Bad Faith: Teachers, Liberalism, and the Origins of McCarthyism

Bad Faith

Bad Faith

TEACHERS, LIBERALISM, AND THE ORIGINS OF McCARTHYISM

Andrew Feffer

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Feffer, Andrew, 1954– author.

Title: Bad faith : teachers, liberalism, and the origins of McCarthyism / Andrew Feffer.

Description: First edition. | New York : Empire State Editions, an imprint of Fordham University Press, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018025301 | ISBN 9780823281169 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780823281152 (pbk. : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Public schools—New York (State)—New York—History—20th century. | Community colleges—New York (State)—New York—History—20th century. | Communism and education—New York (State)—New York—History—20th century. | Anti-communist movements—New York (State)—New York—History—20th century. | New York (State). Legislature. Joint Legislative Committee to Investigate the Educational System of the State of New York.

Classification: LCC LA339.N5 F44 2019 | DDC 371.0109747—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018025301

Printed in the United States of America

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First edition

for Michelle

Contents

Introduction

Part I: The Hearings

1. The Threshold

2. The Stooge Grebanier

3. Coudertism

4. Vichy’s Lawyer?

Part II: Class War

5. The Dewey Trial

6. The Educational Front

7. Far from the Ivory Tower

Part III: The Mortal Storm

8. Bad Faith

9. CCNY

10. Flirting with the Right

11. Communism on Trial

12. Aftermath

Conclusion: The Coudert Legacy

Acknowledgments

Abbreviations Used in the Endnotes

Notes

Index

Lisez avec vos yeux frais et votre esprit libre.

—Leon Blum, 1917

Introduction

It was the first week of December 1940, a year before Pearl Harbor. Franklin Delano Roosevelt had just won an unprecedented third term after ten years of the deepest and most prolonged economic crisis in modern history. Crushed by catastrophic unemployment, the nation had suffered the collapse of the farm economy and industrial upheaval approaching insurrection in several major cities. Unemployment in 1940 remained high, yet for the first time in a decade, economic recovery seemed to be on the horizon. In fifteen months, the Nazi blitzkrieg had overrun most of Western Europe, reaching the English Channel. Roosevelt successfully campaigned on military preparedness, and mounting war production already promised a steadier flow of jobs; defense appropriations reached $17 billion by that October. The war was coming to America, and the Great Depression was about to end.¹

With the Christmas season approaching, New York was buoyed up on the rising tide of new employment. Manhattan’s avenues swelled with shoppers, while the city’s department stores reported a ten percent increase in sales over the previous year. Times Square offered one picture of growing consumer optimism: Bond’s opened its cathedral of clothing—the world’s largest men’s store—employing hundreds to sell suits and accessories to Manhattan’s rejuvenated white-collar workforce.² The New York Times reported that rising employment lifted the city’s stagnant real estate market. Urban planners presented optimistic projections of a city of the future, built around a network of highways crisscrossing the region, moving commuters, consumers, and the products of a burgeoning defense industry across the revitalized metropolitan landscape. The city’s economy was no longer shrinking. And although it was already darkened by the shadow of war, New York seemed to be on the threshold of a new era.³

Rapp-Coudert

Yet, as the revived economy brightened the city’s prospects, a darker drama unfolded in lower Manhattan. Several hundred teachers, students, and their supporters jammed the hallway outside a tiny room in the federal courthouse on Foley Square. They had been closed out of the first day of state legislative hearings of the so-called Rapp-Coudert committee that was investigating subversion in New York City’s public schools and colleges. As the bundled-up crowd pressed against police barricades, the committee packed the chamber with sympathizers and friends, leaving only thirty open seats. There was shouting and pushing. Scores of indignant people lingered by the door through the afternoon.⁴

