war with Japan and currently involved in an undercover war with Russia, could, almost overnight, set up a 'democratic' government. Add to these drawbacks the fact that China had no past experience of representative government."3
South Vietnam provides another example. The distortions imposed upon the society by the systematic assassination of thousands of village chiefs and other leaders were never considered. In June 1961, President Kennedy spoke of 4,000 civilian officials having been assassinated in the preceding twelve months -- a horrendous fact, if we think about it. The statistics about the dead might briefly be recited, but then the successors of the dead leaders were themselves condemned as venal and unrepresentative. In the same month that Kennedy told of the assassinations, an article in The New Republic accused the South Vietnamese government of "lies and fakery," of being "undemocratic" and of using "connivance and force to prolong its life." The unspoken assumption was that such a bleeding was of no consequence and that the government should be judged just as though it had never happened.4
In each case, the existing governments have been judged by criteria that Americans would apply to, say, an American presidential administration. This has subsumed, as well, a country not torn by internecine hatreds. No doubt such a standard has been used with considerable cynicism by the intellectual culture, which is hardly so naive in other connections. Such a standard has been a natural one in the twentieth century American context. It has been able to play upon the simple-mindedness and provincialism of millions of Americans. There have been many, some of them on the edge of the intellectual culture and others simply members of the public at large, who have prided themselves upon keeping their minds fully attuned (without so much as a moment's genuine thought) to the twists and turns of fashionable opinion. In countless ways, people of this sort have made themselves the instruments of propaganda and ideological bias.
4. At the same time as a country's existing regime has been condemned, the leftist revolutionaries have been lavishly praised. The Communist and totalitarian nature of the revolution has almost invariably been denied. The "national liberation front" has been pictured as democratic, led by men who have represented a people in revolt against intolerable conditions. By this process Mao has become an "agrarian reformer" and Fidel a romantic swashbuckler. While the revolution is seen as an explosion resulting from the indignation of exploited masses, the central role of the intelligentsia and of trained Marxist-Leninist cadre within it is given scant attention.
5. A point that should be considered separately, for emphasis if for no other reason, is that in most cases the precise nature of the revolutionary movement has been obscured by the fact that the "social democratic" Left throughout the world has been willing (beginning with Russia in 1917) to join in a United Front with the Communist Left. This coalition of the various segments of the Left is what has made it possible to say that "only a part of the revolution consists of Communists" and to treat as mere speculation the concerns of anti-Communists about whether the Communists will control the revolution after it succeeds.
The ambiguity created by this collaboration has been one of the more important facts about the world since World War II. It has meant that in one revolutionary situation after another public opinion within the free world has been unable clearly to identify its enemy. The effect has been devastating. The support of the social democratic Left has not only helped the revolutionary movements materially and politically; it has contributed immensely to a semi-paralysis on the part of the non-Communist world.
. The collaboration was the factor that more than any other laid the foundation for the moral and intellectual uncertainty that the free world, and especially the American public and the Congress of the United States, experienced about resisting Communist expansion. This resulted in serious internal division, such as existed in the mid-1980s about American policy toward the Sandinista regime in Nicaragua. (The Boland Amendment prohibiting assistance to the Contras, who were fighting the Sandinistas, set the stage for the Iran-Contra Affair, with the prosecutions of administration leaders that continued into the 1990s.)
. The result was the lack of an articulated anti-Communist rationale for American policy in such a place as Vietnam. In March 1967, TRB wrote that "we are not there to prevent South Vietnam going Communist. ('We do not seek to impose our political beliefs upon South Vietnam,' says the President [Lyndon Johnson] categorically.)... What are we there for, then? Mr. Johnson tells us. It is terribly simple. It is to give 'a concrete demonstration that aggression across international frontiers is no longer an acceptable means of political change." We see in this passage that President Johnson was choosing to rationalize the war in terms of a post-World War I "Kellogg-Briand" type of thinking, in which the problem was seen as one of aggressive nation-states attacking one another. Johnson was playing to the Left and to the ambiguity within American public opinion, deliberately avoiding an anti-Communist rationale.5
. These factors in turn led to an irresolute response to Communist revolutionary attacks upon the free world.
. Although Americans found it most comfortable to brush the fact under a rug and to pull back mentally into the comfortable routine of their own lives, the fact remained that since 1939 hundreds of millions of people had been lost to Communist domination. One country after another had succumbed to one-party Marxist-Leninist dictatorship. Our mental defenses are such that it seems almost ungracious to recall their names: Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Rumania, Albania, China, North Korea, North Vietnam, South Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Tibet, Angola, Mozambique, Ethiopia, Rhodesia, Cuba, Nicaragua, Afghanistan.... and others. But of course these are not just names; they are whole peoples who came to live under a totalitarian system.
. There was an increasing isolation of the United States within a world that, to the extent it was not Communist, had become ever more hostile and "neutral." The French refusal to allow American warplanes to fly over its territory to make the retaliatory raid on Libya in 1986 was symptomatic of this shift. The change reflected more than just the decisions of politicians. It manifested their awareness of opinion within their respective countries. (This is an isolation that fortunately has been considerably ameliorated by the dramatic collapse of Communism.)
Because of what I have just mentioned, we should recall the division that occurred within American liberalism at the end of World War II. At that time, the Americans for Democratic Action (ADA) was formed primarily to represent liberals who opposed "working together" in the same organizations with Communists. The Progressive Citizens of America (PCA), which provided the vehicle for Henry Wallace's presidential candidacy in 1948, represented those further to the Left. Its supporters included Communists and those who were willing to continue the old United Front coalition that had been so important in the 1930s.
This seems simply a footnote in American history, but in fact the principle that it involved should long have been considered, for the reasons I have just mentioned, one of the single most crucial issues in the world since World War II. Unfortunately, most (although not all) of the world's "social democratic" Left has taken the position of the PCA. And even more fatefully, the American liberal intellectual culture has encouraged it in this. The principle of non-collaboration has largely been lost sight of since the debate over it in the late 1940s. As we saw in our discussion of the New Left, the principle was abandoned in the 1960s. Further, we saw in our discussion of liberal attitudes toward world affairs that liberal thought encouraged the collaborationist posture of the so-called "non-aligned" factions throughout the world. The failure to insist upon a moral imperative of non-collaboration marked the intellectual bankruptcy of American liberalism and of the social democratic Left in the world arena.
