In this historiographical essay, The Life of a Historian surveys the scholarship of the Cold War civil rights historiography. In particular, this review primarily focuses on the following historians and their respective books:
Woods, Jeff. Black Struggle, Red Scare: Segregation and Anti-Communism in the South, 1948-1968
. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2004.
Lewis, George. The White South and the Red Menace: Segregationists, Anticommunism, and Massive Resistance, 1945-1965
. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2004.
Katagiri, Yasuhiro. Black Freedom, White Resistance, and Red Menace: Civil Rights and Anticommunism in the Jim Crow South. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2014. Kindle.
Affiliate Disclosure
Red & Black, the Fear of Southern White America:
A Historiographical Review of the Interrelationship between White Supremacy, Anticommunism, the Cold War, and the Civil Rights Movement in the Jim Crow South
Introduction to Cold War Civil Rights Historiography:
Connecting the Histories of the Cold War and the Civil Rights Movement
Over the past three decades, scholars of the Cold War and the civil rights movement, respectively, have made a concerted effort to converge the two historiographical conversations. What has developed is the recognition of a fascinating interrelationship between the Cold War and the civil rights movement. Although known by the contemporaries of the time, historians are now finally illuminating on the myriad of ways African Americans understood the Cold War climate and adapted their grassroots strategies accordingly to yield desired outcomes. In general, historians of this relatively new field of study and historiography—Cold War civil rights—have produced articles and monographs that more or less seek to internationalize American history by examining domestic affairs within the context of Cold War geopolitical climate. In short, histories that explore the impact of United States foreign policy on the civil rights movement and vice versa.[1]
Consequently, many scholars of the Cold War civil rights historiography employ a rather top-down approach that emphasizes the role of the federal government, specifically the executive branch, and almost exclusively the State and the Justice Departments. However, it should be noted, historian Mary L. Dudziak
and others do claim that without the activism and grassroots movements of African Americans the more positive effects of the Cold War on domestic policies regarding civil rights may never have come to fruition. Furthermore, historians like Gerald Horne, Penny Von Eschen
, and Brenda Gayle Plummer acknowledge the agency of African Americans as the driver of their narratives.[2] Even still, figuring prominently as main actors in these narratives are individuals like Harry S. Truman, Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon B. Johnson, Dean Acheson, Dean Rusk, and Earl Warren. Executive Orders, Supreme Court decisions, and congressional hearings and legislations serve as both the focal point and fulcrum of the historical trajectory of the civil rights movement. In the background, the Cold War climate serves as the setting, similar to adverse weather conditions, guiding and influencing the decision-making of the actors.
An Example of a Narrative from the Cold War Civil Rights Historiography
The Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union witnessed two opposing ideological forces confront one another on the international stage. The implications not only affected foreign policies and political decisions at the federal and state levels but also reverberated throughout American society and culture. As the leader of the self-proclaimed free world, the United States came under international pressure to fulfill and reflect its democratic and egalitarian rhetoric. The pressure from foreign nations resulted from an emerging, and observant, international audience that became increasingly critical of America’s racial practices and policies. Furthermore, the Soviet Union found America’s treatment of its black citizens to be a convenient propaganda tool, and one they made use of with regularity. Cognizant of the emerging global audience, African American leaders and organizations sought avenues to internationalize the oppressive nature of American racism to coerce the federal government, specifically the executive branch, to exert its power and authority to end racially discriminatory practices.[3]
Within the nascent Cold War political climate, African Americans seemingly had leverage, and President Harry Truman was resigned to abide by their legitimate concerns and demands. In 1946, Truman appointed the President’s Committee on Civil Rights to investigate the civil rights violations and propose resolutions. In consultation with the National Association of the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), the following year the committee released its report, To Secure These Rights
, detailing its findings and recommendations. In “determining that racial segregation was ‘inconsistent with the fundamental equalitarianism of the American way of life,’ the committee listed a total of thirty-five recommendations for both congressional and administrative actions in its report…to protect the civil rights of black Americans and to begin eliminating racial segregation from American life.”[4] The proposals outlined in To Secure These Rights led Truman to issue Executive Order 9981, which abolished racial segregation in the military; and encouraged the Democratic National Convention of 1948 to adopt “its strongest and most forthright civil rights plank ever.”[5]
Inspired by these responses from the executive branch and the national Democratic Party, African Americans continued to harness the Cold War climate for the benefit of racial equality. As activism for civil rights mounted, and with coaxing from the executive branch, concern for international criticism suffused and seeped into our other facets of governance. Of particular significance, the judicial branch and court system proved an asset to the civil rights movement. For Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, the Justice Department filed an amicus curia—a friend of the court—brief in 1952. Loaded with references to foreign policy and concern for international reception of American racism, the brief seemed less focused on civil rights and more worried about the ruling’s effect on geopolitics.[6] Regardless of the Justice Department’s motive, the objective was the same. In 1954, the Supreme Court delivered its unanimous ruling that state laws of racial segregation in public schools violated the constitution. At the behest of African Americans, the Truman Administration began the process toward a national civil rights agenda and, in turn, empowering the grassroots civil rights movement that would characterize the 1950s and 1960s.