Inside the atmosphere was even more tense—sulpherous according to the PM reporter on the scene.⁵ Just three months into their investigation, the committee presented unsubstantiated preliminary findings, but they did so with headline-grabbing certainty: Fostering discontent among the city’s students, Communist teachers sought to undermine American youth by spreading [communism’s] alien and subversive principles among them, the committee’s chief of staff Paul Windels asserted. They had conspired systematically over the previous decade, he added, to foment revolution in New York City schools and colleges using the party’s strategic control of the city’s main teachers unions. Windels then released the names of twenty-three municipal college faculty and staff suspected of classroom subversion who had refused to testify, presumably because they had something to hide. The New York Times, which would credulously report almost all of the committee’s allegations, predicted that the intensive skirmishing over testimony and subpoenas in the previous months of investigation would flare into open battle. They were right. When the meeting opened, William Mulligan, attorney for the accused teachers, called from the audience for the committee to follow due process. Committee chair Frederick Coudert, Jr., Republican state senator from the city’s posh Upper East Side, had the police drag him out.⁶

So began one of the most methodically conducted and documented local investigations in the chain of anticommunist witch hunts lasting into the 1960s that we have come to call McCarthyism. Authorized in March 1940 by the New York state legislature, the Rapp-Coudert investigation had by that December probed aggressively for evidence of communist subversion at Brooklyn College (BC), which was perceived by many to be the center of Communist Party activity in the city’s recently consolidated municipal college system. Through the fall, dozens of faculty, staff, and students were interrogated in preparation for the December hearings, which opened on Monday, December 2. When the Coudert committee officially completed its work in early 1942, it had spent more than $500,000⁷ interrogating over five hundred witnesses in private and public hearings for which more than ten thousand pages of transcripts were recorded. Committee staffers informally interviewed approximately seven hundred more in homes and offices around the city and elsewhere. The committee claimed to have exposed sixty-nine members of the Communist Party and to have brought about the firing, suspension, or resignation of roughly fifty employees, mainly at City College of New York (CCNY) and BC. One CCNY professor went to prison for perjuring himself in testimony before the committee. Others, members of the large group of part-time faculty without permanent positions or contracts, merely melted away after being dropped from instruction rosters. In addition, the committee compiled the names of over six hundred suspected communists and sympathizers in what amounted to a blacklist, made available to state police, city officials, and, eventually, federal investigators who used that list along with Rapp-Coudert transcripts to draw the net around dozens of other faculty, staff, and public-school teachers in inquisitions a decade later.⁸ Finally, the Coudert investigation, together with a concerted campaign on the part of anticommunists in the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) and its parent, the American Federation of Labor (AFL), pursued and severely crippled the two most powerful and pioneering teachers unions in the city, AFT’s Local 5, representing public-school teachers, and its spinoff, Local 537 or the College Teachers Union (CTU), representing faculty and staff from New York City’s municipal colleges, as well as from colleges and universities in the New York metropolitan area.

Rapp-Coudert had a profound impact on the intellectual and political life of New York, the nation’s largest city, its center of high culture and an engine of social and political transformation. With other such countersubversive investigations, Rapp-Coudert sent a chill through American higher education. Fear stalks the classroom, wrote Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas in a related case. Where suspicion fills the air and holds scholars in line for fear of their jobs, there can be no exercise of the free intellect. . . . A deadening dogma takes the place of free inquiry.⁹ People writing the history of political inquisitions similarly note their long-term effect on teaching, including shifts in curriculum away from controversial subjects and toward conventional ways of thinking. According to a 1958 study by Columbia University sociologists, the difficult years of Cold War hysteria made forty-six percent of social science faculty interviewed apprehensive about some aspect of their academic work. Around a tenth acknowledged that they toned down their writings. The same proportion hesitated to assign potentially controversial works to their students, and twenty-seven percent felt obliged to go out of [their] way to express [their] loyalty. Faculty avoided doing research on the Soviet Union or China for fear of raising suspicions or because they did not want to risk using proscribed sources. One historian stopped a book he was writing at the year 1945 so as not to address the Cold War; an economist told his interviewers that I just limit my writings to things that Congressmen can’t understand.¹⁰ Similar effects were almost immediately evident in the wake of Rapp-Coudert. Howard Selsam, forced from his job teaching philosophy at BC in June 1941, observed that the New York investigation made his colleagues fearful even to be seen speaking to one who had been subpoenaed. Rapp-Coudert investigators gave them good reason to be afraid, calling in for interrogation Selsam’s noncommunist colleagues for such telltale associations as having Selsam’s signature on their union membership cards, or in the case of one young faculty member, for telling her class she respected Selsam for standing up to the committee. Ultimately, the effect of the purges on surviving municipal college faculty included, in Selsam’s words, timidity, servility, seclusion, pre-censored and self-censored teaching and research.¹¹

