[This is Chapter Twelve of Murphey's book Liberalism in Contemporary America.]
CHAPTER TWELVE
The New Left I
A violent storm swept over American life in the second half of the 1960s and the first years of the '70s. For those within the alienated Left, it was a thrillingly exhilarating time of uninhibited militancy and mass support that for most ended in fragmentation, exhaustion and despair. For many liberals, less militant, it began hopefully as the expression of several good causes, but became a time of soul searching and anguish that left most of the old certainties profoundly shaken.
For Americans of conservative values, it was a frightening time, a time during which a chasm opened up to reveal all of the barbarism that lurks so close to the surface even in advanced civilization. It was a time of the unthinkable, and of general complicity in the unthinkable. They came to see how tenuous was the hold that the American people of the mid-twentieth century, shallowly rooted and lacking in an intellectual culture appropriate to a free society, had upon fundamental values. The threat to those values no longer came as much from the ever-expanding power of government as from cultural solvents that dissolved the bonds of loyalty and trust that hold a free society together. To such Americans, it was a scarring time, one that left nothing ever again quite as it was before.
This was a decade during which paradoxically, in a high tide of moral catharsis, millions joined hands communally to damn everyone else and the society as a whole. The movie "Network" told it all: millions throwing open their windows and shouting, in unison with all the others, "I'm madder than hell and won't take it any more."
Three different but intertwined revolutions raged at once: what we might for convenience call the Red, the Black and the Green. A resurgent radicalism from the far Left made up the Red; the splintering factions of the Civil Rights movement made up the Black; and the Green was formed of the startling mixture of moralism, ascetic renunciation, hedonism and anarcho-communism that made up the "counter-culture."
From the description I have given, it might seem that this great spasm was an entirely American phenomenon. To think so would be a serious mistake. The Red and the Green revolutions can hardly be understood without an appreciation of their continuity with forces that had long been at work within the world Left and of the corresponding movements that were occurring contemporaneously in Western Europe and the Third World. The term "New Left" is sometimes used to refer only to what I am calling the "Red" revolution, but it and the counter-culture of the Green revolution constituted together a major resurgence of alienation from the far Left as it existed in the years immediately following the death and disgrace of Stalin. We can fit the pieces together from the elements that have already been relevant to our discussion of American liberalism. The revolutionary ferment during these years was not something sui generis. It was one of the manifestations of the complex mixture that we must fathom if we are to understand the modern predicament.
We have seen how for a century and a half the world intellectual culture had stood outside the predominant commercial, bourgeois civilization. Intellectuals who supported the ancien regime formulated an elaborate philosophical defense of medieval values and set them off against the "Philistine" civilization that had supplanted the old order. Other intellectuals used the same revulsion to create the world Left. As an alienated sub-culture, the intelligentsia then sought allies among all disaffected or unassimilated groups. Socialist projects of many kinds, fragmented but united in their bitter hatred of "bourgeois" civilization, came into being. The Romantic movement itself gave rise to an atavistic renunciation of Reason and of modernity, and contributed immensely to the illiberal clamor that Julien Benda described so well in his Les Trahison des les Clercs. These were the forces that pulsed out of Europe, half-overwhelming the classical liberal vision that had itself led, and continued to offer, a revolution in favor of democracy and individual freedom.
These gigantic forces provide the backdrop for what I call the "inherent presence" of both the radical Left and the counter-culture (itself a part of the radical Left) within all advanced Western societies during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. If ever it has seemed that they have been absent, the absence has been an illusion, a failure to see what at times is a quiescent core of alienation, militancy and withdrawal. That core will remain present until the alienation of intellectuals withers and ceases to be a major fact in our culture -- an event so momentous that we will rightly be able to say that we will have passed into a new period of history.
An appropriate but inherently unfavorable analogy comes to mind. Those who favor the Left don't like it; others find it graphically descriptive. It has to do with the similarity between this "inherent presence" of radical militancy and of the counter-culture to the herpes virus. The virus never leaves the host individual, but lives unnoticed at the juncture of a nerve and the spinal cord until, under the right circumstances created by weakened body resistance or some other catalyst, the virus moves down the nerve to erupt violently at the surface of the skin. During periods when the sores are not in evidence, it is a mistake to think the virus is gone. It has simply retreated up the nerve to the spinal cord.