The implications of the Cold War climate entangled domestic affairs like civil rights with foreign policy concerns. As a result, Presidents Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, and Lyndon B. Johnson all followed a similar path as Truman. African Americans understood that this peculiar and possibly finite political environment offered opportunities for gains in civil rights. They responded accordingly and seized the moment. Consequently, the civil rights movement amassed political and legal victories including Brown, armed federal support for desegregation in Little Rock, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. In short, the Cold War ushered in a rare, albeit brief, political climate and opportunity for African Americans to aggressively pressure the federal government to address their grievances and calls for civil rights and racial equality.
Identifying and Addressing Gaps in the Scholarship:
How Historians Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri Broaden the Cold War Civil Rights Historiography
However, what this narrative, and the Cold War civil rights historiography in general, ignores is the agency of those who resisted the civil rights movement and fought to preserve segregation. Regretfully, this is not a mere omission due to ignorance or source material. In her 1988 article “Archival Sources for the Study of McCarthyism,” Cold War historian Ellen W. Schrecker notes that this topic is deserving of analysis. She claims, “that an ‘important and largely unstudied aspect of McCarthyism is its impact’ in the South. ‘I know of no recent work specifically in this area, yet…there should be a major story here.’”[7] Additionally, “historians of anticommunism have tended to neglect the use of the weapon as a…southern phenomenon” as well.[8] Even when they do, however, they tend “to oversimplify the uses and abuses of anticommunism in particular, as practiced by southern segregationists.”[9] Fortunately, historians Jeff Woods, George Lewis, and Yasuhiro Katagiri follow Schrecker’s suggestion.
By exploring these topics in their respective works, Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri increase the range and purview of the Cold War civil rights historiography. Within the analytical framework of the Cold War, they survey southern white resistance to the civil rights movement. Relying on similar temporal and spatial boundaries—the South during the 1950s and the 1960s—all three examine how and why white segregationists used anticommunism and Cold War rhetoric to thwart desegregation and, more broadly, the civil rights movement. For white segregationists, anticommunism proved a valuable and effective weapon to confront integration and to discredit civil rights activists and organizations. Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri concur—albeit to varying degrees—that white segregationists held a distinct interpretation of anticommunism that was inseparable from southern heritage and traditions of antiradicalism and white supremacy. In contrary to the national perspective at the time, the South did not perceive communism as the primary threat to the preservation of its values and democracy. Rather, the fear of racial integration and the political agency of African Americans haunted the minds of many white southerners. Southern anticommunism, therefore, concerned itself more with race than Marx.