Prelude to McCarthyism

In addition to troubling us morally and constitutionally, Rapp-Coudert upsets the popular narrative of the era’s history, which tends to focus on the antics of Senator Joseph McCarthy a decade later and to treat the red scare as a phenomenon of the Cold War, a reaction to the perceived Soviet threat against the United States after 1945. Yet Rapp-Coudert long preceded the Cold War, as one of several inquisitions conducted just before World War II in what some historians have termed the Little Red Scares. Spurred in part by the Dies committee in the House of Representatives, that wave of xenophobic, anticommunist hysteria included the passage of the Hatch Act in 1939 barring federal employees from belonging to revolutionary organizations, the 1940 Smith Act criminalizing subversive activities at the federal level, attacks on radicals and communists by legislatures and police across the United States, and the spate of local investigations and prosecutions that, in addition to Rapp-Coudert, included others in Michigan, Wisconsin, and California. Like many such outbreaks of anticommunist hysteria in the twentieth century, Rapp-Coudert had relatively little to do with Soviet belligerence toward the United States. It and other prewar inquisitions were driven by dynamics that were largely domestic in origin, born not only of the social and political conflicts of the Depression years, but also of deeper and more-enduring currents in American culture.¹²

Rapp-Coudert was a pivotal event in that longer history—a prelude to McCarthyism, according to some. And in its long-term consequences, Rapp-Coudert does look very much like a test run for the full-blown postwar red scare. In addition to drawing out testimony that would be used in later cases, it set legal precedents for the subsequent firing of teachers and staff across the nation. It tested and expanded the power of legislative committees to force teachers and other public employees to acknowledge their political associations. Rapp-Coudert made conduct unbecoming a professor the preferred charge against suspected Communists in higher education, evading the question of whether membership in the Communist Party was sufficient grounds for dismissal (technically, it was not at the time, since the party was legal in most states) or even whether suspects were being persecuted for their political views. Moreover, as historian Stephen Leberstein points out, Rapp-Coudert marked a turning point away from the virulent and energetic but blundering attacks of the past decades . . . toward the more systematic repression of the McCarthy era.¹³ It methodically built cases against suspects using multiple witnesses in a seemingly legal framework of accusation and proof. It used existing municipal and state law to force faculty to inform on their colleagues or face the consequences of non-cooperation. And as it tightened that noose, Rapp-Coudert drove suspected Communists to lie about their political associations in order to avoid naming names, the ostensible reason that New York’s boards of education gave for eventually firing accused teachers and staff. At the same time, Rapp-Coudert investigators significantly strengthened the case for criminalizing communism on the alleged grounds that, regardless of its statements and official policies to the contrary, the Communist Party of the United States was engaged in the process of overthrowing our democratically elected government by force and violence. One could justly argue that in its open-ended investigation of subversion in the city’s schools, Rapp-Coudert essentially authorized itself to find a crime where none yet existed—and to make that crime the crime of the century.¹⁴