6. The sixth component in the cycle was an active opposition to any support for the existing government in its struggle against the revolution.
This opposition was rationalized in a number of ways: the denial of the "domino theory" allowed liberals to argue that the loss of the particular country would have no further ramifications, so that any intervention by the United States was not really justified by our national interest. The concept that the revolutions were "just civil wars between the existing government and factions that are actually nationalist, and to whom Marxism-Leninism is simply a facade" had the same effect. And the perception of the unworthiness and corruption of the existing government meant that support, if given, could be made to seem both wasted and morally reprehensible.
We saw this opposition to support wherever the existing regime sought American or Western backing. Countries to which this applied included, among others, Russia (with regard to Western assistance to anti-Communist forces in the post-1917 civil war in which Lenin succeeded in consolidating his power), Greece, China, Korea (before the North Korean invasion), Taiwan, Quemoy and Matsu, Vietnam, Guatemala, the Dominican Republic, and El Salvador. In addition, the liberal intellectual culture opposed any effort to overthrow a Communist regime once it was in place. We recall the severe condemnation of such efforts in Cuba, where the effort did not succeed, and in Chile and Grenada, where it did.
7. Once the Communist revolution had taken the particular country, liberal thought urged a friendly posture toward the revolutionary regime. The hope was expressed that the revolution would either (a) prove itself not truly to have been Communist, or (b) be tamed by the conciliatory gestures and thereby become one of the "independent Communist" regimes within a pluralistic rather than a monolithic Communist system.
8. Closely related to this seventh point was the consequent blaming of the United States for the hostility that followed between it and the Communist regime. The hostility, the argument ran, was the product of the American government's not having been conciliatory enough.
We recall how the United States was blamed for not having cultivated Ho Chi Minh as a Vietnamese "nationalist" after World War II. According to this argument, the American government was responsible for the Communist nature of Ho's regime. (The fact that Ho was a Moscow-trained revolutionary and that Walter Briggs pointed out in a 1948 issue of The New Republic that he was "fanatically loyal to Moscow" was considered irrelevant to this line of reasoning, which was not based on evidence but upon ideologically induced sophistry.)6
Along the same lines, Samuel Shapiro wrote in The New Republic after Fidel Castro's victory in Cuba that it was Eisenhower's hostile policy that had driven Castro "into the arms of Nikita Krushchev." We heard a similar argument about the Sandinistas in Nicaragua, despite the Carter administration's extensive efforts to cultivate a friendly relationship both before and after they took power. Such a conciliatory policy was followed until the Reagan administration decided to stop most American aid because of the Sandinista government's supplying of arms to the leftist guerrillas in El Salvador.7
9. Finally, at the end of the cycle, there has been a belated recognition that in fact the Communists have used the revolution to impose a dictatorship and oppressive conditions.
We have seen that it took many years for this realization to sink in with regard to Soviet Russia, which is where the cycle probably played itself out over the longest time. Usually it was much quicker. A year and a half after the victory by Mao in China in late 1949 a New Republic editorial told for the first time about "the Chinese Communist terror campaign," and finally in 1955 Robert C. North told the readers that "from the day of its establishment the Chinese Communist government has functioned as a police state patterned after the Soviet model."8
Not long after Castro's victory in Cuba, George Sherman wrote that "I came away from Cuba profoundly disturbed... by the growth of totalitarian organization." And after the Sandinista takeover in Nicaragua, we eventually saw the New Republic article in October 1983 entitled: "Darkening Nicaragua: Still not Totalitarian, but the Drift is Disturbing."9
10. A tenth point about the cycle is one that I mentioned at the very beginning of this chapter: that the ultimate realization of the Communist nature of the revolution and of the totalitarianism that it imposed did not prevent the cycle from being replayed, with the beginning illusion fully intact, when the next country came under attack. It is as though the illusion was so strong that it could not be dispelled by experience. Only the horror itself dispelled it -- and then only for the particular case. The Chinese experience, for example, was no help to liberals in understanding the assault upon Cuba or Vietnam. And neither of these was any help in understanding Chile or Nicaragua.
After a country was lost to Communist brutality, there was no introspection within liberal literature, no self-examination in which an admission of error was made.
For several years, fashionable opinion throughout the world has been clamoring to pull down the South African government. No responsibility whatsoever is being shown about what will take its place. The fact that one bloody dictatorship after another, Marxist or simply personal, has come into being throughout Africa out of the ruins of a departed Western influence counts for nothing. The system of Apartheid is seen simply as an unmitigated evil. American celebrities and young people, without having taken the least effort to study the history of South Africa and to understand the extreme difficulty of its multiracial situation, have demonstrated outside the South African embassy in Washington, worn white armbands at college graduation ceremonies, and congratulated themselves on the humanity of their position. If history teaches any lessons at all, it is that these same people will in a few years, without any introspection into the role they themselves played, throw themselves into a generous effort for humanitarian aid to alleviate "starvation in South Africa," just as they did not long ago for Ethiopia. (It is significant that during all of the clamor for aid to the millions starving in Ethiopia, almost no attention was given to the fact that there was a Communist government there. Even in that instance, the ideological insistence upon not learning from experience was apparent.)
Several revolutions: examples of the liberal cycle
The elements of the cycle appeared in connection with a series of countries:
Russia. In 1918, after Lenin overthrew the democratic socialist Kerensky regime that had supplanted the Czarist government, H. N. Brailsford urged the West to desist from any attack upon the Bolsheviks. His rationale was that if the Bolsheviks were assured of the safety of socialism within Russia, they would have no need to become aggressive. The New Republic's editorials opposed the Western nations' "indefensible and mischievous policy of military intervention" against Lenin's regime.
A 1939 article by John Chamberlain put part of the blame on Western nations for Stalin's collectivization of agriculture, which included the liquidation of the kulaks. "In 1927," he said, "just before embarking on the first Five Year Plan, the Bolsheviks hoped to get capital from the Western nations. But the capital was not forthcoming... The gosplanners were forced to divert most of the available Russian manpower, [with] nothing much to pass on to the farmer for his grain." This, he said, led to events that culminated in the decision to collectivize. Such an argument corresponds to the phase in the cycle in which the abuses of the Communist regime are said to be due to the non-Communist world's not having been sufficiently supportive.11
We know, of course, that the world intellectual community's perception of the Soviet Union eventually soured, which corresponds with the end of the cycle. Representative of this was the reference in The New Republic in July 1948 to "the vast forced labor system" within the U.S.S.R. (Even though the souring did occur, it is worth noticing that this was probably the journal's first mention of the Gulags and that there was no complete article devoted to them at any time.)