This movement of attack and withdrawal is analogous to a phenomenon that I have referred to as part of the psychology of the American Left, including modern liberalism. There is an alternation that consists of a period of yearning-for-activity, followed by one of intense movement and agitation, which in turn gives way to a time of disillusionment, fatigue and withdrawal.
We have seen how this cycle has repeated itself through a century and a half of American alienation, reflecting the psychology of the intellectual. If we treat the yearning as the beginning of a cycle, we can say that the American Left ran through an entire cycle between the years 1956 and 1975.
There is perhaps no better example of the yearning with which it began than the passages that Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., wrote in The New Republic in June and July 1956. In June, he said that "I feel that an injection of anarcho-syndicalist revolt -- dissent for dissent's sake -- would... be enormously helpful in our increasingly homogenized culture. The attack against the Establishment has been going on for some time in Britain. We have our own Establishment, and it needs to be attacked too." Then in July he added that "of the varieties of intellectuals, the sort America most needs at this moment is precisely the opposite of Time's Man of Affirmation... One begins to feel that in the cloying atmosphere of 1956 any assertion of individuality, no matter how crude or vulgar, tends to be liberating... We need more people who don't give a damn and can awaken responses in us."1
It is improbable that Schlesinger could even remotely foretell how "crude and vulgar" the militancy of the 1960s would become, but we can see in his statements --in 1956!-- the deep psychological impulse that moved the Left toward its great spasm of activity, both in the form of a renewal of a radical critique and of the counter-culture. It is especially significant that this yearning-for-activity was voiced by a leading liberal, not just someone who had long been a part of the far Left.
We can draw still another important fact from Schlesinger's 1956 statements. It is that the spasm was not itself a product of the "catalysts" -- the confrontations of the Civil Rights movement, the movement against the Vietnam War, the concern over the "environment" -- to which it is so often ascribed. Frrom Schlesinger's comments and from other evidence that we will review, we will see that the movement was well under way within the world Left, and in the United States, before those catalysts came on the scene. What the catalysts did do was eventually to provide vehicles for mass support. They lent "warm bodies" to a force that found its core in the alternating cycle through which the alienated intellectual culture passes.
"Inherent
presence": the radical Left
One of the oddest statements I have seen by a serious thinker is Michael Harrington's observation in 1969 that "this radical generation is virgin-born and has no ideological parents." Although it is true that many of the militants of the New Left were not well read, in countless ways they were the inheritors of the preceding century-and-a-half's legacy of alienation and socialism.2
According to Malcolm Cowley in 1977, "several leaders of campus rebellions were the sons or daughters of old-time radicals." Irving Howe informs us that during the 1950s "those who left the [Communist] party or its supporting organizations because they feared government attack were often people who kept, semi-privately, their earlier convictions." He tells how the catalysts called them back to activity: "As soon as some ferment began in the civil rights movement and the peace groups, these people were present, ready and eager."3
It is no coincidence that the rhetoric of the Henry Wallace third-party presidential campaign in 1948 had the same tone and content that the New Left's rhetoric had a decade later. We recall how deep the generalized distrust was that the New Left created toward American institutions. Here is what Vincent Sheean reported in November 1948: "It is in the radical tradition... to charge venality... But the Wallace campaign has generalized the technique into a wholesale insemination of distrust which... would make our processes of government invariably suspect to a considerable minority of our young people." It is a fair inference that this "considerable minority" played no small role in the New Left, which, after all, began to emerge within less than a decade after the Wallace campaign. One such person was Staughton Lynd, who according to Jack Newfield went from being "a national youth leader in the Henry Wallace campaign of 1948" to someone "whom The New York Times Magazine correctly termed 'elder statesman and doyen theoretician of the new Left.'"4
The core of radical thinkers who in the late 1950s germinated the American New Left were, in fact, already active together in the mid-1940s. Dwight MacDonald, who was still around to sign a 1930s-style Manifesto supporting the "Chicago Eight" after the violent confrontation between the Yippies and the Chicago police at the time of the 1968 Democratic convention, started the radical journal Politics in 1944. C. Wright Mills and Paul Goodman, the two who were most prominent in creating the American New Left in the second half of the '50s, were among the first to contribute articles to MacDonald's journal.5
One of the leading hotspots of New Left activity in the 1960s was at the University of California at Berkeley. For most Americans, those events erupted, as it were, from a vacuum. But here is what Andrew Kopkind told the readers of The New Republic in 1966: "For ten years a loose community of radicals has been growing in the San Francisco Bay area... Starting with the remnants of the old base carved out by Jack London, then by Harry Bridges and the Longshoreman's Union, the newer radicals began their careers demonstrating against the Un-American Activities Committee, then the Caryl Chessman protest and the formation of a student political organization called SLATE at Berkeley in 1957; the civil rights sit-ins in San Francisco followed, then the Free Speech Movement, and the VDC" (the Vietnam Day Committee).6
The anti-Vietnam War movement during the 1960s had important antecedents in the radical "peace movement" that had been militant during the 1930s and 1940s. One part of the "peace movement" had long been from the radical Left; another part had consisted of the various "peace churches" (which, even though they should be carefully distinguished from the Left as such, have often reacted to the Cold War environment since World War II by identifying closely with the radical Left in its defense of revolutionary movements in such places as El Salvador and Nicaragua).