The Countersubversive Tradition

One of the striking things about the Rapp-Coudert inquiry is the extent to which it was conceived and run by liberals, including most of the Rapp-Coudert staffers and many of its supporters—key among whom were former office-holders and organizers of the Fusion administration of Mayor Fiorello La Guardia—which brought Republicans, Democrats, and independents together to back a local version of FDR’s New Deal.¹⁵ The involvement of these liberals, some of them Republicans, others from the anti-Tammany wing of the Democratic Party, confounds another prevailing assumption about McCarthyism, held not just by the general public but by many historians and social scientists as well—that it thundered in from the right, from the illiberal populist movements and quasireligious enthusiasms that periodically upend American society. This assumption was first fixed in our historical consciousness during the McCarthy era by liberals themselves, such as historian Richard Hofstadter and his colleague at Columbia University, sociologist Daniel Bell.

For Hofstadter and Bell, McCarthyism was just the most recent expression of the average American’s recurrent anxiety over perceived inequalities of status and power, which were especially prevalent in those parts of the country outside the centers of political and economic authority such as Washington and New York. Status anxiety led populations dislocated by industrial development, declining agricultural prices, and periodic market collapse to blame their misfortunes on those distant sources of authority and on the people who lived there in, as Hofstadter famously put it, a paranoid style of bigoted and irrational attack driven by restlessness, suspicion, and fear. Yet during periods of prosperity, status anxiety over potential failure and occupational mobility mounted as well, only this time in proportion to the rising fortunes of the very same social groups. Regardless of their socioeconomic origins, such pseudo-conservative reactions, with their widespread latent hostility toward American institutions, tended toward violence, and Hofstadter considered them to that degree to be beyond the responsible politics that are required to run a modern nation. Bell similarly traced the momentary range of support and intense emotional heat of McCarthyism and its damage to the democratic fabric to prosperity-created, status-oriented social movements that generated a strange coalition of soured patricians, the nouveau riche, and the rising ethnic middle class on the one hand, and, on the other, cankered ex-Communists who opened up an attack on liberalism in general. Bell traced the moralistic orientation of contemporary status groups to the peculiar evangelicalism of the American heartland with its high emotionalism, its fervor, enthusiasm and excitement.¹⁶

These arguments about the origins of McCarthyism contrasted it sharply with the rational pluralism supposedly practiced by legitimate conservatives and liberals in the major national parties. Only the geographical scope, inclusiveness, and flexibility of American representative government, its essentially liberal character, Bell argued, saved the body politic from such violently paroxysmal tendencies in the political culture. The Hofstadter-Bell thesis fits with the related tendency to consider McCarthyism a single front in a much broader attack by conservative coalitions on the regulatory policies and entitlement programs that started with the New Deal.¹⁷ McCarthy’s own rhetoric as well as the postwar machinations of key anticommunist institutions such as the House Committee on Un-American Activities targeting New Deal agencies and programs lend weight to this explanation, which was popular especially among liberal and left-wing defenders of Roosevelt’s legacy.

The Rapp-Coudert inquiry, however, complicates this picture of reactionary McCarthyism attacking progressive social policies and responsibly democratic institutions. Its history instead confirms political scientist Michael Paul Rogin’s argument that midcentury anticommunism was as much the work of elites, including liberal architects and managers of postwar political institutions, as it was of the anti-intellectual, neopopulist right wing, onto whom Hofstadter and Bell so effectively shifted sole responsibility.¹⁸ Situating McCarthyism in a countersubversive tradition at the heart of the national culture, a continuing feature of American politics from the conquest of the New World to the Reagan administration and beyond, Rogin tended to explain McCarthyism in psychoanalytic terms that identified it with other kinds of countersubversive demonization—namely the exclusion and punishment of indigenous peoples, ethnocultural and racial minorities, women, and other groups considered responsible for American weakness. Rogin treats this politics of demonization as cinematic in conception and practice, with McCarthyism as just another episode in a series culminating (Rogin published his study in 1987) with Ronald Reagan: The Movie, a national story of unbridled yet wounded individuality wrestling with its demons.¹⁹

