One should avoid the temptation to dismiss Daniel Flynn’s new book, A Conservative History of the American Left (Crown Forum, $27.50), as merely another blunt weapon in the perpetual clash of ideological adversaries. It’s true that Flynn generally views the history of the left through the crude lens of a propagandist: he considers the Unabomber a member of the environmental movement, claims Lee Harvey Oswald was a “communist assassin” and insists that federal largesse makes Medicare recipients “a burden to everyone.” And Flynn so loathes the sexual libertinism of the Beats that he resorts to physiognomy, of all things, to explain the most flamboyant among them: “If ever a face projected the seediness and perversions of the brain behind it, Allen Ginsberg’s did.”
But these are predictable moves–tics, really, is the more accurate term–for any author who decides to stamp his political faith on the title of a history text. From the other side of the aisle, Howard Zinn has long been lobbing a different, but no less explosive, grenade. In A People’s History of the United States, Zinn eschews personal slurs in favor of vulgar Marxian ones, such as the charge that the American Revolution and Civil War were both elite devices for holding off “potential rebellions.” Neither he nor Flynn bother to consider their retrospective enemies, be they alive or dead, on their own terms, lest a few inconvenient facts compromise their sense of certainty.
For the past three decades, Zinn’s book has drawn millions of readers and inspired thousands more. Flynn is unlikely to enjoy such success, in part because the market for agitprop history from the right is already glutted with apologias for Joe McCarthy and odes to Ronald Reagan. What’s more, anyone who has swallowed what Ann Coulter, Bill O’Reilly and Bernard Goldberg write about the sins of the contemporary left will probably find little additional nourishment in Flynn’s buffet of assaults.
His book is, nonetheless, one worth taking seriously. Unlike his fellow partisans, Flynn has spent some time in libraries and archives, and he strains to turn this erudition into a larger interpretation of the phenomenon he detests. Occasionally, an insight does pierce through the fog of his rhetoric: “The American Left is at its most effective when it accepts that it is an American Left,” he writes. “When it forgets where it comes from, the American Left plays to an internal audience eager for purity but unconcerned with persuasion.” On the whole, however, his book is an intriguing failure–one that reveals a certain bewilderment among conservative activists at the persistence of their enemies’ influence.
Flynn cannot decide whether to ridicule the left or to fear it. His chapters on the nineteenth century are filled with odd details about utopian socialists (he labels them “communists”) whose loony antics presaged future tyrannies. Flynn is particularly scornful toward John Humphrey Noyes, the founder of the Oneida Community in the 1840s, where the practice of free love and a ban on private property were “a dress rehearsal” for the “utopian delusions of Russia and Germany.” (Hitler did away with capitalism? Well, no matter.) Predictably, Flynn also has fun at the expense of “the loud and colorful sisters Victoria Woodhull and Tennessee Claflin,” who, in the 1870s, tapped the wealth of Cornelius Vanderbilt to start a weekly that dabbled in spiritualism and radical feminism and battled with Marxists who thought the duo incurably “bourgeois.”