Before World War I, European and American socialists had made "peace" a major part of their program, based on their Marxist supposition that the proletariat's interests were international and that proletarians would have no reason to fight on anyone's side in what would necessarily be a struggle among governments representing the bourgeoisie.
During the interregnum between the world wars, leftist thought was heavily "neutralist." It remained so until events in the second half of the 1930s dragged most leftists into the conflict with Hitler. In his book Rebels Against War: The American Peace Movement, 1941-1960, Lawrence S. Wittner says that in 1935 60,000 college students took part "in a 'strike' against war." Many of them took the "Oxford oath," which swore an "absolute refusal to serve in the armed forces." (The taking of this oath reminds us that there was a comparable radical peace movement in England, showing, as so many things do, the international flavor of these movements.)7
Some of those who were most closely identified with the "peace movement" never did support the war against Hitler. David Dellinger, later a leading activist within the New Left and one of the Chicago Eight defendants in 1968, remained a committed pacifist even during World War II. Wittner says that in 1943 "in the Newark slums an ex-divinity student and Socialist, Dave Dellinger, and a handful of other revolutionary pacifists organized the People's Peace Now Committee to press for an immediate end to the war."8
Thousands of "Conscientious Objectors" were incarcerated in camps and prisons during World War II. According to Wittner, "prison life provided a vital fund of experience that pacifists drew upon in postwar struggles," especially in developing "non-violent methods of protest." Wittner says "the steam went out of radical pacifism" between 1948 and 1956, but that "a small band of isolated pacifists" spent those years formulating theory: they "subjected America's role in the international power struggle to a critical reexamination."9
Then in 1956 the journal Liberation was founded "by a small group of radical pacifists." It expressed several themes that were to become important to the New Left: "utopianism, anarchism, non-violent revolution, civil rights, the Third Camp, and... peace." Wittner says that "beginning in 1957 the American peace movement underwent a revival." In 1963, an advertisement for Liberation claimed that the journal had been "the most referred to spokesman for the nonviolent movement in all its aspects--in civil rights, in the peace movement, in labor."10
All of this fed inexorably into the anti-Vietnam War movement when it began in the mid-1960s. So that we appreciate the continuity, we should notice that in 1963, which was before America's involvement in the Vietnam War had heated up, an advertisement in The New Republic for the War Resisters League included the circular "peace symbol" that became so well known to Americans later in the decade. Another New Republic advertisement, this time for S.D.S. (Students for a Democratic Society), which was arguably the central New Left organization, said in 1965 that the S.D.S. was working to "create an independent, radical peace movement." 11
Thus far, I have told enough to suggest the continuity that existed between American radicalism in the 1930s and 1940s and the later beginnings of the New Left. Considerably more detail could be given, but my purpose is to explain the continuity of the ideas rather than to seek an encyclopedic discussion of the people and events.
Another dimension providing continuity with the world Left was the international one. Some of the important aspects of this dimension will become apparent when in the next section we review the "inherent presence" of a counter-culture within Western radicalism.
Other vitally important international links stemmed from the trends that emerged within the Left after World War II. In 1956, Nikita Krushchev denounced Stalin in his famous "secret address" to the 20th Soviet Party Congress. This was combined with the repression of the "Polish October" in 1956 and with the crushing of the Hungarian Revolution by Soviet tanks in late 1956. For many, these events sealed the long decline of Soviet influence within the world intellectual movement. As we have seen, there had been many earlier shocks: the purge trials; the persecution and murder of Trotsky; the Hitler-Stalin Pact; the Soviet aggressions against Poland, Finland, Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania; the Lysenko affair; and the development under Tito of a form of Communism that was not totally dominated by the Soviet Union. The split between the U.S.S.R. and Communist China was to provide another.