I find Rogin’s insights into American countersubversion’s dark and obsessive past compelling, but as a historian I think it slights the more direct and obvious connections to people and groups acting in historical time. In the case of McCarthyism, Rogin connected it formally and symbolically to Hollywood’s postwar dreamscape of perceived enemies, Soviet spies, labor racketeers, and controlling mothers as Freudian cinematic types, rather than to the real people who fashioned those illusions in the world of politics as well as film.²⁰ Yet, in that analysis, one can also find a clue to Rapp-Coudert’s historical significance: Rogin recognized McCarthyism’s conservatism, its resistance to change and difference, its exceptionalism, and its bigotry, yet he also traced it to a dark side of American liberalism, to the liberal’s habitual need to regulate and purify a social and cultural landscape that is constantly disordered by the pursuit of individual gain and corporate profit margins in an expanding market economy that liberals as a matter of principle also embraced. Or, equally, to the liberal’s need to stabilize a political order that is constantly disrupted by democratic impulses, whether on a national or local scale. This was the paradox of American liberalism in the twentieth century, a politics that endorsed social planning without violating the basic norms of modern industrial capitalism in the name of democratic impulses that liberals themselves often defeated.

In one chapter especially, Rogin points obliquely to the manner in which liberal elites, notably those with an investment in the economic reforms and regulatory framework of the New Deal, contributed in the 1930s to the rising tide of anticommunism. There he offers a critique of the interest-group theories of political scientist David Truman, which are treated as the primary theoretical framework for liberal politics after the war. Rogin suggests that liberals believed communism undermined the institutional order on which they hoped to erect a more stable and rational democracy, a non-partisan framework of regulation and social welfare built on voluntary organizations and government institutions that presumably enabled ordinary people to participate in social reform and political management without resorting to violence, rebellion or revolution to resolve their differences. But, as Rogin points out, this liberal presumption of democratic governance within each organization was a mere convenience. In such cases, nonpartisanship served as a guise behind which bureaucratic leadership exercised undemocratic authority—a latter-day example of Robert Michels’s iron law of oligarchy.²¹

Some of these organizations, moreover, were the ones the communist left was active in throughout the Depression era—notably teachers unions, student and parent associations, and the institutions that those organizations acted in, such as schools and universities—in extended and bitter contests over the democratic character of those bodies—exactly the matter, as Rogin pointed out for the postwar era, that liberals took for granted. It is those organizations and institutions, and the growing conflicts within them over the meaning and practice of democracy, which this book explores as it reconstructs the history and genealogy of Rapp-Coudert.

From the point of view of communists who were active in trade unions or school reform in the 1930s, at stake in this struggle was the future of a real economic democracy, as well as the ability of unions and related organizations to represent working-class interests effectively as matters of class struggle, rather than just the particular interests of this or that social group. From the point of view of liberals trying to build a framework in which social groups could negotiate particular needs and common interests, these disputes over the meaning of democracy and the measure of class conflict, promoted by partisans of the extreme left, merely disrupted the orderly deliberations on which a modern democracy must be founded. For those institutions to function the way liberals wanted and expected them to, Rogin pointed out, stubbornly dissenting voices had to be excluded, demonized, and expelled, much as Native Americans had to be pushed from the western landscape before Europeans could take it over. And this countersubversive imperative is exactly what drove liberals, who were committed at the height of the Depression to building a pluralist society and regulatory state out of the wreckage of the American economy, to endorse, guide and even direct the Rapp-Coudert inquiry. Thus, in 1940 at least, organized and official anticommunism, rather than merely a conservative pretext for attacking liberal achievements served also as a means of purging inconveniently dissenting voices from supposedly democratic pluralistic organizations and institutions, such as unions and schools, on which many liberals expected to erect a stable and prosperous political order.²²