Changing the Actors, Changing the Perspective:
How Historians Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri Explore Familiar Ground Differently to Discover New Historical Truths
Treading a familiar timeline of the civil rights era, Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri all—loosely—bookend their narratives with major events that characterized the movement: Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka 1954, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Oddly enough, and although the South, as Lewis suggests, had “a rich tradition of…antiradicalism and anticommunism,” the southern red scare began in earnest as “the rest of the nation was struggling to move away from the fanatical Red Scare,” or McCarthyism, of the 1940s and 1950s that culminated with its namesake and top promoter Senator Joseph McCarthy’s political downfall and censure in the Senate.[10] According to Woods, “while its defensive, regional, and ethnic brand of nationalism made the southern red scare unique….the South’s segregationist, anti-Communist reaction developed out of a set of preconditions that were common to red scares nationally.”[11] However, “the region lacked a final, crucial ingredient in those years—political and social turmoil.”[12] Brown provided that final, crucial ingredient. However, like Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri note, the “South’s segregationist, anti-Communist reaction” to that final ingredient was years in the making.[13]
Although Woods entitles his work Black Struggle, Red Scare: Segregation and Anti-Communism in the South, 1948-1968, the years 1948-1968 belie the timeframe of his work. For Woods, the 1948 Dixiecrat movement was essential to the development of the southern red scare. He argues, “the southern reaction to Truman’s racial policies was a clear indication that red and black fears had become a defining element of the region’s ideology; the southern red scare was underway.”[14] However, central to the framing of his argument and as an impetus to the southern red scare is Woods’s notion of southern nationalism. For Woods, “southern nationalism embodied a set of shared values and traditions: a concern for personal and national honor, a suspicion of centralized power and belief in states’ right, a fundamentalist faith in Protestant Christianity, and a view of history shaped by the region’s experiences of slavery, the Civil War, and Reconstruction.”[15] To explicate the southern red scare as a manifestation of southern nationalism, Woods spends a chapter highlighting certain aspects of southern history regarding slavery, white supremacy, and “fears of black conspiracies…and black.”[16]
Likewise, the years Lewis includes in the title of his work, The White South and the Red Menace: Segregationists, Anticommunism, and Massive Resistance, 1945-1965, misrepresent the temporal scope of his work. To elucidate on the southern ‘rich tradition of antiradicalism and anticommunism,’ Lewis expounds on the South’s response to the Communist Party of the United States of America (CPUSA) and the labor movement of the 1920s and 1930s. According to Lewis, “because the party was well-known for its advocacy of black self-determination, and because it had placed so much emphasis on mobilizing blacks, southern segregationists realized that they could potentially dismiss any agitation for greater black civil rights as communist-inspired.”[17] Regarding the Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO), “Georgia governor ascribed CIO efforts to court black workers to part of a wider effort to form an effective African American voting bloc, through which subversive forces could bring pressure to bear on national politics.”[18] Even during the 1920s and 1930s, race defined anticommunism of the South during this period, much like it would in the 1950s and the 1960s.
Unlike Woods and Lewis, Katagiri does not predicate his narrative or central arguments on the idea of a distinctively southern form of anticommunism. Instead, he simply acknowledges it as such; “In the South, McCarthyism most often took on a racial—and racist—form and southern segregationists perpetuated its legacy in their response to the civil rights movement.”[19] Although Katagiri does not need to re-trace the origins of southern anticommunism, like Woods, he does found the 1948 Dixiecrat movement of importance. He asserts that it “laid a solid foundation for the germination of a peculiar ideology in the Democratic ‘Solid South’—an ideology that combined segregationist and racist views, the proposition of states’ rights and state sovereignty, and anti-Communist consensus.”[20] Furthermore, Katagiri insists that “this popular ideology became the basis for white southerners’ organized and all-out massive resistance to the civil rights movement.”[21] So like Woods and Lewis, at least in acknowledgment, Katagiri places anticommunism within the context of the southern heritage and traditions, particularly those of antiradicalism, anticommunism, and white supremacy.
