Liberty, justice for all

HEARING once again in these pages the voice of Howard Zinn, indefatigable advocate for social and economic justice, one isn’t quite sure whether to give a rousing cheer of approval or shake one’s head in not-so-mild dismay. At a time when so much more attention seems focused on the hourly ups and downs of Wall Street than on the parlous economic conditions undermining the ability of ordinary families to afford housing, medical care and other necessities, it is stirring to hear from a man who is proud to call himself not merely a liberal or a progressive but a socialist.

What’s less heartening, however, is that Zinn, like too many other champions of leftist causes, takes a number of positions that have the serious flaw of seeming -- if perhaps not actually being -- anti-American. To those who share this mind-set, whenever something is wrong anywhere in the world, America is somehow to blame. And any kind of American military intervention, even against tyrants and on the side of the oppressed, is always wrong.

Zinn served as an American pilot in Europe during World War II, and it was from his experience of dropping bombs on civilian targets that he came to his position as a Gandhian apostle of nonviolence. (Like Gandhi, and in utter disregard for the fate of Neville Chamberlain’s futile peacemaking effort at Munich, Zinn seems to believe it would have been possible to stop Hitler without recourse to violence.)

Social activist, historian and playwright, the prolific author of numerous books, notably “A People’s History of the United States,” Zinn played a prominent role in the 1960s civil rights and antiwar movements. Now in his 80s, an emeritus professor at Boston University, he continues to be an unwavering advocate for the causes in which he believes.

“Original Zinn” is a collection of radio interviews he did in 2002-05 with David Barsamian, founder and director of the syndicated weekly program “Alternative Radio.” The book also includes Zinn’s 2005 address to the graduating class of Spelman College in Atlanta, where half a century ago, he began his career as a history professor until running into trouble for his activism with the college’s authorities and losing his job in 1963.

Judging from many of these interviews, one might say Zinn has been devoting too much of his energy to lambasting the war in Iraq, which, whatever its flaws has toppled a tyrant and given the people of that country their first democratic election in their history. Although he admits Saddam Hussein was a tyrant, Zinn doesn’t seem to care much about his victims, and he misrepresents Hussein as having been cooperative with American demands in the run-up to the war.

When it comes to keeping an eye on the prize of economic and social justice, however, Zinn has been doing his best to live up to Martin Luther King Jr.’s signally important but too often forgotten advice. Zinn, who knew King, rightly remarks that although the great civil rights leader now has a holiday named after him and is written up in textbooks for his role in ending segregation and securing voting rights for African Americans, it’s seldom mentioned that at the time of his tragic assassination in Memphis in 1968, King was there to support a strike by the city’s sanitation workers. King had also become a critic of the Vietnam War and was broadening his focus to speak out on behalf of poor and working people of all races.

Whether King was moving toward socialism, as Zinn thinks (he was certainly no communist, despite the FBI’s bizarre suspicions) or not, he was a backer of the kind of New Deal and Great Society programs and policies that benefit most Americans. Zinn, like many of us, wonders why these kinds of policies have fallen into such disrepute. Americans, he fears, are wont to suffer from “historical amnesia.”

Among the benefits of reading Karl Marx, he suggests, is learning to look beneath the surface of political and cultural clashes for class conflicts: “the important question to ask in any situation is, who benefits from this, what class benefits from this? If Americans understood this Marxist concept of class ... [t]hey wouldn’t simply be doing what the newspapers do, which is to put the whole issue in terms of generalities, tax cut or tax increase, with no indication of which class will be hurt by this tax cut, which class will benefit by this rise in taxes.”

Zinn, however, doesn’t adequately consider why so many Americans don’t understand the Marxist concept of class. The stumbling block here has to do with the enduring American myth that we live in a classless society. Like most myths, this one has some basis in truth. In this country, there are no hereditary peers or the kind of snobbery that exists in parts of Europe. Indeed, in our current pop and mass market-dominated culture, designers look to the streets for style, and over- privileged rich kids emulate the lingo and attitudes of gang-bangers.

But what Zinn means by “class” is economic rather than social or cultural. Americans, he points out, often fail to understand our own economic self-interest, with the result that untold numbers of middle- and working-class people are terrified of inheritance taxes they’d unlikely ever have to pay. The economic concept of “class” cuts across racial, cultural and educational lines, making struggling artists, teachers, auto workers, cops, salespeople, part-time employees and retired folks on fixed incomes members of the same “class,” because all are similarly affected by rising costs and hurt by declining public services, employment opportunities, job security and the loss of pension, medical and other benefits.

Thus, despite its blind spots, “Original Zinn” is a provocative and valuable book, not only for reminding us that economic rights are as important as political rights and for warning of the dangers of an increasingly unregulated version of capitalism but also for Zinn’s staunch adherence to the old-fashioned liberal principle that justice for all humanity matters more than identity politics. Moreover, his genuine and persuasive belief that ordinary people can truly make a difference offers a resounding antidote to the cynicism and the despair that have become such prominent features on our political landscape.

Merle Rubin is a critic whose work has appeared in publications including the Wall Street Journal.