In key respects, the Rapp-Coudert version of the red scare, what its opponents at the time aptly called Coudertism, after Rapp-Coudert committee chair Frederic R. Coudert, Jr., emerged from an already well-formed liberal intellectual and political movement, which had been building over the previous ten years and which had already put communists in its sights by the middle years of the Depression. Among those abetting Coudertism, one could find liberal, socialist, and social-democratic labor leaders, including former officers and activists of the teachers union and functionaries of the AFL. They were joined (as early as 1935) by insurgent reformers headquartered at Columbia Teachers College and guided by the progressive educational theories of John Dewey. When one puts the Rapp-Coudert drama in its proper historical context, one sees that prominent liberals played a surprisingly central role as ideological guides and mouthpieces for a new kind of liberal anticommunism that was expressed in Coudertism. One sees as well the truth of historian Ellen Schrecker’s recent observation that there were many McCarthyisms, conservative, liberal, and left-wing, whose diversity of approaches to anticommunism helped ensure its durability and virulence.²³

This historical association of liberals with anticommunism, extending back into the Depression years, confounds yet another conventional view—of liberals as reluctant latecomers who acquiesced to conservative pressure for action as they came to recognize that the Soviets posed a real threat, whether after the war or in the wake of the 1936 Moscow Trials and the 1939 Hitler-Stalin Pact.²⁴ Once again, Rapp-Coudert suggests a more complicated story, and once again the chronology is important: Liberals and conservative socialists (many of whom would later call themselves social democrats) crusaded against communist teachers as early as 1932, when the former first attempted to purge the latter from the New York local of the AFT. That conflict led to a split in 1935 and the founding of an explicitly anticommunist union that spent the next five years trying to destroy its left-wing rivals. Anticommunism in the schools and teachers unions, then, preceded the Moscow Trials by several years, finding support in liberal intellectual circles as early as 1934.

My point is not to deny the trials and the pact as contributing factors, but rather to reconsider the way in which we recount the history of liberal anticommunism as a story of collective apostasy that privileges the influence of foreign affairs. As other historians have recently made clear, anticommunism between the world wars flowed in part from liberal and social-democratic currents in the American labor movement. Moreover, one finds in those early expressions of anticommunism much of the extremist rhetoric and many of the methods from which later liberals such as Bell, trying to distance themselves from a political phenomenon at least in part of their own creation, blamed primarily on pseudo-conservative populists such as Joe McCarthy. By the time in 1950 when McCarthy, before an audience in Wheeling, West Virginia, waved his list of two hundred or so alleged Communists in the State Department, the anticommunist crusade was already more than a decade and a half old, and part of it was decidedly liberal and social democratic in origin.

Thus, the story of Rapp-Coudert underscores the extent to which liberals actively developed and promoted late twentieth-century anticommunism, which we tend exclusively to associate with the extreme right as McCarthyism. For Americans accustomed to thinking of liberals as communist sympathizers, such an observation might seem to violate common sense. In part, that misperception follows from the confused definition of liberal in American political culture, which tends to lump all parts of the left—communist, socialist, social democratic, and liberal—together under the rubric liberal, as generically the politics favoring state ownership and regulation of large parts of a mixed economy. One point of this study is to end that loose association of a generic left under the terms liberal and progressive, commonplaces that served the temporary rhetorical strategies during the 1930s of both the liberal New Deal and the communist Popular Front against fascism. Whatever alliances there were between liberals and the left already had begun to come apart, however, in the middle of the Depression. After the war, these terms served instead to mark the boundaries of a supposedly rational discourse from which communists and much of the Marxist left were excluded. As I use the term in this book, liberal will mean those advocates of limited state ownership and regulation who accept the basic terms of capitalist economic relations, disavow the politics of class and mass mobilization, and think of American political culture as uniquely pluralistic, bipartisan, and capable of negotiating and solving social and economic differences through democratic deliberation and reform. That definition includes conservative socialists and social democrats (and some ex-communists) that came to call themselves liberal after the war, as they increasingly distanced themselves from Marxism, communism, and more radically militant forms of socialism. As I hope this study will show, the direction by liberals of the Rapp-Coudert inquisition not only marks the fundamental ideological incompatibility of liberalism and communism; it also suggests a deeper and more complicated origin for McCarthyism in American political culture with roots not only in conservative hostility to government spending and market regulation, but also in a chronic distemper over the very thing that liberals hold closest to their hearts: the democratic tradition.