Spain. In March 1936, a New Republic editorial reported that a United Front coalition was in power in Spain, consisting of "Left Republicans, Socialists, Communists and Anarcho-Syndicalists." Throughout the Spanish Civil War, the journal supported the Left without objecting to the collaboration of the democratic socialist factions with the Communists and the anarcho-syndicalists.12
While opprobrium was heaped upon Franco's side, the Left was praised. The New Republic's statement that "if Franco wins, the war-willing powers will be immensely encouraged for their next aggression" saw fascist expansion as a bad thing, for example. But the editors treated Communist expansion as a different matter. The editors chose to overlook the implications of Leon Trotsky's prediction, which had been reported in The New Republic itself in 1931, "that Spain would be 'next'" for the Communists.
Western Europe; France. In a discussion of the "underground resistance [against the Nazis] in Europe," a New Republic article by a "J.H." in 1942 praised the Communists active in the resistance. In keeping with the phase in the cycle in which liberal thought obscured the nature of the revolutionaries, he denied the seriousness of their Communist faith: "The Soviet Union and the Communist Parties in Europe are not preaching Communism or social revolution. But they are advocating anti-fascist revolution and the restoration of democratic government and human rights and liberties...." In February 1944, a New Republic editorial reported a rumor that the State Department opposed arming the French underground "because some of its members are Communists." "If this charge is true," the editors said, "it represents a genuine low mark in stupidity."13
To appreciate the importance of this tolerance toward Western European Communists and of the willingness to see them armed, we need only note the New Republic's own observation, made in 1950, that "the loss of Western Europe [would be] irreparable for the Free World." The comment was while rationalizing the acceptability of losing Asia, but we can draw from it the awareness, however belated, of how crucial it was that Western Europe not be seized by the Communists at the end of World War II. This recognition can be assigned to the "realization" phase.14
Greece. In The New Republic in March 1947, Henry Wallace set forth an argument based on the same phase that we just saw with regard to Western European Communists, of again obscuring the nature of the threat posed by the revolutionaries. He argued that the Greek Communists "are largely Communists because of their extreme misery and have little ideological knowledge of what communism is."
An editorial incorporated two aspects of the cycle. It opposed the Truman Doctrine's assistance to Greece in its fight against the Communist insurgency, and damned the non-Communist regime as composed of "the survivors of an old and wretched order -- the royalist officeholders pledged to King George II of Greece." Freda Kirchwey in The Nation added her own contribution to the phase that condemns the non-Communist government. She argued in 1948 that the Truman Doctrine had been a "failure" because it had kept in power "a cruel, corrupt oligarchy that survives on terror."15
By 1952, however, The New Republic entered upon the "realization" phase (although it was helped in this by its break with Henry Wallace). An article by Thomas R. Phillips then pointed out that "control of Greece would have extended Soviet influence into the Eastern Mediterranean and would have isolated Turkey, the Middle East and the Suez Canal."16
China. In 1931, Malcolm Cowley reported favorably about the Chinese Communists and added that "Communism has captured a generation of Chinese intellectuals." The same year, William Prohme told readers of The New Republic that "several thousand villages are under this Soviet rule," which he said was a good thing because "non-resident landlords no longer exploit the endless labors of the farmers." In 1936, an editorial argued that the Chinese Communists were free of Russian control, citing a report by Edgar Snow that "he found no Russian Communists whatever with the army."17
The campaign to blacken the name of Chiang Kai-shek began near the end of World War II. The New Republic made Richard Watts, Jr., its leading author on China, and in numerous articles he condemned the Chinese Nationalists and praised the Communists. In May 1945, he reported something "upon which all the American visitors to Yenan [the Communist headquarters] during the summer and fall of 1944 seemed to agree... that these so-called Communists were concerned, not with collectivizing China, but with building a progressive, democratic, non-feudal, unified nation." He argued that "their current aims and tendencies are in the direction of agrarian democracy rather than collectivization." Such passages illustrate again, of course, the early phase during which the Communist nature of the revolution is denied or sugared over. At the same time, those opposing the Communists were dripping with evil; in the article immediately following the one by Watts that I have just quoted, Agnes Smedley told the readers of The New Republic about "Kuomintang concentration camps" and speculated: "How many men and women have been done to death in these camps or in the dark cells of Kuomintang prisons, mankind will never know."18
The next phase -- or rather one that ran along concomitantly -- was to oppose American support for the anti-Communist side. A New Republic editorial in August 1945 said that "it is to be hoped that American policy... will not uphold Chungking against the Communists as another 'bulwark against Communism.'" In a long series of convoluted developments, this was accepted by the Truman administration as its policy, as we see from the fact that in July 1947 an editorial reported that "about a year ago, the State Department, bolstered by [General George] Marshall's concurrent opinion, decided that Chiang's government was hopeless as an instrument for counteracting Communism in Asia. It decided to fulfill the promises made after V-J Day, but to make no new commitments of aid."19
Immediately after Mao's victory, an exultant headline for a book review by Edgar Snow declared that "In China the People Decided." But as we have seen from Robert C. North's 1955 comment about "a police state patterned after the Soviet model," the "realization" phase eventually set in.
