Historian Howard Zinn, who we lost in January at age 87 to a heart attack, worked throughout his lifetime to create a different America, one based on human values and the rights of ordinary people to control their own destinies. Zinn wasn't waiting for an American political leader, espousing hope and change, to make the world a better place; he advocated that the people pressure all our leaders through direct action to create jobs, to fight against corporate domination of our politics, to break down racial barriers, and to insure decent healthcare for everyone. Moreover, Zinn worked to end the dominance of the military industrial complex that has so shaped the post-World War II world.
These were just a few of the goals Zinn illuminated in his academic work, by documenting great movements that have pushed our history forward. He spent his lifetime presenting American history as a series of alternatives between passivity in the face of power and the people's occasional willingness to engage in struggles that have not always succeeded fully or quickly, but have eventually led to greater freedom, more economic power for ordinary working people, the poor and the oppressed. His most popular work, The People's History of the United States, has helped preserve a narrative of American movements for change and struggle that helped shape our history every bit as much as the powerful and well-connected leaders who rode astride the changes they created.
For me, Howard Zinn's work, Postwar America 1945-1971, played a formative role in developing a perspective of my own on the country I lived in as a young person. It stood on its head everything I thought I understood about the role our nation played in the world after the end of the Second World War and made me think about how different a place the planet might be had Franklin Roosevelt's emphasis on aiding self-determination kept preeminence after his death in 1945, instead of being subsumed in a fearful mania that led to the Cold War. Zinn's book and the courage of a high school history teacher named James Bunnell to disseminate revisionist histories to his students during the 1970's helped shape my life and outlook. I began to feel differently about how to address power and to find it important to tell people's stories, rather than relying on histories crafted solely from the point of view of those who would bend it to their own substantial economic and political interests.
I never met Zinn, but followed his work and the controversies he encountered and obviously enjoyed during a lifetime of afflicting the powerful and encouraging Americans to do the same. In this blog, a place where I spend a fair amount of time discussing politics and social history, it seems right to remember the life of a man who empowered so many like me to take journalism away from being solely the domain of those who own the presses and give it back to the people. Zinn helped create a world in which so many of us now write, film, and discuss politics and history as a living and democratic study, not simply a discipline given over to those who are most connected to the powerful and well financed. Zinn lived just long enough to see a version of his People's History finally made into a televised performance as The People Speak , hopefully making his work even more accessible to new generations of Americans who may otherwise never have heard the stories of slaves, abolitionists, farmers, laborers, feminists, and war resisters, except perhaps in passing reference.
Rather than summarizing more of his work here, I leave it to readers to follow the links below to read the remembrances and anecdotes of his friends and colleagues and to access some of Zinn's books, articles and notable confrontations. I think one excerpt from The People's History of the United States below will help those unfamiliar with Professor Zinn's work frame his perspective and I will close with it:
If history is to be creative, to anticipate a possible future without denying the past, it should, I believe, emphasize new possibilities by disclosing those hidden episodes of the past, when, even if in brief flashes, people showed their ability to resist, to join together, occasionally to win. I am supposing, or perhaps only hoping, that our future may be found in the past’s fugitive moments of compassion rather than in its solid centuries of warfare. That, being as blunt as I can, is my approach to the history of the United States.