Nor am I blaming liberals for a historical phenomenon driven by many historical forces. Rather, I would argue that the growing hostility of liberal intellectuals toward communism, besides the obvious and oft-cited ideological incompatibilities, followed from their investment in building a pluralist democracy based on the sorts of interest groups that were conceived by people such as David Truman and criticized by Michael Rogin. That sort of pluralism could not tolerate the political style, practices, and beliefs of Communists, who, while they espoused a democratic socialism (in the Popular Front period at least) conceived of democracy in agonistic terms and thought of social progress as necessarily tied to unavoidable class antagonism at odds with the negotiation of interests among presumptively democratic organizations and institutions.

Key liberals strenuously objected to this class war view, as they became attached to an emerging social and political order that they uniquely if only dimly perceived. Dewey, who is considered an intellectual leader of the new state-oriented form of liberalism and who joined other liberals in resigning from Local 5 in 1935, summed up the pluralist objections to Communist Party activism in the union and in the Popular Front against fascism, as it unfolded from 1934 on. The dogma about class struggle, he asserted in his influential 1935 manifesto, Liberalism and Social Action, generates violent strife because it fails to bring the conflict into the light of intelligence where the conflicting interests can be adjudicated in behalf of the interest of the great majority.²⁵

In their dedication to this class war dogma, Dewey argued, communists (of all the several types active in the mid-1930s) inevitably practice misrepresentation, subterfuge and other forms of bad faith, as they make themselves appear to be responsible participants in democratic deliberations over common concerns. As his protégé Sidney Hook famously declared, communists instead enter into schools and unions in a Trojan horse, planning subversion and conquest, lying about their true intentions and, as individuals, about their membership in communist organizations. Hook insisted and Dewey and others agreed that by acting in bad faith, communists disqualified themselves from being teachers or even members of ostensibly democratic organizations, which they, like David Truman, considered to be the pillars of a modern pluralism. Liberal anticommunists returned to communist bad faith as the primary rationale for purging communists from schools and universities. As it pursued Communist Party members in New York’s educational system, the Rapp-Coudert committee followed suit, invoking Dewey and other liberals in justifying its inquisition.²⁶

One could argue as well that the prospects of a growth economy and the hope of realizing its potential—a dream partially realized during and after the war—helped split liberals decisively from the Marxist left. As historian Athan Theoharis long ago pointed out, during the McCarthy era proper, anticommunist liberals such as historian Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., whose 1949 book The Vital Center offered a manifesto of centrist, anticommunist liberalism, found in the mixed economy already emerging at the end of the 1930s, the dual advantage of ensuring prosperity and providing the means to avoid class conflict . . . through economic growth, as the war economy spread employment and consumer confidence across the nation.²⁷ When the Rapp-Coudert committee opened its public hearings in December 1940, the United States was on the cusp of that new social and political reality. Though few could imagine at the time, the economic revival evident on the streets and in the workplaces of New York City that Christmas season prefigured a postwar economy based on high wages, an expanding and increasingly homogenous, middle-class consumer culture, moderate forms of state regulation, conciliatory labor relations, open international markets, and a reliable source of permanent demand from the military.