This awareness did not lead to introspection about liberalism's role, however, or to an admission of error. Thus, a New Republic editorial in 1975 was able to say that "the U.S. made a mistake in Vietnam that it had averted in China. Thanks to the wisdom of Gen. George Marshall... the U.S. turned away from the Chinese civil war and left Chiang to his fate."20
Formosa/Taiwan. After Mao's 1949 victory on the mainland of China, a New Republic editorial predicted "that Formosa will fall to the Communists by a combination of popular revolt and transfer of allegiance by its naval and air-force commanders." In August 1950, the journal criticized General Douglas MacArthur for establishing a liaison with Chiang on Formosa and voiced its opposition to American involvement in the defense of the island. TRB at the same time called it "the ultimate cost of McCarthyism" that "Truman paid the GOP price for Congressional unity [by having] included Formosa in our defense program." But then, after the "realization phase" set in with regard to Communist China, an article by Clarence Decker said that Formosa was "a beacon of hope to the Communist-oppressed Chinese on the continent."21
South Korea. Again at the time of the fall of the Chinese mainland to Mao, a New Republic editorial in October 1949 remarked passingly that "Korea... soon will pass under Communist control." In her The China Story, Freda Utley told how "Syngman Rhee's [non-Communist] government, like Chiang Kai-shek's, was called reactionary, tyrannical, corrupt and undemocratic... In Korea, as in China, willingness to collaborate with Communists was regarded as the hallmark of a democrat... The 1949 United Nations commission on Korea regretfully reported that the South Korean government had been 'uncooperative.' The evidence... was its refusal to 'participate in official discussions with the [Communist] North looking to unification." She related how in the July 17, 1949, issue of the New York Compass Owen Lattimore wrote that "the thing to do is to let South Korea fall, but not to let it look as though we pushed it. Hence the recommendation of a parting gift of 150 million dollars."22
In the meantime, the ideologically-induced illusions of the Truman administration set the stage for the North Korean invasion of the south on June 25, 1950. In 1947, General Albert C. Wedemeyer's report had sought to dispel any illusion. He told of the Soviet Union's building up of North Korean forces. Wedemeyer wrote that "the Soviet-equipped and trained North Korean Peoples' army of 125,000 is vastly superior to the United States' organized constabulary of 16,000 Koreans, equipped with Japanese small arms. The North Korean Peoples' army constitutes a potential military threat to South Korea, since there is a strong probability that the Soviets will withdraw their occupation forces and thus induce our own withdrawal."23
It is one of the great tragedies of the period that Wedemeyer's warning went unheeded. Chesly Manly has written that "as predicted by General Wedemeyer, the Soviet government, on September 18, 1948, informed the United States that the withdrawal of its occupation forces from North Korea would be completed by the end of December, 1948. In the General Assembly, the Russians were demanding withdrawal of the American forces from South Korea. The United States soon complied. On June 29, 1949, the U.N. commission reported that it had verified the withdrawal of American occupation forces."24
This withdrawal in the face of Communist military superiority was coupled with still another failure. Freda Utley wrote that "not only was the American Army withdrawn from Korea in the summer of 1949, the military aid voted for Korea by Congress in 1949 was not delivered."25
Most of this has never been known, or has long since been forgotten, by most Americans. The next step has, however, been frequently commented upon. It was that Secretary of State Dean Acheson declared in January 1950 that our defense perimeter included Japan, Okinawa and the Philippines. "We thus made it clear," Senator Robert A. Taft wrote later, "that we would not defend South Korea if attacked." But of course Acheson's statement was merely an important capstone to a policy that in substance had already been carried out.26
Senator Taft understood the link between liberal illusion and American policy. He said that "the Korean war and the problems which arise from it are the final result of the continuous sympathy toward communism which inspired American policy."27
Guatemala. The Eisenhower administration intervened to prevent a Communist victory in Guatemala. The critique in The New Republic was voiced by David L. Graham when he wrote that "to a man, Guatemalans and Latin Americans remember the Liberation as a violent, American-engineered overthrow of a legal government."28
Cuba. In Cuba, as in China, the entire cycle ran its course. In February 1958, before Fidel Castro's victory, Daniel N. Friedenberg attacked the non-Communist president, Fulgencio Batista, in The New Republic as "a thug called an anti-Communist." An editorial in the same journal in January 1959 repeated what the common theme: "Batista's regular army was not only venal, but incompetent and cowardly."29
American policy responded to such liberal criticisms in the usual way. A New Republic editorial in April 1958 reported that "two weeks ago the [State] Department imposed an embargo on further shipment of arms to Batista (as well as on arms to the rebels)." The editors added that "it might soon be incumbent upon us to put pressure on Batista to give way and get out...." David Morris looked back in 1968 and said that "it took an arms embargo and a complete break between the United States and Batista to give Castro sufficient momentum to overcome the established regime... The United States in 1958 was ambivalent toward Castro, and large segments of the liberal policymaking establishment (e.g., CIA) supported him."30
The concomitant sugar-coating of the Communist revolutionary movement is nowhere better evidenced than the same editorial in April 1958. It said that "to hint that Castro is a 'revolutionary' in any Marxist sense, or is the enemy of the United States and a friend of the Russians is silly." In January 1959, the editors spoke of "the absence of any evidence of significant Communist penetration of the Castro movement." Even though they were speaking in terms of an "absence of evidence," they explained away some that was quite material: they argued that "neither Castro's brother Raoul nor his Argentine adventurer-lieutenant Che Guevara -- often described as pro-Soviet -- are powerful enough (or pro-Communist enough) for alarm."31
Herbert Matthews of The New York Times was central to this sugar-coating. William L. O'Neill writes that "when... Matthews met Castro in the Sierra Maestra on February 17, 1957, he described Fidel as nationalistic, socialistic, anti-American, and noncommunist." O'Neill adds about Castro that "in 1959 he repeatedly denied being a communist, in 1960 he no longer bothered. Later he announced that not only was he now a communist but always had been."32
After Castro's victory, there was the usual period of rosy expectation, followed by the slow acknowledgment that his regime was indeed Communist. We recall that Castro soon executed a large number of opponents. Robert Taber came to his defense in The Nation in early 1960: "The question remains whether it would have been possible to implement the program which has given the Cuban masses their first glimpse of hope... by less arbitrary, more conventional methods. One concludes, however reluctantly, no." But The New Republic's editors showed the beginning tremors: "Cuba's leaders have unquestionably given grounds for uneasiness...." Nevertheless, they were still able to say that "Castro's is a nationalist revolution...." By October 1960, Daniel Friedenberg was telling the readers that "I am not saying that Fidel Castro is a Communist, but that in every way he supports Soviet imperialism." Finally, a month later, The New Republic's Gerald W. Johnson was finally ready to declare that "Communism has crossed the Atlantic and now squats 90 miles off-shore."33
Next, the argument was made by Samuel Shapiro in The New Republic that it was Eisenhower's unfriendly disposition that had forced Castro into the Soviet orbit. The solution, Shapiro argued, was to be conciliatory, not anti-Communist: "The only sensible course open to us is one of patience [and] forbearance...." It was predictable that The New Republic would be bitterly critical of the Bay of Pigs invasion's attempted overthrow of the Castro government. Indeed, it was the ambivalence of the Kennedy administration, manifested by the last-minute withdrawal of American air support, that assured the failure of that invasion.34
Guinea. In June 1960, Robert C. Good provided an interesting speciman of the liberal illusion in a New Republic article entitled "Is Guinea Communist?" After reciting: . that "virtually every ministry [of the government] has some Czech advisers;" . that the Soviet Union had made the government a $35 million loan; . that "Communist China will soon start a large demonstration scheme in rice culture;" . that "more than fifty percent of Guinea's trade is now committed to the East;" . that "Guinea increasingly is sending its students to the East to pick up generous scholarships offered by Communist governments;" . that "Guinea's leaders have been schooled in left-wing labor groups. They are Marxian socialists;" and . that "Guinea seeks a centralized society, a monolithic party, a state-directed economy;" Good said that "despite all this, my conclusion is that Guinea has not 'gone Communist.'"35
Dominican Republic. In May 1965, a New Republic editorial spoke skeptically of "its [the Johnson administration's] claim that Communists had 'infiltrated' the Dominican revolt and were rapidly rising to the top." The editors concluded that "sending 25,000 American servicemen to the Dominican Republic violated the OAS charter."36
Vietnam. As is to be expected, the cycle went full circle as to Vietnam.