According to Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri, the Supreme Court’s decision in Brown embodied the fears and anxieties of the South. In turn, albeit in fits and starts, it sparked the southern red scare even as McCarthyism on the national level was beginning to fade. As Lewis notes, “the White South’s lingering fears of a second Reconstruction were brought sharply into focus on Monday, May 17, 1954. On ‘Black Monday,” as it became known, the U.S. Supreme Court pronounced…that school segregation was inherently unequal and therefore unconstitutional.”[22] Furthermore, Lewis argues that “its seminal importance rested upon its dismantling of the separate-but-equal premise: the South was left with no constitutional basis from which to protect any form of social, political, or economic segregation.”[23] Initially, and as it was stated in the Southern Manifesto, southerners pledged “to resist segregation by ‘all lawful means.’”[24]
However, as both Lewis and Katagiri contend, after the Little Rock crisis in 1957, southerners realized they had no legal recourse to resist desegregation. With the ‘Southern way of life’ under threat, white segregationists turned to anticommunism with more regularity and frequency to oppose integration. “To be sure,” writes Katagiri, “the white South’s equating the region’s civil rights struggle with the worldwide ‘Communist conspiracy’ arose from a strong sense of powerlessness felt by ordinary white citizens. They perceived the federal government’s attempts to regulate time-honored race relations…represented a ‘dangerous slide toward communism.’”[25] Consequently, Woods suggests that “the southern red scare was…a byproduct of the region’s massive resistance to integration. Its proponents’ main goal was to discredit the civil rights movement by associating it with the nation’s greatest, enemy Communism.”[26] In short, southern reaction to Brown was a manifestation of traditional regional fears and anxieties of racial insecurity and desire for white supremacy. For white segregationists, anticommunism meant anti-black.
At the other end of their timelines, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 introduce the final acts. Although segregationists had some success in deploying anticommunism to discredit the push for both pieces of legislation, their decision to do so ultimately weakened the validity and effectiveness of anticommunism as a weapon against the civil rights movement. As Woods wryly states, “it was ironic that segregationist southerners labeled ‘Communist’ the premier symbol of democracy, voting….Few outside of the right-wing circles were convinced that Communist influence in the movement was the driving force behind the voting rights bill.”[27] With the use of an apt historical analogy, Katagiri suggests that with the passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 “white South’s massive resisters met their waterloo.”[28] For Katagiri, the end of massive resistance and southern anticommunism, followed shortly afterward with the deaths of Katagiri’s “northern messiahs,” Joseph Brown ‘J.B.’ Matthews and Myers Lowman; two northern, professional anticommunists and consultants who, together, helped various southern states and individuals establish anti-communist committees and organizations to effective surveillance and harass individuals with suspected connections to communists or civil rights groups.[29] Between their respective deaths in 1966 and 1973, “virtually all of the standing commissions and committees established by Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, and Mississippi to wage their officially sanctioned and publicly supported massive resistance to the civil rights movement either had become defunct or were on their deathbeds.”[30] Nevertheless, as Katagiri illustrates, much of that “peculiar ideology in the Democratic ‘Solid South’” lived on in the rhetoric and actions of southern Republicans like North Carolina Senator Jesse Helms who opposed the bill to establish Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday as a national holiday on the grounds of King’s alleged communist connections.
However, as Lewis argues, “Massive Resistance did not conveniently disappear after the federal intervention in Little Rock in 1957, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, or the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Instead, Massive Resistance metamorphosed….Resistance methods had been transformed and now offered subtler, often masked forms of desegregation.”[31] Cold War rhetoric and anticommunism “were largely replaced by a new generation of refined, restrictive voting measures, gerrymandering, and economic intimidation” as the new weapons of choice for white segregationists.[32] Although, as Lewis acknowledges, red-baiting and anticommunism ultimately failed to stop racial integration, it did provide southerners with an effective weapon to discredit civil rights activists and organizations, and to impede the overall progress of the movement. Furthermore, Lewis argues that “many…southern conservatives who, like [George] Wallace, had striven so hard to resist racial change in the 1950s in direct conflict with successive presidential administrations, now found themselves recast in the late 1960s and 1970s as an integral part of a mainstream political movement with national, rather than regional, support.”[33] In effect, the ideology of the massive resistance did not fade away, rather it diffused across the nation.