Although the U.S.S.R. remained a continuing source of orthodox Marxism-Leninism (except perhaps in the eyes of the Chinese), these events splintered Marxist thinking in the West. One of the important consequences was the rise of what has become known as "humanistic Marxism." Signs of it began in the late 1930s. It stresses Marx's early writings and focuses on such concepts as "reification" and the "alienation of the worker from his work." This brand of Marxism was given a boost by Erich Fromm when in 1961 he republished Marx's early essays. It has been a significant part of Western Marxist thought ever since.
More important to the New Left, however, was the rise of charismatic, Romantic revolutionaries in the Third World. Although these figures -- such as Fidel, Che, Mao and Ho -- were mostly tied to the Soviet Union, they appeared energetic, untainted and fresh. It was from their inspiration that, as Mark Rudd wrote in 1969, "we learned... the great truth stated by Chairman Mao Tse-Tung, 'Dare to struggle, dare to win.'" Irving Howe has concluded that "most of the 'new leftists' have identified... with the harder, more violent, more dictatorial segments of the Communist world."12
When the split occurred between Communist China and the Soviet Union, many revolutionaries in the Third World became associated with the Chinese, while others retained their tie with the Soviet Union. This became one of the sources of ideological fragmentation that contributed to the eventual collapse of the New Left.
C. Wright Mills was one of those who felt a strong
affinity for the Soviet bloc. Irving Howe says that Mills traveled to Europe
in 1957 and came back "impressed by the industrial achievements of the
communist nations." Mills "wanted to see a new alignment of 'the
left,' sort of an informal Popular Front that would include intellectuals who
were to one or another extent sympathetic to the Communist bloc."13
The international origins of the New Left thus reflected the continued vitality of the world Left after the Second World War despite all of the "shocks" that had rocked the earlier faith in the Soviet experiment. Even though the democratic socialist movements in Europe moved away from Marxism, the shift did not imply an evaporation of the radical Left.
"Inherent
presence": Antecedents of the "counter-culture"
The "counter-culture" has been another side of the Left. By treating it separately in order to show the many antecedents that led to the counter-culture of the 1960s, I do not mean to suggest that it has been something distinct from the Left. The pre-World War I crowd in Greenwich Village, for example, was intensely committed to radical theory and action at the same time that it was wrapped up in a "culture of radicalism" that involved a lifestyle that was distinctly counter to "bourgeois" values.
Even though the committed theorist-activist and the denizens of the counter-culture have both been parts of the Left, and have sometimes even been the same people, there has been a long-standing tension between these two styles. The disciplined leftist often scorns what he sees as the dissipation of the energies of those who express their alienation by "opting out." If he is a Marxist of one kind or another, as virtually all are, he has a theory of revolutionary development that tells him what forces will be most conducive to success. This usually assigns no place to the mere bohemian.
Throughout history, there have been sub-cultures of withdrawal. As conditions worsened with the impending collapse of the Roman Empire, most ancient philosophies preached withdrawal as the way to escape. The asceticism of the early Christians provides many examples of individuals who renounced not only the existing civilization, but worldly life itself. The doctrines of Augustine, which remained most influential within Christianity for eight centuries, preached withdrawal. Monastic life was a prominent part of the Middle Ages.
The stage was set for a similar pattern in the early nineteenth century when European thought moved sharply into a renunciation of modernity and of the existing culture. Theodore Roszak's New Leftist Where the Wasteland Ends is a foolish but literate explanation of the tie that existed between this "revolt against Reason" and the counter-culture of the 1960s.