The initial acceptance of the existing regime appeared somewhat obliquely in a comment by Joseph Buttinger in The New Republic in 1955 that "the French have tried to get rid of Premier Ngo Dinh Diem because they cannot use him for their policy of appeasement."37
From at least 1957 on, however, The New Republic followed the pattern of painting the blackest possible picture of the successive non-Communist governments. The journal raged against Diem, even calling for and then justifying his assassination; but neither did it see any good in the later governments. This was compounded by the usual failure to feel any empathy toward a society bled and forced into counter-measures by terrorism and guerrilla attack.
An article by David Hotham in 1957 criticized the widespread arrests "and imprisonment without evidence and without trial of persons suspected of being Communists or 'enemies of the State." In January 1961, Denis Warner wrote that under Diem "democratic institutions, such as free elections, have been turned into a farce. Imprisonment is the punishment for criticism." It was in June 1961 that TRB told of President Kennedy's report of the 4,000 assassinations of South Vietnamese leaders within the preceding twelve months; and it was in the same month that Adrian Jaffe and Milton C. Taylor complained of the lack of democracy and the use of the secret police by the South Vietnamese government. In December 1961, Frank C. Child wrote that "South Vietnam is a police state with... secret police harassment, arbitrary arrest and police brutality...." [Childs did not reflect upon what any society, including our own, would resort to to protect itself if there had been the killing, even within the one-year period cited, of 4,000 of, say, its cities' mayors and aldermen.]38
In August 1963, a New Republic article by Erich Wulff implored that "Vietnam will fall into chaos if Diem does not resign, and soon." Then in October, Ho Thong Minh wrote that "the current situation renders imperative the overthrow of the Diem regime; for this the Vietnamese Army will be the ineluctable instrument." This was followed in short order, of course, by Diem's actual assassination; and on November 16, 1963, a New Republic editorial praised the assassination, saying that "the coup... obliges us to admit that there are two kinds of military putsches: 'bad' ones which have not received Presidential encouragement; 'good' ones which enjoy such sanction. The effect of that on would-be military dictators from Togo to Honduras will bear watching." Ironically, John F. Kennedy's own assassination occurred six days later.39
The New Republic pressed on. Without looking back at the journal's own role, an editorial in September 1966 said that "ever since the Kennedy administration permitted Diem to be assassinated in 1963, successive governments in Saigon have been too weak to dare to contemplate negotiations." Then the condemnations of the new government began. In September 1967, an editorial referred to the Thieu-Ky regime as a "puppet military government." In 1970, the editors spoke of "the fiction that the Thieu regime is the only one which could and should represent the people of the South, and that its survival is a sacred trust."40
Meanwhile, the revolutionary movement was given the usual sugar-coating. Since Ho was clearly a Communist, other pretexts than a full denial were used. In the early 1950s, The New Republic said that "Ho has become a hard-core Communist." But in 1965, the editors were calling the war a mere "civil war." In 1969, Walter Lippmann made his statement that if the Communists won "it will be... more or less like Yugoslavia is Communist, relatively speaking, and it won't make very much of a difference." Senator Fulbright argued that the war was "a civil conflict in which Communism is and always has been secondary to the drive for national independence."41
As in other countries, this perspective led many liberals to oppose American aid to the non-Communist side. In 1950, even at the time when The New Republic was acknowledging the hard-core Communism of Ho Chi Minh, the editors argued that aid to Ho's opponent, Bao Dai, would be "going back to a policy that has been a disastrous failure before." Later in 1950 the editors were saying that "further losses in Asia... will be costly but not irreparable. Only the loss of Western Europe is irreparable for the Free World." In 1957, David Hotham opposed all military aid and made an argument that would seem especially strained to today's public opinion, that the West's nuclear umbrella was the primary factor with which to restrain North Vietnamese aggression.42
It is little known in the United States that a major turning-point of the Vietnam War was brought about through very much the same mechanism that led to the North Korean attack upon South Korea. President Lyndon Johnson, reflecting liberal attitudes and playing presidential-election politics, announced during the 1964 campaign that the United States would stand back. Acting upon this premise, Ho Chi Minh changed the nature of the Vietnam War by sending his own regular army troops into the South. The war on that side had until then been fought by the Viet Cong, the Communist guerrilla force in the South. Here is Dave Richard Palmer's analysis from his Summons of the Trumpet: A History of the Vietnam War from a Military Man's Viewpoint: "That very August [of 1964],... President Johnson had announced publicly that he would not consider bombing North Vietnam or 'committing American boys to fighting a war that I think ought to be fought by the boys of Asia to help protect their own land.' Just as the North Koreans... had become convinced that the United States would not make a stand for Korea, so was North Vietnam convinced fourteen years later that America would not fight for Vietnam." Palmer says that "by committing its regular forces... Hanoi dramatically altered the entire thrust and scope of the conflict. It was a key command decision. Indeed, it may well have been the key command decision of the war."43
The tragedy reached its culmination in 1974 and early 1975. In November 1974, Fred Branfman reported that "Congress cut military aid to Vietnam from $1.6 billion requested to $700 million appropriated, economic aid from $750 million to under $450 million...." In February 1975, TRB exulted that "if Congress cuts off aid hostilities probably will stop, Communists will win. How bad is that?" Gareth Porter told how Theiu was complaining that the Paris Accords, which left regular North Vietnamese forces in the South, threatened the existence of the South Vietnamese government. We know the rest of the story: the South, together with Laos and Cambodia, fell to the Communists in the spring of 1975. North Vietnamese tanks entered Saigon as helicopters evacuated the last Americans from the embassy rooftop.44
During the years since that terrible spring, frequent reference has been made to "the lessons of Vietnam." These lessons have necessarily varied with the commentator. As we will see from liberal attitudes toward leftist revolutionary challenges arising since Vietnam to such countries as Nicaragua and El Salvador, the lessons, as understood by most liberals, have not called for introspection about the cycle we have been examining. Instead, liberals have understood the lessons to confirm how right they were in holding the views that made up the cycle.