According to Woods, the southern red scare begin to dissipate in 1968 as “America’s ‘silent majority’ no longer needed southerners to tell it that blacks and reds were taking advantage of the civil unrest in the United States.”[34] As a result, Richard Nixon won the presidency that year on a promise of law and order. Even George Wallace, running on an “opposition to black civil rights” as a third-party candidate, won 13 percent of the electorate in the general presidential election.[35] In concurrence with Lewis, Woods suggests that “by the fall of 1968, a ‘Southernization’ of American politics…had occurred.”[36] Additionally, “with many of its legal and legislative objectives won in the South, the movement turned northward,” thus, “red and black hunting became obsolete.”[37]However, in contrast to Lewis, Woods sees no small victories for white segregationists nor a transcending massive resistance. Bluntly, he states, “southern nationalists had failed in their primary purpose, the preservation of segregation as a fundamental part of the ‘southern way of life.’”[38] Furthermore, and despite the continuation of de facto segregation and the rise of southern conservatism in national politics, “the federal government remain committed to black civil rights…continued to grow with the institution of affirmative-action and busing programs design to integrate the nation’s schools and federal offices. As for the security side of the southern red scare, Congress abolished HUAC in 1975, while the states began the process of disbanding their “little HUACs” and “little FBI’s” during the 1960s and 1970s.[39]
Conclusion:
Strengths, Limitations, and Moving the Cold War Civil Rights Historiographical Conversation Forward
Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri succeed in addressing the more glaring gaps in the Cold War civil rights historiography. However, their works are not flawless. Although both Woods and Katagiri mention ‘black struggle’ and ‘black freedom,’ respectively, in their titles—Black Struggle, Red Scare and Black Freedom, White Resistance, and Red Menace, neither one truly incorporates African Americans into their histories. Rather, both seemingly use African Americans as a foil to white segregationists. In fairness to Woods, he does offer insightful descriptions and analysis of a few black civil rights groups and leaders including the NAACP, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Stockley Carmichael. Nonetheless, Woods does not necessarily portray African Americans as makers or actors of their own history. An in-depth analysis of how African Americans understood anticommunism concerning their own identity as southerners may have helped give context to their reactions and responses to white segregationists.
Both Woods and Lewis suffer from inadequate definitions and analysis of their key terms. Regarding Woods, he introduces the notion of southern nationalism and does give a concise definition. However, even though he suggests that the primacy of this history is southern nationalism Woods does not directly connect southerners to his definition. Specifically, the ideas of religion and personal honor rarely appear in the pages of the work. A fuller analysis of this term with anecdotal evidence would have strengthened his argument of a distinct southern interpretation of anticommunism characterized by the history and values of the region. Lewis offers a shallow analysis of anticommunism. Although he does sufficiently make the case for a distinct southern version of anticommunism, a deeper intellectual and philosophical conversation may have produced a more abstract as well as concrete understanding. Instead, and while it serves his argument well, Lewis serves us an almost undefinable anticommunism; other than southern traditions of antiradicalism and anticommunism, the term is untethered.
In a similar vein to A. James McAdams interpretive understanding of the communist party as an idea, all three historians, but Lewis and Woods especially, present anticommunism as an idea that is adaptable and flexible enough to apply to a myriad of social and political conditions.[40] Therefore, their interpretations of anticommunism, specifically Lewis’s use of it as a frame of analysis for The White South and the Red Menace, offers a template to explore the role of anticommunism in other areas and possibly inspire comparative histories. It would be interesting to apply Lewis’s methodological approach to southerners’ use of anticommunism during the 1920s and 1930s. Although he does comment on these decades in The White South and the Red Menace, he does so briefly and with a precise purpose. His quick observation delivers just enough historical evidence and analysis to support his claim of a tradition of antiradicalism and anticommunism in the South. A more in-depth survey may offer new insights on labor and civil rights movements in the South during the first half of the twentieth century. Also, it would further explore and strengthen his notion of a southern tradition of antiradicalism and anticommunism by illuminating potential new historical patterns and trends. Despite his continuous use of regional characteristics and traits, Lewis argues that it is “too simplistic to see the region as a single unified whole.”[41] His comparative analysis of North Carolina and Virginia highlighting the nuance and diversity of how southerners understood and why they employed anticommunism confirms this sentiment. Therefore, a temporally and spatially more expansive comparative analysis may facilitate a process of discerning distinct political subcultures within the broader regional South.