Not only did Romanticism give rise to an impulse toward withdrawal (which we will see had been manifested in the German Youth Movement when we discuss it next); it provided much of the intellectual rationale that was continued by the American counter-culture of the 1960s. An example is evident in what Leo Stein said about John Ruskin in 1919 on the 100th anniversary of Ruskin's birth. "He soon came to see," Stein said, "that the bitterest enemy to beauty in life was the factory system and the modern industrial organization." As Roszak said, "Romanticism is... a critical counterpoint to the imperial advance of science." He spoke of "their challenge to science and industrialism" and "their loathing for system, abstraction, routine, in their passion for free self-fulfillment." The sophisticated denunciations of modern life that came so freely to the lips of those within the "hippie culture" of the '60s were not formulated out of thin air by nineteen and twenty year olds; they were ideas that had been articulated in a vast literature a century before.14
Some of the earliest manifestations of a counter-culture were the various "utopian communities" of the nineteenth century. But perhaps the first open counter-culture as we think of it was in Greenwich Village prior to World War I. Lewis Coser tells us that "young men and women... began flocking to Greenwich Village about 1910" with an "implied commitment to a lifestyle." "Bohemia," Coser says, "attempts to create countersymbols and a special and distinct culture of rebellion. The Village provided a refuge from middle class philistinism and permitted the widest experimentation in dress, sexual mores, and life styles generally... For a few years the Village embodied the full flowering of an intellectual, artistic, political, and emotional counterculture that gave sustenance and support to the assault against the dominant values of nineteenth-century America."15
This continued during the years of disillusionment after World War I. William Harlan Hale told the readers of The New Republic in 1931 that "carried on the wave of post-war revolt in thought and morals, the students of the early twenties were the last word in radicalism... Everyone remembers...the baggy trousers, the collegiate semi-bohemianism." In 1923, H. M. Kallen had told of "rebellious youth," of which he said that it "has no alternative ideal to present. Its spirit is discontent; its cry: There is no good in the institutions of modern life."16
In Exile's Return, Malcolm Cowley summarized the ideas that moved the counter-culture of the early 1920s. The similarity to the ideologically anarchic, hedonistic "flower children" of the 1960s is apparent: "...the system of ideas... could roughly be summarized as follows: 1. If... children are encouraged to... blossom freely like flowers, then the world will be saved by this new, free generation. 2. The idea of self-expression... 3. The idea of paganism -- The body is a temple... to be adorned for the ritual of love... 5. The idea of liberty -- Every law, convention or rule of art that prevents self-expression or the full enjoyment of the moment should be shattered and abolished... 6. The idea of female equality."17
This was the time of the "Lost Generation" and of the flight to Europe. The spirit of that time continued, for some, into the 1930s. A product of that continuation that was later to become important as a source of the New Left was Henry Miller's The Tropic of Cancer, published in 1934. Edmund Wilson said that this book was ignored by the activist radicals of the 1930's as representing "the decadent expatriate culture."18
In the late 1930s as catastrophe after catastrophe shook the Left, Malcolm Cowley wrote that "I notice that many writers are drawing back -- either into ultra-radical idleness or else into an assortment of mysticisms, cynicisms and revolutions of the pure word." George Soule reported a similar phenomenon in 1946.19
Thus we see that my phrase "inherent presence" is aptly applied to the counter-culture. At varying levels, anti-bourgeois withdrawal has been a permanent part of the Left in the twentieth century. Later when I describe the Beatniks of the 1950s and the Hippies of the 1960s, the description will not be of something startlingly new, but of an "ultra-radical idleness," to use Cowley's expression, that has been one of the principal styles of alienation.
An ominous forerunner: The German Youth Movement before and after World
War I
I remember what an electric effect it had upon the national meeting of the Philadelphia Society in 1968 when a speaker read the following passage from Ludwig von Mises' Bureaucracy -- which had been published in 1944! It was as though Mises had been describing the youth culture of the New Left. Mises' language makes his own revulsion clear, an attitude shared by the conservatives who heard the passage:
“In the decade preceding the First World War Germany... witnessed the appearance of a phenomenon hitherto unheard of: the youth movement... In bombastic words they announced the gospel of a golden age. All preceding generations, they emphasized, were simply idiotic; their incapacity has converted the earth into a hell... Henceforth the brilliant youths will rule. They will destroy everything that is old and useless,... they will substitute new real and substantial values and ideologies for the antiquated and false ones of capitalist and bourgeois civilization... We are the deadly foes of the rotten bourgeois and Philistines....
“The chiefs of the youth movement were mentally
unbalanced neurotics. Many of them were affected by a morbid sexuality, they
were either profligate or homosexual...The only trace they left were some books
and poems preaching sexual perversity.”20
I have described the German Youth Movement in Understanding the Modern Predicament, and will repeat enough here only to lay the foundation for a comparison with the New Left. There are excellent books by Howard Becker and Walter Laqueur describing the Youth Movement in detail.