Chile: The first reference I noticed about Salvador Allende in The New Republic was in an editorial in 1964. It expressed the characteristic view that blames the supposed intransigence of the United States for any leftist's becoming a revolutionary. "Will Dr. Allende, if he wins," the editorial asked, "be turned into another Castro by U.S. stiffness?"45
In 1967, Joseph A. Page referred to Allende and spoke of "an exaggerated spectre of Communism." He told of "...FRAP, the name given to a coalition of the Socialist and Communist Parties." His words show not only the typical sugar-coating, but also the role that a United Front of socialists and Communists played in creating an arguable ambiguity.46
In August 1970, Georgie Anne Geyer told The New Republic's readers that "when asked whether he [Allende] would create a 'popular democracy' and a one-party socialist state, he said that the election is 'not an electoral fight but the definitive battle,' that there would be a 'change of regime and of system'" (emphasis added). An editorial in November said that "an unabashed Marxist is inaugurated this week as President of Chile." Despite this awareness and what Allende himself had said about creating a one-party state, the editorial put things in the best possible light: "Allende is too aware of the limits of the possible in Chile to attempt imposing a rigid totalitarian structure on pluralistic Chile." William R. Long added that "only the most excitable anti-Marxists believe that Allende wants to establish a dictatorship of the proletariat, at least in the first years of his term."47
Allende himself continued to make his intentions clear. In May 1971, he praised Castro and told how he looked forward to revolution throughout Latin America: "The Cuban revolution is a national revolution, but it is also a revolution of the whole of Latin America. It has shown the way for the liberation of all our peoples." Nevertheless, The New Republic never acknowledged the danger. In September 1973, after Allende was killed in the coup that toppled his regime, an editorial commiserated that "the fact that Allende was toppled by a military junta is a tragedy for Chile..." He wasn't really for Communism, just socialism: "Allende's program was to put Chile on the road to socialism." (Perhaps for sake of analysis we should for a moment assume the correctness of this view that "only" socialism was involved. It has been hard to imagine The New Republic declaring it a tragedy for any regime that is not on the Left to be overthrown, in Chile or anywhere else, that declared itself intent upon creating a "one-party state.")48
Since 1973, it has been commonplace within liberal writing to declare Allende's anti-Communist successors "repressive and incompetent" and to blame the United States for assisting in Allende's overthrow. The "realization" phase about the horrors of a Communist regime has never been reached. His failure to complete his consolidation of power meant that the usual demonstration that comes from hard reality never had a chance to command an acknowledgment from them.49
Rhodesia: The cases of Rhodesia and South Africa are somewhat different from the others. The white-minority rule over blacks has made it even more plausible to condemn the existing regimes. Assisted by this, the same cycle of illusion and irresponsibility has been present. The very real question, raised by the experience of several other African nations, of whether a black government, even though it would represent a majority, would be able to maintain adequate standards of civilization -- for blacks as well as for whites -- has not seemed relevant when condemning the "white minority." The main object has been the destruction of the white regime without regard to whether chaos or dictatorship might rise from the ashes.
Worldwide pressure was for several years brought to bear on Ian Smith to turn power over to a black majority. Milton Viorst told in 1975 how "it's been almost a decade since Rhodesia... declared its independence of Great Britain... Since then, it has lived in diplomatic isolation, and under the shadow of the United Nations economic embargo." A New Republic editorial used language in 1978 of a severity that it has rarely, if ever, applied to the world's worst butchers: "There is probably no way to exaggerate the malignancy of Smith's 13-year rule of Rhodesia. His regime was created in the name of white supremacy."50
The pressure eventually brought a new constitution under which the erstwhile guerrilla leader Robert Mugabe became the prime minister. An Associated Press dispatch on July 7, 1985, reported that "Prime Minister Robert Mugabe, more powerful than ever after a landslide election victory, vowed Saturday to create a one-party state in the next five years" (emphasis added). It went on to say that the country was "dividing... on clearly tribal lines."
