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Revising a False History

<i> Alan Wolfe, a professor of political science at Boston University, is a contributing editor to the New Republic and the author of "One Nation, After All."</i>

This evening, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will present an honorary Oscar to Elia Kazan. Controversy over the award resembles a fight between two heavyweights, both of whom should have retired, yet neither of whom has the strength to knock the other out. For those who find one more round between communists and those who cooperated with the government as welcome as one more “Terminator” sequel, the time has come to put the past behind us. Fifty years from now, hopefully, we won’t be hearing from the grandchildren of those involved whether or not Kazan did the right thing by naming names before the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1952.

There are three things wrong with this desire to close the books on Kazan’s actions. One is that we ought to be pleased that in a country that generally does not value history, we have kept the fires of one specific historical period burning so brightly. Americans, after all, are said to leave old neighborhoods behind as quickly as they get new jobs; to tear down monuments in their zeal to build new freeways; and to forget whether the Great Depression came after the Civil War. It is not a bad thing to be reminded that, not so long ago, we could not take for granted the peace and prosperity we have now.

In addition, the continuing argument between Kazan and his detractors involves a genuine disagreement over principles. A country that prides itself on its pragmatic, can-do ethic needs to be reminded that sometimes people have to look inside themselves, find their core values and act decisively. Whether or not one agrees with Kazan’s decision, the argument over his actions touches on such timeless concerns as loyalty, treachery, honor, subversion, integrity and ambition. Unlike movies dealing with these themes, Kazan and his critics knew their decisions would involve real people and their jobs, reputations, futures--even, in some cases, their lives.

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But there is a third and most important reason why it may not be time for this debate to end. Chapters in history conclude when the disputants engage in critical self-reflection and indicate a willingness to acknowledge they may have been wrong. That is why the Civil War did not end in Appomattox in 1865 but, instead, in the 20th century, when the South accepted that African Americans were entitled to full civil rights. Especially when emotions have been at their highest, one side or the other--and, on rare occasions, both--have had to give before peace can be declared.

Neither side in the argument between Kazan and his critics has been willing to engage in such retrospective examination. Allen Garfield, who has appeared in 70 pictures, asserted in The Times that Kazan’s decision to name others as communists was “chilling, opportunistic and unpardonable.” If he means that literally--unpardonable is a strong term, stronger, certainly, than Christian forgiveness--then nothing Kazan could ever do, including the issuing of an apology, would bring the matter to a close. Yet, the point may be moot, for Kazan, who has said little about his actions, did suggest in his memoirs that those waiting for an apology will have to wait a long time.

But one also wonders why Kazan should apologize. The benefit of history is the perspective it offers on past events. The generation that joined the Communist Party in the 1930s and ‘40s was too involved in the passions of the time to pause and reflect. But we can. When we do, there can be little doubt, given what we now know about American communism, that it is Kazan’s critics, not the director, who must first begin to speak truthfully about their actions.

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To this day, former communists portray themselves as innocent activists wanting only what was best for the working people of their country. Alger Hiss and Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were never spies, they insisted, until the evidence could no longer be denied. Paul Robeson was a great American hounded by whites who hated his race. The Soviet Union, for all its faults, was still socialist and just wanted peace with the U.S. Those Americans who joined the Communist Party in the 1930s and after were really “progressives.” Idealistic, often innocent, they were persecuted by anticommunist zealots disguised as patriots but willing to trample on the Bill of Rights. Good and bad people really exist, and Kazan, traitor to his friends and supporter of political reaction, was one of the bad ones.

We now know that every element in this picture is false. American members of the Communist Party really did spy for the Soviet Union. It was not Robeson’s race, but his attacks on his country that turned Americans off from his great talents. Funded by the Soviet Union, the U.S. Communist Party put Soviet interests ahead of everything else, shifting positions a bewildering number of times to accommodate its subservient status. Determined to hide their real agenda, Communists practiced the arts of insincerity and apology. Willing to hide behind the Constitution, they supported repression of other left-wing parties with whom they disagreed. More power-hungry than idealistic, Communists took a chance on revolution--and lost. Who, then, are they, or their like-minded sympathizers today, to insist Kazan was vile, whereas their intentions were only pure?

None of this is to deny the viciousness of the atmosphere surrounding Kazan’s testimony. Some members of the Communist Party were blacklisted, though most found other jobs. Some were jailed. A number of America’s leading anticommunists, especially Sen. Joseph R. McCarthy, were demagogues with no respect for civil liberties. But politics is rough stuff. In the Soviet Union, opponents of the regime lost their lives in massive purges. Here, they had to make their movies under assumed names.

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At a time when South Africa has apologized for apartheid and the United States for its intervention in Guatemala, it is time for U.S. communists to admit their mistakes. They need not do so directly. Simply by welcoming Kazan’s Oscar--indeed, even by ignoring the whole event--veterans of America’s communist movement can send the message that they now understand how morally complex the 1950s were.

But few former communists have done so. If anything, they have done the opposite, insisting that Kazan’s actions are as reprehensible as ever.

No wonder we cannot get past this episode in our history. Over a 50-year period, most people grow up. Many of the communists who worked in Hollywood a half-century ago still have not.

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