…From 1947-57, that is.
I find myself in a rather interesting situation, bordering on a predicament.
I have been reading Reclaiming the American Right, the 1993 work of Justin Raimondo–the somewhat cynical libertarian (much like myself) who, as of right now, is editorial director of antiwar.com. In this work, he describes the multiple schisms and shifts of American political thinkers–between left and right, republican and democrat, conservative and liberal–from the World Wars to the Cold War. I feel enlightened and strangely encouraged as he tells the stories of such forgotten “paleo-conservatives” as Garet Garrett, H.L. Mencken (not so much forgotten as misplaced), Frank Chodorov, Albert Jay Nock, and others. The convergence of the very diverse paths of these great libertarian thinkers is shown to lead to nigh-prophetic understanding of what is to come for the erstwhile Republic, but–to one uninitiated in 1950s political thought–on occasion seems somewhat inconsistent. Particularly when it comes to their stance on the work of Sen. Joseph R. McCarthy. To someone of my generation and educational level on the subject, Sen. McCarthy is the 20th Century embodiment of everything that is wrong with the idea of such things as the Alien and Sedition Acts–and the more recent manifestations of this train of thought (see Acts of Congress from 10-26-2001, and 12-17-2004). But Raimondo refers to these so far praiseworthy people as having supported the spirit of what McCarthy was doing, and explains how it makes sense quite convincingly. I find I agree with his conclusions.
Then, I maintain my positive stance on the 2005 film Good Night, and Good Luck, directed by George Clooney. Suffice it to say that I doubt Mr. Clooney and i would agree on much. So how, with my enlightened view of McCarthy’s campaign, which albeit having strayed from the right path rather early on, seems to have started in a direction consistent with my views, do I support and reccommend this work of a papier-mache political activist actor? Well, frankly, even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in awhile.
But that is definitely not the main thing.
In taking on such an issue in the climate of his time, Edward R. Murrow showed a level of courage that, so far as I have yet seen, has since completely vanished from political journalism on the national stage as long as I have been paying attention to it. Even if the film is as romanticized a perspective as most such films are, the facts speak for themselves. First of all, Murrow and his See It Now co-creator Fred Friendly literally put their money where their mouths were. But the most outstanding feature of this stand Mr. Murrow took is its singularity in the history of broadcast journalism. He warned against the trend he saw: essentially, giving the people what they want. He feared that people of any point of view doing what he and his team were doing would be phased out in favor of turning the TV into yet another opiate for the masses. This was 50 years ago. I won’t say any more than this sentence about its immediate contemporary relevance.
So, who is nearest the mark: Raimondo’s heroes, who felt that McCarthy started off well, but lost the plot (while also pointing out the notable ironies and inconsistencies of the Red Scare from the perspective of the government behind it); or the apparently honest, definitely relevant depiction of Murrow and Co., who courageously espoused the belief that the Red Scare tactics were on their best days (to use a cliche I despise) un-American, and other than that, all too reminiscent of the country from which it was claimed the Committee and its allies were preventing infiltration? The best answer I can give is “Push.” But to one in my perpetual political predicament, it is a gratifying and edifying experience to ponder upon it.