Nicaragua: For several years, following the usual pattern, liberal writers attacked the anti-Communist Somozan government. "The United States," The New Republic said in 1978, tracing this country's support of non-Communist regimes over several decades, "is deeply implicated in the suppression of the Nicaraguan people."51
The same editorial sugar-coated the Sandinista revolutionary challenge, citing, as has so often been the case, the ambiguity of the revolutionary situation: "Certainly there are hardened Communists among the leaders of the Sandinista guerrillas, but it is not a foregone conclusion that they would rule Nicaragua if Somoza decided to leave the country."52
The usual result followed from this illusion. "The Carter administration," the editorial said, "has stopped military aid to Somoza and in July the Senate wisely ended U.S. training of the Somoza National Guard. Economic aid continues...."53
After the Sandinistas won, the Carter administration tried the expedient that liberal thought has so long favored: to secure the independence, if not the good will, of the revolutionary regime by showing every possible sign of friendship. Shirley Christian reported in 1981 that "the United States is trying to balance the Cuban influence and the less obvious Soviet presence with a large aid program." It didn't work. She went on to say that "a substantial portion of it [the aid program] was suspended recently by the Reagan administration... over the issue of arms supplies to Salvadoran guerrillas." In 1983, Robert W. Tucker told how "the Carter Administration went to some lengths to show its goodwill and desire for normal relationships. The government of Managua responded in a manner that was bound to put it on a collision course with Washington, and did so well before the present [Reagan] administration came to office."54
We saw earlier how the eventual "realization" set in. In October 1983, The New Republic published Ronald Radosh's article entitled "Darkening Nicaragua: Still not Totalitarian, but the Drift is Disturbing."55
But there was nevertheless the usual opposition to efforts to displace the Communist regime. In April 1983, Morton Kondracke wrote in The New Republic that "the United States is risking disaster -- another Bay of Pigs and possibly worse -- by giving aid to rightist guerrillas bent on overthrowing the government of Nicaragua." The Boland Amendment was passed by Congress prohibiting aid to the anti-Sandinista forces. When Oliver North and others sought a way around this, they were prosecuted. All charges were dropped against North in September 1991 after years of what can only be called political persecution.56
El Salvador: Contrary to the pattern, The New Republic hasn't sugar-coated the guerrillas in El Salvador, although at the height of revolutionary activity it painted a black picture of the non-Communist alternative. In November 1982, the editors conjectured that "the people of El Salvador may be caught between a Fascist rock and a Communist hard place."57
The liberal pattern of denial was present, however, as we see from Robert W. Tucker's reference in late 1983 to "a growing number of administration critics" whose "common point of departure is that we have no valid and certainly no vital interest in opposing the emergence of radical governments in Central America." Tucker himself suggested a sharing of power with the guerrillas. After the election of Napoleon Duarte as a centrist and moderately leftist president, the liberal media were largely silent about El Salvador. The Reagan administration continued, however, to feel the pressure of divided American opinion.58
South Africa: The system of racial separation in South Africa called Apartheid came to be well-nigh universally condemned during the 1970s and 1980s. This condemnation has been driven to the point at which, whether the purpose is admitted or not, the prospects for South Africans of all races are bleak: either a "voluntary" destruction of the advanced industrial civilization to accommodate black majority rule, or a revolution encouraged and supported by much of the world.
The condemnation marks the acceptance of a principle that has certainly not been universally agreed to until recently and which is of dubious merit. It is one that is almost certainly embraced hypocritically by many who proclaim it. What I am referring to, of course, is the principle that there can be no racial separation within a society without that being per se unjust. (I am aware that criticism is made of the particular incidents of the racial separation in South Africa, such as the proportion of the land set aside for blacks. But I feel certain that those who are pressing the condemnation would agree that they mean to condemn the principle of Apartheid, not simply the form it has taken.)
It was not all that many years ago --in 1961-- that Harry Oppenheimer was able to write in The New Republic that "it would be quite wrong to think of their apartheid philosophy, in theory anyhow, as either willfully stupid or immoral." He pointed out that "partition has, after all, been applied as a last resort in quite a few parts of the world." The difficulties he saw in South African Apartheid were not moral, but practical. For Oppenheimer to express such views today would brand him a moral leper.59
The position expressed by Oppenheimer was also stated by Leonard Fein in The New Republic in 1977, not in connection with South Africa but in relation to Jewish opposition to racial and sexual "affirmative action" in the United States. "Jews know that there is such a thing as group culture," he said, "and that the culture of the group -- for better, for worse -- makes the goal of integration as it is sometimes understood a totalitarian goal." And yet, an editorial in an issue a month later was able to say that "South Africa is in danger of placing itself outside as an entire society, by defining the human race in terms that everyone else now rejects."60
The moral clamor that has been raised against South Africa seems to me to include substantial ingredients from the cycle of illusion that we have examined in this chapter. It is a matter of alienation and ideology rather than of reliance upon a sound and long-established moral principle. This is not to say that I consider the Afrikaners blameless. Their mistake, it seems to me, was to think that they could "have their cake and eat it, too." They have welcomed the presence internally of an ever-growing black population for the labor that it could provide, while they have also hoped to maintain a white society based upon a European model. In the long run, these are incompatible. An analogy would be the mistake European countries made in thinking that they could establish colonies, as the English did in America, and keep them wedded to the mother country after they had grown and matured. There are realities that, once they have developed, have ineluctable consequences.
It is worthwhile to be aware that "mistakes" about such things usually never come to a head for decision at any one time so that responsibility for them can be assigned to specific leaders. They creep up as part of an historical development. I do not know enough about South African conditions in 1948 to have an opinion about whether that year could have been an effective "hour of decision." The Afrikaners, descended from the Dutch, were assuming power and were then instituting the Apartheid system. Whether it would have been a viable option to have worked to limit the black population over the long run is not altogether clear. Culturally, the Afrikaners have long considered physical labor beneath them. It is possible that there would have been no constituency politically for limiting the growth of the black population. And if that path was not open, history and their own characteristics had locked them into the problem they now face.
The questions that constructive people should be asking about South Africa today are: Will blacks themselves be better off, in terms of freedom or of material well-being, if the Republic of South Africa is destroyed either by negotiation or revolution? and, if the answer to that question is negative, What are the evolutionary changes that should be encouraged within South Africa to create an accommodation that will be acceptable to all of the diverse racial groups? It is relatively certain, however, that anyone pursuing this moderate course, which is essentially what the Reagan administration wanted to follow, would be excoriated by those who have been chanting, in effect, for the destruction of South Africa.
Grenada: In 1983, during the Reagan administration, the United States invaded the Caribbean island of Grenada after one Marxist government had been supplanted in a coup by another, more militant, Marxist faction. American medical students on the island were rescued, preventing a possible situation comparable to the hostage-taking in Iran during the Carter administration. After an interregnum of a few months, the island was made an elective democracy.
In keeping with the accommodation that American politicians have insensibly made to the liberal illusions, even the Reagan administration did not think it possible, at least initially, to justify the invasion in anti-Communist terms. Instead, it based its rationale on the danger to the American students. This reason was by no means far-fetched, but it was almost certainly not the principal motive. Typically, the liberal intellectual culture took the dimmest view of the American intervention, although the success and popularity of the invasion within the country at large put a damper upon the condemnations (just as later the success of Desert Storm took the impact out of the movement against the war with Iraq). The tone of The New Republic's reaction is indicated by the following passage from an editorial: "The United States invaded Grenada to rescue Americans... It is a mere excuse. There is no evidence that American nationals, many of them medical students in St. George's, were in any peril." We are interested in the tone, but we should recall that we have seen the claim of "no evidence" before, such as with regard to Cuba about whether Castro was a Communist. The editorial was correct in saying that the rescue of the students was not the main motive; but that there was "no evidence" that the students were in danger makes little sense. The American people had vivid memories of the Iranian hostage episode.61
My analysis of the liberal cycle relating to Communist revolutionary attacks upon one after another non-Communist nation is not meant to suggest that there would have been simple solutions in those countries if only the liberal illusions had not been so pervasive. Even the greatest clarity would not have done away with the Communist thrust. Nor would it have cured the weakness of what has come to be known as the Third World.