Here is some of the discussion from my earlier book: "The Movement's first phase was that of the Wandervogel between 1896 and 1919. The second was the Bund... which continued from 1919 until the Movement was absorbed into the Hitler Youth in 1933... Alienation from the bourgeoisie was the consistent thread. Laqueur says that 'the Wandervogel chose the other form of protest against society -- romanticism. Their return to nature was romantic, as were their attempts to get away from a materialistic civilization, their stress on the simple life, their rediscovery of old folk songs'... Becker says... that 'German youth of Karl Fischer's day loathed and hated the world of their elders.' (I would necessarily have us ask how it happened that so many young people were suddenly independent philosophers having so great a sensibility to higher and finer values. Instead of reaching this subtle and extensive analysis themselves, they no doubt picked up the entire body of values and social critique from the alienated intellectual generation that preceded them....)"21
A difference between all of this and the later New Left was that the totalitarian ideologies that the Youth Movement's members proclaimed were drawn from a wide variety of left- and right-wing socialisms, whereas the New Left drew exclusively from the many factions of the far Left. We recall that in Germany after Hegel movements of Leftwing Hegelians championed ideas of class struggle and that movements of Rightwing Hegelians championed ideas of racial struggle. Both were equally antithetical to the bourgeoisie and to liberalism in the classical sense. Both were in evidence in the German Youth Movement.
In 1969, Michael Miles reported in The New Republic that "cultural historians have compared it [the New Left] to the Russian nihilists; social historians compare it to the Nazi paramilitary organizations of the 1920s. 'There is, they say, the same obsession with direct action, the myth of violence, the revolutionary claims without substance.'" This is a comparison that could also include the Youth Movement. (It is relevant that both Hitler and Mussolini's movements were initially youth movements, and shared the characteristics I have described.)22
In a New Republic book review in 1970, David
Bromwich argued that "to people who have known campus radicalism first
hand the found parallels between Nazi youth and SDS enrages will be the least
convincing part of the book." Thus, the similarity is not agreed to by
all. My own opinion, though, is that both the New Left and the German Youth
Movement, with their respective counter-cultures, were the product of the same
forces at work within modern Western civilization. If we "distinguish
away" vital similarities, we refuse to learn from experience.
ENDNOTES
1. New Republic, June 4, 1956, p. 20; New Republic, July 16, 1956, p. 17.
2. New Republic, February 8, 1969, p. 30.
3. New Republic, August 20, 1977, p. 37; Irving Howe, Steady Work: Essays in the Politics of Democratic Radicalism, 1953-1966 (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1966), p. 48.
4. New Republic, November 1, 1948, p. 19; Jack Newfield, A Prophetic Minority (New York: The New American Library, Inc., 1966), pp. 194, 195.
5. New Republic, August 9, 1969, p. 5; Lawrence S. Wittner, Rebels Against War: The American Peace Movement, 1941-1960 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1969), p. 94.
6. New Republic, June 4, 1966, p. 17.
7. Wittner, Rebels Against War, p. 7.
8. Wittner, Rebels Against War, p. 56.
9. Wittner, Rebels Against War, pp. 92, 228.
10. Wittner, Rebels Against War, pp. 237, 240; New Republic, August 31, 1963, p. 36.
11. New Republic, September 28, 1963, p. 22; New Republic, October 30, 1965, p. 2.
12. Carl Oglesby, ed., The New Left Reader (New York: Grove Press, Inc., 1969), p. 312; Irving Howe, Steady Work, p. 73.
13. Irving Howe, Steady Work, p. 247.
14. New Republic, February 8, 1919, p. 52; Theodore Roszak, Where the Wasteland Ends (Garden City: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1972), pp. 278-9.
15. Lewis A. Coser, Men of Ideas: A Sociologist's View (New York: The Free Press, 1965), pp. 111, 113.
16. New Republic, May 13, 1951, p. 348; New Republic, January 10, 1923, p. 168.
17. Malcolm Cowley, Exile's Return (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1934), pp. 69-70.
18. New Republic, March 9, 1938, p. 140.
19. New Republic, November 9, 1938, p. 23; New Republic, August 5, 1946, p. 146.
20. Ludwig von Mises, Bureaucracy (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1946), pp. 94-5.
21. Howard Becker, German Youth: Bond or Free (New York: Oxford University Press, 1946); Walter Z. Laqueur, Young Germany (New York: Basic Books Publishing Co., Inc., 1962); for my quotations from my earlier discussion, see Dwight D. Murphey, Understanding the Modern Predicament (Washington: University Press of America, 1982), Chapter 16.
22. New Republic, April 12, 1969, p. 17.
23. New Republic, September 26, 1970, p. 26.
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