Some Additional Thoughts

As I am sure readers are well aware, the study of anticommunism is riddled with controversy and conflict. Conservatives, along with many liberals, who consider the occasional excesses of anticommunist crusades to be the price of defending liberty and democracy, might ask of this book: why criticize an investigation that was justified on its face and that exposed actual members of the Communist Party subverting the nation’s schools and universities? Many find confirmation of this view, moreover, in the fact that some members of the Communist Party engaged in an active conspiracy to spy on behalf of the Soviet Union, a long-standing accusation reinforced in the late 1990s by the declassification of the United States military’s VENONA files, which uncovered ongoing communications between Soviet handlers and their operatives in the United States. Even before VENONA, it would have been hard to deny the evidence that some members of the American Communist Party engaged in espionage for the Soviets during the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s.²⁸

Yet one must put the Soviet use of a few Communists as spies in proper historical perspective: Of the tens of thousands of Americans who passed through the ranks of the Communist Party between 1919 and 1989, no more than a couple of hundred have been plausibly accused of spying.²⁹ For the vast majority, the motives for joining the party were entirely consistent with American political values and constitutional law. They were subversive, perhaps, but only in the broadest (and healthiest) sense, not in a manner that is contrary to a robust conception of American democracy—of the sort endorsed by most of the nation’s founders, who not only allowed for but encouraged political dissent. Those few historians who have documented the political activism of the party’s rank and file have reconstructed a very different picture of American communism than one sees in the VENONA files, showing instead how tens of thousands of Communists actively contributed to the growth of American democracy in the civil rights and labor movements, and even eventually in the pursuit of gender equality.³⁰ Such was also the case in the New York City schools, where Communist teachers enhanced rather than undermined American education, promoting both a broader, more egalitarian curriculum with an emphasis on the social and natural sciences, and progressive pedagogies that broke down the rigid authoritarianism and racism of prevailing instructional practices.³¹

A similar perspective needs to be gained about the fact that many Communists lied to federal and state investigators when asked about their party membership, which for many Americans seemed to confirm the complicity of the accused in Soviet spying. If Communists had nothing to hide, why lie? As it did in 1941, such misrepresentation seemed to many to be symptomatic of a politics of bad faith and deceit, suggesting a broad, party-based conspiracy as well as disloyalty to American values and institutions. But, once we shed the tunnel vision of VENONA and broaden our view of communism’s history, the misrepresentation and perjury of Communists before the bar of justice and in the court of public opinion begin to look much more mundane, as examples of what ordinary people do when they are framed and boxed in by hostile inquisitors.

As for accusations such as Sidney Hook’s that Communist teachers used their classrooms to indoctrinate students, virtually none of the teachers and staff under investigation by Rapp-Coudert used the city’s schools and colleges to promote communism or even just Marxism. One’s judgment on this question depends in part on what one means by indoctrination. If, as some insisted, any point of view that challenged moral, educational, or political conventions amounted to indoctrination, then yes, Communists, like many dissenters, tended to teach their students to think for themselves and to challenge authority. But if what was meant by indoctrination was teaching Communist doctrine, then the Rapp-Coudert investigation turned up no substantial evidence of Communists indoctrinating students, though that did not stop the committee and the press from making those accusations and using them to justify dismissing professors and staff at the municipal colleges. In the chapters that follow, the evidence (or lack of it) concerning Communist indoctrination will speak for itself.

One additional point needs to be added here, and it is one that gets to the heart of the book’s argument. Many Americans express remorse at the excesses of McCarthyism, but only to the extent that it was an overblown and indiscriminate reaction to a real threat—that its objectives were good, while only its methods were a problem. To the degree that McCarthyism did any damage, from this perspective (for the most part a liberal one, though many conservatives and libertarians agree), it was mainly to the constitutional protection of civil liberties and to the liberal practices of an open society that is predicated on the protection of individual rights.³² Similarly, much of the indignation over McCarthyism focuses on the personal costs of political repression, the loss of jobs and careers, imprisonment, the breakup of families, and the exclusion from public life that were suffered by the accused.

There is no question that legislative inquisitions such as Rapp-Coudert and broader campaigns after the war posed a substantial threat to civil liberties. One merely has to read through the committee’s own record to see rights violated profoundly and repeatedly. Aided by municipal law, the committee forced New York City employees to incriminate themselves, stripping them of protection under the Fifth Amendment