Nonetheless, a great many of those peoples would almost certainly have avoided subjugation to Communism. It is worth asking how much the weaknesses within pre-Communist Vietnam would have contributed to Communist victory if China, the colossus to the north, had not already fallen to the Communists. How great would the threat to El Salvador have been if Cuba and then Nicaragua had not succumbed? Each successive revolution did not occur in a vacuum, but with the support of a then-expanding Communist world.
1. New Republic, August 30, 1943, p. 269.
2. New Republic, May 8, 1944, p. 628; New Republic, May 29, 1944, p. 729.
3. Freda Utley, The China Story (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1951), pp. 55, 58.
4. New Republic, June 5, 1961, p. 2; New Republic, June 19, 1961, pp. 17, 20.
5. New Republic, March 25, 1967, p. 4.
6. New Republic, December 13, 1948, p. 16.
7. New Republic, February 6, 1961, p. 16; New Republic, October 24, 1983, p. 26; New Republic, July 18, 1981, p. 19.
8. New Republic, May 21, 1951, p. 7; New Republic, July 4, 1955, p. 20.
9. New Republic, October 24, 1960, p. 15; New Republic, October 24, 1983, p. 7.
10. New Republic, March 9, 1918, pp. 167-170; New Republic, April 6, 1918, p. 280; New Republic, February 8, 1919, p. 38.
11. New Republic, September 6, 1939, p. 123.
12. New Republic, March 25, 1936, p. 182.
13. New Republic, September 14, 1942, p. 311; New Republic, February 7, 1944, p. 163.
14. New Republic, December 18, 1950, p. 7.
15. New Republic, March 17, 1947, p. 12; New Republic, March 24, 1947, p. 6; The Nation, Vol. 166, p. 341.
16. New Republic, January 21, 1952, p. 15.
17. New Republic, July 8, 1931, p. 205; New Republic, August 12, 1931, p. 334; New Republic, December 30, 1936, p. 256.
18. New Republic, May 28, 1945, pp. 735, 747.
19. New Republic, August 27, 1945, p. 236; New Republic, July 21, 1947, p. 14.
20. New Republic, November 7, 1949, p. 18; New Republic, April 19, 1975, p. 7.
21. New Republic, December 12, 1949, p. 6; New Republic, August 21, 1950, p. 5; New Republic, August 14, 1950, p. 3; New Republic, January 12, 1953, p. 14.
22. New Republic, October 31, 1949, p. 6; Utley, The China Story, pp. 87-90.
23. Chesly Manly, The Twenty-Year Revolution from Roosevelt to Eisenhower (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1954), pp. 174, 175.
24. Manly, Twenty-Year Revolution, p. 176.
25. Utley, The China Story, pp. 89, 90.
26. Senator Robert A. Taft, A Foreign Policy for Americans (Garden City: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1951), p. 59.
27. Taft, A Foreign Policy, p. 60.
28. New Republic, September 16, 1957, p. 9.
29. New Republic, January 26, 1959, p. 5.
30. New Republic, February 17, 1958, p. 14; New Republic, April 14, 1958, p. 4; New Republic, November 16, 1968, p. 28.
31. New Republic, April 14, 1958, p. 4.
32. William L. O'Neill, Coming Apart: An Informal History of America in the 1960's (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1971), pp. 36, 38.
33. The Nation, Vol. 190, p. 63; New Republic, May 30, 1960, p. 8; New Republic, October 10, 1960, p. 11; New Republic, November 21, 1960, p. 10.
34. New Republic, February 6, 1961, p. 16; New Republic, April 17, 1961, p. 3.
35. New Republic, June 13, 1960, p. 11.
36. New Republic, May 15, 1961, pp. 1, 6.
37. New Republic, February 28, 1955, p. 9.
38. New Republic, November 25, 1957, p. 14; New Republic, January 30, 1961, p. 8; New Republic, June 5, 1961, p. 2; New Republic, June 19, 1961, p. 17; New Republic, December 4, 1961, p. 14.
39. New Republic, August 31, 1963, p. 14; New Republic, October 12, 1963, p. 19; New Republic, November 16, 1963, p. 3.
40. New Republic, September 17, 1966, p. 5; New Republic, September 2, 1967, p. 7; New Republic, May 2, 1970, p. 7.
41. New Republic, April 24, 1950, p. 6; New Republic, December 18, 1965, p. 6; New Republic, September 27, 1969, p. 8; New Republic, December 20, 1969, p. 6.
42. New Republic, February 13, 1950, p. 9; New Republic, December 18, 1950, p. 7; New Republic, November 25, 1957, p. 14.
43. Dave Richard Palmer, Summons of the Trumpet: A History of the Vietnam War from a Military Man's Viewpoint (New York: Ballantine Books, 1978), pp. 90, 80.
44. New Republic, November 23, 1974, p. 11; New Republic, February 1, 1975, p. 2; New Republic, February 8, 1975, p. 19.
45. New Republic, April 11, 1964, p. 6.
46. New Republic, December 23, 1967, p. 30.
47. New Republic, August 29, 1970, p. 10; New Republic, November 7, 1970, p. 9; New Republic, November 28, 1970, p. 8.
48. New Republic, May 22, 1971, p. 30; New Republic, September 22, 1973, p. 7.
49. New Republic, January 17, 1976, p. 20.
50. New Republic, March 29, 1975, p. 10; New Republic, October 28, 1978, p. 6.
51. New Republic, September 16, 1978, p. 5.
52. New Republic, September 16, 1978, p. 5.
53. New Republic, September 16, 1978, p. 5.
54. New Republic, July 18, 1981, p. 19; New Republic, October 24, 1983, p. 26.
55. New Republic, October 24, 1983, p. 7.
56. New Republic, April 25, 1983, p. 8.
57. New Republic, November 22, 1982, p. 9.
58. New Republic, October 24, 1983, pp. 24, 31.
59. New Republic, February 20, 1961, p. 17.
60. New Republic, October 15, 1977, p. 17; New Republic, November 12, 1977, p. 6.
61. New Republic, November 21, 1983, p. 8.