With his description and analysis of Matthews and Lowman, Katagiri teases the potential of a North and South comparative history. This would help discern the differences between earlier national red scares, McCarthyism, and the southern red scare as outlined in Black Struggle, Red Scare and The White South and the Red Menace. Furthermore, it would illuminate the development of regional differences and similarities over the twentieth century. Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri occasionally offer glimpses of individuals who contradict predictable historical stereotypes. In Lewis’s work, for example, he provides a brief analysis of a southern, African American reverend who favors the use of anticommunism as a necessary political weapon and who is also highly critical of the NAACP. Within the Cold War civil rights historiography, scholars have shown how both black civil rights activists and white segregationists have navigated the Cold War climate to achieve certain political and cultural aims. Introducing new actors with less defined or more permeable political, cultural, and socio-economic categories would add a new dynamic to a field of study that seems content with histories of simple dichotomies. To Lewis’s credit, more than the others, he does attempt this through his study on anticommunism and how and why certain southerners employ its services.
The works of Woods, Lewis, and Katagiri are a welcome addition to the Cold War civil rights historiography. Their examinations of white segregationists and the role of anticommunism expand the field and open new avenues for historical inquiry. Furthermore, their studies illustrate the complexity and diversity of the White South. Thus, they offer a more nuanced understanding of the actions and rhetoric of white segregationists than previous scholarship. The field is still relatively small and many interpretive questions still have yet to be asked. And more vantage points beg for our viewing. Expanding the temporal and spatial framework of their narratives seems to offer an easy and quick opportunity to illuminate more historical developments and patterns. It will be interesting to see how other historians build on their research. For now, though, their works serve well for students—undergraduate and graduate—and historians of the Cold War, the civil rights movement, the South, and anticommunism and communism.
[1] See Mary L. Dudziak, Cold War Civil Rights: Race and Image of American Democracy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000); Thomas Borstelmann, The Cold War and the Color Line: American Race Relations in the Global Arena
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001); and Azza Salama Layton, International Politics and Civil Rights Policies in the United States, 1941-1960 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
[2] See Gerald Horne, Black and Red: W. E. B. Du Bois and the Afro-American Response to the Cold War, 1944-1963 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1986); Penny M. Von Eschen, Race against Empire: Black Americans and Anticolonialism, 1937-1957 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1997); and Brenda Gayle Plummer ed., Window on Freedom: Race, Civil Rights, and Foreign Affairs, 1945-1988 (Raleigh: The University of North Carolina Press, 2007).
[3] See Dudziak, Cold War Civil Rights; Horne, Black and Red; Eschen, Race against Empire; and Plummer, Window on Freedom.
[4] Some of these recommendations included “the enactment of an anti-poll tax law, the prohibition of segregation in interstate transportation facilities, and the renewal of the Fair Employment Practice Committee (FEPC)” and to establish a Civil Rights Commission, Joint Congressional Committee on Civil Rights, and a Civil Rights Division in the Department of Justice; See Yasuhiro Katagiri, Black Freedom, White Resistance, and Red Menace: Civil Rights and Anticommunism in the Jim Crow South (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2014), location 471, Kindle.
[5] Katagiri, Black Freedom, White Resistance, and Red Menace, location 471.
[6] See Dudziak, 90-103.
[7] Katagiri, location 115.
[8] Jeff Woods, Black Struggle, Red Scare: Segregation and Anti-Communism in the South, 1948-1968, (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2004), 6.
[9] Woods, Black Struggle, Red Scare, 4.
[10] George Lewis, The White South and the Red Menace: Segregationists, Anticommunism, and Massive Resistance, 1945-1965 (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2004), 7.; and Katagiri, location 547.
[11] Woods, 4.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Ibid.
[14] Ibid., 35.
[15] Ibid., 2.
[16] Ibid., 12.
[17] Ibid., 27.
[18] Ibid., 23.
[19] Katagiri, location 546.
[20] Ibid., location 524.
[21] Ibid.
[22] Woods, 30.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Katagiri, location 571.
[26] Woods, 5.
[27] Ibid., 224.
[28] Katagiri, location 5668.
[29] Ibid., location 141.
[30] Ibid., location 5846.
[31] Lewis, The White South and the Red Menace, 172.
[32] Ibid.
[33] Ibid., 175.
[34] Woods, 254.
[35] Ibid.
[36] Ibid.
[37] Ibid., 255.
[38] Ibid., 257.
[39] Ibid., 85.
[40] See A. James McAdams, Vanguard of the Revolution: The Global Idea of the Communist Party
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2017).
[41] Lewis, 1.